The Sign at the End of the Road

I didn’t see it at first… the sign at the end of the road. Before I explain its significance and calling, how did I get on that road in the first place?

I flew into Wisconsin on November 14, 2020, after 13 months in South America. Of course, I didn’t plan on that trip to be as long, or for my journey to happen in the way it did. At first, being in lock-down in Cusco and the Sacred Valley with closed borders was unsettling, but after awhile, my perception shifted. It became my home. For someone who has traveled nomadically for over 10 years, I was forced to stay and fall in love with my surroundings, the people who came into my life, and the mountains and less traveled trails that offered me a divine connection with nature.

Along the way, I found the real enchantment of Peru. From the colorful people with their traditions and rituals, to a new appreciation for nature while walking with the Apus (mountain gods), and a new fascination with the mighty Incan Dynasty, I was smitten. The area has a special magic and I am forever grateful for the spell it cast over me.

After being locked in Peru, I came home to be with my family. It’s always nice to come home, but this time something was different. I was devastated to leave Cusco, my friends, my new life. However, I knew it was time to part ways with the Imperial City that had given me so much. It was time to go home and integrate all that I had learned.

It was such an amazing gift to be home and catch-up with my family. It’s hard to go away and change so much, but it’s even more incredible to know that I have a deep-rooted family foundation that always has a space for me. They let me fly and soar, but always welcome me home.

In all honesty, I was terrified to come home. That I would leave the magic of Cusco and lose all the knowledge that had come to me during my time here. However, something had truly shifted inside me and I knew that I would remain true to myself. I made it a point to get out in nature everyday, and most days I was sharing that outdoor time with my family.

My sister was bundling up with me in below 0° weather to explore the beauty of a winter dusted South Shore and my dad was hiking with me along the winding trails of Devil’s Lake State Park. My mom and I were walking daily along the nearby spillway. It was such a treat to see my family actively embracing my changes and truths, and better yet, they were making an effort to share that time with me.

While I was home in Wisconsin those 4 month, I did something that I never thought I would do. I made peace with my past, my home, and who I pretended to be for so many years. After all these years abroad, I finally had the confidence to be the person who I was all along.

For years, home always felt like a crushing and suffocating four walls. I found myself putting on a mask of who I thought I was supposed to be. It was easy to drown myself in alcohol, so I wouldn’t have to face my current reality, which resulted in me just barely keeping my head above the toxic water. In high school, I did anything to fit in and I lost myself. In college, I drank heavily, frightened of the world that was waiting for me. Conform to society and live to work, to survive in a broken world of thought of misplaced values and ideas.

But this time was different. I had a new glowing confidence, and believed in who I was and what I was trying to create. The beauty of my hometown had always been there, in the rolling bluffs, flowing through the water canals of the mighty Mississippi. The yellow prairie grasses seemed to have a new golden hue that glistened in the sun and it stretched on for miles and miles. I could finally see my home in the most raw form of beauty. That beauty wrapped me in its arms and gave me a safe place to rest, reset, plan, and dream.

When I wrote, The Keys to Finding Happiness, it was a love-letter to my stunning state of Wisconsin and the comfort it provided. It was a letter of peace, acceptance, but most importantly, a recognition of self-love for my journey and all that it took to get there.

But, something peculiar happened after I hit publish on it.

On my daily walks down on the spillway, I started to see a bright yellow sign on the way to my house. A yellow sign that felt like a direct message, a sign that clearly read “Dead End.”

At first, I shook it off, because that sign has been there long before I had seen it. However, I started noticing something in myself shift. I had never been this comfortable at home.

I tried to go back and work on the yachts that had fueled my travels over the past 10 years, but for now, I see that I have changed too much. I can’t go back to who I was before my grand, almost two year journey.

I have always told people to live the life they dream of and to be fearless, but trying to go back to work on the boats was the “easy way” out for me. It was an escape route, a distraction from the life I am trying to build. It’s kind of ironic, because I was forced to “eat my own words.” It’s time to double down on my own dreams, and on myself, let go of the fear and constraints of money, and build something I believe in.

I want to help change how we travel, and with the world slowly opening up again, there’s no better time than now to shift how we will travel in the future. Supporting local communities rather than big business (cruise ships, resorts, hotel chains, etc) is the best thing we can do when the the closed borders finally open up.

I will continue to write to wandering souls who seek the most authentic experiences and want to slow travel and almost integrate into the community. To pursue this dream of mine, I am no longer in Wisconsin. Like a hermit-crab, I knew it was time to move to a bigger shell. One that at first, will be a little uncomfortable and maybe a bit too big, but I will grow into it.

While flying over the mountains, all my doubts and insecurities disappeared. It felt like a long-awaited homecoming, a reuniting of a long lost friend. My love for the mountains led me here, and I can’t wait to spend more time with them and continue on my path to following my dreams.

So, here I am. Writing from an apartment in Oaxaca, Mexico. I’ve landed here to invest in myself, to pursue my dreams of writing about places and things that I’m passionate about, to speak Spanish, and trying to assimilate as a loving and responsible world citizen.

It’s been tough for me to share, as I recognize and acknowledge that we are very much still in a global pandemic. There will be some who can understand my decision and others who will criticize me, but I know I was pulled here for a reason. I also accept that as a visitor in Mexico, I will abide to all rules and regulations with the utmost respect. I am a guest to this beautiful country, and I have already been so welcomed and treated with great kindness.

Note: I’m not condoning or promoting travel at this time, nor am I judging those who are acting responsibly while they travel. Times are tough for everyone and it’s hard to know each person’s individual story, or to try to justify each person’s actions. For this reason, I have packed my bags for a permanent stay and will always respect the locals and the country’s regulations.

The sign at the end of the road was the final cue that I needed to see. A reminder that the route in life I’m chasing will not be easy, but the riches of experiences and memories will be never-ending. I’m finally breaking free of the monetary chains and investing in myself. Besides, the less I own, the more alive I feel. I may fail terribly, but if I don’t try, I’ll never know.

Every morning I find peace and happiness pounding away on my keyboard, sharing beautiful places, and hoping that I can bring them to life with my words alone. In the afternoons, I wander down the bright streets and look to the mountains, wondering where the next sign will lead me.