1 year ago
32
I came across the documentary “Nomadland” one quiet evening while staying at home. What drew me to the buzz about the film was some poignant storytelling and breathtaking visuals of the American West. And long after the credits roll, a reawakening inside of me had already taken place: an urge to step away from the predictable rhythm of my daily life and take to the road on a journey of my own.
“Nomadland” by Chloe Zhao tells the poignant story of Fern, a woman in her sixties who lost everything during the Great Recession and decided to live as a nomad of these days. I was not expecting how this ride of how it would strike a chord-through an American landscape, staying in her van, finding community with others that share her lifestyle. Often caught up with materialism and routine, it is through Fern’s story that he had seen another way-one that defines what it really means to live life to the fullest.
While Fern had spoken more, the more she inspired me, and I knew I had to do this small nomadic experience. In my old SUV, I fitted in my bag full of clothes, a camping stove, and of course my journal to keep a log of my feelings and incidents. Without any destination, I felt just like a white sheet of paper, waiting for the colors of experiences to be filled in.
I hit the road, crisscrossing across different terrains of “Nomadland”: camping in starry night skies of the desert, hiking mountain trails meandering beside tranquil lakes. I hit the road with other travelers, companions, and fellow spirits;I remember telling stories across evening campfires much as the subjects of this documentary did. Of many such encounters to have burned their way into memory since then, there was an elderly couple staying in a camp RV and speaking about many years traveling across the greatness of the land, discussing beauty, relationships that blossom along asphalt. The playful affection in communication brought it into sharp relief from all: yes, maybe this wasn’t unsettlement at all with this nomad thing but bonding/community across miles.
A month of exploration later, I returned home: my heart full, my mind stirred. “Nomadland” had taught me it wasn’t material possessions or even a fixed address that defined the core of living but experiences, encounters-the choice of my way.
Rejoined in my routine, I say to myself, “Carry this lesson forward.” Find the moments of adventure, get lost in places, connect with people-whatever the distance may be. The urge to wander that “Nomadland” lit inside me will forever be a light guiding me to the bottom of my heart-that this world is huge, it’s beautiful, and only waiting for people who show eagerness to explore.