The floor was hard this morning as Spirit romped around, his usual self being the Daily Clown. That is what Pits do. It's vibrations through my own steps I felt, and no, it was not "parquet," it was frozen dirt from this ongoing winter. Crunch... crunch. Frozen mud. Unfamiliar spaces for me, it takes me at least 24 hours to get the lay of the land, this mental "I am here" feeling while the tent is pitched near a fire ring. It takes Spirit seemingly only a few minutes to be "at Home." He lives in the moment, definitely more accomplished than myself.
We have been on the road full time camping for a bit over 6 years now. Time has flown by, and every day is more exciting than the previous one. Our Home has become more mental than anything else. Of course Spirit has his familiar spaces where he feels more comfy than others, such as in his sidecar and his spot in the tent. That is it.
There is no beginning and no end in his mind, and what a wonderful way to live as I have taken many lessons from him. Some laugh at that notion. We are after all humans, they are animals. How can that be? It is. Spirit is as I call him also my Pawsome Human and I don't "own him." We cohabitate. There is never a complaint toward the lack of walls, a fence maybe, a gate, a room dark at night where the stars would not glow. We are in the Wild at most moments but far from being wild. I have never trained him as my previous two Buddies in my Lifetime while I am approaching myself 65. It is more of a "mutual understanding" so much based on Love and respect, and much natural communication.
Our Homes sometimes are only limited by the straight line of a horizon miles and miles away while in the deserts, 360 degrees of what many would think of "nothing." Other times, rugged mountains so populated with trees we might have a hard time setting up while jagged edges of the rocks of all colors surround us. He is off the leash within those environments not urban. I subconsciously always know where he is as he wears a bear bell yet not necessary as he is the one that keeps an eye [both really!] on me with every move that I make, following me with his sight or moving on if a bit too far.
We don't know where our next home will be. We move on with the weather as Mother Nature defines our path. We try to stay warm in the winter and cool for the summer, that particular season when we also fight with the mosquitoes. It truly does not matter where we are because we are indeed already there.
We have many friends now. Sometimes we do visit them for a very short while. It is not them that make us escape quickly, but us as the walls seem to close us off from our own reality which in normal times surrounds us, the sounds are absent, the sky our only ceilings painted and no stars so bright or a Moon lit like a light bulb defining the same daytime horizon only of different shades and shadows.
It does not take much for us to be at Home.