IT HAD BEEN ONE OF THOSE NIGHTS when my mind and body were like little siblings who wouldn’t quit harassing each other. Over stupid stuff. Petty stuff.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Don’t touch me!”

“You started it!”

“No, you touched me first!”

“If you cross this line I’ll call Mom!”

“Mom! Mom! She hit me!”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

“Well you called me a bad name!”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

Yeah, like that. All. Night. Long. Even though I took away their phones and sent them to their rooms.

So I was glad when morning came and I could welcome a fresh new day.

Thankfully, and not really unexpectedly, nights like the one above have become rare since becoming a nomad. Fewer things weigh on my mind now that my life is about the basics, unburdened by most of the concerns of my former world. Very few things actually matter to me now. I have more nights filled with nice dreams, entertaining dreams, enlightening dreams, relaxing dreams. And some very very weird dreams. (What part of my brain did that come from?) And some nights my dream center takes a holiday, gifting me with hours of thought-free unconsciousness.

They say living closer to nature extends our life. Maybe, but in my case it makes whatever life I have left more enjoyable.