A story how travel can change one and give perspective of life.

1. THE ONE WHO FOUND
PERSPECTIVE IN BELIZE

2. Shortly after I married my
soul mate, we put a down
payment on our version of
the American Dream – a
seven acre horse farm in
Virginia. I started a horse
boarding business and
Bob suited up for his six-
figure job in upper
management.

3. Tenortwelvehourslaterhe’dcomehometootiredtoenjoythelatest
wonders,mushroomsinthewoods,shootsemergingfromanoldgarden,
thenewesthorse.SixmonthsinItoldhim,“Thisisn’tright.Ihavethelife,and
youpaytheprice.”

4. I wanted to do something better. What, I wasn’t sure. It
was as if we were in the kitchen and the whole room
was on fire. We needed perspective. We needed to get
out.

5. So we held weekly meetings in
the tub under the stars. We
thought back to a place we’d
stayed in the Cayo district of
Belize, and came up with an
exit strategy. Bob wrote a letter
to the owners of the lodge,
proposing we trade a year of
our time for room and board.
A few weeks later, we received
an enthusiastic “Come on
down!” We sold the house,
shrugged off the loss, gave
away nearly everything
including our animals, picked
up Bob’s three young
daughters and got on a plane.

6. Stepping from the air stairs onto asphalt pulsating with heat, I felt
instantly at home. Driving west along the Belize River I gazed down at
the women washing clothes on river rocks, their children leaping like
dolphins. My heart swelled. I knew we’d made the right decision.
Over the next fourteen months we teamed up with the two local couples
that lived on the property. We were all as committed and connected to
the land as if we owned it. We had traded five horses on seven acres for
twenty on one hundred. And no mortgage! Stewardship, it turned out
was just as rewarding as ownership.
Guests came from everywhere on the planet to ride our horses. They
depended on us for all their meals, their safety and comfort. Our
children stayed that summer and came back the next, doing laundry,
putting away groceries, helping with the horses, rooms, and kitchen.
They charmed our guests, became familiar with the wildlife, and got
really good at pitching a Frisbee into the avocado tree to knock down
ripe pears.

7. Twenty-five miles from the Guatemalan
border, the BCL land-mobile radio we
shared with six nearby lodges was our only
contact with the outside world. We kept
that radio on twenty-four hours a day for
news of forest fires, marauders, and the
occasional patched-through phone call.
For security we had a shotgun and a big,
white Labrador named Gringo.

8. 07/10
Armed with a copy of “Where There
Is No Doctor” we learned to take
care of ourselves. I found out how
to pierce a horse’s jugular vein with
a syringe. We rode with machetes,
swinging them to clear the trails.
When one of the guides sliced into
little Sombra’s ear, we radioed for
a veterinarian. Two weeks later, his
truck came bumping up the drive.
When our well went dry, we filled
thirty-five gallon barrels from the
river. Isolated, sometimes
panicked, but mostly happy and
secure, we were learning resilience.

9. Eight years..
.. after leaving Belize, we were
back in the States looking for
a nourishing lifestyle and
stumbled upon an
“unintentional” community in
North Carolina. Neighbors in
the woods, this group of
farmers, fuel makers, and
artists were committed to
living in harmony with each
other and their land. Bingo!
We bought a couple of acres
and stitched ourselves into a
resilient quilt. We did what
Bob calls a “stage dive” into a
community of light-hearted
idealists who weren’t afraid of
hard work. Together we weave
a safety net, a buffer against
boom and bust economics.
Last year we built a community
cemetery and buried two of
our neighbors. Our world
pulses with laughter, children,
wildlife, open space, and farm
food.

10. Ifyouareseekingclarityinyour
life,Iencourageyoutostepaway
andimmerseyourselfinanother
culture.Iamcertainwewould
nothaveournewAmerican
Dreamwereitnotforthelessons
welearnedinBelize.

11. To read more such blogs
visit
https://www.theremotelife.com/blog/