ned
I like the thought of a bug out bag. A bag I must grab if I’ve got to go in a hurry. The tactical man’s survival kit.
I usually carry chopsticks with me, and always have a pocket knife.
The digital world holds most of my journals, writings, photographs, contacts, archives, and lists lists lists. I know what I’ll grab if an emergency requires I get out quick.
My digital tools are very effective at letting me practice my art without actually having to occupy large amounts of space. For example, with the amount of photographs that I’ve taken, I could probably fill up about 3 warehouses full of negatives. My digital images are all stored on a half dozen hard drives that fit into a bag no bigger then an overnight bag. My computer programs could fit on an old 3.5″ floppy they’re so small! Cloud computing has been a beautiful asset.
My paintings, however, take up the space of a master bedroom. Go big or go home they said. My mobile battery packs, however, fit nicely into my rucksack.
I respect people who release themselves from all possessions in the world. Gandhi showed his only possessions in this world were his chopsticks, a bowl, sandals, a timepiece, and his glasses. He had a lot more things to do and a lot more responsibilities then I have, so why can’t I do it?
For me, it’s not the things themselves that define my possessiveness, but my attachment to the things. I wonder if this is just my justification for my things?
For the last three years I have lived as a nomad – which has done nothing to still my beating heart – providing me a lifestyle rich in stories. Most of my personal stuff is in long term storage. This has challenged me to live out of a backpack and re-define what tools I need to continue to work while on the road, as well as re-define the focus of my expressions to fit into – or come out of – my rucksack.
One of the hardest things for me to do in my life is commit 100% to a single task or subject. This nomadic life I’ve been living has been teaching me the necessity and benefits of commitment. At the same time, it has also taught me to not be attached to those commitments and if they no longer serve me, to let them go with a smile.
My time in Maui taught me that aloha means hello and goodbye.