#96: Travel insights meet homecoming ruts.
#96: Travel insights meet homecoming ruts.
Helping the change of life-changing experiences stick.
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On the last day of my pilgrimage, Ruben texted, “Don’t you feel like you could keep walking forever?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him but my answer was a hard-up NO. Not because I didn’t love the trail. But I had reached saturation.
I could not fit another insight, idea, or observation into my overflowing, maxed-out brain. Instead, I wanted to share what I already had absorbed with my family, my friends, my babies. And with you, dear reader.
Finally, I wanted to bring all my insights and perspective shifts HOME. I’d learned so much about myself; I was ready to turn all that inspiration into transformation.
(And, no lie, the prospect of consistent indoor plumbing was also a factor!)
We think change happens away from home.
This makes sense… because it feels like we are changing when we are away. That’s what my body was telling me all along St Olav’s Way:
That feeling of pulsating excitement every morning, so different from my usual home routine of post-morning alarm zombie impersonation.
Finding my groove of eat, sleep, walk, repeat, even though initially it was a daunting task.
Living so far outside of my ‘normal’, but quickly getting used to the austere cabins, daily cheese-and-cucumber sandwiches, and Scandinavian vistas.
Even the waistband of my hiking shorts sitting a tad looser, day after day.
But that’s just the first step of the chemical reaction of transformation.
Home is where a new experience, insight, idea has the space — the entire sprawling lab surface of our daily lives — to become lasting change. When we return to our comfort zone, it mixes with who we are, what we dream about, where we are headed, how we spend our time… and turns from an idea into evolution.
In other words, the initial spark only becomes change when it is allowed to alter our day-to-day lives.
But these day-to-day lives are stubborn! The ruts of our routines and habits are deep and hard to escape…
So it’s been ten weeks since my pilgrimage ended, and I have found myself getting frustrated.
Almost all the momentum I had right after St Olav's Way has dispersed.
Instead of the roar of a rocket, launching me into evolution, I hear the giant sucking sound of my old life pulling me back under. I don't want to go back to the way things were, but making change feels like trying to jog through quicksand.
So this week I sat myself down for a pep talk:
How about instead of moping, we get conscious and curious? How about we be the scientist of our lives, donning our lab coats and safety gloves, whipping out our notebooks to plan, observe, experiment with taking nascent change and making it stick?
Looking at my life, I’ve realized there are some ways I’ve already been doing this… and a few more ways I could test.
In case you want to join me in helping summer inspiration become autumn transformation, here’s what I’m trying:
Appreciating.
A clear sign the rut of routine has overtaken me is that I no longer am excited about getting to sleep in my own bed. But my bed is the best bed on earth! (I respect that you likely feel the same about your bed, and we can agree to disagree.) So I’ve been making a conscious effort to stay out of auto-pilot and appreciate it!
Right after I reach over to turn off my nightstand light, I literally slip under my sheets and gleefully kick my legs like a four-year-old. With this goofy ritual, I remember the haven my home provides.
This place can be a cradle for my growth, not the place where my dreams of change go to die.
Revisiting.
When I travel, I make a playlist from shazaming the ambient songs playing everywhere — trains, grocery stores, restaurants, my hosts’ countertop speakers. And then when I’m back at home, I have a time capsule in my pocket.
My body might be driving down the Dulles Toll Road, returning from taking Connor to the airport, but with The Time of Times by Badly Drawn Boy in my ears, my mind is in Morsil, Sweden sitting on the deck at host Fredrik and Karin’s house. It’s 10pm and the mounted moose antlers are glowing as the sun burns low in the sky.
The stark contrast helps me remember how Pilgrim Sue felt different from Home Sue. (First of all, Home Sue NEVER stays up that late, especially not while chilling with strangers!) My adventures no longer feel so far away. I can revisit them, re-collect inspiration and insight, and then bring them back to the present moment.
Processing.
Yes, I had sooo many memorable moments on the pilgrim trail, but out there I didn’t have time to unpack them. Now that I’m home, I get to talk about my most impactful moments and the marks they left on me:
Sharing a far-better-than-IKEA, Swedish meatball, midsummer dinner with pilgrims Jerry, Niklas, Henk, and Chris at the Tannforsen waterfall.
Learning to accept my moods, even the unpleasant ones, without distraction.
Realizing I was actually totally content living simply.
… And my most challenging ones:
Grinding my teeth in frustration at the winding route with needless hills the first day in Norway.
The cows.
I tell a version of the same story every time, but with each pass I receive different questions in response and notice something new about my experience. The facts unravel to reveal the lessons I learned and the insights I want to implement in my life going forward.
Whittling.
Being out of my routine ratcheted up my insight-recognition engine. I came up with 1,000 insights… 999 more than I can effectively implement at once. So I’m forcing myself to pick one single insight at a time, and funneling all my post-trip momentum into smashing the hell out of it.
My first pick? The simplicity of routine. The pilgrim path’s repetition was like a time machine back to pre-teen Sue, who didn’t have a care in the world. No responsibilities and no decisions beyond the basics: school, church, swim team, family. Any time that wasn’t taken up with those was mine, which I happily filled with playing, reading, and exploring.
I want to replicate that feeling of space and lightness and, frankly, freedom. How do I get there? A simple weekly schedule. Blocks on Monday and Tuesday dedicated to TL writing, life admin, and book brainstorming. Empty Wednesdays. Clean up loose ends on Thursdays. Fridays, dealer’s choice. This creates the space I’m craving while also getting the necessary stuff done.
When I’ve successfully turned this insight into lasting transformation, I’ll pick which idea I want to forge into tangible reality next.
The kids are gone, it’s just me and the trees again.
The leaves are starting to fall, the bugs are disappearing, and geese are flying south over head.
I pad quietly to my very own bathroom, with my pilgrim playlist singing through the Sonos.
Looking at all my sticky notes on the mirror, I see my home anew — as my foundation for all my dreams. Which is what it was always meant to be.
But sometimes it takes leaving and coming back to see what you have.
There’s no place like home,
