I’m writing this post offline. In my tent. In the Roosevelt National Forest. I’ll upload it tomorrow from the Boulder Public Library, which has become my office—of sorts. It’s true. This is where my life has brought me: to the woods, the library, the YMCA, and the couches of my generous friends.
It’s my fifth night in the forest now, but the most I’ve stayed is three nights in a row. How does one live in the forest, you might ask? Well, I’m not the best one to ask because I’m not living in my tent full-time. Just part-time. And I don’t know how long I’ll last. But so far, organization, ingenuity, patience, and friends with real houses have been helpful. I hope to elaborate more on these principles in upcoming posts, which will cover riveting topics, such as: how does one shower or write or have a social life in the woods?
I don’t know why other people live in the forest. They do—I keep meeting them. But I have several reasons:
First of all, I like the woods. I prefer them to the cities and the suburbs. I’d rather commute through Boulder Canyon than be stuck in rush-hour traffic. At five o’clock, I’ll have you know, people aren’t rushing out to their tents in the woods. It’s great.
The second reason for my living in the woods is that I’m on a tight budget these days. As in, it’s so tight, that it’s almost non-existent, and I can’t afford to pay rent until I get paid (October?). But I hope that I’ll still come out to sleep in the woods, even when my bankroll’s fat.
I want to do meaningful work. This is a very important Thoreauvian principle: the less you work doing pointless things, the more leisure time you have. And the more leisure time you have, the more time you can devote yourself to non-pointless things. Ultimately, I would love to get paid (well) for doing the things that I love to do, but I haven’t figured out how to make that happen yet.
In the meantime, I’ll sleep in my tent and scream like wild when the thunderheads come rolling in (pictured, above right).