Hi folks. I was absolutely privileged to meet a warm, talented, really interesting lady with her own Yurt a number of months ago and have been so intrigued by her journey that I asked if she would write a guest blog for me and to my delight..she said yes! What follows is a love story. Please be sure to look up her blog to follow her unique viewpoint and journey through life with an adorable toddler, chronic conditions, positive outlook, alternative housing and more. Enjoy…
Shaman in New Jersey
I live in McMansion land. The land of pools and tennis courts and bowling alleys in your backyard. NYC parties for kids @ Dillons Candy Bar. Broadway shows. Glitz and glamour! Charity functions. MONEY.
And I feel lucky, if out of place.
But I should prolly start closer to the beginning.
Once, there was a yurt (like hurt). A ger (think bear). A traditional Mongolian roundhouse. For camping in, living in, exploring in. Packs down real small. Sets up pretty quick and hunkers down like a champ in bad weather. Like glampng with no electric. Just candlelight and moon glow.
In Mongolia, they are a matrilineal society: the women own the property and pass it down. And so it came to be that two years or so after my wedding, I became the proud owner of my very own yurt. The ALL knowing yurt! Gert the yurt! (So many stories, so little time)
She is a 16 ft beauty. All blues and sunny yellows and pine and sunshine. Made simply with loads of love and care. By folks who I have loved and cared for most of our adult lives. And now we have families, and they too play in the yurts.
I have had some of my best and most magical time in this space. It has gone loads of fun places, pulled pranks, kept us safe thru tornadoes and hurricanes (no shit, there was). It has witnessed love and strife and morning coffee with cuddles and days of rain and puddles in the bed.
It’s like this part of me. Which was wilder? Or free?
The part who listened more to the noise of night, dreamed and then made the time to create. Had a space by my fire for all those I loved, love, will love.
A sacred space if there ever was one.
And maybe that’s why I am mad for tiny. A tinyGypsy. Traveling to turn the whole earth on to tiny. Be it yurt, or house, or boat or van. Cob or wood or canvas. Handmade and in realtime.
Home is really where my heart is.
And my heart is round and full, like my yurt.