While pumping gas, I mentioned my camping [...]]]> In Seward, Alaska, the campgrounds were all full which was just as well. Seward’s city campgrounds are bumper-to-bumper RV sites and nylon-to-nylon tent sites. I prefer more space. But I was crabby as I drove out of town, I’d been driving all day and was past ready to stop.

While pumping gas, I mentioned my camping dilemma to the guy behind the counter. He nodded, thumbing toward a beat up pick-up truck camper, “I’ve been on the road for seventeen years. Just drive up Exit Glacier Road. You’ll find a spot. Forest Service land has lots of turn out to camp in.” “Thanks,” I told him. As I walked away he called out, “Hey, camp at the first turn out before the campground. You can live in those privies they’re so clean!”

I took his advice, and joined three RVs and an SUV on the concrete turn out. The privies were clean—but not that clean! Before I left Homer, I’d rearranged the stuff in my car so I could sleep in the back if I did not want to pitch my tent. It seemed easy enough. All I had to do was pull some stuff from the back, load it onto the front seats, squish the sleeping pad in next to Keesha’s dog bed, roll out my sleeping bag and crawl in. It all worked just fine except the crawl in part. I had to be a contortionist to get in the side door all hunched over and thread my way into my sleeping bag. Once in, I dropped quickly into sleep, Keesha’s slow breathing softly lulling me into my dreams.

The next morning I woke to steamed-up windows and fog covered mountains. I pried myself out of the sleeping bag and uncurled to stand on the blacktop turn out. One by one, the RVs left. Soon only Keesha and I were left to watch the sun’s fingers caress the fog off the face of the glacier, brushing the white face with gold. I perched on the curb, hot tea in hand and laughed. Here I was sitting on concrete, cooking my breakfast on blacktop having just slept in my car and I couldn’t be more joyful!

My heart danced with the sun, holding hands with the glacier and I burst with a feeling a freedom. “I am free,” I shouted to the glacier. “I am free,” I called to the raven. “I am free,” I grinned at Keesha who grinned back and said, “Yes you are!” in her special canine language.

In this crazy economic time we live in, it’s helpful to remember that freedom and joy exist within us and are not dependent on the fancy trappings of life—large houses, fancy cars, designer jeans, a five star hotel vacation. You’ll have your own ways, but here’s a few ideas:

•    Sit in your own backyard and do nothing
•    Lift your face to the warming spring sun
•    Catch the joy of a puppy rolling in the last snow pile
•    Sip something warm and breathe
•    Walk slowly and notice the birds
•    Say hello to your neighbors
•    Be grateful for your life no matter what is happening—your life is still precious