Neither of us had ever lived in an RV before, and we’ve both worked hard all our lives. We had “normal,” 9-to-5 office jobs, and lived for the weekends just like everyone else we knew. We believed that to enjoy some aspects of life, money was required. We didn’t have the financial luxury to do what we wanted 100% of the time … but oh, if we ever won that lottery … THEN we could really live!

What we’ve found after some time on the road is that everything we wanted was there all along, and it didn’t come with a price tag. Here are the principles we embraced to retire into a wealth we never thought possible.

Dreaming in England © @Doug88888

#1: To Be Twice as Rich, Halve Your Expenses

The 9-to-5 rat race is a bum deal. It requires you to work to afford things that you never have the time to enjoy anyway. You kill yourself to own a big home that you never spend any time in. Your PTO piles up with vacation time which you never use because work is too demanding. You’re too busy climbing the ladder, earning money to afford those vacations which you never take.

See the pattern here? You live for the weekends, except that by the weekend you’re so exhausted that you have limited energy. So you mostly just rest. It’s a terrible cycle.

It doesn’t work this way for everyone, but for us it did. We decided to opt out by drastically cutting our expenses. Giving up the home was a big one. Mortgage was a money suck. So was maintenance, things to fill our home with, and cleaning.

I gave up my cell phone and replaced it with a free Skype number. By installing solar panels on the RV (in progress), our electricity expenses will be reduced to a big fat zero. No money spent at RV parks either, since we need no hook-ups. If we don’t feel like driving, we can self-support at a remote trailhead with no amenities for weeks at a time.

We use free wifi, which we can find on pretty much any corner these days. And when we want to, we disconnect by parking on a mountain trail somewhere, embracing isolation. Our water use is minuscule, as we use creeks and waterfalls to rinse off or hand-wash our clothes with biodegradable soap. We have no cable or television, but we like going to the movies!

We have one small pot and one small pan, which we use to make food in the RV. Living is simple and extremely cheap. With our family of two adults, one dog, and one cat, we can live very comfortably on $1,000/month or less.

I have a laptop for all my writing, and then drop into town for a wifi connection to email things or make a post. I also have a Kindle with over 300 books on it, which I pull out before bed for some good quality reading. I get free Kindle books online on thousands of topics. Since everything interests me, I don’t think I’ll ever finish all the books I want to read. Without a 9-to-5 job, I can do more writing (potentially more income), more reading (higher quality research for writing), and more living (many more experiences with so much more to write about).

Want to be twice as rich? Halve your expenses. You’ll be surprised at how little you actually need to feel happy and fulfilled.

#2: You Don’t Have to Own Something to Enjoy It

This principle blew my mind. There are so many things we can get for free, or for minimal payment that others work tirelessly to own. Some of them I have already mentioned, like cable, internet access, and e-books. But there are others:

• Instead of owning a pool, we can park at the ocean for days of free water play.
• Instead of a gym membership, we can spend weeks playing on endless miles of trails.

We also enjoy activities like kayaking, fishing, or scuba diving (to name a few) via rentals, for a fraction of the cost of owning the gear required for such activities. Not to mention that the things we value most — fresh air, travel, and the freedom to enjoy life — don’t cost us a cent anyway.

© Zach Dischner

#3: Lack of Money Buys Freedom

If you’re filthy rich, you can enjoy limitless freedom. But when you’re dirt poor, you can enjoy pretty much the same freedom. If you happen to be somewhere in the middle, that’s when you’re tied down. In the middle, you need to work to pay your debts and expenses. You’re not rich enough to stop working, and not “poor” enough to give up those expenses and luxuries. You’re stuck indefinitely.

When you’re too poor to afford the “luxuries” so common in that middle space (say, furniture and lawn care), you have complete freedom to spend your time doing whatever you want. Just as if you were rich. You don’t have to work as much or at all. You have no one to report to. You can come and go as you wish. No home to maintain. No rooms to clean. You can pick which opportunities and activities you want to be involved in, and actually be picky about it. Your range of choices in life is substantially wider.

These days, many people consider a good travel trip a resort vacation, which of course implies money. But I’m convinced the reason we crave resort-type spots is because we’re exhausted from working so much that we need a quiet place to rest and unwind. However, when you’re working less, you’ll be amazed and how much energy you have. Suddenly a resort vacation sounds boring. You want to run. Hike. Move. Swim. Travel. All of which we can do indefinitely, and free of charge. And if you still want to rest, try lying on a beach like a sand bum for … as long as you want. And that’s the life we’re living now.

© Ian Sane

#4: There’s Free Stuff Everywhere

Sadly, we live in a society where so much is wasted: food, products, energy … the list goes on. Fortunately for RV bums like us, this also means we have an endless supply of free goodies at our fingertips. We can get our hands on anything from food to travel products to personal hygiene products.

In this hyper-consumerist society, we could easily survive on samples alone. And if that’s not possible, we are happy to offer manual labor or personal service in exchange for the goods we need. No currency exchanged.

Between the two of us, my boyfriend and I have a wealth of bartering services at our disposal. He has an engineering background and is awesome at all those “boy” things like manual labor and figuring things out without needing directions. I’m more creative and great at anything related to writing, PR, editing, publishing, promotion, online, etc. This, combined with my journalism background, gives me access to limitless products in exchange for reviews or help with promotion.

For example, we don’t always pay for running gear or races (unless we want to, and we still do when we want to support certain products or events). I get free pet gear for our dog and cat — things like food, leashes, running harness or packs, etc. The most common things I get for free are clothing, running shoes, and sunglasses. These are the three things I regularly have to turn down because I either don’t have enough space for them in the RV, I’m not interested in the product, or I don’t want to put in the time to write a review.

The product benefits extend to my boyfriend as well, and this aspect alone has saved us thousands of dollars. I often joke that my boyfriend and I are the best-dressed hobos out there, testing all the latest “stuff”. I should also mention that not having a job means I have more time to put lots of miles on all this gear, promote what I like, and produce many more reviews and videos, making the freebies much easier to get. Yet another aspect of freebies we enjoy is sponsorships. Over the years we have been sponsored by SportKilt, INKnBURN, and GORE-TEX.

If you’re not a writer, these same freebie possibilities are still open to you. One common misconception is that you have to be an elite in order to get sponsorships or freebies. Untrue. All you need is to be noticed, to have some clout. To have a personality or an appearance or a following that makes you stand out from the crowd. Anything at all. You could wear a costume. You could cover yourself in tattoos. You could have a popular blog.

In the world we live in now with endless blogs and opportunities to self-publish, it’s easier than ever to “be a writer”. But keep in mind — you still have to be good in order for people to follow you. You have to offer something. Check out this great post by Jason Robillard to get you started on the road paved with freebies.

Mountain Biking, British Columbia © andy_c

#5: Movement, Not Money, Buys Happiness

We’ve all heard variations of the saying that “money buys (or doesn’t buy) happiness.” I don’t know too much about that, but I can tell you without a doubt that movement definitely equals true happiness. I have this epiphany every time I’m running on a deserted trail in the middle of the week when everyone else is at work. I am happy when I’m moving. And I don’t think it’s just me.

I can tell you without a doubt that movement definitely equals true happiness.

My boyfriend and I can indulge this thirst for movement on a daily basis and sometimes several times a day. The joy we feel in being able to physically move our bodies all day long is unparalleled.

I’ve watched our dog make a transformation as well. In her old life, she stayed at home and waited for us to get home from work. She got long runs on the weekend, and sometimes a shorter run or ball play during the week. We tried to take her out as much as possible, but her outdoor time didn’t compare to what it is now.

As soon as we put our dog in the RV environment, she transformed. She is more well behaved and, for the first time since I’ve known her, genuinely tired at the end of the day. She is no longer jealous of the cat (ha!), and she used to be more skittish of other dogs. Now she wants to meet them as her doggie self-esteem has improved too.

As soon as we wake up in the morning, Ginger and I step right out on the trail to run or hike. Then it’s breakfast. Then more playtime until it’s time to go to bed. Yesterday she was prancing through a creek with us, jumping and barking playfully while we all splashed around. Ginger lives a better life now than some humans do. And I believe that this is how all humans are meant to live.

The truth is, we belong outside. Our bodies, our skin, our organs, were built to be outdoors. We belong to the trails and the mud and the streams. Yet these are precisely the things that we have built walls to keep out. We sanitize ourselves against the very things that scrub our souls clean, and then wonder why our bodies are breaking down along with our spirits.

Our minds were not created to be satisfied with the repetitive motions of menial jobs. We are not stimulated that way. We are not happy. But here on the trails is where we find ourselves.

And the best part is that all of this is free. I could run a new trail every day from now until my dying day and never cover all the great space that this beautiful country has to offer. So much of it we will never see. And yet during the week, we are all alone on this great land. We run and laugh and play and wonder where everyone else is.

And then we remember … they’re all at work.

The post 5 Secrets to Enjoying All the Benefits of Money … Without Actually Having Any appeared first on Vagabondish.

The grove, owned by the nearby city of Halcyon, was believed to be land on which Native Americans thrived. I walked in awe under the towering trees with my friends Pat, Caity and Colin. The dogs, Nigel and Ginger, ran circles at our heels.

Monarch Butterfly Warming Its Wings © Sids1

I spotted the monarch lying motionless on the ground. Fearing it was dead, I picked it up and squealed with delight when it twitched against my fingers. Then I spotted another one nearby. And another. I looked up and noticed the eucalyptus above me was covered in butterflies, but they were barely moving.

When monarchs get cold, they lose the ability to fly. They rely on the sun to warm their flight muscles and give them mobility. Most monarchs can crawl at temperatures of 41 degrees Fahrenheit, but need a temperature of 55 degrees to fly. These orange and black beauties were chilly.

Later that year in October, I was on the other side of the continent. It was a lovely day by Canadian standards in Cobourg, Ontario, even though I was shivering. The wind off the water whipped sharply against my skin, but the monarchs didn’t seem to mind. They fluttered playfully with the wind, weaving their fragile bodies in figure eights across the shore.

What are they still doing here? I wondered. Shouldn’t they be heading south?

Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.

— Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

Could I really blame them for lingering? After all, I was also clinging to my northern home well past the shorts-and-t-shirt season. I was here to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving with my family. It had been two years and 40,000 miles since I had last seen them.

Thanksgiving was better than expected. The affectionate welcome from my family and the joy of reuniting with my sisters made me wonder why I had been in such a rush to leave.

Losing Myself

Two years ago, I boarded a plane at Toronto’s Pearson airport with a dismissive wave and a “good riddance”. I was floundering in a dead-end relationship, overwhelmed by family drama, and frustrated with a lack of trail races. I needed space to breathe. Physical space. I needed mountains and single track and solitude. I needed to be miles away.

In San Diego, I found a surrogate family of trail and ultrarunning friends. I immersed myself in the outdoors. The mountains were a salve for my soul.

I disassociated with everything I had left behind in Toronto and quickly lost touch. Canada had left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had only seen a sliver of it””a city where I didn’t fit in, and for two years I rolled my eyes at the thought of ever returning.

Going It Alone © Thomas Frost Jensen

From San Diego, I had followed the west coast to Alaska. Then last September I asked my boyfriend Shacky if we could drive across Canada. Part of me hoped that it would be wonderful. Another part hoped it would be terrible””to prove that I had been right to leave.

Then Alberta happened. Then Columbia Icefields, Jasper National Park and Banff. My jaw dropped at the vast snow-peaked mountains, crystal-clear waters and wildlife that didn’t know how to be afraid.

In Canada, we traveled through some of the most spectacular scenery my nomadic eyes had ever seen. More scenic still than the Alaska highway, the Columbia Gorge, or the lush trails of Oregon””especially beautiful to me, because it was home. This was a country I had always known, yet never known at all.

I discovered friends in Manitoba, enjoyed the hospitality of strangers in Prince Edward Island, and was humbled by the dramatic tides of the Bay of Fundy. Small towns warmed my soul and my heart began to swell with the pride of being a Canadian.

A few months earlier I had been nodding my head at Mark Twain’s account in Roughing It (1872). He, too, had moved to California in 1864 as a journalist, and was inspired by travel.

I posted the following Twain quote on my Facebook wall:

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.

The first to reply was Michael Sean Comerford, a hitchhiker we had picked up in the Yukon. Michael had been on his way to Anchorage to work at a carnival, but he was a journalist by trade. For one year, he was traveling as a nomadic carny and surviving on carny wages. He was blogging from the road and gathering experiences for a book. Michael carried a tiny notepad where he carefully wrote down our names, and we have been friends ever since.

Expecting Michael’s comment to be pro-travel, I was surprised to read what he actually typed. He said:

Twain simply did not meet all people or travel to all ”˜little corners’ of the earth when he wrote this. I’ve met extraordinary people who’ve never traveled. And what does it mean that he traveled and yet became a misanthrope toward the end of his life.

Michael’s reply made me pause and think of all the wonderful people we have encountered on our journeys. They were not nomadic. Many of them were 9-5’ers. They had families. They had communities. They had homes.

They offered us food and hot showers and hospitality, opening their lives and sharing everything they had. Far from narrow-minded, they have helped us reconsider our own prejudices and assumptions.

They are trees and we are butterflies. They are less mobile, but no less important, and it is lucky for us that they are rooted to the ground””a safe place to land.

I understand this now.

© Meg Wills

… And Finding My Way

Our pilgrimage to Alaska is one that many people associate with Christopher McCandless’ journey described in Into the Wild. When Outside magazine posted an article about McCandless’ death, the comments lit up in a heated debate between two distinct positions: those who supported McCandless and those who were disgusted by him.

His supporters described him as someone who was really living and never hurt anyone. They attacked naysayers with the disturbing implication that people who hold steady jobs and stay close to their families are somehow not fully living.

The opposition identified McCandless’ travels as selfish and indulgent. They insisted that he did indeed cause much pain to his family.

These days, I am forced to pause and re-examine my day-to-day.

Has my life become so much about mountains, trails, and summits that I am neglecting the relationships that matter the most? Have I called my mom? Have I written to my sister? Have I Skyped with my friends?

In the end we are influenced””not by those who have seen the best views””but by those who have spent the most time with us, thought about us and shared in our milestones.

Earlier this month I received an email from a lady named Camille who wanted to profile me for a feature she was writing. The topic was the evolution of the American Dream as it passed from parents to children. What did the American Dream mean to me and what had it meant to my parents?

This was a topic I had been churning in my brain for some time. Over Skype, I told Camille about my dad’s immigration to Canada, his struggle to provide stability for me, and his quest to accumulate the possessions I grew to shun: a house, a car and all the amenities of a comfortable life.

At times, I’ve felt guilty about my choice to abandon all the things my parents worked so hard to give me. I reconcile those feelings by reminding myself that my parents didn’t struggle to give me a physical house, but rather freedom””the freedom to educate myself, to write exactly what I think, and to take the unpopular route. I am free to define success on my own terms.

Still, I feel a pull when I’m away from my family and I attribute that to a newfound sense of maturity. It’s that moment when you’ve wandered enough miles to know where your family lives and why it’s important that they know where you are.

After Thanksgiving dinner, it’s already dark outside. I button up my winter coat and follow my family out to the car to say our goodbyes. After hugs and promises to stay in touch, my sisters pack into my mom’s green mini van and make themselves comfortable in the backseat for the long drive back to Toronto.

Kayla, my ten-year-old baby sister, is squashed in the back corner of the van. I can barely see her little limbs as she wiggles back outside at the last second. She races toward me and throws her arms around my neck for one last hug. She sobs into my shoulder while my family waits in the car.

I smooth her hair and hug her tight. I tell her how much I love her and how beautiful and strong she is. She can barely catch her breath between her tears.

Kayla’s outpour surprises me. I am as surprised as McCandless might have been to learn that his parents loved him deeply””except I have lived to see that affection firsthand.

I am more than a nomad, a trail runner and a mountain bum. I am the big sister who sends postcards but rarely calls. And Kayla is the ten-year-old who misses me so very much.

Monarch Butterflies at El Rosario Sanctuary, Mèxico © Luna sin estrellas

And that’s when it clicks. I know now why the monarchs have not migrated. Their loved ones are rooted to the earth, and they must linger until the last possible second before flying away.

What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.

— Jack Kerouac, On the Road

The post How Travel Taught Me the Importance of “Home” appeared first on Vagabondish.

I jerked my head to spot the shabby homeless man I’d walked right past him. I hadn’t noticed him sitting on a park bench with an old green grocery bag leaning against his side like a dirty man-purse.

He appeared weathered and tired, but his expression betrayed amusement at my unexpected presence. His black hair was disheveled and he refused to drop the piercing gaze of his black eyes.

He was likely in his mid-50s, but could have been much younger. I couldn’t tell if his dark skin was of natural hue, or if he was just really dirty. I could smell him.

He had the features of a Native American, and wore three layers of tattered clothing, even though it was fairly warm outside.

I was wearing my short pink running skirt and a light green tank top. I felt naked as he leered at me, waiting for my response.

“Um ”¦ hi,” was all I could manage.

© broken.lights

Welcome to Alaska

He caught me off guard. I had jogged there from the park near the Fairbanks visitor’s centre. This was our first big Alaskan town and we were kicking off a much-anticipated summer of exploring the state’s trails.

I was heading to the visitor’s center to check the movie times for a documentary film I wanted to see on the Aurora Borealis. Instead of walking to the front door, I thought I could get in through the back. I didn’t know anyone was there.

He continued to pursue conversation amid my growing discomfort. I was sharply aware of his intruding eyes on my body. My heart rate rose instinctively and I felt a warm wave of anger wash away the forced smile I was wearing. I responded with more mumbling and walked away. No way was I going to let him see me run!

Once I was safely out of his line of vision, I walked dejectedly to the front door. I didn’t care about the movie anymore. I was mad. Mad that I couldn’t jog away from my boyfriend for two minutes without being the recipient of unwanted attention. That I was minutes into my epic Alaskan adventure, smiley and excited, and this guy ruined it. But most of all, I was mad that my first reaction had been to withdraw, to simply flee the scene.

Then + Now

I saw flashbacks of myself years ago””in my 20s and in my teens””being leered at and yelled at by strange men on the street of Toronto. I felt that same old wave of fear and panic I had always felt, unsure whether those men carried weapons, whether they would follow me home (some did), or get angry if I didn’t respond in kind.

I live a different life now. I have grown stronger and wiser, and most importantly I have gotten away from those shitty neighborhoods.

Here on the edge of the world, an old man on a bench in his shit-stained coat could still make me feel like a nobody.

I have struggled to educate myself as the first in my family to graduate from University. I have finished 100-mile races and uncovered new strengths in both my body and my mind. I have written a book and traveled to the most remote state I could think of ”¦ yet none of that mattered.

Here on the edge of the world, there was still anger and fear and poverty. And an old man on a bench in his shit-stained coat could still make me feel like a nobody.

Why wasn’t I stronger? I raged to myself as I stormed into the visitor’s center.

Later that morning, an older man stood in the park and watched me do yoga. Under normal circumstances I would have thought nothing of it, but now my senses were on high alert.

My boyfriend sat nearby with my dog Ginger, but that didn’t matter. I could feel the man’s eyes watching me.

Downward dog ”¦

Now plank ”¦

Every alert system blared in my head as I shifted positions. My skin crept with that instinctive itch all women experience when they know they are being sexualized.

I WILL NOT LET YOU STOP ME FROM DOING MY YOGA! I screamed at him in my head. This time I would be strong.

Every position was now a rebellion, shooting defiance and indignation in his direction. Keep your face calm, I told myself. Don’t let him see that it bothers you.

Warrior 1”¦

Warrior 2”¦

GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY!!!!

I finished my yoga and stomped off.

Less than an hour later, I had to use the bathroom but there was a man lying on the sidewalk, blocking my path. I didn’t want to walk past him, so I asked Shacky for the key to pee in the RV.

“He’s fine,” Shacky assured me. “He’s here with his family. He’s not homeless. His kids were just here.”

Really? Were my instincts off? Was I being oversensitive and paranoid?

I headed toward the bathroom. As I passed, the harmless guy stretched himself across the floor of the sidewalk to look up my skirt. I rushed into the bathroom and peed, seething on the toilet seat.

I was helpless and weak, hiding in the girl’s bathroom just like I did on the first day of middle school when I couldn’t find my computer classroom. Then again at lunch when nobody would sit with me.

I tried to brush it off. Certainly, I had endured much worse. Still, I couldn’t shake the disappointment in myself. How could men I didn’t even know still have the power to make me feel frightened and objectified? I hadn’t changed at all.

I was off my game for days. Nothing noticeable, but subtle frowns mixed with streaks of paranoia. When a man approached us to ask about Ginger a few days later, I tensed up. The little things made me feel a lack of control.

Fairbanks wasn’t what I had hoped. An unexpected heat wave forced us to keep the dog in the RV with the A/C running. When we tried to explore the trails, starving herds of mosquitoes bombed us repeatedly like angry wasps.

Unprepared, we had no bug spray. Our dog would run back to the RV after only a few minutes outside, covered in red welts. She’d nip at the air and swat her own face until we finally had the sense to leave town. Unreasonably, I blamed those men. They had ruined the entire city. Fuck them.

© Ashley Webb

Evolution of the “Bitch Face”

A few days later, the beautiful town of Anchorage lifted my spirits and I decided to approach this issue the same way I always handle things that trouble me: I research them.

I wanted to understand why men acted this way. Did they want attention? Did they genuinely believe this was an effective way of finding a mate? Did they think women enjoyed it?

And what was the most effective way to react? Ignore them? Humor them? Shout at them? Out-creep them? I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of reacting exactly the way they wanted. I didn’t want them to know they’d gotten a rise out of me.

Most of what I found online was directed at men””a lot of “Stop it, guys!” and little useful analysis. Then I stumbled on an essay in The Atlantic by Ta-Nehisi Coates examining manhood. Coates argues that men street harass women as a means to feel powerful. They are not terrible people, but simply powerless men who lack opportunities to display dominance in other areas of life.

Men who are validated and respected do not need to catcall. Men who are trampled, disrespected, and overlooked get a rise out of making a woman squirm. When the powerless man watches a woman drop her eyes or shuffle away in embarrassment at his call, he feels powerful. She has noticed him.

Alyssa Royse offers another perspective. She believes the unfortunate cause is society’s habit of demonizing male sexuality:

It starts young. Girls are told that boys are predatory and somehow out of control. The corollary there is that boys are told they are predators, and out of control. Therefore, not a desirable thing, but a thing to defend against. From the get-go, we are teaching our kids to fear male sexuality, and to repress female sexuality”¦ It’s sad. It’s insulting. And it’s damaging”¦This way of looking at male sexuality conflates sexuality with predation.

As far as street harassment prevention, many women on online forums seem to embrace a concept known as “bitch face”. They brag that the reason they are not harassed more often is because they go through life wearing a “default bitch face”.

Here is the scholarly definition according to Urban Dictionary:

I need my default face to be a happy one. I need to smile until I have good reason not to.

I am horrified by this concept. I worry that if I wear a bitch face all day, I will soon become a bitch in real life. I need my default face to be a happy one. I need to smile until I have good reason not to.

In my world, defaulting to a bitch face would allow random men to hold me prisoner to my own fear and skepticism. It would ruin not only the days they call to me, but also the days they don’t. They would sentence me to walk through life with my guard up, a burden I cannot accept.

Embracing Vulnerability

I may not be able to control the comments of every man on the street, but I can protect my instinct to smile. No matter how often I am made to feel uncomfortable or self-conscious, I can preserve my faith in the inherent goodness of humanity and tear through every corner, laughing and running in a short skirt as though nothing unpleasant has ever surprised me. I can choose to stay vulnerable””on purpose.

Brené Brown recently intrigued me with her TED Talk on the path to vulnerability. She stumbled on the concept of vulnerability in her research on connection and shame, and like many of us, she was terrified by it. “In order for connection to happen,” she says, “we need to be seen””really seen.”

After six years of deep research that included hundreds of interviews and thousands of stories, Brown isolated a breed of people that she describes as “whole hearted”. These people had found connection, love, and belonging. They were living to the fullest. Brown took a magnifying glass to their lives and found two common threads:

#1: They Were Courageous

There is a difference between bravery and courage, Brown stresses. Courage, from the Latin word cor (meaning heart), was originally defined as telling the story of who you are with your whole heart. “They were willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they were,” Brown says.

#2: They Were Vulnerable

Not only where these people vulnerable, but they embraced vulnerability. It was important to them, and they believed it made them beautiful. They talked about vulnerability as something that was important, not excruciating. They were willing to say, “I love you” first, and they were willing to invest in relationships that might not work out.

This data started Brown down a long and difficult path of learning how to implement vulnerability into her life. She came to an important conclusion that perfectly describes why bitch face is so tragic.

“You cannot selectively numb,” Brown says. When we try to stifle feelings of anger, grief, and despair, we numb everything. “We numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness.”

Bitch face is a numbing. It’s an armor shielding against unwanted attention, but also against anything good that may cross our paths that day. It protects us from catcalling, but it also protects us from unexpected kindness, motivational encouragement, and spontaneous hospitality.

The Bottom Line

I spent the rest of the summer practicing vulnerability in Alaska. This mostly manifested itself in me being a nerdy goof (read: being myself), talking to strangers, and singing to the bears. I took more chances than usual and climbed steeper hills.

I learned to approach each new experience with a fresh expectation of success, though yesterday may have ended in disaster. And every new man gets a clean slate.

The post Why Vulnerability Is a Traveler’s Best Skill (or “Dropping the Bitch Face in Bear Country”) appeared first on Vagabondish.

The answer is a resounding yes. As much as we need lawyers, doctors, and construction workers””we need nomads. Here are three more reasons (in addition to these and these) why:

Psychological Benefits

When I read Jennifer Pharr-Davis’ book Becoming Odyssa: Epic Adventures on the Appalachian Trail (aff), I was a fresh, new nomad struggling with the concept of inactivity. Well-trained in the art of office multi-tasking and accustomed to starting each day with a “to-do” list longer than my arm, I was now immersed in a world where it could take all day to do just one thing. Sometimes that thing was as basic as finding a place to sleep that night.

I was starting to work on my second book, and if I wasn’t pounding away at my keyboard every spare second, I would feel guilty. The guilt puzzled me since I had no deadline, no boss, and I was writing for fun, yet those societal values of ceaseless “productivity” still lingered in my brain.

Drinking in the views on the Alaska Highway © Vanessa Runs

In Becoming Odyssa, Pharr-Davis wrote about her own transition from constant movement to sitting still. She describes one incident where she was at a friend’s house, just sitting there. Her friend asked if she wanted a magazine? Did she want to watch TV? But Jennifer just wanted to sit there, as she often would in the evenings on the trail, and that concept made others uncomfortable.

These days I do nothing just as often as I do something. And shockingly, it has made me more productive.

These days I do nothing just as often as I do something. And shockingly, it has made me more productive. I have better ideas, and when I work I am faster, more eloquent because I have the time to organize my thoughts.

The biggest psychological stress plaguing our society is ”¦ well, stress. This goes hand in hand with the concept that we need to be doing something every minute of the day, and any minute resting is a minute wasted. Even when we do stop to rest, we are burdened by thoughts of what productive things we should be doing instead.

Rushing, multi-tasking, and stressing out are now things that exist only in my past, and that is something I learned from a nomad. In return, I seek to pass it on to others. It is a message that our society needs to make time to hear.

The Bottom Line

Nomads encourage us to slow down and de-stress.

Surviving Tibet © McKay Savage

Survival Benefits

Residing in what is now Lebanon, the Phoenicians enjoyed a rich, civilized culture based on lumber exportation in 300 B.C. They grew to obtain great wealth due to their enormous and beautiful cedar trees, whose infamy is Biblically referred to as “the cedars of Lebanon.” Their land was plentiful, their people strong, and their soil rich.

The Phoenicians were self-sufficient and prosperous, but as they started to clear-cut their cedar trees over time, the quality of their soil decreased. It became harder to grow food and their people grew hungry.

The leaders of the time decided to go to war to expand their borders and rose up against Alexander the Great. Alexander squashed them like bugs and conquered their entire civilization. Historically, nations who could not feed themselves would never survive.

“Food sovereignty” is the term used to describe a nation’s ability to feed itself – a skill we are rapidly losing in our society. Socialized with the idea that if we need something we must buy it, we commit Phoenician sins at an alarming frequency.

We need people who know how to be self-sufficient. Through programs like WWOOF, many full-time nomads are learning to work organic farms in exchange for room and board. Nomads are also experts at acquiring the things they need without using money. They barter and trade their services, goods, or skills. No matter how industrialized we become, these ancient survival skills are always useful.

The Bottom Line

Nomads bring us back to our roots of self-sufficiency, trade and simple survival.

Nomad Alone in the Sahara Desert, Morocco © Celso Flores

Irrational Benefits

Philosophically, does the constant supply of information steal our ability to imagine or replace our dreams of achieving? After all, if it is being done somewhere by someone, and we can participate virtually, then why bother leaving the house?

This is the question Ben Saunders attempted to answer in his 2012 TED talk. Saunders is a polar explorer and the youngest person to ever ski solo to the North Pole. He ponders his purpose of nomadic travel:

“Nothing will come of it,” he wisely admits. “We shall not bring back a single bit of gold or silver, and not a gem, nor any coal or iron. We shall not find a single foot of earth that can be planted with crops to raise food. So it is no use.

If you cannot understand that there is something in man which responds to the challenge of this mountain and goes out to meet it, that the struggle is the struggle of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won’t see why we go.

What we get from this adventure is just sheer joy, and joy, after all, is the end of life. We don’t live to eat and make money. We eat and make money to be able to enjoy life. That is what life means, and that is what life is for.”

Nomads understand this to be true first-hand. In a society that demands a purpose and a rational explanation for any expenditure of energy, nomads represent travel, movement and adventure as worthwhile pursuits unto themselves. Theirs are the adventures that inspire books and TED talks. This is where original ideas are born and lives are changed. There is no other job or career on earth that operates on this principle: that the destination is senseless but the journey is everything.

The benefits of living vicariously through your local nomad are also abundant. Not all of us need to ski to the North Pole, but some of us still have irrational dreams that we’ve muted with society’s expectations. Sometimes it takes a nomad to come along and uncover them. If we pursue those ambitions, our own adventures will inspire others, and so the circle continues.

To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,
To gain all while you give,
To roam the roads of lands remote:
To travel is to live.
– Hans Christian Andersen

The Bottom Line

Nomads feed our inherent sense of curiosity, wonder, and adventure; they give us permission to follow our own “senseless” dreams.

What Does It All Mean?

While nomads are not the only people on earth who benefit society in these ways, they are important, underestimated and rare contributors. Just as some of us aspire to bring home a steady paycheck and live in comfortable homes (society needs that too), there are nomadic spirits chained to their cubicles because they are convinced that travel would be selfish.

It is not selfish. Nomadic travel can never be selfish, because for every benefit you receive, you give away everything””your entire heart, your mind, strength, and life””to forever change the people you meet and tenderly touch the places you visit.

The post Why The World Needs Nomads (Part #3): The Psychological, Survival + Emotional Benefits appeared first on Vagabondish.

The answer is a resounding yes. As much as we need lawyers, doctors, and construction workers””we need nomads. Here’s why:

Global Benefits

My good friend Patrick Sweeney is a free-spirited California beach boy who survives on avocados, hot sauce, and beer. He often posts photos of his fruit and vegetable purchases””mounds of fresh produce at obscenely low prices. Sweeney hates the concept that healthy food is too expensive and unavailable to poor people who want to eat well. This argument, according to Pat, is an excuse that perpetuates the obesity epidemic in America.

I agree with him partially. I have learned from our travels just how region-specific eating well actually is. My idea of healthy eating has evolved from primarily raw vegan to whatever the locals eat, and what the region offers. Along the Pacific Northwest, I enjoyed mostly fresh seafood. Now in Alaska, I eat fresh game meat (mostly reindeer) and salmon that was swimming only hours ago. Here, I would go broke as a vegan.

The avocado issue made me reflect on how many times we make wide, sweeping generalizations about the world based on our own tiny regions.

Pink Sunset Over Petra, Jordan © Salim Al-Harthy

Nomadism infuses the world with people who can relate to different perspectives. We carry the message that there is more than one way to do things and we refute stereotypes wherever we travel.

Once in a while, every region needs a nomad to shake things up in places where everyone thinks the same, earns the same, and votes the same.

Every community seeks to bond over common ideas. This is human nature, and it makes life easier. But every once in a while, every region needs a nomad to shake things up in places where everyone thinks the same, earns the same, and votes the same.

We need nomads to reminds us that our rules do not apply to every inch of this planet. We also need nomads to experience our own regional truths and carry our stories off to places where our habits are considered strange.

The Bottom Line

Nomads fight stereotypes by collecting and delivering different world views across regional lines.

Wandering India © Nagesh Jayaraman

Physical Benefits

After watching the documentary Craiglist Joe, my boyfriend and I answered a Craigslist ad to pick up a brother/sister pair of backpackers hitchhiking their way across the country. Eddie and Charlotte turned out to be amazing company. We took them to the Grand Canyon and picked up great travel tips just by observing them.

One of the main things I noticed about Eddie and Charlotte was that they walked””a lot. I was used to viewing movement as exercise in the form of a training plan, or something you needed to schedule. But they walked as a way of life. In the months that followed, I came to redefine movement for myself.

In my pre-nomad days, I would log all my exercise on a site called Dailymile. It tracked my running, walking, hiking, swimming, or movement of any kind. I could record the mileage and at the end of the week, it would tally a grand total and tell me I was awesome.

After we hit the road, logging workouts on Dailymile became more complicated. Without a GPS surgically attached to my wrist, I had no idea how far I had moved that day. I no longer went out to do a workout. I just went out to play.

Instead of running a pre-determined route, we would pull over to the side of the road intrigued by a hill or mountain, and climb it. We spend time on the trail or in a pool, coming home only when we were hungry or out of water. This healthy concept of movement was a welcome change and we seek to share it with others.

The Bottom Line

Nomads help us see exercise and movement as a way of life, not an activity we need to schedule.

Gazing into the Grand Canyon for the first time © Vanessa Runs

Emotional Benefits

Michael Comerford was the second hitchhiker we picked along the side of the road. He was surviving as a carnival worker, traveling the country to work various gigs. He told me unforgettable stories about how much carnival workers loved making children happy, yet the irony that most of them came from abusive childhoods and were separated from their own children. He told of the shocking lack of education and illiteracy in the industry, and the hopeless abandonment the workers faced if they tried to leave their carnival families.

Nomads often immerse themselves into the margins of society. We see, hear, and feel those who have no voice, no words, no education. These experiences tune us into a full spectrum of human emotions that we can then share, speak about, or write about. They reveal themselves in our art, in our music, and inject themselves into the hearts of those we come in contact with.

Back in the “real” world, when I had a real job and a real home, it was easy to disconnect. Routine set in, and my emotions were dulled. There was nothing new or exciting, and nothing to make me angry or annoyed. I had tweaked my world for maximum comfort and slipped into a state of complete moderation.

Now in a world where anything can happen at any time, I have reconnected with the way I feel about the world. From intense joy to tremendous frustration, nomads experience a wide range of human emotions on a daily basis. We are good at feeling things in a society where emotional displays are often unwelcome.

The Bottom Line

Nomads expose us to a full spectrum of human emotions that feed our sense of humanity.

More to come! Stay tuned for the conclusion to this series tomorrow!

The post Why The World Needs Nomads (Part #2): The Global, Physical & Emotional Benefits appeared first on Vagabondish.

Nomadic travel is most tolerated if you are young, responsibility-free, and trying to “find yourself”, but only for a pre-determined amount of time. But why isn’t travel””apart from age and status””worthy of pursuing in itself as a respectable (not just fulfilling) way of life?

The most common question we get from people we meet since hitting the road full-time is: “For how long are you traveling?”

© Vanessa Runs

We still aren’t sure how to answer that. “Um ”¦ forever?” We then explain that we live this way. It’s not a vacation or a year-long “project”.

People are puzzled by this concept. Our contact with them usually expires before they grasp it, and as we walk away I can hear the wheels turning in their heads with a million questions.

Online, people have fewer questions and more opinions. We’re often called freeloaders or spoiled by people who don’t know us but reflexively dislike the concept of full-time travel. Some accuse us of contributing nothing to society, or worse””burdening it.

This isn’t surprising when you consider that although this lifestyle has many benefits, they are often described as personal fulfillments rather than contributions to the real world, giving us the reputation of takers, not givers.

What benefits do nomads bring to society then? Do we really need them?

The answer is a resounding yes. As much as we need lawyers, doctors, and construction workers””we need nomads. Here’s why:

© woodleywonderworks

Social Benefits

A few weeks ago, reader Jessica Kurti posted on my Facebook wall:

Transported my first hitchhikers today ”¦ was AWESOME. Two ”˜through hikers’ doing the entire Pacific Crest Trail. Gave them a lift to Sisters, Oregon, where they were going to eat, run errands, and meet a ”˜trail angel’ who would give them a lift to the next trailhead. So, I would like to say THANK YOU, to you, Shacky, Honey Bird and Crockett (their trail names). I learned so much about what is possible!

Although I love to help people, I rarely consider picking up hitchhikers (in this country at least as a single female). SO GLAD I DID. And I wish *all of us* continued safe journeys and amazing adventures ahead!

Much love from Bend, Oregon (started in Florida). Keep on keeping on!

She was thanking me because I’d previously written about our experiences picking up hitchhikers, commenting on how unfounded our society’s fear of hitchhiking actually is.

Nomads are more trusting of strangers than the average person, probably because they spend a large portion of their time interacting with strangers. They discover that strangers (and people in general) are inherently good, hospitable, and eager to help. As a result, nomads often serve as society’s connectors.

Nomads will:

• Connect people with similar interests to each other
• Connect people with resources to people in need
• Connect strangers in close proximity
• Connect Facebook friends with real-person contact

Nomads not only make frequent connections, but also improve the quality of those connections. The transition isn’t from stranger to acquaintance, but from stranger to good friend. Nomads have the time to truly listen and understand the people they meet. They are not rushing to their next appointment or toiling over what they’ll cook for dinner. Their attentions are focused on the stories and experiences of others. Nomads allow us to feel heard and to feel like our stories matter.

The Bottom Line

Nomads connect us to each other, re-establish our faith in humanity, and dispel unfounded social stigmas.

Young Nomad Girl at Sunset © +gAbY+

Intellectual Benefits

I first learned of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs in a high school Psychology class. As a child of poverty, it was my first introduction to the concept that there may be more to life than living to fulfill our basic needs of food and shelter.

Abraham Maslow developed this theory in his 1943 paper describing the stages of human growth. While other psychologists of his time were studying the mentally ill, Maslow examined the healthiest one percent of a college student population. He named people like Albert Einstein, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Frederick Douglass as examples he studied. Here is the hierarchy:

© Wikipedia

Modern society over-emphasizes the bottom two levels at the expense of the top three. Once we’ve met our basic needs of food, shelter, and security, we are pressured to over-develop those benefits: a bigger house, a nicer car, giving our kids everything they could possibly want (not just what they need). To achieve this, we sacrifice the higher levels of friendships, self-esteem, and the freedom to be creative.

Nomads embody the opposite, and as a result they balance society. We embrace the bare minimum when it comes to food, shelter, and security in exchange for the higher opportunities of self-actualization. We have the freedom to immerse ourselves into areas that the rest of society has little time for: volunteering, extensive travel, year-long projects with little to no financial return, and time-consuming works of art.

We learn from the nomad that happiness comes in different shapes, despite society’s insistence that more money equals more freedom. We see nomads working as their own bosses, or exploring their true passions. Watching them gives us the courage to do the same.

The Bottom Line

Nomads challenge and change the way we think and view the world.

© Rohit Ganda

Environmental Benefits

Can you brush your teeth with two sips of water? What if all the water you had access to for the day was the amount you could carry on your back? What if all the trash you could make was limited to what you could pack out? What if the only light you had after dark was a headlamp?

As a nomad, I have learned to use less water, less electricity, and produce less waste. I have grown resourceful enough to fix things when they break instead of throwing them away. Many nomads live this way. It’s not a weekend camping trip; it’s life. More importantly””it’s not that hard.

Nomads can teach us to respect, appreciate, and preserve our resources. They can show us how to live comfortably with less, how to save hundreds on unnecessary products, and how to stop draining our planet.

I have only experienced two city-wide blackouts in my life: one in Toronto, and one in San Diego. Both times, it felt like mass panic in the neighborhood. As a society, we are uncomfortable with the concept of living with less. We tend to imagine extremes: either we live large or live in a cave with nothing. Nomads know there is a sweet middle ground where we can drastically reduce our carbon footprint yet still fit in with civilized society.

The Bottom Line

Nomads teach us to respect our resources and show us how it is possible to live comfortably with less.

This is part 1 in a multi-part series on why the world needs nomads. Check back tomorrow for part 2!

The post Why The World Needs Nomads (Part 1): The Social, Intellectual & Environmental Benefits appeared first on Vagabondish.

Now I sit and type, hugged by nature, and reminisce on what has brought me to spend the past two days bumming around this particular trailhead, with no tasks other than to feed my mind and empower my body in whichever way I please.

© Vanessa Runs

I have written many words on how Shacky and I moved into an RV and gave up our jobs to travel, run trails, and in my case””write my first book. But now we’ve been on the road for several weeks. My book has come out, it’s doing great, and I’ve started my next one. In that time, there have been many concepts that have shifted my perspective on the world, and there is value here for everyone””whether you live in an RV or not””to make small changes and enjoy a life that is just a little bit more awesome.

Here are four secrets I’ve gleaned from my still-new nomadic life (and four corresponding challenges in the hopes that you can do the same):

#1: Uni-tasking

Back in the “real” world, when I had a job and a house, I found myself multi-tasking constantly. It was my only chance at completing my lengthy list of chores and responsibilities.

At work, there was no down time. The daily tasks (checking email) were overshadowed by the weekly tasks (writing, editing), which were overpowered by the monthly tasks (preparing reports and keeping those page views rising). Month after month, the tasks repeated themselves.

At home, much of the same – the repetitive cycle was never-ending, and only served to keep the house in working order, like a hamster wheel that turns round and round but never advances anywhere.

Moving into a 22-foot RV, 97 percent of my previous To Do list was eradicated. There was no office to spend my day in. There was no house to maintain. In place of my To Do list, I formed a Project List. These were not tasks that repeated on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis. These were big ideas and huge projects that would take months ””years, even ””to see through. For the first time in my life, I had the time to slowly chip away at these dreams, and set them into motion.

The first big project I tackled was writing my first book, The Summit Seeker, a task that took me nine months to complete. Besides writing my second book, other things on my Project List include:

• PCT thru-hike
• Run across El Salvador (approx. 160 miles)
• Spend a summer in Alaska
• Live in Slab City for one year
• Run across America
• Live and work at a farm for one year
• Live and work at a wild animal sanctuary
• Summit all of Colorado’s 14ers (mountains reaching 14,000 feet)

I no longer multitask. I don’t have to. I have the time to sit and spend hours, or a day, or a week, completely immersed in one project that interests me. The progress I’ve seen from this uni-tasking is mind-blowing, and cringe to think of how many of us put big ideas on the back burner while we desperately try to cycle through the smaller, meaningless chores of daily life.

Call to Action Challenge

Set aside one hour each day to pursue your personal projects. You probably already have one in mind. It’s that one thing that you’ve been meaning to “get to” when your schedule clears up. Guard this personal time fiercely.

Neglect your daily chores if you must and follow the natural flow of your curiosity. Did you read or see something that you want to learn more about? Follow that trail all the way through. Yes, it may lead to a rabbit hole or a dead end, but that’s okay. Pursue your interests, even if you start by staring off into space, just pondering.

Accomplish something that won’t have to be re-done in a week or a month. You don’t have to change the world, but maybe you will learn a new instrument, pick up a new language, or write a book.

#2: Authenticity

When I was working in an office, I got called to my supervisor’s desk one day and asked to put on my shoes. Because I worked behind my own desk all day and never had comfortable business shoes, I would kick them off under my work space. Nobody would notice, but once I forgot and walked to a meeting in just my socks. I got in trouble.

In my old life, there was professional-Vanessa and there was play-Vanessa. There was the Vanessa who dressed business casual and went to meetings, and the Vanessa who played on the trails and acted silly with the dog.

One of the first things I noticed after moving into the RV was that most of my Vanessas evaporated. There is only one Vanessa now””just me. I didn’t have to wear dress shoes or wear a meeting-face. I was no longer expected to look or act a certain way. I could be myself.

I began to rediscover Me, and learned more about what I loved and disliked. Getting comfortable in my own skin gave me a newfound confidence. I stopped second-guessing my dry, sarcastic sense of humor (Would the office folks get offended?), and censoring my opinions (Was this the appropriate crowd to express my true views?). I regret with all my heart every second of my life spent trying to fit into a mold that was not me.

Call to Action Challenge

Go 24 hours straight just being yourself. Genuinely and fully. Be the same person at work that you are at home, that you are on the trails, that you are deep inside. You’ll be surprised at how much you can get away with. Once you’ve mastered that, go for three days. One week, then one month.

Catch yourself every time you’re trying to be someone or something else. It will take time, and yes you will offend some people with your ridiculous views and obscene sense of humor. But keep at it. You’ll slowly weed out all the people who shouldn’t be in your life, and those who can truly love you will be drawn your way.

#3: Sufficiency

A few weeks ago, the thermostat in our RV fridge broke and we lost the ability to store food. It would either get very warm or completely freeze, and all our food went bad. We shut the fridge door and started doing what I thought was impossible: living and eating well without a fridge.

I instinctively switched to a mostly raw vegan diet, but the most drastic change of all was the shift in my perspective on sufficiency. Our fridge is tiny, so it’s far from what most people would call abundant. Anyone could see that we were already living minimally ”¦ but were we really? With the fridge, it was easy to buy a little extra. Sometimes we’d throw extra food in the small fridge until it went bad.

Now, by force, we eat day-to-day. We buy what is truly sufficient. We know that if we can’t eat what we have today or tomorrow, we’ll have to throw it out. We have one box where we keep fresh fruits and veggies like oranges and cucumbers, as well as another microwaved-sized drawer to keep everything else. Here we keep soups or pasta or canned beans. And that’s all the space we have.

It sounds restricting, but the fridge-free experience has been liberating. It has freed my mind to think in terms of the present, and not worry about what I will eat the next day. This has challenged my fears about the future, and focused my energy on doing the best I can today.

Call to Action Challenge

Go three days without using a fridge. This is tough to get your mind around, but easier than it sounds. At the very least, it will improve your awareness of exactly how much you need to eat every day and how much food is actually wasted. Anybody can get through three days. A lot of food, you may be surprised to find, does not actually need to be refrigerated, especially if you’re eating it that same day. Eat fresh food while it’s fresh.

© Vanessa Runs

#4: Hospitality

You know that feeling when you have a guest over and sense that they genuinely enjoyed their time with you? They loved your food, they were refreshed by your conversation, and they benefited from your comforts and amenities. Serving them made YOU feel good. I was always taught to take in strangers and help travelers. But these days, how many strangers and travelers really cross our paths?

After leaving home, Shacky and I became those strangers and travelers. And the hospitality we have experienced has blown us away. People WANT to help us. They want to share their showers, laundry rooms, food, beer, wine, pools, hot tubs, and homes. As much as we have gained from this unexpected hospitality, I always come away with the sense that these families were just as refreshed by treating us well.

How often, in this day and age, do we invite complete nomadic strangers to our home for a meal? True hospitality is still as magical as it always was, and we’re missing out.

We don’t give people enough opportunities to help us. In a world where everyone has everything, hospitality is a lost art. We all have enough to make our own dinners. We can swim in our own pools. We can use our own amenities. But when you put yourself in a place of need, even in a small way, that spark””that desire in others to help””is ignited.

Even harder than offering hospitality is receiving it because we like to be self-sufficient. It’s hard to put yourself in a place of need, and even harder to ask for help. Yet Shacky and I have seen the joy and satisfaction that others feel when they are able to help us.

Call to Action Challenge

Put yourself in a place of need. You don’t have to become homeless, but put yourself in a position where you can benefit from the help of a friend or a stranger””and ask for that help. This can be as small as borrowing a book, a kitchen item, or asking for a batch of cookies that your neighbor is so good at baking. Don’t pay them for it, but genuinely and fully appreciate it.

This sounds douchey, but I guarantee it’s a beautiful exercise. You are allowing someone else to help you, and you’re putting yourself in a place of vulnerability. Of course, that person is free to turn you down, and it’s okay if they do. Just ask someone else. Receiving hospitality is harder than offering it, and I strongly suspect that the greatest benefit goes to the person who extends the help. Give others a chance to give. And always give freely yourself.

I wish that these insights had become clear to me even before we started roaming the country. You don’t have to be a nomad to reap the benefits from them.

If you do any of these challenges, I’d love for you to leave a comment and let me know how it goes. You can also email me at vanessaruns@gmail.com, or tag me on Facebook with your challenge at facebook.com/vanessaruns.

The post 4 Surprising Life Lessons from My First Year as a Nomad appeared first on Vagabondish.