The arial viewpoint from above the clouds between two countries.
I will not be tamed.
I hadn’t been a renter for 20 years until I came back to the bay area 5 years ago. I have had the privilege of learning about the societal hierarchy called tenant and landlord.
Landlord. (Note: my particular landlord is not meant to be a reference for this writing, I’m speaking of the idea of landlord in general.)
Do we still use this word?
The land LORD. And we are but the humble renters, void of freedom and will?
We can be kicked out, abused of, made to pay extraordinary costs, to have a roof above our heads, no need for a relationship or even face to face conversation. It’ s all in the contract.
We can be requested to remain quiet, to not change anything, to not put a screw in the wall, to not park more than 3 cars, to not fix your car, to not smoke outside, to not be able to leave as no one but us is allowed to pay any rent in the house.
We can become slaves to have a roof over our head. No vacations because each of us pays thousands of dollars a month and every hour counts.
Vacations become rarer as we think of the empty room sitting on piles of money each night we are gone.
Like letting food rot on your table. But rather something that costs more like caviar.
The landlord.
If you want to be free you must have money.
Buy your own multi-million-dollar home to rent it out to some vacationer, some lowly renter.
Buy your multi-million-dollar overpriced home for the view and the beach.
Beauty is for the privileged.
What! Did you say the privileged?
“I am not! I went to school, I work non-stop, I strived to get where I am now. I deserve my wealth. Thank you google, thank you technology and all the addicted users. “
Freedom or Slavery?
Is it really that house on the cliff overlooking the ocean that denies a home to a local who has lived here for 30 years? His home that was once off the beaten track has become paradise for the telecommuters.
Move away, once again, find a place that they haven’t discovered yet. And try to make it, without their money, without the system of slavery to the big dollar.
Who am I? Yes, 5 years ago I lived in a gypsy caravan, now I live in one of the biggest houses in this little beach town. I can’t say that I have found peace.
It’s not where you live, but who you live with.
It’s not the size, but the quality. (no pun intended)
I just came back from France today where I own a half an acre of land, a little gypsy caravan, a cabin and my latest handmade build; an octagonal deck. I sweated through each one of those tiny home builds and felt the satisfaction of their completion.
I spent my days in overalls and boots, carrying wood, digging holes, pouring cement, gardening, drilling, pounding nails.
I could just pay someone to do this. I could work for a few days in the bay area and have someone build it for me, instead of me slaving away 8 hours a day for 2 weeks.
I could.
But, there I’m free, I don’t have to ask anyone. I don’t have to not make noise after 10PM. I don’t have to ask to put in a screw in the wall. I don’t have to negotiate with roommates about décor.
I love having a big home in the SF Bay, I can concentrate on my work with somatic therapy, my clients, I can enjoy the beach, hiking, my white sheets.
I don’t own it. I borrow on someone else’s rules. I don’t feel deeply connected to this home, I don’t have my sweat and tears put in this home, heck I don’t even want to invest in buying an extra refrigerator shelf.
5 years ago, I came to SF to be bigger. To be a contribution. Now, I live in a big ol’ house that most people can’t afford. I get to receive people to my house and not be ashamed of it being too simple or not big enough. But yet I wonder in this illusion of grandeur, is it really something to be proud of?
What I love about life is choice.
I get to choose now. What kind of life do I want to have?
Whenever I’m in the airplane between France and SF, I get to see my life from a bird’s eye view and ask the question; am I in the right place? Is this the pathway in my life that I really want to be taking?
The “norm” sustains an unannounced race to get THERE. Nice house, financially lucrative job, then what?
What else is there once you can afford to eat out, take vacations, buy your kids new stuff and host friends at your big house?
Why do I feel a sense of boredom?
Am I just working to pay my rent! Is this it?
Is this the carrot they hold in front of your nose your whole life!
Then what’s next?
Own my home, become a landlord and live the good life of travel while someone else is following my rules and renting out my property. What is this old narrative I’m playing into; do I really still live in the Middle Ages?
Creativity is key when the societal norms become stifling.
I used to think the Bay area was the dream, creativity, spirituality, abundance, diversity, acceptance. You could be anything you want to be.
At least if you have $$$.
I am so grateful to this place. Yes, it has all that and more. YET. YET.
I don’t want to live in France again where I lived for 10 years. I felt stifled by the rules, the lack of positivity, the sensation that everything was the opposite of possible and I was poor.
My son says I complain a lot.
So, I’ll stop.
I like to think I’m just questioning the norm and checking in with myself. If this is the reality of things, is this ok for me or not; do I buy into this system or do I choose something else?
OR… do I just see things as they are and say “hey, things could be a lot worse elsewhere and I can thank my lucky stars that I live in a world of privilege.” And yes, we have a lot of privilege.
What do you think?
Would you trade comfort for freedom?
Or does comfort allow freedom?
To what point are we willing to lose freedom for the comfort we need to be free?
It’s a viscous circle.
But in the meantime, I thank my stars that I can afford to sit and ponder these questions.
Pondering allows us to live more intentionally and consciously.
Thank you for pondering with me.