We Escaped the Rat Race. Then We Almost Disappeared.
How minimalism led us off the grid, nearly off the map, and eventually back to community.
For the better part of a year, visibility felt heavy. Unwanted. Overwhelming.
And yet, lately, Vis-ability keeps finding me.
You can’t hide from your self…
Like… Kairos, the ancient Greeks’ word for the right moment.
Kairos… knows things that calendars don’t.
Recently, Ryan and I sat down as guests on the Lebanon NOW Podcast. We laughed about our ridiculous adventures… The tiny house. The school bus…
The off-grid years.
💩
The poop bucket.
The nervous breakdowns.
The cats. The dreams. The mistakes…
And the Love that came from living in 100 square feet.
Somewhere between all the laughter, I realized something.
For years, we weren’t just simplifying.
We were disappearing from society...
Years ago, living in New York, it became obvious we were drowning in excess.
Stuff.
Schedules.
Amazon boxes.
Noise.
Expectations…
We discovered minimalism and tiny house living, and it felt liberating. We let go of possessions. Built a tiny house. Converted a bus. Traveled. Bought land in Missouri. Lived close to nature.
And nature gave us gifts.
Gratitude.
Wonder.
Silence.
Perspective.
But somewhere along the way, we swung too far.
What began as simplicity slowly became separation.
What started as freedom became isolation.
What started as opting out became almost becoming renunciates of society.
We wanted off the hamster wheel… and ran for the hills!
But humans, I’ve learned, are not meant to live entirely alone.
Even trees grow in forests.
For over five years, we lived close to the edge of society.
And I loved it.
I loved talking to birds. (I’ll be honest… I spoke to the trees too!)
I loved watching foxes.
I loved feeling the weather.
I loved the peace & quiet…
I didn’t really want to come back into “civilization”.
But eventually we realized something important:
Nature heals. Community sustains.
Both are necessary.
Balance.
I think society does a remarkable job of teaching us obedience.
Stay in line. Don’t be too strange.
Don’t change too much. Don’t fail publicly.
Don’t ask hard questions. Don’t be vulnerable.
Certainly don’t let people see you searching for answers.
But life has taught me that authenticity and conformity are rarely roommates.
The people who inspire me are not polished.
They’re honest.
They’re vulnerable.
They’re becoming.
They’re willing to be misunderstood.
Who I was yesterday isn’t who I am today.
And hopefully, who I am today won’t be who I am next year.
That’s not inconsistency. That’s growth.
For a season, I needed the woods.
For another season, I needed downtown lofts.
For this season, I need neighbors.
And maybe Lebanon NOW wasn’t just coincidence.
Maybe it was Kairos.
The right place.
The right time.
Not because we finally arrived.
But because we’re finally willing to be seen again.
To be part of the ever changing landscape of humanity…
Truthfully, visibility still scares me.
Being authentic means some people won’t understand.
Some will disagree.
Some will judge.
Some will laugh at you. Some will laugh with you…
And some will quietly say: “Me too.”
Those are all my people.
Not because our stories are identical.
But because we’re all trying to figure out what it means to be fully human.
To belong. To grow…
To fail forward. To become real…
So if you’ve been hiding…
If you’ve withdrawn…
If you’ve convinced yourself that staying small is safer…
Maybe this is your invitation.
Not to become louder.
Not to become famous.
But to become visible.
Visible enough to discover that belonging doesn’t come from fitting in.
It comes from showing up.
Authentically.
Fearfully.
Imperfectly.
Because courage isn’t the absence of fear.
Perhaps courage is simply saying: “Here I am.”
And letting life answer:
“Welcome home.”
Your Muse,
Molly
P.S.
Ryan and I recently shared our unconventional journey, from tiny houses and bus life to off-grid living and finding our way back to community, on the Lebanon NOW Podcast.
If you’ve ever questioned the “normal” path, wondered whether less might actually be more, or simply enjoy stories about strange adventures and human becoming, I think you’ll enjoy the conversation.
I’ll leave the YouTube link below.
And if you’re walking your own winding path, thank you for being here.
Perhaps we’re all just finding our way home, together.
That black and white photo of you guys from 2018 looks like it could be in a magazine article. Loved the podcast and hearing you talk about the spiritual journey you embarked on with no real idea where you would end up. Thank you for sharing yourselves ❤️