I recently came across a quote that struck a chord with me. It reads, ‘If I rest, I rust,’ words spoken by Helen Hayes, a celebrated American actress who achieved numerous accolades in her lifetime, including an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar, and a Tony Award. She was also honored with the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the National Medal of Arts. It’s truly remarkable to think of her achievements. Wow…
“If I rest I rust.” Well surely Hayes didn’t rest nor did rust.
Since I left the comfort of my mother’s nest and moved out west, I’ve consistently craved more. I’ve tasted the freedom, adventure, and passion of life lived on my terms. Always planning the next adventure, continuously adding new destinations to my bucket list each year, and nurturing unyielding dreams that refuse to fade away. I’ve traveled the world, lived and worked abroad, volunteered in far-flung communities, and even started my own business. I’ve been fortunate to explore the great outdoors with my dogs and immerse myself in the vast playground of the Pacific Northwest. I lead a spontaneous and adventurous life with amazing people by my side, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful. Yet, the hunger for more persists. Is it selfish to admit this desire?
When slowing down isn’t enough
Getting older has made me slow down. Having senior dogs also keeps me closer to home. While being rooted in one place, I do my best to break the monotony by changing familiar sights and diversifying my days. I’ll explore a new trail, visit a new town, camp at a new spot, try out a new recipe, or delve into a new craft. I’ve even taken up playing the Ukulele in reverse and am re-learning my Spanish.
However, the region where I reside is becoming increasingly busy, and after a while, the places I cherish start to feel a little too crowded for my wandering spirit (I guess that’s the price to pay for living where people vacation).
Certainly, my heart always pangs for something new to get excited about.
Oddly, I’m usually the one encouraging others to savour the present moment. I’ve always believed that we must learn to slow down time and be fully present if we want to truly live. Inevitably, when I commit to something, I’m there 100%, or at least I try to be.
So, why does a constant yearning dwell deep within me, urging me to explore places I’ve never been? Why am I frequently distracted by my dreams? Why does my mind endlessly wander, longing for familiar places and homesick for locations I’ve never visited?
Is there all there is in life?
I once read that the evolved human brain constantly seeks purpose, meaning, adventure, and happiness. Some of us create bucket lists, others climb the ladder toward specific goals, while some find contentment in the way things are.
I wish I could find contentment in one place. I try. But my desires are ceaseless. I always yearn for more and remain unsatisfied with what I have. The truth is, this fervent desire keeps me close to my dreams.
Wanderlusting and the ceaseless yearning for an extraordinary life
Sorting through my boundless wanderlust, I find myself longing for a life spent at sea. Diving everyday with sea life, eating the fruits of nature, volunteering in communities, away from the mainstream, waking up and going to sleep with the sun, living with the pulse of the ocean, one wave at a time… To me it calls for freedom, peace, simplicity, a dream lived awake. Careful what you dream for, right?
I recently took a wonderful trip to Japan, with an incredible layover in China. It’s been a while since I stepped out of my country and explored a different part of the world. Far away from home I felt at home… in the uncertainty, in the unknown, in the newness. I came back refreshed, revitalized, rebooted. It was extraordinary. And it leaves me with exceptional memories. But coming back to my beautiful home the travel blues hits. Instantly. Back to ordinary. Two weeks was way too short. And I’m back on a severe case of wanderlust.
Fear of settling down
In the past years, I’ve been stuck in a routine, living a predictable life, filled with small pleasures and frolic adventures. But I’m afraid to get a stable job and be locked in one place. I’m afraid to upgrade my living situation, afraid to jump into the mortgage world, have payments, have commitments. I’m afraid of settling down.
The slightest bit of idleness affects me. I’m afraid to rest for too long. I fear stagnation. I fear to see the years blend into one another and forget to move forward and progress.
Maybe I just need that one big adventure. To get it out of my system, before I slow down again and put my feet on the ground. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll always be restless. Maybe I’ll always chase this extraordinary life. And maybe that’s okay.
If I rest, I rust
I’ve been trying to find good enough reasons to be satisfied in the present moment. I try to do the things that make me happy on a daily basis. But I can’t ignore that ache for more. It exists for a reason.
If living the journey is the goal, if pursuing a life well lived is the path we are on, it will not be restful. It will not be comfortable. Nor will it be easy. But it will be exciting. It will be valuable. It will be worth it.
So I’ll keep pursuing the most important things that my heart aches for, even as crazy as they are. Because as long as I can feel, I am living – and as long as I am living, I’ll keep moving.
Footloose Diary 