Somewhere Under the Rainbow

Don’t get me wrong, where we choose to live can have a huge impact on our lives, but many of us fortunate enough to have a choice use preconceived notions of who we are or who we should be to choose where we live. Preconceived in this case meaning: conceived before we consider a body of knowledge about what we truly desire. I’m not talking about a desire to live in a mansion or penthouse you can’t afford or to own a tropical island or acres and acres of wilderness. This is about choosing within the scope of what is actually possible. A quick caveat here — unless you are risking your own or someone else’s health and safety with your choice it is exactly that, your choice. It’s not really anyone else’s business. They can have an opinion. They can share it if you welcome it, but short of that, not up to them. Your life. Your choice. Period.

I’m going to use my own life as an example. I certainly don’t always make the best decisions but as I’ve aged I’ve learned to base my decisions on more than just the surface. Not the surface of circumstances, the surface of me. I go deeper now. I consider my choices with more focus on the conceptual and less on the specifics. I save the specifics for later.

I had been fantasizing for some time about moving out of the city where I lived — full disclosure, this city was not a large urban area but the largest city in Vermont. I envisioned myself in a tiny house or a cabin on a piece of land large enough to garden and grow most of my own food. I thought about how tranquil it would be there. I also wanted to continue to not own a car. I hadn’t owned one for over ten years. My vision included a mom and pop kind of grocery store, a local cafe, and a library within walking distance. A good bookstore would have been a plus. Then Covid hit. I hunkered down in my small artsy condo and rode it out. I was content to stay for the moment but still had the itch to move. I have one grown child living on the other side of the country. I’m not in a serious relationship. In short I was free to make any decision my bank account would permit. Selling my condo would fatten my coffers but not enough to do anything even approaching elaborate. That was okay with me as I like simple. I like small. I can make anywhere I end up beautiful and comfortable.

Then the real estate market went berserk. I was priced out of almost anything I would be interested in purchasing, even the tiny things. Of course this also meant that my condo would sell for a bit more. I’m partially retired and at that time I had about a three or four month wait until I started collecting social security. Staying in my condo would have been a little squeaky financially. A friend and I visited a small town south of where I lived. We went because we had read about the amazing brioche buns at a bakery/cafe there. The town was quaint with a European feel. There was a river with falls. So much beauty everywhere. No traffic lights in the historic district where we were. No tall buildings. Lots of public space. Outdoor markets. A co-op, bookstore, bank, post office, library, several art galleries, and even a stationery story were all within a few minutes walk. What wasn’t there was a tiny house or cabin with garden space.

I found myself completely enchanted. I booked a room for a weekend while the realtors sold my condo. I dreamt of renting an apartment in the big historic building in the center of town. Magically a unit opened up and I was able to move in the day after my condo sold. I had been a person who took more baths than showers. I hung my clothes outside to dry. I really, really had wanted to garden. Now I live happily is this very cool old building. I take more showers than baths. I get all my veggies from local farmers through the co-op, though I now know about an organic CSA that gets delivered for pick-up three minutes from my door. I have huge windows that look out over the town green. I hear music. There are craft sales and a farmer’s market. I’m in the middle of everything but only have to join in if I want to. I’m getting to know the baristas and the town regulars. I walk to a covered bridge on the river every day. I love it here.

I had previously decided that a tiny house or cabin on a big piece of property would make me happy. It might have done. It may one day in the future. But it was only one way for me to be happy. One way for me to satisfy what I wanted. I thought I wanted a tiny house and a big garden. What I really wanted were these five things.

1. I wanted to be able to be apart from other people any time I wanted to be. I could do that in a tiny house out in the country. I can also do that in my lovely in-the-center-of-town apartment. I can choose to go to the music festival outside my door or I can read a book on my living room chaise as music wafts through my windows from the gazebo in the park.
2. I also wanted to feel a part of a something. It’s small here. I already know so many people. It’s easy to become part of the many artistic and cultural things happening around me. I still end up giving readings or advice to random people I meet.
3. I wanted to be of use. I have time and space to write here. I can connect with people I meet. People still come up to me and tell me things and ask me things in the way they always have in my life.
4. I wanted to be seen. I definitely feel seen here. People see the real me because I have so much freedom to be myself here. I feel safe and content. Plus this new place is a new beginning, which makes it even easier than ever to be authentically myself.

There are probably many other ways I could be apart, a part of, of use, and seen. Living here is just one way to do this. That realization gives me even more freedom to enjoy now, to not worry about having made the one-and-only perfect decision. That decision doesn’t exist. And finally…

1. I’m augmenting my income with the proceeds from the sale of my condo so I no longer have to worry about things being too squeaky financially. I’ve lessened my worries.

Some people would be appalled that I did not rebuy. “Renting!? At your age!” It works for me. I don’t need to do what someone else thinks I should. Neither buying nor renting is the perfect solution for everyone. It depends. It’s easy to get stuck choosing where or how you’ll live, or anything else for that matter, based on an older version of yourself or someone else’s version of you. It’s also important to consider not just how much you are willing to pay in dollars for the life you are trying to create but also what you may have to forfeit to achieve your goal. I don’t get to garden right now. Though I am giving that up I still get to eat the type of local, organically grown food I crave. I would totally enjoy gardening again one day. I would also be fine with never gardening again. I’m a little surprised by that but way more than content about it. I’ve managed to find a place that has tons of nature just footsteps away from my door; however, there are the sounds of town life around me. I have to walk for 15 minutes or so to arrive at complete quiet.

I also know that this life I’ve created for myself is good. Good now. I may end up changing it as I change or if something else that fits what I need in a way that suddenly feels more appealing makes itself known to me. My son told me about a city lot he visited recently. Someone had bought it years ago and made it into a place for performers, jugglers and the like, to live in community. They call a woman who lives in an old school bus at the top of the lot the oracle. That’s who I want to be no matter where I live.