I took a yoga class for a few weeks from a 16-year-old instructor and thought it a pity not more people are like her. Not only because she knew what she wanted in life at a young age and made it a reality, but mostly because all her belongings fit into a single cardboard box. She graduated from high school early and intends to travel to teach yoga wherever she pleases, so she limits her possessions to make transitions quick and smooth. I found the cardboard box rule even more intriguing while packing to move to Austin a few weeks ago. I packed about a fifth of my belongings and still was a long shot from fitting everything into a box.
Sometimes I want to live in poverty just to see how I would handle it. I would go to restaurants with no intention to buy a meal and wait for a table to leave so I could shovel their leftovers into my purse and casually walk out the door, as if the menu didn’t offer the kind of food I wanted. I would pitch a tent in the middle of a field and call it home and count the stars and my blessings at night. I would count the stars as my blessings. I wonder what kind of person I would be if I grew up bathing in the ocean, traveling by boxcar and writing and reading by candlelight.
Resourceful, for one thing.
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