Becoming Yourself

Developing a Better You

Reflections from a Park Bench in Paris

Bonjour from Paris.

I write this while sitting on a park bench, having just finished a ham and cheese baguette with hot chocolate. The Louvre art museum with its hoards of Saturday visitors are in the distance. I wandered the grounds earlier, but I had no desire to fight the crowds for a return trip inside. 

The autumn afternoon is cool and gray, a welcome change from a summer spent baking in the Phoenix sunshine. A young man in a leather jacket sits on a bench to my left, reading a book. Further on, a girl rests her head on her father’s shoulder. Aside from the cawing of crows, the park is quiet, and I’m alone with my thoughts.

Me in the park as I write this post

My wife and I are intentional nomads, having no permanent address, living in different places for varying lengths of time. In the four months since our nomadic journey began, we’ve stayed in hotels, AirBnbs, with my dad, her sister, our daughter, and friends, including several pet sitting gigs. 

Not always knowing where you’re going to lay your head is an odd feeling, but one we’re acclimating to. While we plan in advance, we’re trying not to lock ourselves in too much and lose the spontaneity this lifestyle affords.

Being natural planners, spontaneity is a challenge. As we sat eating our breakfast crepes this morning, Lisa remarked on how our walk to the cafe had been closer to a march than a stroll, more like a mission to be accomplished than a saunter to be savored. 

I’m taking her observation to heart during my afternoon alone in Paris. I’ve been wandering in a general direction, then veering toward whatever catches my eye. So far it’s led me to walk along the Seine River, peruse art and magazines for sale on sidewalk carts, and to this lovely park. I grabbed lunch when I was hungry at a nearby food stand without dithering or checking its Yelp reviews. 

The writing of this post is itself an act of spontaneity. I had no plans to do so, but finding myself in this beautiful, quiet place led me to take out my phone and start typing. Is it helpful? Is it interesting or worthwhile to anyone else? I can’t answer that. All I know is that it felt right. I followed the urge to write, and this is what came out. 

So what’s my point in this missive? I’m not sure I have one. Maybe my example of spontaneity encourages you to be more spontaneous. Maybe my wife and I making the leap to live our nomadic dream gives you motivation to make a leap yourself. Maybe my reflections in a Parisian park inspire you to take time for your quiet pondering (you never know what may bubble up).

Whomever you are, whatever obstacles you face, wherever you’re at on your journey, be a little spontaneous. Take a leap toward living a dream. Do some quiet reflecting. If you do, you’ll find new color and a fresh breeze enter your life as you take another step toward Becoming Yourself. 

Your Dream is Ahead (Some Leaping Required)

You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.

William Faulkner

I was afraid.

While I loved travel, hated home maintenance, and had the freedom as a writer to live anywhere, I was intimidated by the idea of becoming a digital nomad (someone without a primary residence who lives and works in short-term rentals in various locations).

My wife and I had dreamed about becoming nomads for years. We’d reached the point where the only thing holding us back was my fear—fear of the unknown, of the unusual, of losing some creature comforts, of releasing our physical possessions.

Then about eight months ago, we listened to a podcast featuring Bill Perkins, the author of Die With Zero: Getting All You Can from Your Money and Your Life, who argued that when you lived your dreams was as important as what your dreams were. His reasons included:

1. Tomorrow is not guaranteed

How many people wait until retirement to pursue their dreams only for illness or tragedy to prevent those dreams from coming true?

2. Some dreams are better when experienced younger

Bill gave the example of traveling to Japan with his aged parents. While he and his wife had the energy to soak up a wide range of adventures, his parents’ lack of stamina limited their experience. Some dreams may not be physically possible past a certain point (ie a week-long rock climbing trip is typically more feasible when you’re in your 30s vs your 70s).

3. Living dreams sooner pays long-term dividends

Having more years to savor happy memories increases the overall benefit those experiences provide.

His points struck home. They gave Lisa and I the courage and motivation to make the leap. We sold both rental houses, the condo we lived in, and most of our possessions. For the past four months we’ve stayed in hotels, AirBnbs, and with friends and family in various parts of the US (doing a surprising amount of pet and house sitting—if you need those services, we come highly recommended!). While there have been challenges and frustrations, we love the freedom, lightness, adventure, and low cost of living that our nomadic life provides. 

We’re currently living internationally. After a stop in Paris, we’re now in Athens and leave tomorrow for a twenty-four night cruise throughout Europe, hitting twelve cities in seven countries before docking in Miami. A trip like this would not have been possible if we hadn’t faced our fears and stopped delaying our dream.

What are your dreams? For your career, your relationships, your hobbies, your passions? What practical steps would it take to make them a reality? What’s stopping you from taking those steps now? Dream big. Create a “make-it-happen” list. Start on #1 today. If you do, you’ll be on your way to living your dream, and you’ll take another giant step toward Becoming Yourself.

The US Election Will Soon Be Over—Then What?

I’m guessing you’re as tired of it as I am.

The texts. The robocalls. The yard signs. The commercials. The mailers. The ads that clutter your social media feeds. In the US, the election season feels endless.

It’s almost over (election day at least—who knows how long the objections, recounts, and lawsuits will last). But when the dust settles, we’ll all still be here. How will we act if “our side” wins? Loses? How can we move forward with grace and unity (hopefully assuming that’s our goal)?

I resonated with the following perspective from Sikh activist and author Valarie Kaur. It helped me prepare for living in a post-election world. I hope it does the same for you as you take another step toward Becoming Yourself. 

What does it mean to return to a kind of wholeness where the way that we love informs what we do in the world and what we do in the world deepens our love?….

What I want to remind us all is that as much as we must fight for our convictions and stand for what is just, remember that all those people who vote against you are not disappearing after Election Day or Inauguration Day. We have to find a way to live together still. The only way we will birth a multiracial democracy is if we hold up a vision of a future that leaves no one behind, not even our worst opponents. So you might be in the position to have that conversation with the neighbor down the street or the uncle at the family table or the teenager who doesn’t want to vote because she’s too cynical. What might happen if you leave them alone? [Philosopher] Hannah Arendt says isolation breeds radicalization. [1] You might be the person to puncture the [social media] algorithm, to sit in spaces of deep listening—and deep listening is an act of surrender. You risk being changed by what you hear. 

We don’t see those spaces modeled in the world around us. We have to create them in the spaces between us. Oftentimes it means listening over time, being in relationship. Human beings mirror each other, so if you come with daggers out, they’ll come out daggers out. If you come out and you really wonder “Why?,” beneath the slogans and the soundbites, you’ll hear the person’s story and you’ll see their wound. You’ll see their grief. You’ll see their rage. You might not agree with it, but I’ve come to understand that there are no such things as monsters in this world, only human beings who are wounded, who act out of their fear or insecurity or rage. That does not make them any less dangerous, but once we see their wound, they lose their power over us. And we get to ask ourselves: How do we want to take that information into what we do next? 

I invite people to take their wounds [and] their opponents’ wounds into spaces of re-imagination—of imagining an outcome, a policy, a relationship that leaves no one outside of our circle of care, not even “them.” This kind of labor, this kind of revolutionary love, it’s not the sacrifice of an individual, it’s a practice of a community.  

When we invite people to practice revolutionary love, we always ask, “What is your role in this season of your life?”…. Whatever you choose, it can be a vital practice of love, of revolutionary love. And if all of us are playing our role—not more, not less—then together we’re creating the culture shift that we so desperately need.

[1] See Hannah Arendt, “Ideology and Terror: A Novel Form of Government,” in The Origins of Totalitarianism (New York: Harcourt, 1976). Adapted from Valarie Kaur, “Becoming a Sage Warrior,” Daily Meditations, October 28, 2024, Center for Action and Contemplation, video, 38:13. 

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