Reinvention Off the Grid

Dave told me his story this morning at Lake Cheston: the machine shop where he worked went out of business, so while he was on unemployment, he sold his Harley and built a cabin on his 7 acres of land.  He used some of his own trees for the timber and worked for other folks to earn money for the flooring and other materials he couldn't make.  Now he works when he wants to as a handyman (he helped my friend Jill rebuild her rock gardens), and he caves when he wants to.

As he talked about foraging for mushrooms (those big softball-sized ones I saw at the Forestry Cabin are called puffballs, I learned) and I talked about dragonflies, I realized we have this in common: reinvention.  That is, we have come into something again as if anew, and that something is ourselves.  He takes work when he wishes, having been forced out of work he once had.  I once taught in a classroom all day, but now work online at home, scheduling most of it when I want to.  He has learned mushrooms (and much more); I have learned photography (and much more).

He truly lives off one grid, and I off another -- both of us free of the ropes that once tied us down.  Like this female Calico Pennant, we rest when it pleases -- then fly.