Last night’s New Year’s Eve celebrations were less celebratory than cozy hunkering down in comfort and mild indulgence. It was the equivalent to macaroni and cheese from a box in front of the TV and without guilt, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. We let the kidlet play way too much on the PS5, we had a 2-hour video chat with my cousin, we watched part of a movie (Die Hard, which I remembered as far more appropriate for 10 year-old viewing than it is), messaged our friends with New Year wishes, ate sporadically throughout the evening, drank too much bubbly, and even served the kidlet some gingerale in one of our best champaign flutes.
I slept in until noon (!) and woke with a determination to get on with life. Enough already of this drifting about waiting for something to happen. All signs point to worse situations on the horizon, but also to more battles and a growing resistance against the measures imposed on us.
It was so refreshing to speak with my cousin, her man and one of her adult children, and to hear they share our perspective on things, share our frustrations and efforts to resist, however futile they prove to be. Cousin says she sees the signs that support from previously die hard (haha) mask wearers for the measures is waning, that people are beginning to question just how much we’re expected to sacrifice, and when it will end. I haven’t seen that, but I am also less out-and-about in the world than she and her guy are — they’ve been going in to work almost this whole time, whereas I work from home and have very little interaction with people outside of my immediate circle. For the most part, I’ve restricted my contact with those who are on board with these measures — I refuse to tolerate their attitude of condescneding outrage and criticism, and am exceedingly reluctant to get into any kind of debate online. I’m also uncomfortable with in-person confrontation and debate, but am more prepared to broach the subject face to face, partly because I believe those people are far less likely to outright call me a “maskhole” or “covidiot” to my face.
All that aside, I woke up with a new resolve and even a feeling of calm. Still uncertain, still not optimistic. Fear can easily take over and my mood/outlook/optimism is still a yo-yo easily influenced by news and commentary on Twitter. I looked outside at our small property, I looked around our house, and I know the answer is that we must move on. As I looked at my bookshelf (in a vacant staring-into-space way) while drinking my coffee and allowing my body time to shake off the late night, I thought how much I have always wanted to write meaningful things, to reach people with stories.
Last year? Two years ago? I forget when — my sense of time slips and shifts — but as part of courses I was taking toward a leadership certificate, I developed a personal mission statement. It relates, precisely, to sharing narratives and using story to help people connect with each other and their own histories and lives. It’s worded better than this, and is a longer more explicit statement, but that’s the idea. Looking at the shelves of books lining my living room, I was reminded of it, and I thought how much I would like to put my energy into pursuing that goal rather than into doing what I do so much of these days (work, scroll through Twitter, watch YouTube videos, worry).
Husband and I know that the property and the move are key to our escape from society — or at least from the trap of a work-debt enslavement system and the insidious influence of globalist/technocratic/transhumanist interests and the erosion of our humanity. I don’t believe I’m exaggerating to stat it this way; it’s what I think is happening. There are nicer and more acceptible euphemisms, perhaps. At the core, it is what’s happening. Exiting the system and insulating ourselves from the forces used to control us is, in my opinion, the only way forward (for us).
With a debt-free move to a property where we can more easily be self-reliant, I could stop working (for an employer — life is work, and that won’t stop!). Maybe not for another couple of years. Maybe I could arrange a part-time work agreement. But I held in my mind’s eye the vision of myself walking through the property. I thought here’s an experience and a journey I could share with others. I could document this, share my thoughts, show others what we’re doing and why.
So we’ve cooked up the beginnings of a plan. It starts with a GoPro, a video channel and a website, and yours truly: a woman in her mid-40s who grew up in the ‘burbs and lived a chunk of her adult life in the city. Today, I’m looking forward to fishing, trapping and hunting, learning to skin, gut and butcher to feed our family. (As an aside: I used to throw out the half-picked over carcasses of roast chickens because I felt grossed out about touching the bones. I shudder at the waste! Thankfully, I cooked those very rarely).
The rest of the plan we had already laid out — acquiring the tools and equipment needed to live on a remote property. The list of items is rather long, and we’ll need to learn some new skills, but that’s OK. We’ve done crazier things and we have a good idea of what we’re heading into, which makes all the difference. We’re able to learn, we’re confident in each other’s abilties, and we know we’ll adapt as we go.
So here’s to starting off the new year with an action plan, specific goals, and a dream for the future. As we move toward our future, this is where I’ll be stading, in my mind’s eye.
I can totally see you and hubby being successful in this endeavor. I admire your persistence in staying on track with your beliefs. I am a bit envious as I have spoken often about doing somethingsimilar (to a much lesser degree). Living on our land partially self sufficient....eg. chickens, a milk cow, etc. Unfortunately, age and a resistant, perhaps more grounded partner, is a road block not likely to be overcome in this lifetime.
I think this is a wonderful idea! And can't wait for the first video!