I think about this a lot. Am I doing the right thing? Everyone around me has a house, or is getting married, or has a really great job they love, or a baby. And here I am, living job to job saving just enough to travel for a few months before getting another job. And so many people don’t understand it. And fair enough, I don’t even think I understand it yet. I just know that it’s what I know and it’s how I want to spend my time right now. Because really that is all we have – now.
What drives me to keep living this way is the thought of regret later in life. I could live to be 80 – or I could live until in 35. There is no way to know how long you are going to experience this one and amazing life, and I going to spend my time not fretting about the future – what if I don’t have any money? What if I have no pension? What if I never own a house? And to that I say so what? What is the worst thing that would happen? You will still be surrounded by your beautiful family and friends and you would have lead a life that you were proud of. And I don’t think you can ask for much more in life.
Of course, making a secure future for yourself is a smart way of thinking. But don’t let it overtake your life. Don’t let it become your life – planning for your future life while missing out on what you have right now. Live more consciously, does this job make me happy. Does sitting in every night watching TV improve my life. Or are you just cruising through, stuck in a monotonous routine of working, eating, sleeping. Is that living? Or is that what society has told you is ‘successful’?
I’m not sure what my point is here, but I guess what I’m saying is, you have to live your life for you. If business is your thing, go get it. If it’s knitting, good for you. For me, it’s travel, and damn right I’m going to spend the time that I have now, the only time we truly have, doing something that makes my heart sing and brings incomparable joy to my life. The future is promised to no-one. We talk and plan and invest in our future like it’s guaranteed, but it isn’t. And once you realize this, you start making time to see your loved ones. Making time to take that trip. Making time to start that new hobby. To do the things that make you happy.
And if I get to 70, and I live in a tiny house with arthritis, not able to leave my home, I’ll be able to remember the time I said fuck it, and saw the sunrise from fifty countries, swam in oceans so blue, danced all day until my body ached and, in the words of Jack Kerouac, climbed that goddamn mountain.