The sountrack to life is loud!

In stark contrast, every night seems to be a celebration in San Juan Cosala! Sitting on the porch I can hear live bands, roosters crowing, the braying of burros, announcements on loud speakers, the whinnying of horses, an endless chorus of dogs barking, church bells, and mucho cohetes! Occasionally, I can even hear a cow. I love it!

Why are you doing this?

When I started telling people that we were selling our house and moving out of the US, the first question was “Why”. Why would you leave Seattle, a city that you have moved back to three times? Why would you choose another country over the US? Why now? And why would you take your son out of school?

Joy, tragedy, and bad behavior

As we travel through the national parks, people boldly demonstrate their sense of entitlement. It is hard to believe that even with gorgeous canyons and stunning views all around them, they honk at each other, aggressively pass on narrow roads, and flip each other off. Their behavior screams that they believe they are the most important and must be “first”. Even absorbing natural beauty is a competition. Who saw the most? Who got the best selfie? In reality, they barely see anything because everything is flying by so quickly. Even out here among some of the most beautiful places on earth, many people do not suppress their bad behavior, demonstrate patience or kindness.

The lost art of porch sitting

As I sat on the porch alone at our home for a few nights in Onalaska, WA, I heard owls hoot, an occasional shriek of a hawk, and the chorus created by chirping crickets. Occasionally the song of farm dogs echoed throughout the valley and I heard a horse whinny. Smoke filled the air from wildfires burning throughout the NW. A blood red moon intermittently peeked out through the clouds and haze. A slight breeze brought the faint sweetness of honeysuckle. I inhaled and absorbed my surroundings. No one else bore witness to the exquisiteness of that moment. They were plugged in. Distracted. Connected to politics and people far away, but missing out on what was right in front of them. I invited them to put away their devices and join me on the porch; within seconds they became cognizant of the beauty the farm offered us…we only needed to be present and receptive.

Letting go of all the “good stuff”

How could I leave “all my stuff” behind? What do we actually “need”?
What if I regret giving my “favorite” things away? What if the house doesn’t sell and we have to live here with it empty? What if we change our minds? What if the person that gave me that “special” item finds out I gave it away?

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