Embracing movement: rediscovering freedom beyond the car

Movement has been on my mind.

A few days ago Danny's and my little island car was totaled. We had to say goodbye to our car, and with it a layer of our freedom of movement, after it was hit while parked on the street—a freak accident. Nobody was hurt and our insurance covered everything. Still, it was an abrupt and unfortunate goodbye to “Paddy.” (named as our car was small and gray like the pademelons that are abundant on the island… pictured below.)

Thankful for all the adventures with "Paddy"

Losing our car has caused me to reflect on how movement plays a role in my life. I’m grateful that I live in a walkable city for the first time in a long time. I walk to get groceries and fill up bags of oats and grains at the bulk store just up the street. There are coffee shops nearby, the university library where I can work remotely, and best of all it is just a 20-minute walk to my job downtown and all the fun sweet spots Hobart has to offer. 

I know this is a luxury and that many people don't have easy access to everything they need... hence car dependence.

I feel very priveledged and grateful to be able to walk everywhere. Walking in Hobart, Tasmania the past four months has caused me to bond with the city in a way that feels impossible when estranged from the world inside a car. I know street names, the smells of restaurants on the corners, and the colors of the leaves that fall in St. David Park. I pop into stops just to test perfumes or buy strawberries from the market because, without parking constraints, I can make spontaneous decisions that make me feel a kinship with this place. 

But our dear “Paddy” earned us freedom in other ways, because beyond the city, Tasmania is extremely rural. Our car allowed us to frequent off-road hiking trails, far-out beaches, and the tiniest of towns that would have taken us triple the time to reach via bus or would have simply been unreachable. So much of our world is rural, or a patchwork of suburbia, where cars are necessary to commute, but why is there so little conversation about how strange it is to lock ourselves in those little boxes?

In our increasingly car-centric world, it is fascinating to note the way having a car offers so much independence and freedom, yet also restricts us from human interaction. We isolate ourselves, lose out on chances to wave at passersby, and as corny as it is, without walking or biking places, we don’t smell the flowers or see the slackliners in the park each friday. We don’t hear the crunch of leaves or pop in for a quick coffee to warm our hands on a cold winter day. Often these are the random moments where friendships are made and community widened.

Walking home, coffee in hand :)

So, yes, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad to lose my car. I’m remiss to forfeit future weekend adventures. However, it is making me all the more grateful for my body, my health, and the sweetness of walking which brings me closer to the humanity around me. As I travel and am exposed to different cultures and ways of being I'm amazed to see how individualistic culture is so damn isolating. I think how we move plays a big part in our opportunities for connection.

I'll also admit, without my car some things are hard! For example, going to the gym.

Last month I became a member of Totum Movement. It is a wonderful holistic gymnastics-based practice studio centered around bodyweight strength training and mobility. It is also outside of Hobart. When I learned my car was declared a “total loss” I panicked and thought I would need to cancel my membership. But instead, I got vulnerable. I asked for help and people have reached out offering to take me to classes. Not only can I keep going to classes but these rides are strengthening my connection to the Totum community and helping me to get to know everyone better. 

How often do we unconsciously choose isolation for convenience or independence? How does our car culture separate us from others? What messaging do we receive that perpetuates the idea that without a car we are helpless? 

Stopped for flowers on my way to the library

So you can find me walking, running, and carpooling with friends. Maybe this little car fiasko is a sign for me to move slowly, to notice more people and sounds and smells. I drop more into my body when I walk. I am connecting with my humanness, my wild.

Rewilding the spirit isn’t done only on the mountaintops, it can be done on the streets downtown. Headphones out, eyes crinkled into a smile as you truly see those beside you.

We are made to move.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Comment here, email me, or DM me on instagram (ava.adoline). How do you move through the world? What solutions may there be for feelings of isolation? What types of movement make you feel most alive? How does driving impact your life for worse or better?

With love,

Ava//

Rewilding Child