The Coolest Iceberg on the Planet

So this post is response to another blog post. I was thinking I'd have more to say than would fit in that little comment box.

Katie you really are the coolest iceberg. Your blog really makes my brain tick, in the best way possible.

I saw the movie Into the Wild. Unfortunately this is the extent of my knowledge of Chris McCandless. I love that movie. It's sad, so sad. I was captivated. It is one of the most amazing stories.

My dad was a bit of a hippie when I was a kid. Okay, not really, but that's what I think of this phase of his life as - his hippie phase. My parents were very young when they started their family, so I was a young impressionable child when my Dad went through his save-the-world-nature-is-our-best-friend thing.

Chris' story reminded me of my Dad. He always talked about moving up north and living off the earth. Having a family and getting caught up in life and security kept him from doing that. I believe. I'm not my dad, so I can't say exactly, but I know that's part of it, even if it's a small part.

It didn't stop him, however, from being his crazy, wonderful, curious self. And rubbing off on me a little in the process.

We camped. A lot. In tents. With the dog. Camping is a lot of work, especially with wee ones. I have discovered this the last couple of years. And we do it in a pop-up, in trailer parks. When I was a kid we were in sheltered sites. No pool or park. Just lakes and dirt and rocks and trees. And we loved it. I still do.

I have never been in a situation where it was just me and the wilderness. In the survival sense. But I always have moments where it's quiet and still and I can breathe. Like really breathe and I feel free. In that moment nothing has ever been more beautiful or real. And I could conquer the world.

And now I can share that with my kids. And I hope they get that feeling.

If I could convince my dear hubs we would sell our house and buy a trailer and drive around and see the world, or the bit of it that we could reach in an RV. I would home school the kids and we would stop here and there to work so we could fill up the gas tank and buy some more groceries. When we tired of travelling we would find a chunk of land in the bush somewhere very north of here (not Alaska, but further than the-place-that-shall-not-be-named) and have a huge garden and chickens and i could can food and make everything from scratch... kinda Little House on the Prairie style, but a little more modern and very Eco-friendly. No TVs or computers (I don't think I could make it without music though). My kids would have an opportunity to learn about what's really important in life, things that I can't actually teach them. Feeling alive and real. This is my hippie dream.

We don't get that living in the world of jobs, and mortgages, and keeping up with the Jones'. It's so easy to get sucked into though.

There are so many things I observed my dad doing, that I helped him with or that we all did together. He gave me something that couldn't be taught, a gift that doesn't cost anything and worth more than any amount of money. Because of that I can identify with Chris McCandless. I may not be in a position to give up all of my possessions, even if I'd like to, but I know what it feels like to want to. To want to have a greater purpose than paying bills and living for everything outside of myself. To fill a need that comes alive inside of myself when I'm climbing up rocks and sitting under trees and watching the sunset over the lake.

That is my super long reply to Katie's short and powerful post. I'm very wordy. Thanks for helping my brain tick Katie!

A random fact, and something I've learned because of my father: The most disgusting smell in existence: simmering cow brains. Do not try this at home, just take my word for it. How do I know this? Apparently they somehow assist in preparing, staining or setting deer hide. I don't remember exactly, but I do know it is an awful smell.