How to Create a Nomadic Life

Late afternoon in
Bucolic Marin County:
I find a cheese sale.

I'm sitting in a lovely hilltop house in Petaluma CA, listing to baroque music on Spotify, watching the gentle coastal hills across the way.  The clouds have not yet burned off, so they sit under a quilt of grey-white, the dark green trees contouring the green and gold fields.  Despite the heavy population of Sonoma County, it feels rural here.  Hell, it is rural.  It only takes 5 minutes to reach those fields and roll up and down and around them in a satisfying flow of pastures, trees, cows, hills and clouds.

Yesterday I took a late afternoon drive south along a secondary road, seeking and finding the Marin French Cheese tasting room.  The Petit Truffle brie was on sale, 10 for $20, so I loaded up my arms with brie and a baguette of sourdough and sat at a picnic table, guarding my late lunch from the tame crows and keeping an uneasy eye on the nearby geese.  The sun warmed the cool breezes, tinted with a hint of salt from the nearby coast.  And I marveled at the fact that, now, this sort of slow satisfaction is mine for the foreseeable future.

The amazing thing, to me, is how inevitable this choice now appears.  I skim my other blog, What the Cat Dragged In, started when I was laid off from PSU in 2011.  It's full of musings about travel and the future.  Once I moved to NM and then went through the debilitating dissolution of my marriage, the tenor of the musings evolved: while most of the blog was fairly whiny therapy,  I was also unconsciously planning the trajectory out of a 40-hour work week. In June 13, 2013, I wrote a blog called "Doing What You Love,"  in which I determined to start the process of divesting myself of possessions and starting a non-linear life.  On October 4, 2013, I wrote "It's my midlife and I'll crisis if I want to."  It was my last day at ABC Library.  I was set to become a live-in caregiver (and what a fabulous, healing 18-months that turned out to be.)  January, 2014, I wrote a blog called "The Vagabond Consultant," another blueprint for decluttering.  (Jump forward to April 28, 2017, "Preparing to be a Nomad," where I am STILL trying, unsuccessfully, to pare down my possessions.  They are now mostly in G's basement storage, with a sizeable and unnecessary amount in the back of my car.  And the pre-2012 possessions are still in L&J's Portland basement.  Sigh.)    But the events that really got me moving at last were a session with L in November, 2015, which percolated until February of this year, when I took a Statistics class (using my head) and had a session with a psychic (exploring my spiritual and heart chakras.)  Between an analysis of my savings and retirement income streams and a delving into my heart, I realized that the time had come.  Or, as my duet partner C said, "If you're thinking about retirement, you'll be retiring."

Well, not quite, but close.

So, what does it take to become a nomad?  My friends L&G were nomads for close to 2 years, and they shared their tips with me.  On their advice, I joined Trusted Housesitters.com and within 2 months was booked up for the next year.  Apparently I still have problems with the unscheduled life. I learned to summarize my plans thusly:  "I'm spending summer in CA, autumn in the UK, a winter month in Japan, and Jan-April in Norway."  Most people zone out half way through that, and the people who want to keep track of me are told to check out my blog.  (That means I have to actually write one.)  So, the first thing you need is a system for finding free or cheap travel options.

At some point I may want to turn pet-sitting into an income stream, but for now the social process is working to keep me grounded and connected.  My profile says I'm a Musical Librarian with Love for Travel and Community.  And that's true:  while I am not grounded or nesting or doing the other domestic things that I love, I do need a way to express those needs.  I need a home, even if it's someone else's.  So, for me the second thing I need is a connection to the places where I'll be living.

Some people would put the next thing first:  money.  Well, yes, of course.  And I probably have what I need, what with working since I was 16, full time since I was 22.  There are savings and retirement and, hopefully, Social Security.  But, nothing is secure, and even though my income streams account for COLA, there are still things that can derail them.  So, what I'm really looking at is a gamble, a gamble that I can exist for the next few years on my savings and start taking retirement later.  I'm also looking at other income sources, online tutoring mainly.  And, we'll see.

Health and healthcare are a real concern, but that is one reason to do this now, while I'm still active and in reasonable shape.  The health issues that have plagued me over the past several years seem to have gone underground since I started planning vagabondage in earnest, which is another sign that this is the path I need to travel.  So, clearly a nomad must also have a heart-deep, physical need that will not let him/her stay in a perfectly good job in a beautiful place, surrounded by wonderful friends, engaged in worthwhile and fulfilling activities.

In addition, here are the practical preparations:  Divest yourself of possessions, get debt free, and remove as many monthly expenses as possible.  Have a mailing address and a person who can forward necessary documents (like tax documents.)  Figure out health insurance and telephone plans. Have a contact person (in my case several persons) to receive daily texts during solo travel times.  Sign up with something like LegalShield to watch over you. Leave a copy of addresses, passwords, IDs, and contacts with someone.  Stockpile necessary medicines.

As must be obvious by now, none of this can happen without support, both emotional and financial.  I am blessed by friends and family who provide both a safety net and a springboard for my dive into this upcoming year.  May they have as much joy and comfort as I anticipate for myself.