Getting in touch with your inner dirtbag is not a bad thing. In fact, it could get you through the hard times...like now.
There was a time in my life when I lived on a dirt floor dog kennel off the kitchen in a house with 8 other people. There was another time when my home was a tent in the woods of a town park. I've called old drafty barns home and slept in a hammock in an aspen grove when a friend's couch wasn't available. I've made my home on top of a hot tub cover for months at a time. All of them were perfect for me. Because I was a dirtbag.
Camping, road trips, or any excursion that reduces your resources to what you can carry, filter and catch brings out a measure of grit and creativity that many of our regular, daily routines lack.
The term "dirtbag" typically does not illicit a positive image. The most famous in the Northwest was Fred Becky, the legendary mountaineer who had a documentary titled "Dirtbag" that chronicled his voracious appetite for adventure and the price he was willing to pay to chase his passion. For me, being called a "dirtbag" is a compliment, or a kind of badge of honor.
My continuous vagabond days are behind me, but I relish the opportunity to dip my toe in a lifestyle that requires adaptability, resilience and creativity. Camping, road trips, or any excursion that reduces your resources to what you can carry, filter and catch brings out a measure of grit and creativity that many of our regular, daily routines lack.
Given today's crisis of viruses, quarantines and global suffering, I'm finding myself drawing upon my dirtbag days to get me through. I check the boxes that matter. My family is healthy. We have food, shelter and are keeping a positive attitude. We're helping others by volunteering at the local food bank, donating blood and connecting with friends and neighbors who might be feeling isolated. We count ourselves lucky when so many are on the brink or past it. And we're living more simply.
We're doing art projects and digging into craft projects that we've thought about but haven't carved out the time to dig in. Together, we've played more cards and board games, cooked meals and gotten creative with ingredients when a grocery visit is days off. We seek our cheap, local adventures and have explored new wetlands on SUPs, walked neighborhoods we've driven through before, and hiked beaches at low tide. I've added another chord to my guitar playing (makes 4 now), carved spoons, built a corkboard from a bag of old saved wine corks, built a cornhole set from scrap wood, written more, and listened more.
Our lives today are simpler in some ways than before the pandemic hit is. We're more creative, resourceful and less distracted. We've cut our spending, cancelled subscriptions, shortened showers, planned our meals and dug out food from our freezer we just plain forgot about.
We've all had to let go of what our expectations of "normal" might be and embrace a new rhythm and set of priorities - to look out for each other more than before and not forget about self-care. We're exercising atrophied mental muscles that remind me of a time that still makes me smile today - when I was a dirtbag and lived with less and happy for just a few things, health, a little food, and maybe a hammock to sleep in.
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