Let's Go, Jane!

NOTE: This is post #35 and my 5th “Observation” post in a row. I’m ready for some adventure! I do have a couple trips coming up. Hang tight. I don’t like this either. When I set out to publish a blog about living a bigger life, I didn’t realize how much effort it would take to sustain me through this waiting period. So far there are 10 “Adventure” posts and 7 “Travel” posts. A few more months, my loyal readers, and we’ll be off to see the world. In the meantime, please enjoy this week’s musings.

I just got off the phone with Carey, who was wandering down the aisle at his happy place, the local Costco store. He asked, “Should I get rocking chairs for my front porch? Will anyone hang out there?” Accustomed at this point to talking him out of random Costco purchases, I said confidently, “No, no one will ever hang out on your front porch. Don’t get them unless it’s just for looks.”

But it made me think, why DO houses still have front porches? There was a time when people sat on their front porches and watched the world go by. Waved to their neighbors. Exchanged pleasantries with passers by. Am I imagining this time? Is this just the romanticized stuff of suburban television shows?

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling awfully disconnected these days. I’ve been living in this apartment building for 18 months and I’ve met all of my immediate neighbors but I couldn’t tell you much about them beyond their names. We haven’t formed a real connection. Is it me? Is it this time we are living in? Why are we all just ships passing in the night?

I’m currently watching a television show called Paradise. *SPOILER ALERT* There’s a massive weather event that forces the survivors to go underground, literally moving into a hollowed out mountain. It’s one woman’s job, a therapist, to be the “architect of social well-being.” To figure out what spaces and experiences will make the place feel like home. It’s a fascinating thought exercise.

I will admit, part of the allure of van life is that I want to use my home-on-wheels to explore and find a place to live that feels like home. I don’t just mean the landscape, although that is important too. I mean the people. I want to live somewhere that feels like a real community. Where people truly know their neighbors and where there’s kindness and human solidarity and mutual aid. Does such a place exist?

I have this recurring fantasy about organizing community potlucks. I can imagine pulling up my van and putting out a shingle that reads “community potluck, Friday 4-7 pm.” Let’s feed each other. Let’s put our phones away and talk and listen and connect. Let’s share skills and exchange ideas. Where did human connection go?

Here’s another one, a more recent fantasy. What if I go to a public park on the first beautiful spring day with a sign that says “good listener – try me.” and see who sits down next to me. If I reach one person who has been feeling invisible, it will have been worthwhile. The answer to feeling powerless is to find your sense of agency. And agency is nothing more than having an idea and acting on it. Will this be the one that gets me out the door?