Lessons From Building My Own Nest Like A Bird
One thing I love about this experiment of starting with practically nothing and no money, living close to the wild, and building day to day the space that will surround me, is that it forces me to pay attention to every little thing I'm doing. I know how much water I'm using, where all my waste is going, how I influence the land around me, and how it influences me. I'm aware of subtle messages I get from the animals that visit me every morning. I can hear the whispers of the mountain as she tells me how the day will play out and what I should do to keep up.
It's a new kind of communication; I now blend into the wildlife around me and have adopted their sense of survival. I've learned the language of birds, raccoons, deer; I know when something's amiss. I can even tell when the rains come and go before they do anything at all. I've learned to sleep with one eye open, and can hear the tiniest rustle in the middle of the night. Well, that was before insulation..
I've now spent most of the summer outside and now the Autumn is making room for her colder sister. Winter's not coming without warning, though. She's made sure I've been appropriately informed of her approach, and she's not changing her mind. This is going to be a chilly year in North Carolina. I've used almost everything I had in the bank and in my blood to pull this together as quickly as I could. There will be little things that can wait, like cosmetics and mouldings- I must suffer a below par yard until spring. I've learned to appreciate things I've taken for granted through years of renting apartments and living under roofs built by strangers' hands. The cabin has taken on its own personality, and my heart and soul is slowly being etched into its walls. I know my spirit will haunt this area for years after I pass on.
My last absolute necessary order of business is to get a bath house up before it snows. I'm incredibly tired of hiking out to a tiny little shelter for that sort of thing. It's a hassle in the middle of the night, and dodging large spiders in the dark isn't the best fun when you're sleepy. They love the night, and I'm invading their space and personal time.
Now here's the kicker. I'm doing this while living on under $11k a year. If I can do this, other people can too. One thing that helped was moving away from NYC. There was no way I was ever going to have anything while living there. The amount of stress and personal taxation was tremendous, and not practical to living the way I wanted to live. I learned a lot; became more direct and more focused, and I'd not trade my experiences living there. But it's definitely not my bag. My priorities and lifestyle choices never did mesh well with the norms and habits of the northeast.
So here I am, embarking upon a new era in my existence. I've gone from living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment to camping the summer away in a tent- to spending my time in a cozy "hunter's cabin" in the woods. My health has improved and even blossomed, and I've learned how to build a house by myself. Mother says I must have channeled the spirit of one of my passed kin- a woman by the name of Nora McGee. She built two houses on this property! One is gone, and the other has been empty for decades. You can still hear the voices of children running through the rooms and by the creek side, though. I think I've heard them in the babbling of the water there.
The lesson I've learned is this: I can have anything I set my mind on, and there is always a way around an obstacle. It might sometimes be a little rebellious, but it's never unreachable unless my mind tricks me into believing in impossibilities. I think there's always a way to do what you want to do. We just have to learn to be incredibly resourceful. The only difference between having a lot of money to throw into something like this and being on a tight budget is convenience. Most of my materials have been scavenged or reclaimed. I've received help from friends. I relocated and changed my lifestyle in order to accommodate this goal. And I put a little bit of effort into it every single day for the past six months. I haven't given up, gotten lazy or allowed myself to get depressed. The land was harsh when I first got here, and I had trouble even walking across the property without getting impaled by giant briers. I went to bed every night covered in bruises. I did my own physical rehab, building my weakened body up from living in the city for so long with a disabling condition. I spent nights hiding under my blanket as quietly as possible while a bear slipped around my campsite. I learned how to handle a pistol. I dodged copperheads, and I listened to prey getting killed at 2 in the morning. This wasn't easy, and it wasn't always fun. I had to discipline my mind to keep going. I'm 46 years old, and pulling myself out of an airbed with cramps and stiff joints isn't something I look forward to in the mornings.
So there you go. I've reached a point where things are a lot easier. From here on out, it should run a little more smoothly. I plan on rewarding myself next year with a special trip, too!
It's a new kind of communication; I now blend into the wildlife around me and have adopted their sense of survival. I've learned the language of birds, raccoons, deer; I know when something's amiss. I can even tell when the rains come and go before they do anything at all. I've learned to sleep with one eye open, and can hear the tiniest rustle in the middle of the night. Well, that was before insulation..
I've now spent most of the summer outside and now the Autumn is making room for her colder sister. Winter's not coming without warning, though. She's made sure I've been appropriately informed of her approach, and she's not changing her mind. This is going to be a chilly year in North Carolina. I've used almost everything I had in the bank and in my blood to pull this together as quickly as I could. There will be little things that can wait, like cosmetics and mouldings- I must suffer a below par yard until spring. I've learned to appreciate things I've taken for granted through years of renting apartments and living under roofs built by strangers' hands. The cabin has taken on its own personality, and my heart and soul is slowly being etched into its walls. I know my spirit will haunt this area for years after I pass on.
My last absolute necessary order of business is to get a bath house up before it snows. I'm incredibly tired of hiking out to a tiny little shelter for that sort of thing. It's a hassle in the middle of the night, and dodging large spiders in the dark isn't the best fun when you're sleepy. They love the night, and I'm invading their space and personal time.
Now here's the kicker. I'm doing this while living on under $11k a year. If I can do this, other people can too. One thing that helped was moving away from NYC. There was no way I was ever going to have anything while living there. The amount of stress and personal taxation was tremendous, and not practical to living the way I wanted to live. I learned a lot; became more direct and more focused, and I'd not trade my experiences living there. But it's definitely not my bag. My priorities and lifestyle choices never did mesh well with the norms and habits of the northeast.
So here I am, embarking upon a new era in my existence. I've gone from living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment to camping the summer away in a tent- to spending my time in a cozy "hunter's cabin" in the woods. My health has improved and even blossomed, and I've learned how to build a house by myself. Mother says I must have channeled the spirit of one of my passed kin- a woman by the name of Nora McGee. She built two houses on this property! One is gone, and the other has been empty for decades. You can still hear the voices of children running through the rooms and by the creek side, though. I think I've heard them in the babbling of the water there.
The lesson I've learned is this: I can have anything I set my mind on, and there is always a way around an obstacle. It might sometimes be a little rebellious, but it's never unreachable unless my mind tricks me into believing in impossibilities. I think there's always a way to do what you want to do. We just have to learn to be incredibly resourceful. The only difference between having a lot of money to throw into something like this and being on a tight budget is convenience. Most of my materials have been scavenged or reclaimed. I've received help from friends. I relocated and changed my lifestyle in order to accommodate this goal. And I put a little bit of effort into it every single day for the past six months. I haven't given up, gotten lazy or allowed myself to get depressed. The land was harsh when I first got here, and I had trouble even walking across the property without getting impaled by giant briers. I went to bed every night covered in bruises. I did my own physical rehab, building my weakened body up from living in the city for so long with a disabling condition. I spent nights hiding under my blanket as quietly as possible while a bear slipped around my campsite. I learned how to handle a pistol. I dodged copperheads, and I listened to prey getting killed at 2 in the morning. This wasn't easy, and it wasn't always fun. I had to discipline my mind to keep going. I'm 46 years old, and pulling myself out of an airbed with cramps and stiff joints isn't something I look forward to in the mornings.
So there you go. I've reached a point where things are a lot easier. From here on out, it should run a little more smoothly. I plan on rewarding myself next year with a special trip, too!
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