This is one of my pitfalls:
I have this sometimes-wonderful, sometimes-insanely-self-destructive tendency to pass hours, days, weeks, and all told probably years of my life floating about frivolously in the realm of Possibility. It’s a fabulous place, really… One where ideas and feelings and haunches and the generally- formless all mix and intermingle seamlessly, where decisions needn’t be made and commitments don’t exist. I love this place. One might even call it my home. Which is why I’m building a little house.
An actual little house. And that’s right, I said building. That sounds a bit too much like an action to have originated in the realm of Possibility, you may be thinking. You would probably be correct. Except that if I am to practice being a rounded, dynamic, expansive human being, the marriage of Possibility and Action must be enacted sooner or later. Stupendous ideas originate in the realm of Possibility, and if those very ideas are translated into actual deeds, that is where the truly genius, ludicrous, kaleidoscopic wonders of humanity unravel.
I most certainly am not indicating here that building a 130-square-foot house by myself is a genius endeavor. Quite the contrary, having the construction competence of a novice and trying to build a house with minimal guidance is probably not the most brilliant undertaking. But life is relative, and relative to the small amount of intentional goal-setting and action-taking I’ve done over the 30 years of my life, this is quite a big adventure indeed; One that feels incredibly difficult/distant and yet just within grasp. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I believe I can do it.
Technology and an increasingly fast-paced, superficial world have helped create a culture of escapism and complacency (inside my head). This is what makes letting go into adventure such a difficult and unsavory undertaking. I can’t help but preach my enthusiasm to challenge oneself to set out on big adventures relative to one’s sum previous life experience, as frequently as one can tolerate. Because who knows? Maybe after a while of doing so, it will become a habit same as brushing our teeth or putting paper in a recycling bin and voila! – we will have been lifted out of the oppressive opiate-like haze of Possibility and into a more balanced place where it combines with Action effortlessly like ink dropping into water – indistinguishably one, penetrating our entire beings.
…But enough blah-blah-blah.
I’m starting a blog to chronicle the practicalities of building a 130 square-foot tiny house on wheels. It’s December and I’m planning to start in April. I have a personal loan for $15,000. The extent of my construction experience includes hanging various items on walls and building a set of raised 4×8′ garden beds out of 2×10’s. I have a pile of DIY books I haven’t ready yet and an incredulous view of how I am going to build a standing structure out of architectural drawings. I regularly consult calculators for basic multiplication and division problems, and my idea of “sense” generally involves the word “feeling” over “logic”. Nevertheless, I’m sharply adept at learning new and varied skills, working with my hands/body, and generally becoming easily proficient as a jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. After all, one has to have at least a little bit of confidence to do something like this. 🙂
This should prove to be a ridiculously hilarious, difficult endeavor, so I hope you’ll join me here to laugh (and hopefully not cry too much) along the way.