Fulfillment Comes in Various Beignets
Hi, I’m Sasha! I lived and traveled in an RV for two-and-a-half years and recently put down some roots in Tennessee. I’m full of travel stories I have yet to write, and can’t wait to share them with you. And, even as I write this now, I’m getting itchy feet so it won’t be too long before I take our RV for a spin to some new places.
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There are many things that are different on the road. Accents. Grocery stores. Quality of coffee. Number of alligators in Louisiana versus Oregon
But there are many things that remain the same.
Maslov's Hierarchy of Needs states that at the bottom of the pyramid, humans require the most basics of physiological needs including food, water, warmth, and rest. From there, we need safety, security. Friends. Relationships. That doesn't change as you travel. What does change by individual is how those needs are met.
The most obvious way that the hierarchy of needs becomes more apparent though is how people strive to meet the top triangle of the pyramid — self-actualization. Fulfillment on a larger scale. That thing that we millennials say we want when we get a job: to feel fulfilled. When all the other needs are met, we’re left with this one.
Sometime in April 2019, somewhere in Louisiana, we met a campground host. His accent was thick like oatmeal, and it was the first time I had trouble understanding what someone on the road was saying. I looked anxiously between the man and Jeremiah, hoping that Jeremiah could translate some of the man's more circuitous sentences.
A dog ran off lead somewhere nearby as we spoke, and the waves of the gulf splashed the wall a foot from our RV.
The next day, our RV would be flooded in - I could look out the window of the bedroom and see mini waves. We were warned of alligators casually as we sloshed through the water.
However, what we were warned about strongly was not to drive to the city two hours away. The city? New Orleans.
"My daddy told me not to go into the city," the campground host started as we stood in ankle-deep water, "and I didn't listen."
He went on to say that his car had been broken into in New Orleans when he was 19. The man we spoke to had been retired for a handful of years before deciding to become a campground host, so the years he spoke of was sometime in the 1980s.
"I went back," he said, "a few years later. Got into a fight with someone I didn't know. No use in going into a city."
At this point, we'd traveled about 2800 miles over several months, spending time in cities and nowhere lands. When we mentioned this to the man, he simply shrugged.
We were never going to see eye-to-eye. The man was always going to think we were nuts for going to New Orleans, and we were always going to be shocked that someone wouldn't want to travel outside their tiny community.
As we drove away, I marveled at the gas-station-sized market a few miles down the road. There was nothing else for many miles beside a train track. The next major community was New Orleans. How many places like this existed?
Jeremiah loved the area. It was the first place we saw an alligator, a snake as thick as my wrist tried to bite our dog and instead she tore it in half in one horrifying bite, and the sunset was glorious across the warm ocean.
For me, though, I itched to leave. New Orleans called me to me. I wanted to go. To continue traveling. I wasn’t fulfilled by staying in one spot, regardless of the beauty.
A day or two before we left, the man crouched down to chat with his grandson of five or six near a playset. He pushed his grandson on the swings, then meandered through the campground stopping to chat with campers and introduce his grandchild to each group. Pride. Happiness.
Fulfillment comes in different ways. Past the most basics of needs, we seek fulfillment as individuals very differently from one another.
Many things on the road differ. Names of roads, like farm-to-market and county roads. Foods, like the boudin balls we’d never heard of in the Pacific Northwest.
But there are a lot of things that remain the same. Like wanting the best for our family and our loved ones, and seeking fulfillment of needs.
Thanks for traveling with me,
Sasha
Down the rabbit hole
Oregonians, which I am formerly, are known to be the fastest talkers in the nation. I don’t notice that I talk quickly until someone points it out — it doesn’t even stand out to me that people in other states speak that slowly usually. I did notice that the host spoke slowly though, that day in Louisiana.
Colloquialisms are some of my favorite pieces of language, and one of these days, I’ll get around to writing those out for fun. In the meantime, have a blessed day, y’all.