Living in a world that rubs against our values ✨
Reflections from travel and looking at life from the outside.
I may make some choices that are either unpopular or categorically risky, but my hope is that the benefits will outshine anything that on the surface seems sparkly.
At first, it was a struggle to extricate myself. A cross-Atlantic voyage should be enough to tell me I’ve left my life back in Canada, but, for a time, I was caught between two worlds. It takes an effort to fall out of step with the rhythms of home.
Our family’s most recent trip took us to Greece and Cyprus. We started with four days in Athens, where we could see the sights and adjust to jet lag. Daytime explorations brought us all over the city to the places it’s most famous for, to quaint restaurants with tables cascading down ancient steps, up Mount Lycabettus for an alternate view of the Parthenon, and to corner coffee shops in our graffitied neighbourhood. As night fell, and the world back home woke up, emails and texts came pinging in. In the stupor of time change, I did my best to respond before crashing for the night. The pattern repeated until, one day, my body was in the correct time zone and I felt my feet planted in the present moment.
From there, I entered the flow — the very thing that attracts many of us to travel in the first place — as untethered to responsibility as I can ever be while still handling the essentials for folks back home.
This is the general pattern whenever I travel internationally. The more time I spend away, the more objectivity I gain not only about what life back home looks and feels like, but also what I want it to resemble. By the time I extricate myself from the “usual,” I am in a unique place to think, to dream, and to question.
When I get to this place, a point of reflection naturally arises: What is most important to me? But on this trip, when I reached that sense of “removal” and distance, the question brought me to an unexpected place — one in which an unnerving amount of clarity placed my values and priorities front and centre.
My answers this time cut straight to the heart of things. As we hiked along the Cypriot coast, gazing out at the bluest of blue seas crashing into cliffs, my thoughts likewise crashed into me, chipping away at me wave by wave, sharpening my resolve.
It first began as a feeling of unease. Then, an unshakeable sense of being overwhelmed by both ends of the human experience. It doesn’t take much these days, does it? One glance at the news reveals a divided, often hateful world. And then I witness the artistry that is a Greek statue or the beauty of Cyprus’ Blue Lagoon or Troodos Mountains, and I’m brought to awe and tears. My joy bubbles over as I watch my children laughing and playing carefree in the sand. Yet my worry sits like an anchor in my heart.
Travel gives me the enormous privilege of hitting the ‘pause’ button. When I finally put my finger on it, I realized that I was feeling a sense of dread about going home, which is to say, a sense of dread about returning to reality. This wasn’t the typical pang of bittersweetness that arises at the prospect of a trip being over; I was in full turtle mode, sliding into my shell for solace, silence, and simplicity.
Global politics, tariffs, and the humdrum of daily life aside, the dread was accompanied, perhaps catalyzed, by an uncomfortable awareness of the way the world is going (at least, in our North American culture), and recognizing how my values rub against it. I want to slow down in a world that seems so eager to find new ways of speeding up. I am craving real connection in a world that wants me to take a self-driving taxi and chat with an AI bot. I’m rejecting the notion of ‘content creation’ and instead giving ideas time to marinate and the necessary word count to articulate them. (This very post will be unpopular due to its length.) I want to minimize in a world that wants me to have more. When I glance at social media to keep up with my professional work and see yet another deep fake or people trying the latest, cringy trend, I want to throw my phone. I’m watching, with genuine fear, as billionaires win by monetizing and stealing our attention.
And that reminds me of a quote attributed to Dr. Martha Beck:
“Where my attention goes, my life goes.”
With that, travel grants me the chance to be mindful of my attention and who and what receives it.
While I’m away, I can put myself in my shoes back home, aware of the responsibilities that await me there: the parenting, partnering, my professional life, engagement with community (both local and global), and the responsibilities I have to myself. As I consider a return back home, I’m putting everything under the radar to see what feels right inside and what aligns with my values. I’m realizing that if I’m to follow through, I may make some choices that are either unpopular or categorically risky, but my hope is that the benefits will outshine anything that on the surface seems sparkly.
If I’m to slow down and simplify, my kid’s birthday party won’t be the talk of the town, but I won’t feel exasperated. I’ll probably be uncool if I fall behind with the times, keeping up with what’s necessary rather than any trends, but my house won’t be bursting with things. If I’m to be vulnerable and real because life is too short for shallowness and small talk, my circle will shrink in size, but not in strength. If I continue to fade from the online world, largely utilizing it for professional means or in ways that bring meaning into my life, I may lose the semblance of connection but my roots with those around me will grow deeper.
A number of years ago, my husband and I, both creative entrepreneurs and freelancers, shifted our focus to building values-based businesses instead of taking what we could get. My thoughts — the ones that have been crashing on me while I’ve been abroad — have been steering me in a similar direction in all aspects of my life. For me, it’s a way forward in a world that feels increasingly counter-cultural to my values and my priorities. And I suspect that if I can return home and live in this way — values forward — I’ll more readily encounter the good in this world: those who also want to pay attention; those who use their voice for the voiceless; the stories of other humans surmounting the pain to find pleasure; the flowers that can grow through the cracks in the concrete.
I am writing this on the airplane taking me from Amsterdam to Calgary. At the moment, I am physically between two places. Emotionally, I recognize all that’s behind me from this time spent in the Mediterranean. I’m no longer in turtle mode, but I’m aware of the protective shell that’s available to me. My eyes are looking forward, to landing back home — back to making spaghetti, helping kids with homework, and seeing my husband off on his latest photography workshop. I feel more on purpose about the life I want to lead, even if it feels like swimming upstream. But, if our values-forward business tactics have taught me anything, just when we feel ready to throw in the towel because we’re making our lives and financial security more difficult, we have a breakthrough. The light shines brighter.
The last stop of our trip was to the Cycladic island of Mykonos. It’s known for its party culture and beach clubs, but we were there to see its iconic old town, to follow our noses, and slow our pace from the rather fast one we’d set in our first few weeks abroad. Seeing as the town was designed as a maze to confuse pirates back in the day, my husband and I decided we would set up a treasure hunt for the kids. Twenty clues led them to the best-rated gelato shop in Mykonos.
There, we were greeted by a kind woman whose smile made us feel welcome even though we were slow with our decisions. Because who could pick from such delicious flavours? When we expressed interest in one, such as the Mykonian cheese with orange and spice, she took a small spoon and handed out a sample (I’m allergic to milk, but heard it was amazing). There was no rush to decide, no shortage of samples to try. We each eventually landed on a flavour; for me: coconut sorbet with flecks of chocolate. Then, slowly, intentionally, she prepared the ice creams one by one, as if we were the only customers she saw in a year, carefully scooping it into a cone, shaping it, pressing it down, and adding more before handing it over the counter.
She took joy in the process. We took great delight in eating it.
Much of the world is in pain. It’s fragmented, fake, and moving at warp speed. But we can be the light. We can be the slow ones. We can be intentional. We can add meaning.
It won’t be easy, but if we set our sights on it, we’ll find ourselves there. The bright lights will find each other.
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Meghan J. Ward is an outdoor, travel and adventure writer based in Banff, Canada, a Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society, and the author of Lights to Guide Me Home. Meghan has written several books and produced content for films, anthologies, blogs and some of North America’s top outdoor, fitness and adventure publications.
What’s caught my attention lately… ✨
I watched several films while in transit this past month and thought I’d highlight a few favs:
Widow Clicquot - a beautiful film and the true story of Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin (1777–1866), played by Haley Bennett, who takes over her husband’s winery, surmounting many obstacles in the process. As TIFF described it, it’s “a toast to the perseverance of unshakeable women.”
The Way Back - Ben Affleck is fantastic in his portrayal of Jake Cunningham, a construction worker and alcoholic who has hit a low point in life and is recruited to coach his high school basketball team. The strength of this film is in the gradual reveal of Cunningham’s story and, unlike many other “comeback” films, a non-formulaic plot line.
Check these out too… 🙌
Lights to Guide Me Home - my memoir (reviews welcome on Amazon and Goodreads)
The Wonders That I Find - my children’s book
My Email Newsletter - updates about my books, projects, and 1:1 coaching
I am an eight-generation Canadian and a descendent of British, Scottish and German settlers living, working, and recreating outdoors in Treaty 7 Territory — the homelands and gathering place for the Niitsitapi from the Blackfoot Confederacy, including the Siksika, Kainai, and Piikani First Nations; the Îyârhe Nakoda of the Chiniki, Bearspaw, and Goodstoney First Nations; the Tsuut’ina First Nation; the homeland of the Métis and Otipemisiwak Métis Government of the Métis Nation of Alberta, and many others. I am doing my utmost, both personally and professionally, to deepen my understanding of the history of Indigenous peoples and the impacts of colonialism — past and present.
Meghan! I am riding this wave right along with you. My latest writings have been on the same things.
I am so happy to read I am not alone! Thank you.
Travel lights me up for many reasons but one of the biggest is the space to gain perspective on life "back home" and remind me of who I am without the noise. Thank you for sharing your perspective and now adding Cyprus to my list!