Totally Don’t Need This. And Yet.

On my Facebook feed this morning, I found this gem, posted by a friend:

 Airstream Trailer

It is an Airstream Trailer.  And if you go to this link, you can see all its details, including its hardwood floors, its handcrafted wooden cabinets, its lovely textiles, its clawfoot tub.  It sells for $50,000, if you want to buy it.

Now, I don’t want to buy it.  If I had $50,000 to throw around, I would spend it on something else.  But!  I am totally taken by the images of an alternate life that this sparked in me.  Suddenly, there I am, wandering around the country, giving tarot readings form the side door, selling, oh, I dunno, magical Epsom salts or something.

Now, let’s be clear here:  I do not really want that life.  I’m not a nomadic sort; I like my space and some stuff and solidity.  Also, I do not look good in the style of clothes one clearly must wear in order to travel in this machine.  Also, the place is full of textiles and lace, and though I am a textile queen, I don’t like it festooned around my house as it collects dust and is difficult to clean.  Also, it’s really hard to make a living selling tarot readings and Epsom salts.  Even in my youth, I would not have chosen this life.  And didn’t.

But I recognize the pull to Aventure that spark represented.  This particular Airstream?  No.  Not buying.  (Laura will be happy to hear this.)  But what was it in that vision that caught me?

Freedom, movement, cherished space, color, work in the magical realm.  Quite possible to have those things without this particular Airstream trailer, or indeed any trailer at all.  Quite possible to manifest those desires within a different story entirely.

So that’s my advice on how to take aventures today:  Pay attention to the things that call you, even if they seem out of reach or downright silly.  Cause there’s information there.

And it doesn’t necessarily cost $50,000.