The Poetry of Van Life: A Glimpse

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The Poetry of Van Life: A Glimpse

Open Eyes to Bright Sunlight 

The curtain between my car and my house is white
And so my windshield is leaking the new day into my sleepy eyes.

I try to decide which way to start my day,
But so often my current location decides for me.
Can I stay here?
Or must I find the will to climb behind my bed to drive away, facing the day outside with an urgent searching for the next place to serve my needs....

I have begun practicing Seeing the world through the lense of possibility...
The first time I decided to try, I learned what it meant to
Look too hard at it all and
Lose touch with the big picture.
Now, I have found a resounding comfort in the unknowable way it all fits together.

My rearview mirror is useless.
Even if there weren't curtains obstructing my view, I would still only have a narrow frame to look through.
All of my belongings fit in the corners and nooks, or hang from clothespins and hooks hung up around my ceiling.
I never realized how many of the things I thought were essential were really just distracting me from what matters most.

Now when I turn around I see opportunity.
A new face greets me on my back porch,
Asks me what I have to offer
And I find that it is more every day.

When I stopped obsessing over how much money I was worth
I found that it didn't matter.
The survival instinct is still sharp
But I have finally learned to stop bleeding on it, healing all my wounded ways instead.

My dreams often keep me asleep.
I find I am not so tired in the morning,
Rather just not quite ready to leave the world of sleep.
Some people ask me if I live in a van because I am lazy,
But I tell them it is because I am driven.

Today I woke up on purpose.
I step outside to find cold concrete under my feet
And the knowledge that my home will follow them.
My dreams may tell me of a future here,
But when I recall the time I found myself fully in one singular place
It was in the vessel that took me to many.

Once, I decided to trust myself.
It took me many tries
But eventually I learned the secret:
For all the times I have failed my own best interests, second guessed and doubted my intuition, I forgive myself.
For every misstep, every lie I told or part of my soul I've sold,
I forgive myself.
I recognize my desire to do better,
I hear the voice of my strength whispering in my ear, and I BELIEVE it.

I cannot see the future.
But when I look into my heart,
I feel it beating there.
Calling me forward with its sturdy rhythm, and soft persistence.
It is beautiful,
And mine.


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