Was it a waste of time to read some of the non-famous-novels of Tolstoy and a biography of Gandhi, "Gandhi Before India." by Ramachandra Guha? Today most people see the "prophet" Tolstoy as a prudish, anti-sex crusader and a romanticizer of Russian peasants. Gandhi was obsessed with diet and holiness even back in his student days in London.
Perhaps, instead, I should read about their actions and ideas that make them remembered as great men, rather than as oddballs and cranks. But maybe it is not that simple. Recall that Isaac Newton wrote more theology than mathematical physics. Was he not earnest in both endeavours? How could the same mind and personality be brilliant in one field and a forgettable crank in the other?
Perhaps we fail to read between the lines in their crank endeavors. More imagination might be needed to spot the great man in the fields where they did not shine.
At any rate I usually mock asceticism until it gets cold. Then I start acting like a holy monk. Yes, this is certainly inconsistent, but is also earnest. I have yet to use any supplemental heat this winter. Last night the inside of my trailer fell into the upper thirties (F). I was ready for it after retrieving my heaviest sleeping bag from the van.
I become furious at any weakness about the cold. It is best to get out of bed when it is still dark. Ahh, how nice it is to turn on the stove and heat up the water for coffee. Then a warm breakfast. When the sun finally pops over the local mountains, and pushes through the only window on that side of my trailer. It makes a square foot of bright rectangle appear on the opposite wall.
The condensation on the metal screws is due to them connecting to the steel rafters of the wall and the exterior aluminum skin on my converted cargo trailer.
Since I had to get hands-on involved with my window, it is a pleasant memory and an experience to me, not just a mass-produced good from a factory. I had to buy the right one and hope that it fit between the wall rafters. And where should I put it? Finally it came down to 'now or never', as I got out the drill and saber saw. My palms did sweat a bit, but it turned out easier than I thought.
I did some reading on building igloos. They poke holes every so often for ventilation. During the polar winter/night, they sometimes put a window (about half the size of mine) in the direction that points to the brightest (and sunless) spot in the sky. Where that would be, I wonder? Three-dimensional, celestial maps are hard to imagine without a globe, a flashlight, and a dark room.
Every "unit" of dreadfulness or discomfort suffered at night or in the morning darkness is paid back in double portions of pleasure and satisfaction, soon after sunrise. An hour after sunrise the warm sunny rectangle moves to the spot on the bed where my dog snoozes after her morning frolic in the desert.
There is something about just having one window that focuses the imagination, which then intensifies my appreciation. It is almost a religious reverence: the rectangular spot is like the light pouring through the stained glass windows at the front of the church, and suffusing the altar with benevolence and hope.
And yet there are comfort-worshiping, bourgeois sybarites in RVing that praise many windows and large windows in an RV. What soul-less philistines they are! (We needn't mention the cult-brand of RV.)
In the future I will see my little white cargo trailer with its lone window as an igloo all alone in the Canadian arctic, suffocating under 24 hours of darkness, but with a chink in its wall, focused on the brightest cluster of bulbs in the Milky Way.
Perhaps, instead, I should read about their actions and ideas that make them remembered as great men, rather than as oddballs and cranks. But maybe it is not that simple. Recall that Isaac Newton wrote more theology than mathematical physics. Was he not earnest in both endeavours? How could the same mind and personality be brilliant in one field and a forgettable crank in the other?
Perhaps we fail to read between the lines in their crank endeavors. More imagination might be needed to spot the great man in the fields where they did not shine.
At any rate I usually mock asceticism until it gets cold. Then I start acting like a holy monk. Yes, this is certainly inconsistent, but is also earnest. I have yet to use any supplemental heat this winter. Last night the inside of my trailer fell into the upper thirties (F). I was ready for it after retrieving my heaviest sleeping bag from the van.
I become furious at any weakness about the cold. It is best to get out of bed when it is still dark. Ahh, how nice it is to turn on the stove and heat up the water for coffee. Then a warm breakfast. When the sun finally pops over the local mountains, and pushes through the only window on that side of my trailer. It makes a square foot of bright rectangle appear on the opposite wall.
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| I am pleased with this photograph, but not because it is "beautiful," but rather, because it might be a non-verbal path to ideas. I hope it causes the viewer to start building a little essay in his mind. |
The condensation on the metal screws is due to them connecting to the steel rafters of the wall and the exterior aluminum skin on my converted cargo trailer.
Since I had to get hands-on involved with my window, it is a pleasant memory and an experience to me, not just a mass-produced good from a factory. I had to buy the right one and hope that it fit between the wall rafters. And where should I put it? Finally it came down to 'now or never', as I got out the drill and saber saw. My palms did sweat a bit, but it turned out easier than I thought.
I did some reading on building igloos. They poke holes every so often for ventilation. During the polar winter/night, they sometimes put a window (about half the size of mine) in the direction that points to the brightest (and sunless) spot in the sky. Where that would be, I wonder? Three-dimensional, celestial maps are hard to imagine without a globe, a flashlight, and a dark room.
Every "unit" of dreadfulness or discomfort suffered at night or in the morning darkness is paid back in double portions of pleasure and satisfaction, soon after sunrise. An hour after sunrise the warm sunny rectangle moves to the spot on the bed where my dog snoozes after her morning frolic in the desert.
There is something about just having one window that focuses the imagination, which then intensifies my appreciation. It is almost a religious reverence: the rectangular spot is like the light pouring through the stained glass windows at the front of the church, and suffusing the altar with benevolence and hope.
And yet there are comfort-worshiping, bourgeois sybarites in RVing that praise many windows and large windows in an RV. What soul-less philistines they are! (We needn't mention the cult-brand of RV.)
In the future I will see my little white cargo trailer with its lone window as an igloo all alone in the Canadian arctic, suffocating under 24 hours of darkness, but with a chink in its wall, focused on the brightest cluster of bulbs in the Milky Way.
Comments
An electric heater!? That would require me to become part of the Matrix.
I used to put water jugs out a night, let them freeze, and put them in the frig during the day.
Chris, I have a Mr. Heater Big Buddy in the trailer, but it is still a virgin.
I can't resist saying, in passing, that the "how to" of RVing is over-rated. It really isn't rocket science. It is a good idea to get the (so called) practical stuff behind you and move on to the "spiritual" level. (grin)
My husband and I follow the lessons taught us by our parents, when resources were scarce and gained only by very hard work. Heat the house with wood fires, since wood is free, and use the money saved for trips and books and celebrations. Bank the coal furnace well at night, pile the beds with home-made quilts, and use the money saved to take the family on a summer vacation. "Less is more" isn't Spartan or ascetic, it's just common sense (which admittedly has never been all that common, at least in my lifetime.) All any of us really need is one window.
But I agree that minimalism is misunderstood when the focus is on self-punitive asceticism. It really is just an exercise in redistributing resources towards the things that really count. Hence, we get more out of life, not less.