Greetings all!
For starts, I'm very, very grateful that there are like-minded folks out there. I appreciate reading y'all's blogs, experiences, tips, advice, and thoughts on life. Perhaps there's yet a bit of sanity in a world gone mostly bonkers.
My story, in a nutshell -- a childhood spent in Boy Scouts and wandering the woods, living out of whatever I had on my back, taught me that less is more, and more is an unnecessary complication. A college education in history and psychology generally confirmed the idea. Several years in the Army hammered it home.
A couple years ago found me at Fort Rucker, Alabama, doing my level best to learn to fly attack helicopters, to better be able to serve my country. I didn't want to waste my life on myself, and reckoned that would be a good way to not live for myself but to serve fellow man. I lived in a rented house off-post, and in my off-time, planted a garden, fed my fellow warrant officers, and contemplated life. Being a devout Christian, as well as a History/Psychology guy, the last is a bit of a hobby of mine.
I had built a smallish house at a previous point in my life and lived in it. Well, "struggled" more than "lived." Now, finally, I had a respectable job, a respectable dwelling, and approval of society around me. Found the respectable dwelling to be over-rated, decided to down-size for good so as not to consume any more third-world resources than I had to, and started building a tiny house in my driveway in time off duty.
All was grand up to the point someone asked me, "You're down-sizing to a shack on wheels, you're growing a garden because you love to watch things grow, you live at peace with people and strive to follow Christ... Where does the killing fit in?..." I realized that my respectable job of killing people for pay would cost me my soul. And that all the approval of society, pay, benefits, and the rest would not be sufficient compensation for not being able to look God in the eye without a deepest sense of shame at what I was quick becoming. Christianity is incompatible with military service, or killing of any kind for that matter; it is truly regrettable how few Christians realize it.
I got out of the Army with a half-finished tiny house, an old Ford truck, and a set of contractor's/mechanic's tools to my name. That, and the knowledge of having done the right thing. Went back to Pennsylvania, quickly realizing that people looked at me kinda funny for no longer wanting to kill people for a living. Fellow Christians, particularly. After a year of being slammed around by life (doing the morally right thing is always rewarded... always), I packed up my tools, hitched up the tiny house to the truck, and hit the road.
Am currently in North Dakota, in the oilfields, working as a diesel mechanic. Working on spreading God's love, compassion, and the message of simple, humane, and sustainable living to who-all I meet (could've picked a better place, I suppose, but it is what it is). As always, contemplating life and the human condition. And well and truly looking forward to exploring/bumming around/living in the local BLM and National Forest country when the weather gets better.
A van-dweller I am not, on a technicality -- being a practitioner of the mechanic's and carpenter's trades, my tools would take up too much room in the van. Believe you me, I considered the matter with due diligence, coming to the conclusion that I am more useful to humanity with tools than without. Would the combination of a truck full of tools, a home-built cabin pulled along behind it, and a fundamentally minimalist/rubber tramp/gypsy philosophy qualify me as a van-dweller in spirit?
Looking forward to becoming part of the tribe, if y'all will have me
For starts, I'm very, very grateful that there are like-minded folks out there. I appreciate reading y'all's blogs, experiences, tips, advice, and thoughts on life. Perhaps there's yet a bit of sanity in a world gone mostly bonkers.
My story, in a nutshell -- a childhood spent in Boy Scouts and wandering the woods, living out of whatever I had on my back, taught me that less is more, and more is an unnecessary complication. A college education in history and psychology generally confirmed the idea. Several years in the Army hammered it home.
A couple years ago found me at Fort Rucker, Alabama, doing my level best to learn to fly attack helicopters, to better be able to serve my country. I didn't want to waste my life on myself, and reckoned that would be a good way to not live for myself but to serve fellow man. I lived in a rented house off-post, and in my off-time, planted a garden, fed my fellow warrant officers, and contemplated life. Being a devout Christian, as well as a History/Psychology guy, the last is a bit of a hobby of mine.
I had built a smallish house at a previous point in my life and lived in it. Well, "struggled" more than "lived." Now, finally, I had a respectable job, a respectable dwelling, and approval of society around me. Found the respectable dwelling to be over-rated, decided to down-size for good so as not to consume any more third-world resources than I had to, and started building a tiny house in my driveway in time off duty.
All was grand up to the point someone asked me, "You're down-sizing to a shack on wheels, you're growing a garden because you love to watch things grow, you live at peace with people and strive to follow Christ... Where does the killing fit in?..." I realized that my respectable job of killing people for pay would cost me my soul. And that all the approval of society, pay, benefits, and the rest would not be sufficient compensation for not being able to look God in the eye without a deepest sense of shame at what I was quick becoming. Christianity is incompatible with military service, or killing of any kind for that matter; it is truly regrettable how few Christians realize it.
I got out of the Army with a half-finished tiny house, an old Ford truck, and a set of contractor's/mechanic's tools to my name. That, and the knowledge of having done the right thing. Went back to Pennsylvania, quickly realizing that people looked at me kinda funny for no longer wanting to kill people for a living. Fellow Christians, particularly. After a year of being slammed around by life (doing the morally right thing is always rewarded... always), I packed up my tools, hitched up the tiny house to the truck, and hit the road.
Am currently in North Dakota, in the oilfields, working as a diesel mechanic. Working on spreading God's love, compassion, and the message of simple, humane, and sustainable living to who-all I meet (could've picked a better place, I suppose, but it is what it is). As always, contemplating life and the human condition. And well and truly looking forward to exploring/bumming around/living in the local BLM and National Forest country when the weather gets better.
A van-dweller I am not, on a technicality -- being a practitioner of the mechanic's and carpenter's trades, my tools would take up too much room in the van. Believe you me, I considered the matter with due diligence, coming to the conclusion that I am more useful to humanity with tools than without. Would the combination of a truck full of tools, a home-built cabin pulled along behind it, and a fundamentally minimalist/rubber tramp/gypsy philosophy qualify me as a van-dweller in spirit?
Looking forward to becoming part of the tribe, if y'all will have me
