Final Pack

The time has come to zip up our bags for the last time. I think back to a year ago when I was sitting comfortably on what now seems so utterly foreign and luxurious… carpet. I was on my bedroom floor, surrounded by items awaiting the final cut. Should I bring jeans? no. Can we fit a snorkel? yes. Do I need more than 3 t-shirts? no. Will I transition to reading on a Kindle? yes. How many tubes of 3.4 oz toothpaste should we bring? seriously?! If I could bend time and revisit that moment with myself, I’d have a lot to share.

I’d explain that the all-consuming process of shopping, sorting and packing is purely a distraction from the discomfort of embarking on such an outrageous adventure. Having agency over which brand of headlamp we pack is just a way to feel a sense of control before we march our children into the unknown. I’d remind myself that none of the material possessions that lie before me are at all necessary (save the passports and phones) as I would soon learn that humans all around the globe have the same basic needs as us, and they survive just fine in their neck of the woods. Toothpaste will be ubiquitously accessible.

I’d invite myself instead to pay more attention to the empty packing cube. I’d delicately begin making the following invisible additions, like seeds whose eventual blossoms would prove to be the greatest tools for our successful pilgrimage. And I’d tell myself a few stories…

Faith. Remember Einstein’s words - “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” There is an undeniable energy pulsing through this planet, and I’m happy to report back that it is benevolent. By choosing to witness your surroundings with awe and curiosity, you will miraculously feel at home anywhere on our shared planet, even though our passport origin will always differ from those around us. When you pause and look closely, even while you encounter perilous seas, deforested lands, overcrowded buses, and when you are deeply afraid, there will always be universal signs of support, guidance, love, and abundance. Clue into these subtle but potent miracles as they will be the very nourishment that sustains us on our pilgrimage.

Patience. Hold tight to this wise blessing. You’ll all struggle with deep sadness in Madagascar while witnessing the realities of poverty and global warming but in time, you’ll notice your hearts will have expanded because of it. You’ll think the 5-hour drive through Uganda that turned into 13 will never end, but it will, and you’ll be safe. When you stay up all night on the sailboat in the Seychelles on watch for piracy, dawn will break, and you’ll be safe. Take deep breaths and surrender a little bit more. Whatever we will need - reprieve, safety, wisdom, rest, health, sunlight… it will always come, eventually. To honor this treasured advice, Eric will buy a turtle stuffed animal in the Seychelles who will become our little RTW mascot. He'll name him Patience.  

Comfort with Discomfort. Almost the entire trip, you will marinate in discomfort. By practicing the important skill of breathing through it, each of you will touch the sacred space of your personal edges, especially the children. Around month 5, you’ll be in San Sebastián, an unanticipated back-track. On a cold walk alone to pick up Domino’s pizza, you and Eric will have a serious conversation about the low morale of the crew. Only heavy feelings will have been shared in the recent family meetings (which will become necessary and regular) – pessimism for the state of the world, grief, homesickness, fear, sadness, apathy. You will stop pretending to be living your dream and instead you’ll choose honesty. It will be uncomfortable. But you will all stay present in the tension of the familial growing pains and eventually the heaviness will lift. You’ll pass the crux because you will have faced it. Curiosity and energy will return. You’ll be a tighter and more prepared crew to hold the inevitable discomfort that will await you as you continue east.

Intuition. You’ll alter how you fuel your body. Once such advancement will be the cessation of alcohol. The gifts from this simple choice will be bountiful, most evidently in your ability to tap into the juicy subtleties of your intuition. Make this choice sooner as you’ll benefit from a keener sense of your surroundings, deeper connection with your inner guidance and more fluency in the language of your body. Pay close attention to nature, particularly the animals in South Africa as they have a lot to teach you about instinctual movement and deliberate decision making. Continue to listen to the whispers of your heart and encourage the children to do the same. Whenever anyone in the family says, “this doesn’t feel right”, or “my gut says yes!”, follow the instinct as though it is your singular guiding compass. It is always right.

Courage. You’ll learn the truth of Anais Nin’s quote - "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." In April, you will be sailing alone with the family in Tahiti, about to enter the channel into Bora Bora. A pod of dolphins will greet you distantly on the starboard side and then you’ll notice a squall headed your way from the open sea to port. It will come on quickly and you’ll lose all visibility as it passes overhead. For the first time sailing you’ll feel peace in the midst of a storm. You and Eric will stand tall at the helm, drenched but patient, while the kids, like lion cubs, will stay safe in the den below. In this very moment, you will experience a magical sense of expansion that will pause time. It is the reward for courageousness. Stick with the difficult endeavors that require much bravery and remain overwhelmingly open. The courage to do so will continue to lead to an expansiveness of unfathomable proportion.  

Connection. This is your superpower. You cannot travel the world alone. You will meet countless angels along the way who will appear exactly when your family needs them the most. You will receive messages of encouragement, poetry, videos and even in-person visits from your core community. These are pool floaties. Not only will they keep you afloat, but they will also make the adventure more fun! In your last RTW days, you will watch a slideshow of your journey which will include heartfelt messages from more than 100 people around the world. All four of you will laugh, cry and feel the most profound sense of gratitude and belonging.

Humor. Laugh! You will do everything wrong before you do it right. Use humility as a fertile soil for humor. After a horrific and most disgusting day “whale watching” in Sri Lanka on an overcrowded boat in rough seas, you will get peed on by another tourist, witness hundreds of people barfing all around you and see zero whales. The family dinner on the beach that night will be one of our most treasured and priceless memories. We will laugh uncontrollably at the awful fate of the morning and feel more connected because of it.

…

There is so much more I’d tell myself, but the experience is best to remain largely unanticipated. Instead, I’d pack just one tube of toothpaste, give myself an enormous hug and whisper - “You got this!”