From Clutter to Clarity

clutter

Something pivotal happened this year in our journey to be ‘free to be family’.

I recognised a long time ago that a great source of daily stress as a single mother, home-maker and home educator was the amount of clutter I was surrounded by. My ideal home-life was locked away in a land of dreams, somewhere behind the mountain of washing, the sea of shiny plastic tat and the pyramids of paperwork. Yes, I tried to make it fun (Look at my abundance! The evidence of a lively family life! The gorgeous, glittery, sticky mess of my toddler exploring the overflowing craft supplies again!), and yet . . .

Disclaimer: this post includes associate links to relevant resources.

Much too often, the need to clean up got in the way of actually playing and connecting with my children. Before I could even clean, I had to tidy. Whole days could be spent just moving and organising our possessions – whole days of feeling guilty because instead of spending quality time with my children, I was grizzling over all the toys and paper and other miscellany that had accumulated everywhere.

I’ve never considered myself a big consumer, yet the evidence of a typical life in a consumerist society was on display in my home – as well as the evidence of a frugalista’s inability to say no to freebies and hand-me-downs.

Catching the travel bug instigated the desire for less, a realisation that both myself and my children could relax when on the move in a way we couldn’t at home. The simplicity of living out of a suitcase in sparse hotel rooms!

So, inspired by a vision to ultimately be free to pack it all up and fit my life inside a camper van if the whim occurred, I returned from my first trip to Morocco in 2010 with a desperate need to declutter. On subsequent trips to the developing nation I also noted the benefits of having non-materialistic children who were grateful for the simple things in life.

I’m not a hoarder by any stretch of the imagination, yet it still seemed like I was unduly hemmed in by material possessions. I recognised that personal freedom involved ensuring that these possessions lessen their grip on me.

Quite apart from whether we choose to travel or not, the root of it was that I wanted a family life that was as happy and harmonious as possible – and I had identified that a home full of the distraction of ‘stuff’ was not helping me to achieve this aim.

I had found my ‘why’ for decluttering but I had not found my method.

Having been making trip after trip to the charity shop with donations for nearly 5 years, yet still feeling overwhelmed by the amount of clutter I was surrounded by, early in 2016 I decided to implement the Konmari technique of decluttering and tidying. It showed me how half-hearted, sentimental and unmethodical my previous attempts to remove the clutter had been – I had been trying to fix my disorderliness in a very disorderly way.

The Konmari method was developed by Marie Kondo, an organising consultant whose book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying would suggest that she has an obsessive compulsive need to tidy and organise. Some of her suggestions seemed odd (I’d certainly never ascribed animism to the contents of my underwear drawer), yet I decided to trust the system and see where it took me. Nothing to lose after already spending 5 years of my life attempting to achieve a more minimalist lifestyle.

The basic method with the Konmari technique is to hold each item individually and decide whether or not it brings you joy. It’s an instinctive and intuitive process and, while it doesn’t float everyone’s boat, I love it. It is a clear indicator of what we really want to have in our homes – the place that should be our sanctuary.

It means that what we are left with are items that we truly value and enjoy.

The method is not without its critics. Using a term like ‘joy’ can seem a wishy-washy concept when the problem and solution appears very practical. One criticism might be “Well, my clothes pegs don’t bring me joy, but I’d be stuck without them – what a ridiculous premise to base your decluttering on!”

Let’s pick this apart. The word ‘joy’ is usually associated with a high energy sense of bliss and, indeed, most of us do not look at our clothes pegs and feel quite so strongly about them. But let’s turn it around. Imagine if you came to hang your washing out and there were no clothes pegs. What then? What if you can only hang your washing out just the way you like it with those pegs? I will admit, I am quite particular about the way I hang the clothes out on the washing line (given that my ironing board was decluttered many years ago), and the pegs are part of a routine that does lead to the simple pleasure of having crease-free, air-freshened clothes. It is a very tiny part of the jigsaw that makes up my experience of living joyfully – but it is still a part of it and the jigsaw would be incomplete without it (and how annoying is it when you realise there’s a jigsaw piece missing?!).

We have to consider everything’s place within and effect upon the bigger picture.

All of these little things – the mundane everyday items that make our lives more convenient – they add up to comprise our own, unique version of what constitutes a ‘joyful life’. Other people may well be glad to declutter those pegs straight out of the ‘random’ drawer (you know, that drawer in the kitchen full of bits and bobs that have no real home? Apparently, everyone has one – until you decide to declutter Konmari-style!).

Similarly, Joshua Becker – a ‘rational minimalist’ and author of The More of Less – uses the concept of bringing joy to the decluttering process but covers his back from the criticisms aimed at Konmari by also including the concept of need – “If you love it or need it”. Unfortunately, I think the word ‘need’ can be even more vague in the decluttering process than the word ‘joy’. We can believe we need something, but do we really? Advertisers create needs where none before existed. ‘Needs’ have developed in consumerist societies that, in the grand scheme of things, are not needs at all.

A skewed concept of need also encourages the “But I might need it one day!” blockage that prevents us from decluttering effectively.

If we look at Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, there are many things taking up space in our lives that do not come under the banners of safety, survival or social well-being. And, as many luxuries as we have available to us, how many really assist us on the path to self-actualisation? I would suggest that true self-actualisation is better achieved with minimal belongings – and minimal accrual of other unnecessary cultural clutter. There are so many options that we have in an individualist culture to layer up our self-image and ego with both material and intellectual resources as if self-realisation is taking place, yet there is a big difference between self-actualisation and self-indulgence.

The other side of this is that we can consider what we really want to be surrounded by, what genuinely resonates with us and expresses our individual styles – not out of a false need to “keep up with the Jones’” or show off, but in order to feel in harmony with our environment.

With home décor, it may be an easy task to know what we really like and what we really don’t like. For more functional items, it is a time to reassess. I definitely do not espouse the Konmari habit of just throwing things out (how wasteful and environmentally destructive), but I do encourage people to really think about the replacements they make when items do come to the end of their life or otherwise become redundant.

When my toaster stopped working earlier in the year, I decided it would be nice to have the worktop space back (having reduced items on the worktop to just the toaster and the kettle) and I would do toast under the oven grill instead. It does the job without taking up unnecessary room, hence we’re still just using the grill – a much more multi-functional product than the toaster ever was anyway!

Likewise, when my kettle stopped working, I decided to boil water on the stove. However, this really wasn’t the most efficient way to make frequent mugs of tea, so I recognised that I actually quite like owning a kettle. This doubled as an opportunity to choose something I liked aesthetically (read: brings me joy to glance upon) rather than just buying something based on its price – so, a funky glass kettle that lights up the water blue it was!

Decluttering doesn’t just involve getting rid of what you already have – it means making more conscious, considered decisions about what you let into your home in the first place.

One of the best things about minimalist living when you’re on a budget is that you can invest in the few quality items that you really love rather than living by the false economy of spending less per item in order to acquire more. It also means that your sense of abundance is not measured just by the level of your income.

Buying new items only when absolutely necessary and reassessing habitual purchases means that I can afford to do something that is truly important to our family – travel. As well as the practical day-to-day freedom that decluttering has brought us in our home, it has refined our entire lifestyle in numerous ways.

We live in a privileged society, but our material wealth has a way of distracting us from what is actually important – it can distract some of us from even considering what is actually important, so entrenched is the social conditioning in which some people even consider ‘shopping’ a valid pastime. Is this what anyone truly wants to recall of their lives when they are on their deathbed?

Living with less has also increased our gratitude for what we have – consciously choosing that which promotes a sense of love and joy allows us to genuinely count our blessings. Freed from the lure of the next consumerist fix we can be free to follow our hearts, which invariably releases us to focus on our inner values and our relationships with other human beings rather than the pressure to conform and our relationships with inanimate objects.

Remember:

“Clutter is not just physical stuff. It’s old ideas, toxic relationships and bad habits. Clutter is anything that does not support your better self.” – Eleanor Brownn

Have you successfully decluttered? Do you want to but don’t know where to start? Share your story with me below – I’d love to hear what inspired you or what’s stopping you.

For further inspiration:

The Congruent Blogger

Integrity

Congruence: in counselling terms, this refers to the outer self being in harmony with the inner self – that what you display to others reflects what is occurring in your inner world. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you disclose your every thought or feeling, but that you find a way to present yourself authentically.

I have been reflecting on whether this blog is in accordance with the above.

Free To Be was inspired by my travels to Morocco and launched at a time when I was seriously considering emigration; I was expecting baby number 3 and investing in work that I could ultimately do from anywhere in the world. It felt like an exciting time and I knew I had to write about my travels and what it means to be part of the human family.

The themes of peace and freedom and adventure ran through those first posts.

Peace.

Freedom.

Adventure.

The biggest questions I had when I began blogging were:

“Do I really want to share these personal stories with the whole world?”

and

“If I present myself as this person, don’t I have to continue to be her?”

How can I be honest and real without compromising my privacy or my Geminian tendency to, well, just change my mind about anything and everything? And not just change my mind, but my entire lifestyle on occasion (for I continue to shake off labels that I once upon a time made use of to shape my identity).

In the past I posted a personal social media status at least once per week, but this gradually diminished to big life events only (at least the birth of a child is a fact that can’t be altered!). My personal opinions can be garnered through calls to petitions and choice news stories – in someone else’s words of course.

It was from a sense of feeling more private that I decided to go public. I finally felt safe in my own skin and no longer needed my friends to comment on day-to-day trivialities for my sense of self-esteem. Hence, I gained the courage to invite strangers to comment on my writing; writing that is generally sourced from experience, sometimes garnished with facts yet often doused in personal philosophies and opinion – always an expression of one’s sense of self.

I just hoped to offer something that could inspire others or be a call to action, with a life of inspiration and action to provide such material – to walk the walk as I talk the talk.

Yet I occasionally feel, for as balanced and open as my accounts of our travels have been, our family circumstances have been less exotic and more excruciating than might be assumed. I have many articles drafted regarding travel advice for Morocco, being part of a mixed race family, language learning and other topics, all liberally seasoned with personal anecdotes which include many casual mentions of FreeToBeB as if our cross-border relationship is normal and sustainable – for it is neither. Between issues of finance, language, immigration law, culture and religion to downright personality clashes, it is – frankly – incredible that it survived its first year, let alone four years and two babies.

The question on everyone’s lips: When is the next trip to Morocco?

The answer: Sadly, less of a when and more of an if.

So, as I found myself at the mercy of a 6 year old’s distress at a 2 year old’s temper with a baby wailing in my arms at 8pm on a rainy winter’s night in Britain, seven months beyond any adventures abroad, feeling somewhat alone and isolated, and wondering why the universe was testing me in such a way (and breathe!), I pondered those themes.

Peace?

Freedom?

Adventure?

Thus, from this low point, I questioned my congruence this week with regards to this blog, wondering how the person reading these posts perceives the person writing them; wondering if my current lifestyle lives up to what the blurb promises.

Where is the peace?

Where is the freedom?

Where is the adventure?

Well, the answer to these is right here.

Even as I castigated myself for yearning for the icing on the cake in the modern mother’s repertoire (i.e. time to myself), I also knew that was not the solution.

We don’t fight the monsters by running away; we don’t escape the inner demons by changing our outer environment.

For anyone who’s ever read Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now or even has a basic understanding of living mindfully, you will know that the power always resides in the very moment that you feel powerless.

And so I realised:

Where there is love, there is peace.

Where there is thought, there is freedom.

Where there are children, there is adventure.

Winter as a home educating single mum with a new baby has been challenging. But I like a challenge. And within that adventure, we are free to be family – for there is many a country where home educators or single mothers would fare a lot worse than I do in the UK.

And there is always, always peace when staring upon a sleeping baby’s face.

It all begins at home.

A part of me feels like I’m grasping at straws, that I have lost the person who wrote the inaugural How I Caught the Travel Bug.

Yet as I centred myself and dealt with the siblings’ squabbles, I found that person.

FreeToBeP screamed (real tears and all) as his little sister angrily disagreed with something he said. He chose the misery of wanting everyone to agree with his stance – isn’t that how wars are started?

And so I thought of a quote that I’d spotted on my social media news feed earlier that day:

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling…” (Aldous Huxley, Island)

“Choose the happy path, P.” I advised, before doling out suggestions on how to cope better (note to readers: I was taking my own advice as I said it – for I do not always handle such bickering with such grace!).

And as part of the happy path I tried to lead him upon, I thought of all the memories I hope to make with my children this year, all the opportunities we have to make life one big adventure . . .

Aha! Here comes that train of thought which includes getting the camping gear out, attending festivals, booking flights, travelling to new places, trying new things, meeting new people and, yes, perhaps even emigrating. Yes, here comes the fever of the travel bug.

If having children has taught me anything, it’s that I still have a lot to learn. And as we learn, we grow. And as we grow, we change.

As such, I can always give my promise that at any moment my writing comes from the heart and that congruence exists despite a change of heart. If anything, it is all the more congruent in that I invite you along for the journey, as witness!

And I can always give my promise that for as long as this blog exists, I shall be striving towards those themes even as they seem to elude me:

Peace.

Freedom.

Adventure.

The Quiet Zone: Tranquil Travel with a High Spirited Child

High Spirits (public domain image)
High Spirits (public domain image)

Oh, how we were glared at when we entered the Quiet Zone carriage on that evening train home from Legoland Windsor.

The harried mother had arrived with her two young children, noisy at the transition from waiting to boarding, said mother harried due to the realisation that their reserved seats were in the dreaded area that could just as easily be named the designated ‘Child-Free Zone’.

The old guy at the table adjacent to ours put his head upon his hands and muttered some complaint about our arrival. The lady with him, who I presume was his wife, basically told him to stop being such a miserable git. I silently willed my children to do as they usually (touch wood) do when we make a journey: once settled into their seats, transform into angelic, thoughtful beings who are actually placated by the excitement of our trips.

I’m often amazed by FreeToBeP’s complete change in character when we travel – he forgets to annoy his sister, adopts a slightly dreamy look and becomes absorbed by the travelling. Or resigned to it? Either way, if only we could both learn how to adopt this somewhat meditative state in our home lives.

Six year old FreeToBeP could be described as being on the upper end of the ‘boisterous boy’ scale. A day doesn’t go by where I don’t hear myself frantically asking him to “Calm down and just listen!” when I’ve asked him to stop doing something for the umpteenth time and it appears that, despite his actions being obviously questionable to the adult eye, he has lost any capacity for either hearing or self-control (and, yes, I do realise that my own reactions are a big part of the picture!).

FreeToBeZ, having recently turned 2 years old, is naturally highly spirited by virtue of her being a toddler.

Yet travelling often seems to put children into a different state of being – for leaving familiar territory can quieten the restless mind. It’s true for all of us to some extent.

The mundane everyday realities become somehow more exotic, especially to those who are still relatively new to the big wide world. Perhaps the sandwiches are out of a self-chosen packet from a shop shelf instead of mum’s (boring and familiar) homemade cheese and pickle.

Even the opportunity to sit on the loo seat of a clattering train or as the plane hits some turbulence tinges even our most base needs with an element of adventure.

And, wow, the unknown quality that hangs in the air as you see the look on mum’s face when she realises you’ve just pooed your pants at 30,000ft, minutes away from the compulsory seatbelt-wearing descent whilst all the loos are occupied. Such priceless moments which are just impossible to recreate in the comfort of your own home.

Some children are thirsty to explore the world and seem to become different people when they travel. ‘Demanding’ and ‘wilful’ children are often trying to tell us (through challenging behaviour rather than words) that they’re feeling bored or isolated or under-stimulated. In all of these instances, travelling helps to address these underlying needs.

Also, whilst travelling with minimal possessions and without the daily distractions of our home and working lives, we can become more attentive parents, able to enjoy the beauty and bustle of the great, wide world with our children beside us instead of allowing the little stressors of day-to-day life to become the focus of our days together.

I have no doubt that my children become more relaxed in the knowledge that, on a journey, I have become a captive audience to all their needs and verbalised thoughts – much more genuinely ‘with’ them than if I’m preoccupied by cooking or tidying or the obsessive-compulsive checking of communication devices.

Travelling puts everything into perspective.

When I see my son carrying his own cabin bag between connections or passing through the airport security scanners on his own, it occurs to me just how young and vulnerable he still is. Practicing the empathy and compassion I always hope to practice with my offspring suddenly becomes easier when we’re ‘out there’. My role as protector and provider comes to the fore as we leave behind the security of home sweet home.

I do believe that the earlier you start with family travel the better. My children have always known long car journeys due to our 4-5 hour treks to visit my immediate family at least 4 times a year. I expect that this – along with my natural inclination to practice a flexible lifestyle based on each new day rather than adhere to strict schedules and routines – has helped my children become the adaptable and obliging little travellers that they are.

However, most children’s natural curiosity and malleable nature means that even without having travelled extensively during their early years, older children – however ‘spirited’ – may benefit from the out-of-the-ordinariness and new experiences that travel offers.

Whilst I know many families who feel that the lifestyle I share with my children would not be appropriate for their own children (some of whom have diagnoses for various behavioural issues and learning difficulties, and who need carefully preparing for any changes in routine), there are different degrees of family travel that can allow any family to experiment and note how their children respond. You needn’t jump in the deep end and plan a backpacking trip in another continent; just a family day trip on the train to a town you haven’t visited before can help you gauge how your children react to the concept of travel.

I’m certainly not saying that my own children’s generally calm response is how all children respond to travel. Your child may well be the opposite, and turn from generally obliging and thoughtful to over-excitable and disorganised. This over-exhilaration is perhaps what is expected of children when they travel – but can you blame them? Whilst, as adults, we can usually control our excitement internally, the joy and expectation of ‘holiday time’ is expressed physically by many young children.

We can either live in dread that we’ll have difficult journeys to our destination or reframe our outlook and deal with it creatively (see 10 Mind-Altering Family Travel Tips for more ideas on keeping family travel full of sweetness and light).

All the sights and sounds of travel provide parents with ample opportunity to channel high energy appropriately – all the waiting and sitting gives us lots of time to engage our children in conversation about new and unusual experiences. Shared observations and conversations aid our loving connection to our children which in turn serves as the basis for a strong, respectful relationship (i.e. ensuring it’s more likely that they’ll listen to us when it’s really important that they do).

I also tend to think that the more we look to the spirit of adventure, the more new things there are for everyone – ergo, the more distractions and novelties there are to limit or prevent tantrums of boredom and under-stimulation.

The last leg of the journey to a Mid-Atlas hamlet: travel needn't be a trial and can actually be a treat. There was no chance of FreeToBeP being a bored passenger here.
The last leg of the journey to a Mid-Atlas hamlet: travel needn’t be a trial and can actually be a treat. There was no chance of FreeToBeP being a bored passenger here.

Travelling also gives children the opportunity to take on little responsibilities that they may not usually have, thus keeping restless feet and hands occupied. FreeToBeP often takes care of his passport when we queue for passport control. I was initially wary of this, but in trusting him with the responsibility, I have learnt that he takes it very seriously: the bored child wanting to swing on the barriers becomes a child so focused on using his hands to hold onto his very own important documentation with all his might that nothing else matters.

So, if you’re a parent with a desire to travel yet hear a little voice telling you about all the things that could go wrong with your lively 4 year old, I would encourage you to put aside the worries and give your dreams a chance.

I always say that it’s better to try and fail than to never try and never know.

Yes, things could go wrong. They could also go very, very right.

 



Have you noticed a difference in your children’s temperament (for better or worse) when you travel? Do you concur with any of the above observations? I’d love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to leave a comment below if you wish to share your experiences.

Next week: Paltry Packing: 10 Tips for Travelling Lightly

How I Caught The Travel Bug

 

Almond blossom, Atlas mountains

I suddenly realise that I’m no longer scared. I have so much to tell you about my experiences of life as a mum who travels, yet have hitherto been possessive of those memories as if sharing them with the world will somehow betray my family. Yet, whilst I sense this first post may be somewhat navel-gazing, I now believe that my valuable experiences can translate into useful information for other people. I hope to share that information via Free To Be.

I have no doubt that I will find myself writing of things that seem ridiculous, naïve or irresponsible in hindsight and that, in documenting the life of my children and my partner via a medium that may never be erased, I will be careful to ensure that some things remain sacred. I am very conscious of the image I am putting across, whilst simultaneously very conscious that I don’t actually want to be putting across a mere ‘image’ – I intend to be open and honest in my accounts of our life. Just not brutally so.

I also recognise that the deployment of this blog is very much a commitment to the path I’m on. I’m not known for my ability to stick at something for long before being whisked off my feet by my next big interest. It feels exhilarating to come out and say “This is me. This is my family. This is my life.”

I have come many miles since my days of life as a new mother, and those miles aren’t just air miles.

I suddenly realise that I’m no longer scared.


The About page gives you a snapshot of where we are now, but I also feel a little background is forthcoming, a description of the seed which has resulted in the fruit of this blog . . .

It’s late summer 2010 and I’m in the midst of training to become a breastfeeding counsellor for a national organisation. I’m given the opportunity to travel up to Scotland for a study weekend and I decide it will also be a good chance to enjoy a brief exploration of a country I had always hoped to visit. Given the go-ahead to have the first spot of ‘me time’ since giving birth to FreeToBeP in Spring 2008 (thanks to my mum agreeing to be the babysitter for any study weekends I’m required to do), I decide to spend a total of four days away – two days for my course plus an additional two days in Edinburgh.

This is no simple feat, for I’ve never left FreeToBeP with anyone else overnight and “mummy milk” remains his comforter of choice. I also decide to fly there; it’s the quickest and cheapest way to get to Scotland from my home on the south coast, thus I deduce that I should just take some Rescue Remedy and go for it.

For some reason – despite only ever taking two short, uneventful flights between the UK and Holland some 12 or so years before – I had a huge fear of flying. That, plus my concern about environmental matters associated with excessive air travel, meant that I’d made some good excuses not to travel anywhere that required a plane. I didn’t even own a passport at that point – lucky for me that for domestic flights you don’t require one providing you have alternative ID such as a driving license.

I’d also developed what I still consider a healthy opinion that there is so much to discover on my own doorstep and so many places yet to visit in Britain itself, that the desire to travel further afield rarely surfaced. Oh, how I cocked my eyebrow and scoffed at the part of my astrological birth chart analysis that said I’d be very likely to live in another country one day (as I type this, I’m seriously considering emigrating).

Well, a mere four days in Scotland, including two days of being the tourist, kindled a fire that has been burning quite steadily ever since. It could be blazing by now, but family matters have a way of keeping this fire under control at the moment.

I sat on the outbound plane reading Sufi philosophy and decided I was quite at one with the idea of my own mortality. This helped with the nerves associated with hurtling through the air in a manmade object controlled by the hands of fallible creatures. I relaxed and felt awed by the fact that I was thousands of feet up in the air, experiencing views that I felt deeply privileged to see – I felt quite close to something that some might call ‘God’, lost in amazement that I could be looking down on the earth in this way, riveted by the sea of clouds, grateful to be living in a time when humanity has access to such technological advances. It was akin to the fascination experienced when all of the unfathomable mysteries of the universe layer themselves up in one’s very vision as one gazes up at the stars. I closed my eyes and felt more at peace in myself than I had in a long time; full of colour and hope. Yes, knowing I had four toddler-free days ahead of me probably helped, but it was much more than that. It was one of those transcendental moments that seem to come out of nowhere. As I opened my eyes and glanced out of the window, I saw a rainbow playing above the plane’s wing as the late afternoon sun bounced off it. Yes, it sounds clichéd and predictable but “it was a sign!”

Looking back, the sense of freedom and life and adventure I recall from this trip are more vivid than the memories of the trip itself. It was definitely a case of something being much more than the sum of its parts. I intend to return to Edinburgh one day – in some ways, it will be like returning to the point of conception; if the remainder of this post is about my rebirth into a new state of being, this captivating Scottish city was surely the place whereat it all began.

Makars' Court, Edinburgh
Makars’ Court, Edinburgh

A couple of months later and it’s nearing Christmas, the time of year when one starts reflecting on what might be to come during the following 12 months. A browse in my local library has furnished me with the book which is to irrevocably change the course of my life:

I initially picked up The Passion Test as I was a sucker for all things ‘self-development’, yet I didn’t necessarily believe this would have any more significant an impact on my life than the many other books on personal growth that I’d read in my time. But it involved a self-assessment test and, hey, they’re fun to do (at least I think so).

Wow! Years of studying and training in various spiritual paths and techniques didn’t get to the root of my personal destiny quite like this book did. Whilst on the one hand I feel that anything about personal desire does smack of the ego state that Eastern philosophy would have us all forego in order to find our inner (and therefore outer) peace, on the other hand I felt a very real connection with something immense and important as I contemplated what my personal Passion Test had revealed.

I intuitively listed 23 things that I felt passionate about when considering the opener “When my life is ideal I am . . .”

My list included such things as:

I am . . . writing successful poetry, essays and articles.

I am . . . loving and being loved by a partner who I connect with physically, spiritually, mentally and emotionally.

I am . . . frequently having fun with family and friends.

I am . . . enjoying perfect health with vitality, energy and stamina.

Of this list of 23, I then picked the five things that set my nerves tingling, my sense of joy soaring and my face wondrously grinning in excited expectation. Four of them were more abstract ‘feeling’ items that would be very much a case of internalising and acting upon the spiritual and psychological theory I had spent years acquiring. Yet the fifth was much more tangible:

When my life is ideal I am travelling around the world visiting sacred sites, temples and places of natural beauty.

And so it appears that, after years of struggling to figure out my place in the world and wondering why ‘settling down’ is such an elusive state of being for me, all my desires, interests and inspirations boil down to one thing: world travel.

Something I had always said wasn’t an interest or priority is suddenly the single most important thing I know I must do.

The little voice of fear pipes up: “Running away again?” No. This is not about escaping something; this is about making the most of my freedoms and listening to the louder voice that says “You can!”

You can go and see all the wondrous sights and sites you would like to see.”

You can satisfy the part of you that has always been interested in and intrigued by other cultures.”

You can go wherever you want to go without needing to make excuses about costs or other practicalities: you know that when your heart takes the lead, everything you need makes its way to you.”

And the biggest one to clear the biggest doubt of that moment:

You can travel with children as a single mother.”

 

I suddenly realised that I wouldn’t be the first single mother to go out and see the world with her child.

I suddenly realised that I could spend all my life waiting to feel ‘settled’ only to never have really satisfied the constant internal restlessness.

I suddenly realised that the exclamation “I want to travel the world!” resonated to the core of my being.

I suddenly realised that I had nothing to lose and so much to gain.

I suddenly realised that this would be a huge part of my life’s purpose.

I suddenly realised that I was no longer scared.

 


Was there a big “Aha!” moment for you in discovering the desire to travel? Or, indeed, any other sense of purpose or destiny in your life? Did you trust it and act upon it? I’d love to hear your stories and to know of any other life-changing books, revelations or experiences that set up a new course of life for you – feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below.

Next week: 10 Mind-Altering Family Travel Tips