This winter, one of the last in-person classes of my college career was a course on Buddhist Meditation Theory.  I’ve always had an interest in meditation and was excited to learn more about Buddhism, but I mostly signed up for this class because it seemed like a nice complement (i.e. “layup”) to the computer science course and the major seminar I planned on taking.  The course description advertised in-class practice meditation sessions, which I thought would be perfect for the stress that typically comes along with the squash season.  And, as an added bonus, the professor was  a former Calvin Klein model…

Little did I know that this would be the most influential and meaningful class I would take during my time at Dartmouth.  Not only did I learn all about the framework of Buddhist meditation, the differences between traditional practice and the modern Mindfulness movement, but I also learned about myself in a way I hadn’t before in an academic setting.  I was given the time and space, a luxury in a high-paced environment like Dartmouth, to closely analyze my outlook and perspective on life and my worldview. 

I realized how easy it is to fall into and get stuck in the pattern of just going through the motions of life absentmindedly.  Starting as young children, we’re fed into a system that bases self-worth on superficial, arbitrary, societally constructed values and measures success on a monetary scale rather than by happiness and overall well-being. 

One night around the midpoint of the winter term, I was doing a reading for class which included a Buddhist teaching that says to go to bed every night accepting the fact that you might not wake up in the morning.  I remember putting my book down, sitting very still in my desk chair, and just letting that sink in.  I had many moments similar to this one throughout the term where, for lack of a better way to describe it, things just hit different.  I did not sleep that night.  With my head on my pillow, I stared at the ceiling, deep in thought, “How will I ever be able to sleep again?”

As someone who often gets anxious about the unknown, I’ve found that Buddhism can alleviate this existential suffering. I’ve come to realize that it’s not so much about what I do next in life, or even what I do when I wake up tomorrow, it’s more about how I’m living my life.  Every day, I want to live a happy, fulfilling life that is not tied to an ego, or a notion of self-importance. For me, living a life with love and compassion for others, being caring, and generous with my time, energy, and resources is more important than how much money I make at whatever jobs I have along the way. 

No matter where I find myself, I want to be more aware and paying attention to the world, on purpose, non-judgmentally, in the present moment. The learning I did throughout the course and the meditation practice I have continued to develop since, has helped confirm my beliefs that there is a deeper life purpose and understanding to reach. 

The sad state of the world today exemplifies the urgency of living in the present as so much is unknown and keeps changing.  We are constantly faced with reminders of the impermanence and fragility of life, so why do we often overlook the importance of examining how we are living it. 

Last week, I put the final layer of flooring down which completed the first stage of my van conversion. After installing two layers of sub-flooring and framing the wheel wells, it was time for the hardest decision yet: picking out the color of the floors.

For someone who is very specific about the aesthetic of spaces (especially ones I live in) and has strong preferences in color, I did not take this decision lightly. The color of the floor would determine the other stylistic choices later in the build… pressure was on. I browsed the different laminate wood panel flooring options in aisle 12 of Home Depot, looked at samples countless times, but was still filled with indecision. It reminded me of being at the nail salon picking out what color I wanted for a mani pedi.

If you know me, you know that I’m not someone who routinely gets their nails done and acrylics freak me out. But, on occasion, especially after a long squash season, I treat myself to a mani pedi. Looking at the wall of nail polish, trying to decide on a color, while the lady at the salon waits for me gives me a rush of anxiety. I often end up choosing impulsively resulting in hot pink barbie nails that haunt me for the next month as the polish slowly chips off.

Back in aisle 12 of Home Depot, the same rush wafts over me, however, with no one waiting on me, I take my time to decide. There’s less risk, for sure. There’s no bright pinks or purples, just different shades of wood. I can’t really go wrong, yet it still feels like a significant choice.

I chose a light wash grey panel that has some natural highlights as well as some darker undertones, which will allow for some flexibility for the color palette of the rest of the decor. I want the interior of the van to be light to contrast the black exterior and am envisioning white walls with natural wood countertops. ~Coastal Boho~ is what I’ve determined the specific name of the aesthetic I’m aiming for to be.

The installation of the floor panels was difficult- extremely difficult. Don’t let the middle aged men who make YouTube tutorials on laminate flooring installations fool you. They make it look so easy.

Completing the floor was a huge milestone in the build and it made me feel like “wow, this is actually happening”. But, before I continue with the build, I have to first install all of my electrical equipment, which has already proved to be a challenge. This is the one part of the process I don’t feel knowledgeable enough to do on my own. Having a reliable electrical system is crucial for the off-grid adventures I plan on having, so I am working with an electrician to make sure it is done correctly. This poses its own set of obstacles. Communication and coordinating with an electrician is difficult. I have everything I need and I’m ready to go, but working around someone else’s schedule is slowing me down. I’ve found myself getting annoyed and frustrated by the lack of visible process I’ve made on the actual van the last week, but I’ve had to remind myself to let that go. I want this done well, and have no strict departure date, so it’s worth the wait.

In the meantime, I’ve been doing research on my route and welcome any suggestions on cool places to visit! I’ve also taken to Tik Tok to further document this process and my journey. I started a job remotely. I’ve been spending time on my own designs and thinking about how I can combine and grow my van content and Ablaz Design Co. into something cool.

While I’m definitely someone who likes to hit the gas, floor it, and get things done, slowing down a little, paying attention to details, and taking my time isn’t so bad either.

This past weekend, I shoved two old trundle bed mattresses and camping supplies into the back of Ody and drove up to the White Mountain National Forest with Nina, one of my best friends from high school to celebrate the beginning of our ‘real adult’ lives.  We hiked, we swam, we adventured, we drank more beer than water, we cooked, we laughed, we reminisced, we did all of the things. But, most importantly we drove…I drove.

I’ve never been a confident driver.  Yes, you read that correctly.  The girl who intends to drive cross country and live in a van gets nervous about driving… let that sink in.

Going to boarding school and living in a city I never had to drive much.  During my junior year of high school, I did weekly driving lessons with the infamous Wayne and Nekke from Liberty Driving where I drove around the farm land of Western Mass.  I’d meet Wayne or Nekke, depending on the day, in front of the main school building, get behind the wheel, give updates on my past week, rant about a recent game, complain about a test later that week, and listen to their stories as we drove around the town and farms surrounding campus for an hour.  It was a much needed escape from school and an impromptu therapy session, but after weeks of lessons one day Nekke called my mom and said, “You have the sweetest daughter.  One of the nicest I have ever taught… but, she’s a TERRIBLE driver.”

Before I got out of our car to take my driving test, my mom told me that no one has ever failed for being too cautious.  Thirty minutes later, I got back into our car, eyes watery, and announced that I had failed the test for driving too slow.  I am the first person to fail for being too safe.

That summer, without a license, I biked 8 miles to and from work.  Having to bike that summer accomplished two things.  One, I was in the best shape of my life. Two, I was more determined than ever to drive over 20 mph in order to pass my next test.

For a long time, driving gave me anxiety.  I avoided having to do it, and, when I did, I got nervous sweats and clutched the steering wheel with a white knuckled grip.  However, like most things, overtime, it got easier, more comfortable, and less stressful.  I’d currently qualify myself as a pretty good driver who prefers not to drive in the heavy rain or the dark and struggles to park.  I’ve come a long way.

As my #vanlife plan progressed, the tiny voice in my head laughed “but, how the hell are you going to drive a van?!?!”  It was the same voice that also questioned my ability to build out the inside of the van, the same voice that told me I should probably do what’s expected and get a normal job, and the same voice that has always echoed inside of me expressing doubts, fears, anxieties and telling me I shouldn’t or couldn’t throughout my life.  I’ve fallen victim to my inner voice countless times, but, like my driving, overtime I’ve gotten better at proving it wrong.  I could and I will.

Enter Ody.

Perhaps me knowing that being able to drive Ody was ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL for doing any of this, when I’m in that driver’s seat there’s no fear.  I feel strong, capable, empowered and motivated. Maybe it’s because I’m in a huge vehicle hovering over the other cars, but more likely it’s because I’m taking life into my own hands.  Annie take the wheel.

On June 24th, just a week after graduating from college and turning 23 years old, I got a van with the goal of converting it into a tiny home on wheels by the end of August and taking it cross country… meet Ody. I named the van “Ody” after Homer’s great adventurer, Odysseus, “the man of twists and turns”, as the van marks the beginning of my own odyssey.

I’ve always dreamed of moving out West and living somewhere in Colorado or California. During quarantine, as my graduation (albeit remote) slowly approached, I became fixated on the idea of hashtag Van Life. Stuck at home, these tiny homes on wheels had an obvious attraction… mobility. Being able to travel and explore, while also scouting out different cities I’m considering moving to, all from the comfort of my own home sounded like an ideal plan. I pitched the idea to my family and some friends and was surprised by the overwhelmingly positive and supportive responses. Everyone said to go for it. And so, I am. All gas, no breaks, baby!!!

Sitting in my driveway right now is an empty cargo van, my blank canvas, waiting for me to begin building. With zero electrical knowledge and limited building experience, I may have underestimated how much work this will be. But, fueled by excitement for my upcoming adventure, no challenge seems too great.