Goldilocks

    One of the things that has always somehow attracted me to living on a boat is that it's an exercise in the extreme of 'just enough'. You find the boat that is the biggest you can afford to maintain and dock, but not so small it's unlivable. Then you pare down everything you own to fit in that mould. You find just the tools that you need and try to figure out just which spare parts you'll need when who knows what breaks down. You install only the systems you can't do without. Do you need pressure water? Do you need a refrigerator? Do you even need an ice box? What food do you need? Do you go with steaks and a three burner stove, or do you boil up rice over a tea light? The funny thing is, everyone comes up with a different answer to these questions. And it's a happy little surprise when you come across someone who came up with some of the same.
    The other guy on a 20-something footer makes you feel more comfortable. The person turning beans, rice, and lentils into tasty soup on a little propane stove makes your Ramen and eggs seem like an acceptable meal. Those retirees on their 47 footer with watermaker, radar, shower, icebox, heater, full enclosure... sure they seem to have it great, but everything they own will break eventually. And while they're shoulders deep in the bowls of their behemoth (which they can't manage to fit into a slip without help from the dockhands) tearing into their $1000 refrigeration system so the 50lbs of food won't rot before sunset, you're anchored a few hundred feet away, nibbling away at some rice and beans smiling smugly to yourself, just like they'd been when they motored past you three hours before while you were getting soaked in the rain.
    Some people will tell you that they "can't live without" their, whatever. Some people tell you that the minimalist experience enhances the beauty, the connection to the trip. Seeing as how I am, indeed, on the more minimal side of the spectrum, I do believe I've gotten more out of the experience than those 35-50 footers. I've been forced to figure out what is just enough for me. Some things aren't enough; I wish I had more tools. Some things are too much; I haven't worn a third of my clothing and I feel crowded by some of the general clutter. But, I've seen the edges of what I need to survive. Enough keeps me content, more will never make me happy. Then again, that was part of the whole point of this trip, to live with less. The folks with everything aren't out here for that experience (but if they are, someone should tell them they're doing it wrong). There are things I miss. I miss my LEGO, my car, my modeling area.
    Of all of it, only the tools I've left at home have really impacted how I live day to day. I live by my hands. I craft things because words are sometimes meaningless. When I try to write it feels like a shallow mockery, like a kindergartener trying to write a sonnet. Without those tools I feel lost, I can't turn imaginings into anything more than strings of characters on damp leaves of paper. Some people craft in words, some craft within people. I'm only able to turn out rude facsimiles of the visions I wish I could create, even with all my tools. But time, practice, and patience may change all that. Only time will tell. Until then, I will take what I have and use it to the best of my abilites. I will turn enough into more than it seems.