How the dream started

So, we got rid of the in-denial SUV--You know the one. The kind you pay through the nose for because NOT owning a mini van is the only thing that keeps you from forever losing even a semblance of your pre kid life. The Volvo xc90--designed to trick the pseudo hipsters like me? Well, it’s gone. Now I use a bicycle to get around. And I am stunned by my sense of freedom. Wind through my hair, legs pumping, heart racing.

And, two days ago we sold our house. Bought it for 234 thousand dollars just over a decade ago when Riverdale was the place west enders went when they couldn’t afford the Annex. Gone for more than a million. Signing the real estate papers makes me feel even freer than handing over the car keys.

And now I’m looking around at all the stuff we own and realise it too must go. Good-bye to the white leather sectional couch, the flat screen built in tv, the deco cabinet, the mission dining room table. Even the lamps, the thousands of dollars of suits that cram my walk in closet all meant for a career that I’ve put on pause. So long to the high heeled shoes, the gorgeous winter coat, the hundred dollar pillows, the fancy coffee maker.

I have not gone bankrupt. I am not getting divorced and I am not entering a monastery.
But I am giving up this life to try a new one, at least for a while. Like a bolt of lightening I have been struck by the fact I have become too comfortable in my comfort. Trapped by my trappings. And I feel a huge urge to turn things upside down. Forget about investing and amassing and consuming. I want to divest, downscale. Live now and use less.

I’m also increasingly worried about speed. Not the drug, but the pace. Espcecially for my children, who seem to be in such a hurry to grow up. Everything happens so fast. and I want (to try) and slow it down. The pressure to be something else feels even more offensive when you see your children falling prey to it. My 10 year old Riley already thinks he’s a teenager and wants a cellphone, Eminem cd’s and even asked for a blackberry(!) the other day. My five year old Eva spends too much time in front of the mirror and, like so many other girls her age, seems overly focused on the exterior. And I overheard my 2 year old (a boy, by the way) say he wanted a “belly shirt” the other day, a desire picked up from his sister.

Thank god my husband Steve is feeling the same way about all this. And so ...we’re all moving to Costa Rica. We bought 6 acres of land on a mountainous jungle overlooking the Pacific ocean. There are howler monkeys in the trees, boa constrictors in the grasses and stick insects and scorpions on the walls. There’s a little international school on the beach where the first rule is “No throwing mangoes”. Rule number two: no going to the ocean by yourself.”. The uniforms; surfer shorts and yoga skirts. Friday afternoons are set aside for surfing.

The small fishing town reminds me of a tropical wild west. A dusty strip with shacks for stores. Some surf shops, a falafel hut (!) and a chicken joint. A couple of small supermarkets, a bicycle rental shop, a place to buy booze. Fishermen selling the mornings’ catch on the beach every afternoon. And when you need something a little more refined, the main drag is book ended by a couple of beautiful boutique resorts that occasionally draw some high profile celebrities--like Gwyneth Paltrow, Mathew McCaughney and that supermodel Giselle, looking for the ultimate seclusion.

And the beaches? They go on for ever...some stretches have the most beautiful sugar sand, others are crusted with hardened lava, creating perfect tide pools for small ocean creatures. The days are slow. The weather is almost perfect. The people are friendly.

I know all this sounds too good to be true. Even in the telling of our plans I realise I am painting only a partial portrait. This may be a dream, but my eyes are wide open. I am not expecting some kind of perfect trade in. Exchanging the big bad life of materialism, consumerism, superficial success and snow for a pure life of tranquility, enlightenment, selflessness and sun. . I know that a snap shot of paradise changes once that two week vacation is up. The images of palm trees and beaches, surfers and girlie drinks start fading fast when paradise becomes your home.

It’s been 6 months since we made our decision to move to The Rica, as Steve now calls it. And the road from dream to reality is a funny one. My feelings most closely resemble those howler monkeys swinging from the trees on our property. Secure and determined while hanging on the vine,. Exhilarated and terrified but still keenly aware of the destination in the moment before grasping the next vine. Right now, as I hang between vines, I feel liberated and freed by my divestment's. Excited by the possibilities. I have a strange tingle in my stomach. The same sensation as when I first realised I was in love with Steve. It’s the feeling of being loved and in love. But more than anything it’s the feeling of being alive. Really alive.