Life in a Tent: Lessons in Freedom, Connection, and Holding the Light

Melissa is always playing and smiling

If you had asked me a few years ago what it would feel like to live in a tent full time, I probably would have smiled and said, “That sounds wild.” And it is—wildly beautiful.

Trading 3,000 square feet of walls for a canvas sanctuary has been one of the most soul-affirming decisions I’ve ever made. I sleep to the sound of crickets and wake to sunbeams through trees. I cook homemade meals in a simple outdoor kitchen, gather wild herbs, and breathe deeply the scent of damp earth after rain. This is more than off-grid living—it’s soul-connected living.

Yes, there are challenges. When it rains, everything gets damp. Packing up, driving, and setting up again takes energy and patience. But that’s the thing about choosing a life rooted in freedom: it asks you to show up. It invites you to be present. To be resilient. To be real. And in return, it gives you something so much bigger than comfort.

It gives you clarity. This lifestyle has opened doors to unexpected conversations—with farmers, travelers, elders, dreamers, and healers. Each person I meet feels like part of a divine constellation forming right in front of me. We share stories, lessons, laughter, sometimes even tears. And I’ve begun to realize that this journey isn’t just about me building a sanctuary—it’s about us remembering who we are, together.

One idea I’m exploring now is capturing these stories—filming them, sharing them. Not to “interview” people, but to honor their lessons, their humanity, their spark. What if each person we met carried a piece of the puzzle we didn’t even know we were missing?

This month, the lesson that’s echoed the loudest in my heart is this:

"You are a powerful creator. Hold on to your truth. Hold on to your love. Hold on to hope. Let no one and nothing snuff out your light.”

I don’t need four walls to tell me I’m safe. I don’t need a title or a status to prove I matter. What I need is presence, purpose, and a connection to something deeper—to the Earth, to others, and to the fire that lives within me.

And if you’re reading this, maybe you’re feeling it too.

Maybe you’re ready to remember.

Love,

Melissa