Several people have asked: What’s going on? Where are you? Have you bought a house?

I’ve been farm-sitting in New Hampshire since May. It’s just me, several hundred acres of mostly forest, and a pristine little lake with views of mountains in the distance. Coddi and I are heading west in a couple of weeks, though I’ll be back.

And for the first time in my life, I’ve registered a vehicle outside the state of Florida. I’ve got new wheels with a New Hampshire license plate. The surprises began the weekend before last, and it’s been a lesson in decisionless decisions.

Here’s the timeline:
Sunday a new friend, Sue, asked: “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?”
My answer: “I think I rode on the back of one once when I was seven or eight.”
Within 30 minutes, Sue’s husband Pete took me for a ride on his Honda Shadow.

Wednesday: Pete gave me my first motorcycle lesson in the parking lot of the local ski resort. After about 45 minutes, Pete deemed me “ready to ride.” Then I found two beautiful Shadows for sale nearby.

Thursday: Karen, the owner of a 2006 Shadow with only 1,669 miles, agreed to sell for 2/3 of her list price. It felt too good to be true. Pete’s advice: “If it runs great, buy it. If you don’t enjoy riding, you’ll have no problem selling.”

Friday: Pete and I drove to Massachusetts to see the bike. It was in mint condition and purred like a kitten. I bought it and Pete drove it home. Karen threw in a rain suit, riding leathers (jacket and chaps), a street jacket, gloves and a new helmet (all for free!).

In a week, I’d already put 400+ miles on the beauty! I’ve fallen in love with New Hampshire’s tree-lined, winding two-lane roads, ventured into Vermont, and ridden back to Massachusetts to visit Karen and pick up more gifts.

I learned more about why Karen was so keen to sell to me. She bought her Shadow 20 years ago, but soon realized she enjoyed riding on the back of her husband’s bike more than riding on her own. 

Four years ago her husband passed away.  

“I’ve been meaning to sell that bike for four years, but couldn’t bring myself to do it,” she said as we stood in her kitchen chatting like old friends.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” I said.  

Karen’s eyebrows lifted in the middle and she let out a long exhale. “You’re right. I didn’t realize it, but I’ve been waiting for you.”

At the end of our second visit, Karen asked if we could stay in touch, if I’d share photos of my rides, and meet up here and there once I am back in the spring. 

Through this two week process, I haven’t felt like I was making decisions. It didn’t sound like Karen did either. Things happened, it felt right, and we kept taking the next step. Simple. Clean. Easy.

Much more often than not, that’s how life has felt for the last eight years. I’ve realized that when I’m present, content, and open, it rarely feels like decisions are mine to make. All I do is follow the tickles of my soul, the still small voice within. I’m along for the ride and when the “shoulds” don’t get in the way and I’m not judging myself or others, life unfolds. That’s it.

What’s been tickling your soul lately? What would it feel like to take one small step toward it?

Pete, Sue, and I headed to Newfound Lake, my first long ride. At a light, we came to a stop side by side, them on their maroon Shadow, me on my silver and white one. I noticed they were both gazing at me with big smiles; Pete was shaking his head kinda like a proud father.

“A week ago you’d never ridden a bike, and had never considered buying one,” Pete said. He nudged Sue with his elbow and smiled wider. “Look at her now.”  

“Look what you did!” I said back with a laugh.  

I’ve only known these two gorgeous souls for a few weeks. The quickest way to their house is a three minute paddle by kayak. I could swim over too. And we can ride bikes together whenever we want. These statements feel like something a kid would say. Who would have ever thought I’d be living this at 47? A dream I never thought to dream. 

By the way, I wrote a paragraph in Perfect Unfolding describing the place I’d love to grow roots one day: “A place with access to a lake, a river, or the ocean. A place in the forest, yet with cleared land for a vegetable garden and at least a partial view of the horizon, the further off the beaten path the better; a space to connect with a community of people that invites everyone to settle and open up. An outdoor area to gather, cook, and commune with nature, places to walk or bike without the need to drive to get there, mountains nearby.”

It seems this place has found me and it’s got everything I wished for. As a bonus, New Hampshire’s state motto is “Live Free or Die.” That pretty much sums it up.

What do you think? Should I call this place home?

The last few months are more proof: life isn’t always rainbows and butterflies, but we are always in the midst of the perfect unfolding, even in the moments when things don’t feel perfect at all.

Love, 

Kristy

P.S. Speaking of feeling like a kid, I am the guest on the latest episode of The Human Adventure podcast, where Jake asked me  “What would you tell your 13-year-old self?” Watch my 40-second answer here, or listen to the full episode Coddiwompling into Freedom with Kristy Halvorsen.

Photos from rides

The Cornish-Windsor Covered Bridge is the longest wooden covered bridge in the U.S. and the longest  two span covered bridge in the world.

Pete & Sue’s bike and Kristy’s bike

90-second trailer for my new book Perfect Unfolding:

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