Is the Script You Never Chose Still Running Your Life?
Nomad Life (Week 24) - From Canada Place in Vancouver šØš¦
āWhatās that?ā I said out loud to myself as I plucked a half-eaten plastic bottle top from under Baileyās leg.
Bailey is the gorgeous 3-year-old German ShepherdāHusky cross weāre currently house sitting in Vancouver.
She was laying across my bed looking slightly sheepish.
I walked out to the kitchen to see if I could find what the lid belonged to, left it on the counter and went to get dressed.
As I walked back into the bedroom, I suddenly spotted the chewed-up white bottle of my antihistamine stash.
Approximately 10 x 10mg tabs were no longer in the bottle, or anywhere on the bed.
I looked in horror at Bailey. I knew exactly where they were!
Two hours later, a visit to the emergency vet and some induced vomiting had averted disaster, and Bailey was, and is, absolutely fine.
NB: Sheās a clever sod, as sheād seen me take one the night before and had a sniff, but I said no and screwed the child-locked (evidently not dog-locked) lid back on. Sneaky girl... š¶
But themsā the joys of house sitting!
Thankfully, thatās been the most dramatic event here in Vancouver (other than losing the Wifi for a couple of days).
The rest of it has been really fun actually, and mostly because the house weāre in is minutes from downtown.
Every morning I get up, make a cuppa, and get out.
Iāve wandered Gastown and Chinatown, caught the Seabus to work from a table beside the water at the Shipyards, mooched around Granville Island, spent 4 hours wandering around Capilano (and recorded a couple of articles on my phone while there!), and had fish & chips on Kitsilano beach.
Thereās also a good coffee shop 20 minutesā walk away that now knows my order.
And somewhere between the ferry rides and the coffee runs, I finally admitted something to myself thatās been brewing for months.
Iām Not a Slow Traveller (Yet)
If you read anything about travel for the over-50s right now, slow travel is the darling of the movement.
Stay a month. Stay three. Live like a local, learn the market stalls, let the days stretch out.
Sip your coffee slowly while the rushing tourists miss the ārealā place.
It sounds idyllic, and I thought Iād naturally start to slip into that rhythm the longer we were on the road.
However it hasnāt happened yet. In fact the opposite is true.
When I get asked about nomadic life, it seems that everyone assumes the hard part is the moving. The packing, the flights, the journeys, the constant goodbyes.
It turns out, that for me, the hard part is the stopping.
When weāre in motion, I feel truly alive! Iām excited, my energy is high & anything is possible.
When we ābed downā as my husband likes to call it, we quickly fall back into years old expat routines & my energy & motivation go out the window.
One of my favourite recent memories was the journey to Jericoacoara in Brazil.
Weād done a long bus ride from Fortaleza, and when the bus stopped, the journey wasnāt over: everyone piled off and into 4x4s for a wild, bumpy ride across sand dunes to reach the town.
Rhett was beside himself with grumpiness, while I had to stop myself from whooping & cheering.
When we got there we found sand for streets, donkeys wandering about like they owned the place, and one of the most beautiful little towns Iāve ever seen.
And thatās me at full charge. š
Buses, vans, a new place every few days, no idea whatās around the corner.
It sounds exhausting but for me right now itās exhilarating!
The Pace I Didnāt Consciously Choose
But then something interesting happened. Despite knowing what sets me on fire, I looked up somewhere around week 20 and realised I was neck-deep in a slow-travel year I never remembered choosing.
Iām not sure how it happened. There hadnāt been an argument. Nobody was forcing me to do anything. There wasnāt some grand compromise Iād reluctantly agreed to.
Iād just taken my hands off the wheel.
When we first set off on our nomadic journey, I left first with my sister for a couple of weeks in Rio, before my husband joined me, and so I set the initial pace.
Up the coast of Brazil, into Colombia, buses and vans and letās-see-where-we-end-up. I can literally hear myself saying to Rhett before we left: āDonāt plan so much hun. Letās just let the wind take us.ā
Well, knowing my husband, I should have known the wind didnāt stand a chance.
Before I could blink, heād planned Costa Rica, San Diego, Cabo, Canada, White Plains, Richmond, and pretty much the rest of the year.
House sits, longer stays, slower travel, more routine, more ābedding downā (his phrase) to get stuff done. If he had his way, weād stop moving altogether next year and settle somewhere for 3 to 6 months minimum.
The silly thing is, he didnāt do it surreptitiously. He would ask, and suggest, and say this looks like a good idea - and because none of the plans sounded bad, I just went along with it.
Which is exactly how so many of us end up living lives we never consciously design.
Itās not that someone else made us, or forced us into situations we didnāt or donāt want.
We just stopped checking in with ourselves.
What Gives You Energy?
One of the biggest lessons Iāve learned over the last few months of nomadic life, interestingly has nothing to do with travel.
Itās what travel has revealed. And for me thatās about paying attention to energy.
Not what you think you should enjoy, or what everyone tells you is ārightā or sensible, or even what your partner enjoys.
Simplyā¦
What genuinely lights you up?
For me itās movement.
New bus stations.
Different coffee shops.
Unexpected conversations.
Ferry rides.
Changing landscapes.
The feeling that tomorrow could be completely different from today.
Other people crave familiarity or stability.
The same cafƩ.
The same walking route.
Knowing where everything is.
Routine.
Neither is right or wrong.
Theyāre just different.
We Donāt Always Notice Weāre Living Someone Elseās Script
This doesnāt just happen in travel of course.
It happens in careers, relationships, retirement, even how we spend our free time. Nobody sits us down and takes our life plan away. We just drift onto autopilot, and other peopleās perfectly reasonable preferences fill in the gaps.
Some people spend decades following a script they never actually chose.
Go to university because thatās what people do.
Stay in the job because it pays well.
Keep working because everyone expects you to.
Retire because thatās the age youāre supposed to.
Buy the bigger house.
Move nearer the grandchildren.
Slow down.
None of those choices are wrong.
They just shouldnāt be automatic.
Sometimes we become so busy meeting expectations that we forget to ask one very simple question:
āWhen do I actually feel most alive?ā
Because your energy knows the answer long before your brain does.
Your Body Knows Before Your Brain
If you canāt answer that question off the top of your head, the good news is you donāt have to figure it out by thinking too hard.
Your energy is constantly answering the question. You just have to start listening.
It reminds me of a note I shared a few Sundays ago.
I couldnāt have told you why it hit me so hard at the time. Now I can
That meh feeling I get by week two of a house sit, or the restlessness I start to feel at beach resorts? For ages Iāve been having a go at myself for being ungrateful. (I mean, who doesnāt appreciate a lovely house with a gorgeous dog, or gets bored sitting next to a pool?).
But itās not ingratitude. Itās information. Itās my body telling me the pace is wrong for me. And the buzz I feel bouncing over sand dunes in a 4x4? Same source, opposite message.
Your version will look different. Maybe you light up in your garden, or teaching someone, or building something, or on a stage, or in a room full of strangers, or in a room containing absolutely nobody. Doesnāt matter what it is. What matters is noticing.
And you might need to experiment to find your energy sources, because autopilot doesnāt announce itself.
When I deign to do a yoga session (not as often as I should) I always choose āYoga with Adrieneā, because of her philosophy of āfinding what feels goodā. Choose you, your pace, your movement, not the perfect yoga pose.
So hereās a small assignment: for the next two weeks, just notice. When does your energy rise? When does it drain? When does your body tell you how youāre feeling before your brain does?
Donāt judge yourself or take any massive action (unless you want to), just collect data.
Knowing Is Great, But Choice Is What You Need.
There is a catch, though. Knowing what lights you up is only useful if youāre able to act on it.
Which is why Iām so passionate about building portable income, or an online business or a side hustle or whatever you want to call it. It all amounts to the same thing.
A regular monthly income you can generate from anywhere in the world, whether thatās a beach in Bali or your kitchen table, doesnāt equal world domination.
It equals choice.
Choice to travel fast or slow. Choice to spend three months in Tuscany if thatās your dream, or jump on a bus every three days through South America.
It lets you design a life around who you are rather than fitting yourself into a life you just kind of arrived at.
It gives you the option that when your energy tells you something, youāre free to listen.
Taking Back the Wheel
So thatās where week 24 leaves me: with a clear answer to the question, and some redesigning to do.
Or perhaps more accurately, some conversations to have.
Because this year has reminded me that I come alive in motion.
Maybe one day Iāll become that person happily spending six months in one village, chatting to the baker every morning and knowing every neighbour by name.
Maybe. But not yet.
Right now Iām still the girl who gets excited by overnight buses, ferry crossings and wondering whatās around the next corner.
So, over to you: when do YOU feel most alive? Iād love to hear it in the comments, and if you donāt know yet, your two-week assignment starts today.