Memento vivere: remember to live. For someone who has only really ever traveled on well-worn tracks, it feels irresponsibly risky to wander off the beaten path. The amygdala goes a little haywire reminding me of what I’m “supposed” to be doing. A part of me is still the 20-something-year-old who expects that my conventional life will just unfold effortlessly before me, steady and predictable as clockwork. Head down, nose to the grindstone, tick off the milestones, and someday I will reach… Canaan? Nirvana? The good life? Retirement? Happiness?
I've lately spent a great deal of time thinking about what I want life to be about in this season. The ruminations are mirrored in the potential titles of this blog. The original titles from a decade past were "30s are the new 50s," changed to "40s are the new 60s" when I turned 40 a few years ago. It's clearly not a new thing for me to want to be done with delaying gratification. Apart from the inconvenience of having to change the title every 10 years, I also realize that the original titles do not quite encapsulate the present. I am no longer trying to live the retired life in the in-between moments snatched from a usual 40-something life. I've spent much of my adulthood getting ready for the future. Not that I have any regrets. All that schooling and training and saving and sacrificing has really set us up for this. It's just that I'm beyond ready to live in the here and now. Carpe diem. Memento mori. YOLO. The point is that this time is temporary, and no one is promised a future. How then shall I live?
Won and I find ourselves at a lucky moment. Neither one of us has a conventional job anymore. Some things came to fruition due to careful and deliberate planning. Some things just happened to us. Irregardless, change is inevitable, and we're ready to embrace the moment we have, rather than the moment we envisioned or wish we had had. What would it be like to color outside the lines a bit? We do not take for granted the freedom bestowed by financial independence and good health. If not now, then when?
This is still a travel journal of sorts. We go places, sometimes exotic and sometimes ordinary. Sometimes we will drive off in a 22 foot recreational vehicle with a compostable toilet. Sometimes we will be on a bike in a different country. Sometimes I will be an itinerant urologist, plying my trade pro re nata (as the circumstance arises). Yet do not be deceived. Not all those who wander are lost.
Cheryl (and Won)
September 2025