It all started with a phone call from my accountant—if ever there were a harbinger of the “real world,” a man inquiring about the whereabouts of my W-2 is it. I looked around my desk in dismay, trying to figure out where I had expertly stashed tax-related documents from the mountains of mail that awaited my return from my three-month Whatever Journey. Unable to locate them, I did what any sane person would do—left the office and walked the dogs. Later that day, and after complaining to a few friends about the drudgery of responsibility and obligations, I heard over and over, “Welcome back to reality.”

For some reason, that didn’t sit well with me. If anything, my reality out on the road, camping out of a van, was more real than anything I have ever done. Being forced into a moment-to-moment existence, where finding the next campsite, dodging torrential thunder storms, and side-stepping rattle snakes were the only concerns, gives reality a whole new meaning. But that reality also offered up some of the most beautiful sights and experiences I have ever witnessed. It was a reality of extremes: After an apocalyptic storm, a beautiful rainbow would emerge; the eerie sounds of the night were complemented by star-filled skies; the dangerous surf provided a magnificent backdrop to the miles and miles of uninhabited beaches; and on it went. I rarely thought about any obligation outside of sleeping, eating and getting to the next campground. Hiking consisted very simply of watching for dangerous wildlife and tricky ledges, bringing enough water, all while soaking in the stunning surroundings. It was all so very real, and so very balanced.

So, yes, getting my tax return in is, indeed, my reality right now. As is surgery that will bench me for two to three months (just a foot, but as far as overall functionality, it’s an awfully important appendage). Yet, if I have learned anything, it’s that Nature loves balance, and humans struggle with it. Perhaps by taking a page from Nature’s book, this “reality” doesn’t have to bite if I can counter it with serenity and happiness. So, if you’ll excuse me, it’s snowing right now and I haven’t made a snow angel all winter. The accountant can wait.

 

 

 

The snow calls.