I began 2026 with a theme of writing, wondering, wandering. I’ve posted about the writing, and some of the wondering: who am I in the absence of the formal work that’s been front and centre of my life for more than 40 years? How will the rhythms of my life change? How will I continue to contribute? I’m exploring questions such as these in my new Substack – and am also intending to do some personal development in 2027, to support and challenge me as I navigate the uncharted territory ahead.
To date, I haven’t written about wandering, although it’s been an important aspect of this year. To set the scene, I’m not an avid traveller. I was last on a plane before the pandemic – to England – and can’t remember when I last travelled outside the UK. I’ve holidayed in Scotland, preferring to get to know an area through walking, and returning to the same places again and again. I find this deeply settling. In contrast, when I visit unfamiliar places, I often become disorientated and lose confidence, which is deeply unsettling.
However, as I began to think about disengaging from client work in early 2025, I was alive to the possibility that my life would shrink. I’m comfortable alone, with an introverted, contemplative nature: I can go for days with only incidental human contact. Without the travelling and human connections associated with client work, there was a risk that I’d turn ever more inward. And so … I set myself the challenge of actively expanding my horizons by exploring new places.
The journey began when I bought a very small, very second-hand camper van in January last year, around the time of Storm Éowyn. With a licence plate of AOY, which is phonetically similar, the van became Éowyn (shield-maiden of the north in Lord of the Rings). I was already on new ground – my first camper van, and the first time I’ve given a vehicle a name!
In buying the van, my intention was to be ready to take off on a whim. This was emphasised by my reaction to an email from the salesperson, which included the words: ‘it’s time for you to start planning adventures.’ Bristling, I replied: ‘the aim is to NOT plan! I’ve spent 40+ years being planned and organised … it’s time to be more spontaneous!’ In addition, knowing my tendency to return to familiar spots, I decided that, at least initially, I wouldn’t go to the same location twice. I’ve largely stuck to this – in 19 trips, I’ve stayed in 17 different places.
My first outing was to meet a friend in her camper van. It was the end of February, and very, very cold, but it got me started. In the next few months, I learned how to use my van – it’s tiny and being in it is an art form! Whilst there are no luxuries like heating or hot water, it has a microwave, induction hob and fridge box and, with practice, I’ve relaxed into it.
Being in the van feels like a cocoon, or maybe a time capsule. Time changes – 24 hours away feels like a week (in a good way). This stretching of time means I often take indirect routes: on each trip, I try to drive on a road that’s new to me. Essentially, I meander in my van – which I now call mevandering! I find it freeing that no-one knows where I am. Sometimes, I don’t know where I am!
With the end of October approaching, I thought this year’s mevandering was over. However, a weather window has appeared, and I’ll be doing one last trip before Éowyn is tucked up for the cold, dark months.
While she’s resting, my wandering will take the form of a train trip to France, on holiday and then on retreat at Lerab Ling – a host of new destinations and experiences. This is slightly daunting … but I’m inspired by the themes of writing, wondering and wandering, and the journeys of mind, body and spirit that they’ve inspired. My exploration of both inner and outer landscapes has broadened my horizons and enriched my life.
Contemplations
- What journeys of body, mind and/or spirit have you undertaken this year?
- How have they enriched your life?
