Sunday, June 12, 2016

Thoughts on Home and Homelessness

In case you missed my social media posts, I've been traveling a lot lately. In March, I went to California for a weekend and then Portland for a week. In April I went on a mini road trip with my Dad down to Moab. Then we traveled to Europe as a family, and that trip was bookended by a weekend in California before we left, and another night there after the trip. May was pretty quiet until I drove home to California for another week around Memorial Day. And now we're heading to Park City for a family reunion staycation, which for me will be followed by another week in California, this time in Southern California.


I don't mention this to brag or to complain or whatever. Traveling is definitely a privilege and I feel really grateful for all of the opportunities I've had to see more of the world lately. I mention it so you'll get an idea of the percentage of time I haven't been sleeping in my normal bed. It's actually caused me to reflect a lot on the idea of home and how flexible that can be. Even when I have a tiny house, I don't plan to think of it as my one and only home. I think it'll be more like a base camp from which to adventure. And hopefully in a few years, I'll be able to take it with me so that I can explore all over the country. I have big plans for that.

In the meantime, I like that I'm becoming more fluid in my concept of home. Sometimes home isn't a house with walls and a bed in it. Sometimes home is a backpack, a car, or the people you love, even when you've spent hours in together in an airport.


Of course, this is all coming from my perspective as someone who has never been forced to spend a night without proper shelter. I know that my fluid notion of home is a bit artificial and influenced a lot by the money it takes to travel in comfort. I don't take that for granted. I'm grateful that I've never experienced real homelessness. And I hope I never have to. Part of what a tiny house represents to me is the security of knowing I'll always have a roof over my head.

But there is a bit of uncertainty that comes with tiny living. When you purchase a tiny house on a trailer, you have the walls and roof and bed, but you don't always have a guarantee about the spot of earth on which to park said walls and roof. I experienced a little of this uncertainty this week. I went to check out the potential parking spot I mentioned in my last post—the one that's only a couple of blocks from work.

I really wanted that place to be right. The location was perfect and on paper it seemed like a great fit for me and my house. But once I was actually there, I knew it was wrong. The hard part is that I can't pinpoint any one thing that was the problem. It was just a gut feeling. I really wanted to love the place, and yet, something about it unsettled me. If you know me well, you know that's not something I ever take lightly. I didn't want to move in there with something like that hanging over my head. I knew I'd keep second-guessing myself and never really feel at peace if I went ahead anyway. And so I reluctantly decided to follow my instincts and turn it down.

That was a tough day for me. I'd had this whole plan in my head about what the next year or so of my life would look like and it suddenly felt as if I was back to the drawing board with no real plans. I even wondered if this whole tiny house thing was a mistake and if I should just try to get out of it now before I got in any deeper over my head. But after lots of quiet reflection and prayer, I know that this is still the right path for me. In fact, I almost feel like in a weird way this experience has strengthened my resolve to push through the difficult parts of my tiny house journey and really make this work for me.

All that being said, I now find myself in the odd position of nearly owning a house but having no place to put it. I'm sort of homeless, but with a house. Before you get too worried, though, I should tell you that I do have a plan. There's an RV park near Salt Lake City that accepts tiny houses. In fact, there's already a tiny house on site there, and I've talked a little bit to the people living in it. The park is not as close to work (obviously), but it's actually a really nice location in some ways. And there are other benefits too, like the fact that I won't need to outfit my house for off-grid living, which is a cool idea in theory, but really expensive in reality, and also not something I was really excited about doing.

I'm not going to go through my entire pro/con list about why I've chosen this route, but if you're really interested in the logistics of finding parking for a tiny house, reach out to me and we can chat more. The point is that this option just makes more sense financially and in terms of my overall life goals.

Anyway, thinking about this has given me a really tiny glimpse into the uncertainty of what it's like to actually experience homeless, and I can tell you that it wreaks havoc on your mental and emotional wellbeing. And mine was only a theoretical half homeless future. I can't even imagine what it's like to not know where you'll be sleeping that night or if you'll have enough to eat the following day.

Housing options in a residential area outside Frankfurt

In America we frequently picture the American dream of a nice house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a two-car garage. Tiny houses fly in the face of that dream by challenging the notion of how much space a person really needs to live comfortably. But what about the people who really don't have any space to call their own? Wouldn't a tiny house be better for them than no house at all?

That's the idea behind several tiny house villages for people experiencing homelessness that are popping up all around the country. Right now I know of ones in Washington, Oregon, New York, Wisconsin, and Texas, but there are probably more that I don't know about, either in the planning stages or already up and running. However, I also know that efforts to build similar projects have often been stopped by red tape, insufficient funding, or both. Like this man's efforts in LA. I know that government regulations are there for a reason, but I'll admit that I don't understand the complexity that exists in our current zoning laws.

And I don't think it's right to tell people they're not allowed to live in a small space, especially when humans have been living in small spaces for centuries. I think the size of an individual's living space should be dictated by that individual's personal preferences and budget. Just because I want to live in a house of my own doesn't mean I should be forced into purchasing 1000 unnecessary square feet when 100 will suit me just fine and will, in my opinion, actually provide a better life for me than 1000 square feet of space would.

Tiny houses (barges) in Amsterdam

Okay, I'll get down off my soap box. This is obviously a complex issue, and I don't really want to get into an argument with anyone. I just hope that as tiny houses continue to gain popularity, it will stir some thought-provoking discussions about what home is and what it can be. I hope to see more tiny house villages in the future because I believe that these spaces help alleviate suffering for those who are experiencing homelessness and because I believe that there should be more options for those like me who choose to live in tiny spaces for other reasons.

I'm optimistic. I've seen so many tiny house communities spring up in the past few years and I know that growth will continue. I just hope that eventually we'll be able to see tiny houses not as a novelty but as a practical solution. I hope we can help more people consider their version of the American dream. Does it have to include that 1000 to 3000 square foot house? Or could our concept of home become more fluid? Personally, I would much rather have a tiny house that allows me travel often and spend more time with the people I love and doing the things that I love. That's my American dream.

This garden shed in Nuremberg reminded me of a tiny house.

And if making my American dream happen means moving into an RV park for now, I'm fine with that. In fact, I'm really looking forward to it! Which reminds me, only 63 days left in my countdown. Just thought you might want an update.

Till next time,
Keep dreaming,

Heidi

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