Spending the rest of my life in a cabin in the woods, far from society, sounds like coming home rather than a sacrifice. It would have to be within half an hour from the beach, mind. To be honest, it doesn't seem too far removed from what we do now, except from here, we can hear the highway in the distance when the trucks start moving cross country. But ten minutes away, and with two million dollars, we could buy some acreage and not hear much at all but the croak of gang gangs and high pitched call of the black cockatoos, and the grumbling snort of a possum or too.
The way the world moves now is fast, distracted, and bloated with noise that leaves me desperate for silence, the kind that makes room for something. There's noise out bush, of course - have you ever slept with the rain on a tin roof? You don't, actually. It's too fucking load. And some nights, jesus, the frogs. And if the possums get on the roof, well, it may as well be an elephant. But still. The hush of a forest is a different kind of loud - the trees shushing, the birds settling at dusk or waking at dawn. Again, it's not that far removed from here - it's 7 am as I write and not yet light, and all we can hear is trees and parrots. We live on a bush block - it's rural residential so a stone's throw from town.
I love the simplicity of living small. I've always loved living in vehicles or in tiny places - it's more of a deliberate kind of living. You wake with the light shifting and the bird chorus, and you're outside sharpish, coffee on the tailgate or perched on a log or a damp campchair, steam curling. Days shaped by practical things - cooking breakfast, tidying the space, spliting wood, planting food, feeding the chooks, fixing what's broken, both physically and psychologically. Living small has a more conscious rhythym to it I suppose. A kind of effort with purpose. It's tangible and honest.
Of course, I'd take the husband. You need someone who doesn't flinch at the work of living simple and you need someone who can be okay with isolation and stillness, and that can use a chainsaw. You need someone who can listen to trees, to weather, to the moods in the landscape you don't have the words for. Someone who can see the sacred in day to day living. That can laugh with me, and get over those silly arguments quickly. Small spaces dont' have room for drama.
It sounds like a dream, downsizing again. Like going back in time. Cast iron pans and wool blankets. A wet dog shaking off on the deck. A record player running off the 12 volt. A glass of red, fire blazing. No internet. Time stretching. Hustle traded for intention, frantic life for a meaningful one.
It's probably why we go off on our cabin on wheels. Find some woods. Find a cabin. Find a bit of stillness.
With Love,
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I could say more or less the same thing, if perhaps not quite so eloquently. I'm surrounded by 14 acres of scrubland with a 7ft gate and no neighbours for miles. All I'm missing is the gorgeous husband and the surfboard.
Ah sounds ideal. I like the idea of a 7ft gate. Husbands are overrated.
☻😂
Nice and its seems a peaceful place.
I love incredibly quiet moments in the morning even in city and I can imagine the "noise" of nature — it calms me down.
Over the past ten years, my life has slowly grown bigger — I even have a sofa now, which still surprises me ☺️ Reading your post makes me feel a bit wistful. Your way of living feels so beautiful. It makes me want to try living smaller again, too.
Have a nice Sunday, @riverflows !
Ah we live in a house not a cabin, but it's still small by Aussie standards. It's amazing how we gather things as we go through life!
From what I can see he is clear about what he would do for the rest of his life in a cabin.
There is so much truth in the fact that life now is lived too fast that we sometimes forget the beautiful things in it.
Those things of feeding the chickens, chopping wood for the fire, for the birds to sing are things that in my childhood were a daily gift.
And, the final part of your publication I like very much because in the company you take your other half to share the work, to listen and solve the problems together with you and to listen to the music on that record player drinking together that glass of wine.
Oh, and without being glued to that modern slavery called internet. Thanks for sharing.
Happy Sunday. Cheers and greetings.
It is a very beautiful place, but I would cut the trees that are very close to the cabin, I say this from experience, I would settle for having a river or waterfall near the cabin. I would be happy
Why would you cut the trees? In case they fall? A river would be ideal!
Gosh that sounds good. I'm trying to do some of that in my big house. I look around at folks who are shackled to their technology, and can easily to see that, the more shackled to tech a person is, the more unhappy they are. They've all got gas fired fireplaces, Alexa and its ilk playing their music, a few more than one glass of wine, and non-stick pans in their unused kitchens. Yet, they feel they have no time. Where's the catch for them? Most of them go to doctors' appointments multiple times a week, that much is true. Their lives are making them sick.
I don't understand Alexa and smart houses. Like wtf you can't turn on a light yourself???
Some of us seem to almost worship technology. The,devices feel like a gain, but all they do is get you hyped up on a multitude of frequencies, and give you more time to comply with ever-increasing regulations. We are being revved up like rats in an experiment, every which way we turn. Another case of the devil wearing and angel's clothes.
Everything is an opportunity to make people money. We KNOW AI is leading us down a dangerous path, for example, but we still fund it, use itx develop it, sell it. There's very little to no ethical concerns where there's money to be made. All we need to do is convince people their lives will be better for it, when we know from many, many examples that it's not the case.
This is such a beautiful and deeply felt reflection on simple living and the peace that comes with it. Oh, how I love that you capture the sounds, the rhythm, and the purposefulness of a life that is close to nature. It feels so raw and real. How you describe the "different kind of loud" in the bush is honestly on point. it's not silence but a kind of music all its own. Wishing you all the space, quiet, and intention you're looking for—may you always find your cabin in the woods!
Aw thankyou!!! Currently in our cabin on wheels .
Reminds of how it must have been before now, with our ancestors. It really puts things into perspective, of how much the world has changed.
Living shouldn't have to cost money. We should be able to live life and do things without having to stress about money.
I admire how you have found a way to get out of the capitalist world we live in