Finding your space

My traveling companion, Lesa, had been living only in her van, like me. It wasn't working very well for her. Now she also has a tiny travel trailer, a 13-foot Scamp. She has spent the past couple of weeks redistributing her possessions and supplies between the two, settling in. The trailer is now her living space, her home, and the van is now for storage. And for towing, of course.

An unexpected thing has happened, one that runs counter to the way most people live. Now that she has twice the space, she has been getting rid of things. Minimizing. Well, by building-dweller standards, minimizing further.

"I don't know why I've been holding onto this."

"I don't really need this."

"I should give this to someone else."

One of her guidelines is that the Scamp should contain only the things she uses daily. Another is that it should contain only things that make her happy. It's her version of the William Morris philosophy:

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful,

or believe to be beautiful.

Meanwhile, I was evaluating my own setup, my living space, my stuff. After a year on the road, after several purgings, after seeing how I actually live, what I actually need, I think I've got it where I want it. I have food, clothing and shelter. And transportation. And electricity. And a laptop. I'm contented. And contentment is the core of happiness.