Breaking Away

Longing

Before I took the leap to become self-employed, I worked as a carpenter. I lived in a rental apartment with white-painted walls and a kitchen where the sink was always full of dishes. Life was predictable. I received a paycheck every month, vacation every year, and I knew exactly what the next week would contain.

It's understandable that this is the norm today. It's calm and secure. At the same time, many people harbor a longing for something else. I did too. I didn't know what toward, but simply starting to question what was "normal" often led to wanting to escape. Why?

Well, I don't know. A common cause, I believe, is the constant desire one feels. When sitting still in your secure life, you begin to notice the small cracks. That moment in the morning when you wake up and think: Is this all there is?

Besides not finding answers to some of my questions when I questioned the norm, I also felt a longing for simplicity.

It's easy to complicate things, but does life need to be so complicated?

As a craftsman, I've always found freedom in being able to make what I need. When I held the axe in my hand and heard the wood give way under the blow, I felt something no monthly salary could give. And I've also had a natural connection to our history. I've always been curious about how life was back then. How did people live before all the conveniences?

It's easy to romanticize our history, but at the same time, one might wonder if there's something deeply rooted within us that we've forgotten.

The Simple

Living in the abundance we inhabit today easily leads to wanting more. The problem is that it's always this way, regardless of how much you have. Striving to satisfy that feeling is an eternal struggle. But it's hard to give up.

For as long as I can remember, I've had an interest in nature, and eventually I started going on hikes. There I got to taste the simple life. A backpack, a sleeping bag, and a few days in the forest. No signal on the phone. No pressure to answer anyone. Just the wind in the trees and the ground beneath my feet. It was enough to simply be, and to fill my stomach.

Years passed and security beckoned. Life had its course. I became a father, bought a house, and started planning for retirement. Everything was logical.

Suddenly a drastic change occurred, negatively, I thought. My plan was shattered and what remained was a feeling of failure.

But in the midst of the sorrow, I could still see my chance. My chance to experience what I'd always been so curious about. What had always been there. I chose the simple.

I'm grateful to have experienced everyday life in simplicity. Days without conveniences offer insights and perspective.

When you have to carry in your water to your dwelling and chop wood to heat it in the light of a kerosene lamp, you understand what is necessary and what is luxury.

The Trial

The trial comes when you have one foot in one place, and the other foot on the other side. Life as a self-employed blacksmith is living in a bubble. Inside the bubble, the norm prevails. You work with iron, you see the result of your labor, you smell the coal and heat. It's a world that feels authentic and in it there's only me.

But, a few months ago I chose to step out of the bubble. Met people who didn't understand what I was doing, and suddenly felt like a stranger. The contrast was, and still is, clear.

My first feeling was doubt. What am I actually doing?

But then came the confirmation. After recalling memories from my earlier years as an employee and when I returned to the workshop and heard the hammer strike the steel, I felt I was home.

The Black Hole

I imagine we have two different kinds of desire. One worth keeping and the other should be severed.

One container is driven by our thirst and the other by our healthy will. Unfortunately, the thirst container is the easiest to fill, and moreover a black hole—it never gets full. By cutting off the path to this container, we fill the other and thus achieve better well-being.

The path of thirst, the black hole, often feels like a "lack." It's a restless energy that says: "I'm not whole until I get this." It gives a short kick, followed by emptiness. The purchase that delights for three days. The status that requires constant updating. The validation that must come from others.

The healthy path feels more like an expansion or calm. It's about creating value, learning something, or giving. It provides a lasting feeling of being "full." Learning a new technique. Helping someone. Seeing something beautiful emerge.

Cutting off the path really means cutting off the expectation that the black hole will make you happy. It's not about stopping dreaming, it's about stopping believing the dream will fill you.

Imagine you have a bucket with a hole in the bottom and a plant that needs watering. Every time you pour water into the bucket (thirst), it disappears immediately. If instead you cut off the supply to the bucket and pour the water directly onto the plant (the healthy will), it begins to grow and bear fruit.

Forward

Time will show where we end up, but I will continue with humility and curiosity to explore paths on how I fill my cup that gives me calm and expansion.

Sometimes a trial is needed to not become blind. But I'm convinced that more always wants more. It's no use trying to satisfy it. A life in simplicity is a simple life.

And when I stand at the anvil and see the heart of the glow, I understand I've found home.