Prologue

In praise of the slow life…

We live in a society that worships speed. We want fast cars, fast lane, fast food, fast ways to get rich and successful, fast exercise, fast relationship… You name it. 

Fast is good. Slow is bad.

I am no exception. By and large, that’s how I’ve approached my life, especially when it comes to my career. I’ve always had this goal in my head that I need to have X title by this age, make this much money by this age, accomplish X by this point in my life, etc. etc. As if life is a race.

And I’m not sure if this whole obsession with speed is truly driven by a deep-seated belief that life is a race, or is my habit of rushing and speeding that makes me think whoever gets there faster, wins? No idea. Regardless, for the last twenty plus years I’ve worked hard, studied hard, overachieved, put in more time than anyone else, because I believed that if I get there faster, I’m winning.

Then a few unexpected and unrelated things happened in my life that stopped me in my track and led me to wonder: “What race am I competing in? What prize am I competing for? And who the hell am I competing with?

I didn’t come up with any satisfying answer. And just like that.

I stopped racing.

Suddenly, the illusion of goals and ambition that have ruled my life for as long as I could remember became a silly rule someone had put in my head years ago that I never questioned. I looked around, and no one is on the sideline with a stopwatch and a clipboard keeping track of my life. Suddenly, I was okay with pausing and not winning – whatever the hell winning means. Suddenly, Henley’s “I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul” has a newfound meaning.

So I decided to take a career break, a sabbatical: a year of focusing on my passion projects, my relationships, my family, my friends. A year of rest and rejuvenation.

I was lucky enough to have a supportive partner who is going on this journey with me, and fortunate enough to have the means and flexibility in our lives to do this. Within a few weeks, we quit our jobs, gave up our apartment, sold our furniture and packed the little belonging we chose to keep in a teeny, tiny 5’x10′ storage. For the next 12 months, all our lives will have to fit in two 60L backpacks. For the next 52 weeks, the world will be our home.

And here I am, at the brink of my walkabout (or wandering, or vagabonding, or whatever else you want to call it), feeling nervous and excited about anything and everything that will come our way.

This blog will be a refuge for our thoughts and musings on the road, where we can finally take our sweet goddamn time, living and being who we are.

Wanderers.