This is a guest post from my friend Britt. :)

The first time I truly interrogated the idea of abundance was when I was in graduate school in 2012. At this point, I had stumbled across tiny houses and the minimalist movement and it all made so much sense to me. Maybe it was being saturated in a higher education environment that urged critical thinking, but when I projected forward to what I thought my life would look like in 20 years, it did not include the traditional markers of success.

But when you tell your family (who generously helped pay for a portion of your education) that you want to essentially abandon any call to a high-powered (i.e. high-paying) career and want to build a tiny house, you can probably imagine what their reaction was like.

Of course, a high-powered career and living in a tiny house are not mutually exclusive, just look at the CEO of Zappos. But, in my case, I knew I wanted one because I didn’t want the other.

On the whole, or on the surface at least, my family is supportive of my ‘alternative’ lifestyle aspirations. Sometimes though, small comments here and there make me wonder if my dreams are good enough.

• “You’ll get sick of each other in that small a space.”
• “I don’t think you realize how small it will be.”
• “It’s not going to be a good investment.”
• “Do you even have plans or designs for it?”

My quick rebuttals to these comments are normally “No, we won’t”, “Yes, I do”, “That’s not why I want one” and “Exhibit A: My Blog”. I could write much more detailed posts dedicated to refuting each of these questions and comments, but that’s not a meaningful use of my time (nor would my family read them). If you have any sort of dream that is counter to the mainstream (a simple life, early retirement, a nomadic lifestyle, etc.), you probably know at least one person who has a knack for making your dreams feel small and not quite good enough. Even if, and sometimes, especially if, they mean well.

For me, ‘enough-ness’ has been something I’ve struggled with for years (or at least since elementary school). If there is a society upheld ideal, I’ve never quite felt like I’ve achieved it. I’ve never really felt smart enough, fit enough, strong enough, pretty enough, etc. This isn’t a pity party, it’s just the truth. I don’t really know where the feeling of lack came from, and, at this point, it honestly doesn’t matter.

Actually, that isn’t entirely true. I know exactly where my lack of enough-ness came from. My childhood, while wonderful in many ways was, oftentimes, filled with parental alcoholism and mental illness. As a young child, it’s hard to process those situations in the moment. I’m 27 now and I’m still coming to terms with all of it. And I’m sure I will be processing it for years. However, I’m not looking to lay blame. Ultimately, that won’t get me anywhere. What my childhood did leave me with was the sense that you might as well believe in your dreams, because no one else will. Obviously, this is easier said than done. Especially when there are entire industries that have been designed to make money off your sense of ‘enough-ness’.

It will likely come as no surprise to you that consumers in North America are sold the same version of what success and abundance look like. There may be some variation, but the general recipe looks something like this:

big house + fancy car + high-powered job = happiness/success/abundance

I want to make it clear that there is nothing inherently wrong with any of these things. If they are what you truly desire, that’s great! I think everyone should have a chance at the life they want, whatever that looks like for them.

However, since you’re here, on Cait’s blog, you are probably questioning this formula for abundance. Something about it might not sit right with you. You might not be able to put your finger on it, but you know it’s not for you.

What is more problematic than this equation, is the mindset that we are supposed to buy into. If we don’t want the ‘things’ in the equation, we’re not good enough (or we are made to think we’re not good enough). Our dreams don’t matter if they don’t fit into that narrow view of what abundance looks like.

But where does that leave you? If you aren’t buying (figuratively and financially) into this equation, what’s the next step?

Redefine it for yourself.

A dear friend and mentor of mine gave me this question to ponder during a retreat a couple of years ago. I think it sums up the idea of enough-ness perfectly.

“Others will tell you who they think you are, but if that doesn’t align with your gut or internal truth, how do you proceed in a way that is healthy for you?”

‘Others’, in your reality, can be family, friends, colleagues, or society as a whole. If any of what I’ve written so far has resonated with you, you can probably think of at least one person who imposes their idea of who you should be, onto you.

I can honestly say I’ve been pondering this question for years. What it has led me to is a reworked understanding of what abundance means to me (and no one else).

In my mind, ‘abundance’ are the things that bring you joy in life. I’m sure that’s different for every person reading this. It could be family, friends, experiences, health, etc. But, the fact remains, we can redefine it for ourselves if we want to —if our current definition no longer serves the view of what we want in our life.

What would an abundant, successful life look like to me?

• Being able to contribute something meaningful to the world.
• A modest home, filled only with things I truly love.
• Being able to spend my time doing what makes my heart feel full.

The bottom line I’m trying to get at here is that your dreams matter. Period. Whatever you want for your life, I promise you that it’s good enough. Not ‘good enough’ in the sense of settling. No, I mean ‘good enough’, in that your hopes and dreams are important.

No matter how big or ‘tiny’ they are.

Britt is the blogger behind Tiny Ambitions—an online space dedicated to documenting her journey to simplify her life with the ultimate goal of building her very own tiny house!

This is a guest post from my friend Jennifer. Thank you to Penny from She Picks Up Pennies for inspiring it! :)

I’m a first-generation American. My mother was born in Hong Kong and she came to America with my grandparents when she was just seven years old. Like many immigrants, my family came in search of a better life and they were willing to work very hard to make it happen.

And work hard they did.

By the time I was born, my grandparents had opened a small Chinese restaurant, where they worked from open to close every day, 365 days a year. Almost every childhood memory I have of my grandparents is of them in the restaurant, my grandfather cooking in the back and my grandmother serving in the dining room.

There were no vacations and no holidays for my grandparents. They would even work on Christmas Day; I remember watching them get up from our family dinner to cook and serve the paying customers seated nearby. To this day, I’ve never known anyone to work as hard as my grandparents—except perhaps my mother, who raised three children while going to school and juggling two jobs.

With these role models, it’s probably no surprise that I learned the value of hard work early. By age 10, I was spending most of my free time at my grandparent’s restaurant, and by age 16, I’d picked up a second job while studying full time (a trend that continued throughout my college years).

I was proud of myself and being a hard worker became an important part of my identity. I was always the first to volunteer for extra work and the last to leave the office each night, and I lived this way for most of my adult life.

I’m sharing all of this because I want it to be clear: I know what hard work looks and feels like.

But as I’ve grown older, I’ve started to question the way our society values hard work. Too often, it’s not viewed as a means to an end. Instead, it’s considered a virtue in and of itself. Those who work hard are “good” and those who don’t are not.

Many of us, myself included, have prioritised “hard work” over our relationships or even over our own health and as a new mum, these beliefs don’t feel right anymore. My daughter is only seven months old, but of course, I’ve already started to think about her future.

Here are four things I won’t teach my daughter about hard work and what I want her to know instead.

I won’t teach my daughter to always “give it your all.”

There was a time when I would write “I’m a hard worker and I put 100% into everything I do” on all my job applications. I thought it was an admirable quality and from the positive nods I used to get from recruiters, I’d say I wasn’t alone in thinking so.

But a lot has changed and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that always “giving it your all” is not sustainable. We have limits to our time and energy and we must be intentional about how we invest ourselves, or we risk unintentionally sacrificing the things that matter most.

Instead of teaching my daughter to put 100% into everything she does, I’ll tell her that everything in life comes with tradeoffs. (As the saying goes, you can do anything you want but you can’t do everything.) She’ll need to learn to prioritise and make mindful decisions about what’s really worth the investment of her time and energy, and not blindly devote herself to every task or project in the name of being a hard worker.

I won’t teach my daughter that being busy and exhausted is normal.

Growing up, all the adults I knew were busy and exhausted, so I thought this was simply part of being a successful adult. I actually couldn’t wait to be “busy” and once I started working two jobs at 16, I’d tell people how tired I was with a smile on my face because I thought it was something to be admired.

Of course, the novelty wore off pretty quickly, but I continued to take on as much as possible and push myself to the brink of exhaustion. (I remember driving home at 1 am, after working two long waitressing shifts back to back, and physically holding my eyes open with my fingers to stay awake.)

As ridiculous as this sounds to me now, I had normalised this lifestyle. I truly thought it was the only option (when in reality, I was a victim of lifestyle inflation and could have easily worked less by reducing my cost of living).

Unfortunately, working less never crossed my mind because, as an impressionable young adult, this isn’t what I saw others doing. No one I knew was choosing to intentionally slow down but I’ll make sure my daughter knows this is always an option.

I won’t teach my daughter to “work hard, play hard.”

One of my biggest gripes with how our culture views hard work is the implied message that more is always better. The expression might be “work hard, play hard” but let’s face it — the underlying message might as well be “work hard, so you can afford to spend more.”

I’m not anti-spending and if my daughter wants to own or do nice things, that’s up to her, but I’m going to teach her to be a mindful consumer. I don’t want her to be an emotional or reactionary spender as I once was, buying expensive shoes after a long day because “I deserved it” or splurging on expensive holidays because I was desperate to escape my life.

Instead, I’ll tell her it’s ok to prioritise rest and self-care when (or even before) she needs it. She doesn’t need to push herself to her limits before she deserves a break.

And finally, I won’t teach my daughter that hard work leads to success WITHOUT also having a conversation about defining “enough” and what it means to be successful.

I know this post might lead you to believe that I’m against hard work, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. I truly believe hard work is necessary for success, but I take issue with the way we spread this message.

You can’t have a discussion about hard work leading to success without also talking about defining “enough” and what it means to be successful. Without this balance, you are setting yourself up for a lifetime of discontent.

I’ve been there myself; in my twenties, I had a good job, I owned my own townhome, and I lived a comfortable life—but I never felt satisfied. A voice inside of me kept telling me to work harder and whenever I stopped to rest, I felt guilty.

Looking back now, I can see I’d set myself up for failure. I’d never defined what success meant to me, so it didn’t matter how hard I worked, I was never going to achieve it and this is the problem with how we discuss hard work. I want my daughter to know that hard work is a means to achieve something that matters to you, not a constant state of being.

On a final note, I couldn’t end this without acknowledging how grateful I am for how hard my grandparents and mum have worked to give me a better life. Of course, it’s a privilege to be able to consider the role hard work plays in our lives and for some, it’s a case of survival, not choice.

Just make sure you’re not giving away your choice when you don’t need to.

Jennifer is the blogger behind Simply + Fiercely and author of Mindful Decluttering, a free guide and workbook to help you finally clear the clutter for good.

Hi friends! My trip to the UK is already halfway over! I’m learning so many things that I want to share, but am going to keep exploring the topics until I return in June. For now, here’s another guest post—this time by my friend Rachel. It is open and honest and deeply personal. But I also think it’s something many can relate to—and it includes some great questions to ask yourself before buying clothing, at the end! x

Seven years ago, I was a brand new high school graduate incredibly excited to start my next adventure at university. I had decided to live on residence in my first year and tried to prepare myself for independent living. I couldn’t wait for a little sanctuary of my own. I thought I was ready to take care of myself. Unfortunately, like many first-year students, living alone my eating and lifestyle habits changed for the worse.

I couldn’t be bothered to find time to eat well between classes, papers and keeping in touch with friends both old and new. Over the next six years of my education, I found myself using food as a tool to procrastinate, a treat for doing work I didn’t want to do or as a comfort when I felt alone or stressed out. I was so focused on doing well in school that I didn’t take time to exercise or sleep. Self-care was put on the back burner while I focused on grades. Unsurprisingly, the pounds slowly packed on. When I graduated from my post-graduate program, I was 90 lbs. heavier than the girl who was so excited to start university seven years ago. I was about to embark on the next phase of life and I didn’t want my own wellness to come last anymore.

I’ve started a journey to focus on my well-being and I’ve found myself faced with something I never had to think twice about before: clothes. Let me preface this by saying I’m not an advocate for weight loss, weight gain or any sort of “healthy” diet. Instead I want to share my journey to mindfulness when it comes to shopping for clothes at any weight.

Shopping at My Heaviest Weight

When I was at my heaviest weight, I struggled to find clothes I felt confident in that fit my new body. I was also in a new phase of my life, starting my first “grown up” job as an intern at an insurance company. My current wardrobe of sweatpants and leggings wouldn’t work at this organization and I was in the mindset that so many of us get into—I felt I needed to look the part to feel the part, especially as an intern wanting to make a good impression. The week before my first day I went shopping looking for business attire.

It was an eye-opening experience.

I was kind of worried, as I headed to the mall knowing I had gained some weight, but I decided to grin and bear it. I ventured into stores I used to frequent and found a very limited selection of items that fit. Anything that caught my eye was typically too small or too tight, even in the largest sizes. In the change room I struggled to get clothes on, asking my mom to find a bigger size, feeling exhausted. The thought of spending even more time looking for things I liked that also fit and feeling embarrassed in change rooms was overwhelming. I started buying anything that fit, whether I actually liked it or not. I wanted to be done with shopping, so I spent money on multiple items of clothing that didn’t make me feel good, simply because they were the right size.

When I started my internship the following week, I may have looked the part in business attire, but I certainly didn’t feel the part. I was wearing clothing that didn’t give me confidence. I felt like an imposter playing dress up in clothes that didn’t express who I was or what I wanted to say about myself as a young professional woman. I’m not one who believes in following trends or that an abundance of clothes is necessary for happiness, but I do think what you put on your body should express who you are and give you confidence—not the opposite.

So here I was, trapped with a wardrobe I hated that I had spent money on, all because I was frustrated and overwhelmed with shopping for my changed body. Looking back, I wish I had taken more time to do research and find stores that carried clothes for women of any size, places where I could take the time to find pieces I actually liked. If I had invested time instead of buying the first thing that fit, I would have felt more confident in my changed body.

Resisting the Urge to Binge Shop

Fast forward to a year later and I’ve lost 23 lbs. so far. I’m finally taking the time I deserve to focus on my mental and physical health by eating nutritious, whole, plant-based foods. I’m working with a registered dietician at my doctor’s office and my number one goal is to be healthy. I’m trying to be more conscious of the foods I consume, why I’m eating them (am I hungry or bored?) and making space in my calendar for walks in nature and enforcing a semi-strict bedtime. I’m no longer an intern and I’m working at a great company that values work/life balance.

These have all been positive improvements in my life and I feel good to have gotten back on the right track. But I’m still stuck with the same old problem: clothes.

I’m at a point in my journey to health where my clothes are getting loose and I’m feeling the urge to hit up the mall and load up my cart, simply because things will fit better. It’s an interesting juxtaposition to where I was a year ago, when the only reason I bought an item of clothing was because it fit. Now, I want to buy things because I know I’ll have choices. This is a battle I’ve been having internally and I know as I continue to lose weight it will only become more difficult.

Enter Mindfulness

This entire journey has taught me the importance of mindfulness when it comes to making purchases. Looking back, I wish I had done things differently, but this was an important lesson to learn. I’ve always thought of mindfulness as an important part of gratitude, but I never thought to let mindfulness influence how I behave as a consumer. 

At my heaviest weight, I was making purchasing choices out of fear and insecurity. I was spending money on clothes I didn’t necessarily like which also made me feel shame in my spending habits. I felt crushing negative energy from these choices when it didn’t need to be that way. There are retailers who sell clothes for plus size women, some with physical locations and many online. There were options I didn’t know I had, and if I had taken the time to do some research, I could have empowered myself to make purchasing decisions that I felt good about. 

I want to change my mindset by taking a mindful approach to shopping now that I’ve lost weight. I’m doing my best to wear the clothes I have until they are too big to stay on. My boyfriend’s mom is a seamstress and can take in a few items so they’ll last longer. I know I’ll need to buy new clothes eventually, but I want to make sure I get the most out of these pieces. Wearing these now will give me more time to make mindful decisions when I have to buy clothes in the future. 

It’s unbelievable how much there is to be mindful about when it comes to shopping! As I head into a weekend away, I realize I have almost no casual clothes to wear that fit. Working two jobs, 6 days a week means I’m almost always wearing business casual attire. Realizing this has helped me recognize a need in my wardrobe. Now when I do decide I’m ready to buy new clothes I know to look for a few casual pieces that are made well. 

Another way I’m hoping to be mindful about shopping in the future is by looking at quality and construction. I’ve spent too much money on fast fashion that wasn’t made to last. I’m hoping I can find some quality, ethically-made hidden gems at thrift stores. I’m also going to ask myself four questions before I make a clothing purchase:

1. Do I actually feel good in this? 
2. Am I only interested in this for a fast fashion trend? 
3. Does it seem to be well made? 
4. Will I get my money’s worth out of this piece? 

I hope by approaching each purchase with these questions in mind, I will feel good about the money I’m spending. In preparation for when I do need to buy new clothes, I’ve been cleaning out my closet and getting rid of items I’ve had around since high school that have been taking up physical and emotional storage in my life. I’m ready to move on from the past and embrace this next journey, with the help of empowered purchasing decisions. 

At 25 years old, Rachel is still figuring life out. She currently works a 9-5 as a marketing coordinator at a charity, with a side hustle in real estate. She’s passionate about animal rescue + putting her hands to work by creating. She lives just outside of Toronto with her rescue dog and two rescue cats. Her number one goal is to move to the country. As for a blog—she’s working on it.

Hi friends! My six-week adventure is coming to an end. I’m spending just a few more days in Ireland and London, then I’ll be on a plane and back home next Wednesday! I’m so grateful to everyone who wrote guest posts for me while I was gone, but I’m especially grateful to Ann who surprised me with this one. You might remember her first post on paying attention. This one feels even better (probably because I really needed it myself). x

Cait’s European adventures have had me thinking a lot about bravery recently. Mostly about how much I admire her for taking this trip and how I could probably never be that brave and how somewhere inside some dark part of me, I’m uncomfortably jealous of her. I keep telling myself how I could never save the money and book the ticket and get on the plane by myself and go on this grand adventure with just a backpack and some dear friends scattered across the globe.

But watching Cait’s travels through the lens of Instagram isn’t the truth. It’s my perception of it.

I admittedly don’t know Cait all that well. I’ve been a total fangirl and cheered on her success from afar over the last few years, and when I finally worked up the courage to reach out to her, I found she was just as kind and wonderful and normal and human as I hoped she was. And she could also be scared to death, like I feel most of the time. She taught me that by posting about crying in a ball on a hike at the exact moment I was sitting on my couch thinking, “Gah, I wish I could be brave like that.”

Cait isn’t the only one making me think of bravery lately. A few months ago, I found myself on the side of Highway 1 in Northern California, a couple of hours south of my new life in San Francisco. I was looking at Bixby Bridge, a concrete behemoth that sits a cool 260 feet high. I felt sick looking at it, and I felt even sicker when I saw a teenager dangling her legs over the edge and lazily smoking a cigarette. My first instinct was to call the cops and get her down from the ledge. To be clear, there wasn’t even a ledge. Or a walking lane. She had illegally (and I imagine calmly) walked up the bridge next to the speeding cars, and my law-abiding jaw dropped just thinking about it.

As I watched this teenage girl get smaller in the rearview mirror, I thought (again) how I could never be that brave. I’m not brave by any stretch of the imagination. I refuse to jump off anything even remotely high; I hate swimming in the ocean because I don’t know what’s beneath me; I get major anxiety when I drive on the highway; and I sometimes get terrified when my boyfriend leaves to teach high schoolers that something bad will happen and he won’t come back. The list sadly goes on.

All this obsession and jealousy and fear have made me realize bravery has changed for me over the years. Sure, it sometimes looks like a teenager lazily defying death and giving me heart palpitations as I beg my boyfriend to let me call the police to come save her. But it also looks like packing up the U-Haul and moving across the country last July when all that was waiting for us was five friends and one job between the two of us. It sometimes looks like connecting with strangers because you just have this feeling you’ll be friends and maybe you need some more friends in your life. I’ve had days where I let myself feel brave just by getting out of bed in the morning, because the world is scary and we don’t have a lot of say in it.

I guess bravery has become quieter for me lately. It’s not as overt or showy as it once was—or like it was that day on Bixby Bridge. Things like having a hard conversation with my boyfriend, or asking my new neighbor who seems nice to go on a hike, or even emailing Cait once upon a time to tell her I liked her blog, makes my heart race and my palms sweat just as much as jumping off the double dock into the lake used to when I was a kid.

And as much as I’d love to have more of a devil-may-care attitude where I walk out into the world totally fearless and unflappable, I’ve realized it simply isn’t in the cards for me. I’ll never be the one to jump off something scary and high into the water for fun. I’ll never jump out of a plane because I like the freefall. I’ll probably never tour Europe alone. And I’ll certainly never smoke a cigarette 260 feet above rushing water.

Back in January, I resolved to be braver in 2018. I was tired of feeling anxious all the time. I was tired of worrying that someone had died every single time my mom called before 8am. If I’ve learned anything over the last six months and over this past year in San Francisco, it’s that bravery is an incredibly hard thing to measure. It’s not a finite number of pounds to lose or a $10,000 raise at work, like other New Year’s resolutions I’ve made. 

And because I can’t technically measure it or cross it off my neatly organized to-do list, I’m giving myself permission to think of it in a new light.

Because leaving the people and places you love is brave. Moving 3,000 miles away from your family is brave. So is loving someone and choosing a life with them, knowing something bad can happen to any of us at any moment. So is calling your friend when you need to apologize, forgiving yourself for your mistakes, forgetting your pride, grappling with shame, and putting yourself out there. My bravery may be quieter these days, but it can still make my ears ring and my heart beat a little faster from the sheer power of it.

Ann is a writer based in San Francisco. You can connect with her on Instagram @anndesaussure, especially now that she’s learned not to check it ten times an hour.

“I think you should take some time off from sharing your life with the world.” Those are the words my new friend Saima said to me on my final day in London, and they were followed by a question. “What would it look like if you just wrote for yourself, for a little while?” I didn’t have an answer. We were sitting in her living room, relaxing while waiting for the sun to go down, so we could go out and she could break her fast during Ramadan. I couldn’t think of an answer to her question. The only thing I knew was that I was tired.

Earlier that morning, I had sent Saima a few text messages to warn her I wasn’t in my usual good spirits. I had also sent similar messages to my friend Bianca, before we met up with our mutual friend Laura that morning. After confessing to spending the previous night crying in my hotel bed, I told them I wanted to see them, but that I couldn’t promise I would be the best company. What I was really doing was forewarning them there was a good chance I would cry in front of them, and to please prepare now and forgive me for it then.

Both Bianca and Saima took care of me that day in a way I didn’t even know I needed. They picked the restaurants. Bianca got a better table. And then Saima did something I believe she’s skilled at, but which felt like the greatest gift of all: she ordered food for me. Food for us to share. This was something she’d done every time we’d gone out together, but it felt bigger that night. Like she could physically see the weight on my shoulders, and lifted just a little bit of it off by making a decision for me. I was beyond grateful.

The next day, I was stuck at Calgary International Airport for a lengthy six-hour layover. After finishing the second of the two books I’d started reading on my first flight, I popped my Canadian SIM card back into my phone and called a few friends to tell them I was almost home. The first call was to Azalea, who had been staying at my place in Squamish while I was away. I shared a few stories from my trip, then reiterated to her what I had said to Bianca and Saima—and told her about the question Saima had asked me.

What would it look like if you just wrote for yourself, for a little while?

As we talked about it, I realized it wasn’t that I didn’t have an answer to the question. It was that I didn’t like my answer. I have shared the details of my life on this blog for close to eight years. It started as a hobby, but has since become a part of me—and is now part of my job. And the thought of not writing and hitting publish made me feel really uncomfortable, not just because I worried about what people would think if I disappeared (although that was a concern) but because I literally didn’t know what it would look like if I just wrote for myself.

Azalea listened to this and let me ramble about all the different thoughts and ideas that had come up on my trip. Ideas for book #2, ideas for ways to make money (because writing books isn’t a get rich quick scheme), and thoughts about where I could travel to or live next. One of Azalea’s many gifts is making people feel seen and heard, so she listened and made me feel seen and heard. And then she gave me a different challenge. “Try not to make any big decisions for the next two weeks.” This also made me uncomfortable.

The reason those questions/challenges felt difficult was because I knew they would require me to sit with myself. To exercise the muscle I’ve been working on for the past five-and-a-half years: the one that usually twitches, reacts impulsively and wants to solve problems right away. I knew I would essentially have to do nothing, which felt impossible. There was external pressure to do more, more, more and to capitalize on the success of The Year of Less. There was also pressure to keep up with everything else I’d been doing before the book came out. And then there was the pressure I was putting on myself. How could I opt out for two weeks!?

Fortunately, jet lag forced me to slow down and take care of myself. It took a full week for me to properly recover and get a good night of sleep, so the first of those two weeks off was easy. After that, I realized I wasn’t feeling any clearer about what I was supposed to do next. I tried to write but couldn’t finish so much as a paragraph. I talked about things with friends but never found solutions. I needed some real space. So, I combined Saima + Azalea’s challenges and decided not to blog/post to Instagram/make any big decisions for two more weeks.

I committed to that idea on June 18th. As you can see from the date of this post, it’s been almost a month—and I still don’t feel ready to “return”. The same way opting out of buying stuff for two years taught me a lot about myself as a consumer, temporarily opting out of publishing content is giving me time to think about myself as a creator. Having that space has also allowed an incredible number of ideas to surface—some I had never thought of before, others I had pushed off for various reasons. They aren’t all good. But my home + my phone are cluttered with notes, and that feels like a step in the right direction.

So, at the moment, I think this is going to be the only blog post I publish this summer. I wanted to say hi + thanks to those of you who have reached out, as well as share a little bit of what I’ve been up to. :)

First of all, my trip to the UK was even better than I could have imagined. I visited England (it felt like home), Scotland and Ireland (rented a car and did a road trip!). The weather was unbelievable. Honestly, it felt like the sunshine followed me wherever I went. (If you’re not on Instagram, just pop over and see all the blue sky in my pictures. It was unreal.) And the amount of beauty and history I took in was overwhelming. But the best part of my trip—and most trips—was the people. I’m so grateful to everyone who made time for me and helped me have the best experience possible. You all know who you are, and I can’t wait to see you again.

Since coming home, I’ve been soaking up all the beauty in Squamish and thinking about something that’s been on my mind since I was in the UK: what if I didn’t have a home base? How could I take what I know about myself and combine it into an experience where I travel (slowly) full-time? Could I be a citizen of the world? I made one big decision and decided the answer is: it’s worth trying. People keep asking where I’m moving to next or what I’m going to do, and I have been avoiding the questions. I’m not trying to be vague or rude, I just don’t have the answers yet. All I know is that I will be leaving Squamish sometime in 2018 and heading out into the world.

(To go along with this, I have started the process of decluttering/selling my belongings.)

Another thing I don’t have answers about yet is what’s next for me work-wise—at least in terms of big projects. In late-June, I finished an optional proposal for book #2 and there are still a lot of question marks around how my publisher wants to move forward. The Year of Less has sold more than 47,000 copies (print, ebook + audiobook) around the world, which is unbelievable and has truly exceeded even my wildest dreams. But that still doesn’t mean anyone will want your next book idea. As I’ve been waiting to hear, my anxiety has been ultra-high, but I’ve been trying to accept that I can’t control what happens on this front.

So, on the topic of work I can control, I do have some fun news. I’m currently revising Mindful Budgeting and finally creating what so many of you have asked for: an evergreen planner so you can start using it anytime of the year! It feels amazing to be refreshing the content so it represents what I know today (compared to when I first launched it in 2015). If everything goes as planned, it should be available by the end of the summer.

I also started doing a content audit, where I’m going through every single one of the posts on this site and updating them in some way or simply deleting them. I started with more than 550 posts and currently have just 404—and I’ve only gone from 2011 through to mid-2014! I’ve made sure that anyone who is new to the site could still go back, read from the beginning and understand exactly how I got to where I am today. Nothing about my story is missing. I’m just clearing out all the posts that don’t add to it or help people. (This feels good, especially when you think about how much changes from age 25 to age 33!)

And on that note: I quietly celebrated my 33rd birthday on July 7th. :)

There’s so much more I could say and share, but this post is already way longer than I intended—and I really want to honour my original idea for it, which was to talk about the value of living through (and not always publicly sharing) the messiness of life. I still don’t know exactly why I was sad at the end of my trip. I think it probably had something to do with the fact that I’d been living on the edge of my comfort zone all year—mostly with work, but also with some of my travels. But I’m not going to force myself to find the answer. Instead, I’m giving myself some grace and accepting the fact that we simply can’t be happy all the time (even on vacation).

However, in saying that, I’ve also had a number of conversations with friends since I’ve been home, and I can’t help but notice that a similar theme keeps coming up over and over again. Those of us who have been publicly documenting our life/work/progress for many years are feeling like something has to change. Either we need to take more time off for ourselves, change the way/amount/frequency we share, or quit certain projects altogether. Because it’s starting to feel like it’s all becoming a bit too much, and that it would be nice to live a little more—and perhaps share a little less (or just share in a different way).

What does that mean for me? I still don’t know! Hence wanting to take more time off this summer, so I can keep thinking about this. So far, I can tell you that it’s still “scary” to think about disappearing for a few months. But it feels so much better than pressuring myself to stick to my old schedule or write insightful content. As I said in an interview with my friend Fiona, I don’t want to have all the answers right now. I just want to be honest. And if I’m honest, creating space for myself for the past month has felt like such a gift. I’ve cooked a ton of healthy food. Gone for lots of walks. Read a handful of books and listened to countless podcasts. And I’ve been writing for myself—and not sharing it with anyone. This space is where new insight/ideas have started to flourish. It’s costing me money and time to give it to myself, but putting pressure on myself would’ve cost me more.

The one thought I do want to share right now is more of a note for all content creators: we have an immense responsibility. There is so much “noise” online right now (and so much content, in general). The book has made me realize that the things we share can and will have an impact, and we are so lucky to be taking up any amount of time our audience is willing to give us. I want to take that seriously. I took book #1 seriously, in that I knew exactly what my intention was and the message I wanted people to take from it—and based on responses, I feel like I did my job. I want to bring that same intentionality into everything I do. That might mean I share less content for a while, but I’m hoping that will result in sharing better content later.

As for my personal life: I’m going to keep some of that to myself for a while, too. Because even though this year has been filled with some amazing events and milestones so far, it’s also been really mentally taxing. Penny recently wrote a post that took the scrambled thoughts I’ve had about this out of my mind and put them in the right order. She said: “When you are really in the midst of making progress, it is all-consuming. It is stressful, of course, but it is exhilarating. And it is virtually impossible to stop the process long enough to reflect on what is happening, let alone write or even call home about it. We don’t write in the mess. We live it.”

I don’t think I am a mess right now, but I am definitely making progress. Life is changing. Work is changing. Home is changing. Each one of those things is changing in a really big way, so combined it feels absolutely massive—and I’m not ready to share it all yet. I’m going to keep living through it, and talking it out with my closest friends/family, until I get a little clearer and find my way back to myself (or perhaps my new self). What I can tell you right now is that I don’t think I’ve cried since I’ve been home. In fact, for the past week, I’ve been putting headphones in, cranking up music, and dancing around my kitchen a couple times a day.

One of the last things Saima said to me in London was, “I don’t think your pain is a bad thing. I think it’s showing you that something you’re doing isn’t working.” Those two short sentences instantly calmed my anxiety and quite literally felt like they brought me back down to earth. It was like a reminder that I didn’t need to be sad about being sad (aka slip into depression). It was just time to pay attention and make some changes.

It’s a good thing I have lots of experience doing that. :)

It has been exactly 50 days since my last update; 127 days since I left for my adventure in the UK; 232 days since my first book came out. This year has been so different from what I expected, filled with decisions I didn’t know I would make. Yesterday, I woke up and deleted the 2,522-word post I had written for today. In it, I shared all the details that went into making this decision. I talked about the slow steps I took toward it, the mini adventures in opting out, and everything I was feeling about saying “goodbye” to this blog as a whole. Even though it’s all true, the thought of hitting publish on that post didn’t feel right. I woke up this morning knowing that the truest thing I could say is that it just feels like it’s time. I knew it when I shared my last update, and I still know it today, so that’s what I’m here to say. It’s time to let go of this blog. I’m ready to move on and start something new.

The “start something new” part of that sentence is what excites me most—and that’s why I’m moving towards it. It feels exciting. For most of this year, blogging has felt stale—and the internet, as a whole, hasn’t felt like the fun place to hangout with friends it once did. That’s not to say it doesn’t feel safe (though we could discuss that argument, and I have thoughts for both sides). It’s just not as fun anymore. I used to open up new browser tabs and visit people’s blogs like I was walking into their dorm rooms and sitting on their beds. Then we’d share life updates, what little bits of advice we had, and both walk away feeling like we’d had a great conversation with a friend. Now, it feels like every platform (blogs, social, etc.) is a place for people to shout and be heard. We have been told we need to build, grow, make money and have all the answers. We need to be experts.

I don’t want to be an expert. I just want to be a human.

I want to wake up and enjoy my slow mornings, with coffee in one hand and my journal in the other. I want to sit down and work, and not feel like it needs to be a productivity experiment that I should document. I want to go for long walks and spend time in nature, and not take pictures as proof. I want to get a good night of sleep and a bad night of sleep, and not turn it into a discussion on the internet. I want to date and celebrate milestones with the people in my life, and not share it with the world. I want to make big financial decisions and small financial decisions, and not have to justify them or worry what people will think. I want to have regular days and big days and happy days and sad days. I want to go through an experience and not wonder which parts would fit best into a blog post. I want to live and not share every detail anymore. I just want to be a human in this world.

Whether you’re a new reader who signed up after reading The Year of Less, or you’ve been with me since the beginning, you all know it’s taken a long time for me to get to this place. Eight years ago, I was 25 years old, maxed out with nearly $30,000 of debt, felt like a failure and cried myself to sleep at night. I relied on drinking, eating, and spending money to get me through most things. I wasn’t happy. I was lost. Today, I’m 33 years old, have some money in the bank, work for myself and sleep better. I’ve learned how to pay attention to what I’m doing, ask myself how I feel about it, and try new things until it feels like I’m on a better path. I’ve made so many changes and done so much hard work that I now trust myself to do what’s right for me. That comes with a certain level of confidence I didn’t have before. I’m not the same person I was 2,896 days ago. I have changed.

So, it makes sense that a different person would want to work on different things.

At the beginning of the year, I shared an idea that felt crazy at the time with my good friend J$: “I want to burn everything to the ground and start fresh.” We had just wrapped up three years of working together on Rockstar Finance, and he asked what I was going to do next. That was my response. I didn’t know what “everything” included or how I would burn it all down. I just had this feeling that it was time to let things go. Similar to the way you outgrow a job, because you are no longer being challenged or learning, I was ready for a new position. And ever so slowly, I have burned it all down and moved in that direction: my role at Rockstar, the blog’s Facebook page, my involvement with Simple Year, my podcast with Carrie, my Twitter profile. It’s all gone—and so far, none of my fears about letting each one go have actualized.

The blog is the final piece of the puzzle. It’s the biggest piece and the scariest one to remove, because it’s the first one I laid down and eventually built everything else around. When I first started writing anonymously as “blonde on a budget,” I never could’ve imagined my last post would read like this one. Thanks to this blog, and to all of you for reading, I have received opportunities I never could’ve dreamed of: freelance writing gigs, a full-time job, a chance to work for myself; fun collaborations with friends and mentors, ways to make money on the internet, opportunities to speak to people in-person—and a book deal. Every other publisher wanted TYOL to be a how-to book, but Hay House let me write it exactly how I wanted to. And then my old weekly spending reports somehow evolved into a deeply personal memoir that quickly became a bestseller—that still blows my mind.

This blog was an outlet that ultimately changed my career and my entire life. I don’t know if I will ever be able to find words to express my gratitude other than a simple “thank you”. Thank you to everyone who read the blog. Thank you to everyone who took the time to write a comment or email. Thank you to everyone who replied to other people’s comments, started conversations and built this community. Thank you to all my friends who wrote guest posts for me when I needed time off. And thank you to the friends who have collaborated with me during these past eight years. You have all helped me in more ways than I can list here, and I am so grateful for your time, energy, and attention. Now, I believe that the best thing I can do is continue to model what it means to live an intentional life. In this case, that means trusting my gut and letting go of my blog, even if it feels scary.

Because make no mistake: the idea of walking away from this blog does scare me. I’ve “lived here” for 2,896 days. That’s 2,896 days of checking blog stats, working on new posts and replying to comments. And 2,896 days of having at least one task related to maintaining this website. I spent the summer checking in with my fears and realized they weren’t much different than what comes up when we decide to let go of anything. Similar to the way we have to detach ourselves from our belongings in order to declutter, I’ve had to let go of whatever attachment my ego had to being a long-time blogger. I’ve had to remind myself that this blog doesn’t define me. I am not my pageviews or other stats. I am a human first, and a writer second. And it’s ok for the ways in which I share my words to change—that’s what we’ve been working on for the past eight years, right? Change. :)

Letting go isn’t easy. It’s a continual practice. Fortunately, when we intentionally create space in our lives, we can intentionally decide what to fill it with. I haven’t decided what I will fill all of my time with, because I want to remain open. But here’s what you can expect from me in 2018:

• a new newsletter that will not be about my life! I’ll be writing in seasons and taking chunks of time off, to honour myself + also to model what it means to listen to yourself and create boundaries in your life.
• the release of the Mindful Budgeting evergreen planner that will live on the site year-round and be available when you need it most. :)
• and then I’ll finish my proposal for book #2. After all that, I ended up telling my agent I needed time (and pressure) off from that too. Another decision that felt more “right” than scary.

Taking time off this summer created space for a growing list of ideas to enter my mind. Some of them include: a solo podcast, a collab with a group of women, and anything where I can make sure all contributors are paid equally. I don’t know which ideas I’ll work on yet, but I would be excited about any of them! The one thing I do know is that my personal life will no longer be at the centre of what I’m sharing. Now, I want to show up for all of you and help the best way I can. Also, aside from the newsletter, I’ll continue to spend a little time on Instagram. That’s the one online space I’ve really been enjoying in 2018, and I have a few ideas for ways we can connect more and build some community there. If you haven’t already, please say hi. :)

As for this website, it will always be my home base. But consider the blog to be nothing more than a place you can find simple updates, like product releases, book tour info, other events, etc. And with that, I think we’re done here, friends! My final post. Before I sign off, there are two messages I want to leave you with.

The first is a call for mindful creators. I’ve spent most of this year thinking about how we consume information, and believe more of us could stand to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. A shift is coming. If it hasn’t happened already, we are getting close to reaching what feels like a critical mass. There are too many blogs, websites, podcasts, videos, streaming services, etc. to keep up with. We, as consumers, are starting to feel overwhelmed by the amount of options out there. When it gets to be too much, I think we’re going to see people opt out altogether. They’ll unsubscribe, hit delete, and walk away. I say this because I’ve been doing it all year. As a collective, we are beginning to realize how limited our time, energy, and attention are—and creators need to respect that. If you don’t believe me, liken it to how much physical stuff we used to accumulate, and now how big the movement to declutter/simplify is. I truly believe a shift is coming. People want less but better.

What does this mean for creators? I obviously can’t predict the future, but I do think it’s time to start asking big questions and setting intentions for the work we do. For me, that starts with reminding myself that having an audience is both a gift and a responsibility. It’s incredible that people want to read/watch/listen to what you have to say. But don’t let the number of followers or pageviews or comments fool you. Your audience/platform is not your self-worth; it is a gift and a responsibility. Always remember that people are human beings first, and the content you share has the power to shift the way they think/feel. Be helpful. Be hopeful. Create the content you would want to consume. And really think about the messaging you’re putting out into the world. (Also, if you’re a new blogger, I still stand by all the tips I shared about how I slowly grew mine my own way.)

For that last point, I’ve found myself experiencing a growing frustration with some content in the minimalism/simple living space. In short: the solutions we are offering are way too simple. We can’t keep telling people that simplifying is going to solve all of their problems. The real work comes next and it is hard. Let’s have more conversations about that. And finally, the last thing I want to do is challenge creators in this space to see one huge disconnect in the work we do. We encourage people to do things like log off social media, yet we force ourselves to actively maintain profiles on every single platform. It’s like we’re offering “you don’t have to keep up” as good advice for others, but we can’t seem to give it to ourselves. Talk about mixed messaging. If you need someone to write you a permission slip to take a step back, I’ll do it and offer you something to think about: How do you consume content? What would your life/your work look like if you only created content in those spaces, instead?

Finally, a note for all the mindful consumers (which is basically a note to all humans). If you read those last three paragraphs in full, I would love to hear your thoughts on the overload of information out there. But more importantly, I just want to say this: you don’t have to keep up with it all. It is exhausting and anxiety-inducing—and it is physically impossible. You literally cannot read, watch and do everything. And also, remember that what consumes your mind controls your life and finances. So don’t buy into any of the messages that dig at your insecurities and make you feel less than. You are more than a consumer. If you feel overwhelmed but don’t know what to consume less of, start by paying attention to the content you consume, the way you consume it, and how it makes you feel. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t be afraid to make a change. Play around. Experiment. Create boundaries. Do what feels good to you. You have more control over this than you might think.

Ok, that’s it. For real this time—a new 2,500-word post, haha. I love you all. Thank you, forever.

I’ll see you on the next adventure.

xx Cait

Three years ago, almost to this day, I went on my first Adventure Tuesday. I was newly self-employed and realized that, while I had bitten off more than I could chew and was still working too much, I really wanted to make spending time with friends in the outdoors a priority. After years of working full-time for a startup + blogging and freelancing on the side, I was done hustling. I wanted to spend more time with the people I loved doing the things we loved. And since one of the benefits of self-employment is that you’re able to set your own hours, that’s exactly what I did. I made my friends + the outdoors a priority, and pencilled in a standing date to explore a new town or trail with someone every Tuesday.

Approximately 156 Tuesday’s have passed, since then, and I can’t say I’ve gone on an adventure for each one. However, the intention behind Adventure Tuesday has stuck with me. To this day, I make sure there is breathing room in my calendar so I can say yes to walk/hike requests. This summer, I also made a bucket list of things I wanted to do and see in and around Squamish, and crossed most things off. I explored new areas, stepped on new trails, swam in new lakes. I made my friends + the outdoors a priority.

I’m not telling you this so you will lace up your shoes and head out. And this newsletter isn’t going to be filled with hiking tips or recaps of mine. Adventure Tuesday isn’t really about the outdoors at all. It’s about paying attention to your thoughts about how you want to be spending your time, and figuring out how you can turn them into realities. It’s also about setting healthier boundaries in your life, so you can show up for yourself and for others. I’ve made a lot of big changes in my life, over the past eight years. But putting Adventure Tuesday in the calendar felt like the first (tiny) step towards actively creating the life I wanted, rather than passively consuming the one I thought I should have.

That’s what I want to talk about in this season of Adventure Tuesday: the idea of creating vs. consuming. I want to talk about how we, as humans, are consumers. We consume non-stop around the clock, and it impacts our mindsets, our health, our money and our relationships. But we, as humans, are also creators. You might not think you create anything physical (and maybe you don’t really, aside from the meals you eat). However, you are a creative problem-solving human being, and that means you have a little more control over your life than you might currently believe.

This won’t be a how-to kind of newsletter. I’m not an expert, and I don’t have many answers about how or why we do things. What I am is a human with a lot of questions and ideas, and a writer who wants to share what she observes. (That’s what a writer’s job is, by the way: to observe and report back. It’s so simple. I won’t overcomplicate it.) I will do this by sharing stories: some mine, some others, and some things I research. I may also suggest the occasional “mini adventure” or “slow adventure” to dip your toes into the topics we discuss. But overall, the purpose of this newsletter is to share my thoughts, and hopefully have some great conversations with you each week. :)

Here’s what you can expect:

• a weekly email delivered every Tuesday from now until the end of November,
• we’ll take December off, and I’ll think about what the next season could look like,
• and when we reconnect in January, I may switch things up and write less frequently (bi-weekly instead of weekly) or change anything else so it feels like it’s working for all of us.

I meant what I said last week about not only respecting my own boundaries as a creator but also yours as a consumer, which is why I will always be questioning how I can best show up (including giving us all space). But if it ever gets to a point where you find yourself deleting the emails rather than reading them, exercise your ability to hit the unsubscribe button (which is always at the bottom). It is my hope that we will all develop and practice healthier consumption habits together, and I’m not afraid to say that might mean you eventually don’t need my emails. Pay attention to how the things you consume make you think and feel, and let go of anything that isn’t serving you. If I’m one of the things you let go of, that means our work together is done. :)

x Cait

October has shaped up to be a month of consuming content. Not creating much—just a lot of consuming. This seems to be what happens whenever I travel at a fast pace, which is exactly what’s happening right now. I spent 3 days in Washington, DC followed by 5 days in New York City. Tomorrow, I fly to Edmonton for 5 more days. And the week after that, I’m travelling to Richmond, Virginia for another few days. (Then I’m done for 2018.)

With all the travel and slow living experiments I’ve done, I’ve learned there’s a simple equation for how my output is impacted by the rate at which I’m moving through the world. It goes like this:

slow pace of life = create more

fast pace of life = create less

In this instance, “create” doesn’t just apply to content. It means the way I show up altogether. When I’m settled in, I cook more, try more new recipes, spend more time maintaining my relationships and so on. And that makes sense—the same way being busy often results in letting some of those things fall by the wayside. When I move too quickly, I feel like I can only manage what’s at the surface. But when I slow down, I can dive deeper—and that’s how I prefer to live.

The reason I love doing experiments is because they teach me so much about myself. Now, I just know: when I travel a lot, I probably won’t get much deep work done. But that doesn’t mean I’m not being productive. If anything, I’ve found myself reading/listening to more books, audiobooks and podcasts this month—and I’m getting pickier about what I consume. I want to consume content that inspires me, or at least makes me think. Like the interview with Louis, the can of cola.

I was recently introduced to the new podcast Everything Is Alive. Each episode is an interview with an inanimate object. Things you would find around your house or in your neighbourhood. A bar of soap, an elevator, a lamppost. Through a series of thoughtful questions, it shares its life story, and I have never listened to anything like it. It’s a fantastic podcast for hopeful minimalists, because it makes you think about how you would treat your belongings if they were alive.

The episode with Louis has really stuck with me. Without giving much away, I will just tell you that Louis has been sitting on the shelf for a long time. He’s a generic can of cola, so it seems he’s been forgotten—continually shoved to the back of the fridge. Where things took a turn for me was when the host, Ian, began to prompt Louis to talk about what his inevitable future is: to expire and be tossed out, or to be consumed. Louis’ answer to one question hit home.

Ian: When you think about being consumed by a human, do you think about the human you want to be in?

Louis: If and when I’m finally consumed, I hope I’m consumed by someone who enjoys it.

YES! Yes yes yes. So much food for thought (no pun intended). This is what I’m talking about!

He then goes on to say: Truthfully, here’s how I expect to go. Assuming that I am consumed, I’m expecting it’s going to happen in the middle of the night. Someone’s going to open the fridge and pull me out and that’ll be that. It would be nice to be poured into a nice big pint glass, you know? A frosty mug would be a pretty good way to go. That would be pleasant. I doubt that’s going to happen though.

If that doesn’t make you think twice about how you consume things. Wow. Louis isn’t looking so generic, after all.

Since this is a month of consuming for me, I thought I would share some of the things I’ve enjoyed. :)

Books

Company of One by Paul Jarvis – It comes out on January 15th, and if you read just the description you’ll know exactly why I love it so much. I seriously can’t wait for more people to read it, so we can have conversations about it. SOON!

Subliminal by Leonard Mlodinow – A look at how our subliminal brain (or unconscious mind) influences our experiences, how we view ourselves and others, and the meaning we attach to things. The cover alone is wild (you have to see it).

The Attention Merchants by Tim Wu – This is all about how our attention is captured (often by “free” information) and sold. It’s an entire industry. Blogging is part of it. I’m obsessed with this topic + anything Tim does, right now.

The End of Absence by Michael Harris – A look at how technology (like smartphones) has created what he calls a “loss of lack”—basically, we have no opportunities to be alone with our thoughts. He encourages us to take pleasure in those moments when we find them.

To Shake the Sleeping Self by Jedidiah Jenkins – This is a memoir about his 14,000-mile bike ride from Oregon to Patagonia. I’m nearly halfway through the audiobook and never want it to end. Genuinely savouring this one.

Podcasts

Everything Is Alive – Unscripted interviews with inanimate objects. Aside from Louis the can of cola, I think Dennis the pillow and Paul the tooth were the two funniest guests. Enjoy the laughs—and deep thoughts.

How to Fail – Interviews with now successful writers about their careers, including all the mistakes and failures. I resonated with Jessie Burton and Olivia Laing, and am curious how the new episode with James Frey will be.

Hurry Slowly – My favourite podcast! The new season just started! I loved the episode with Priya Parker about the art of gathering. I really want to create some intentional gatherings for us in 2019, so I will read her book. :)

The Ezra Klein Show – I’ve listened to countless episodes of this podcast, and have now found myself digging into the archives. His interview with Tim Wu (Dec 20, 2016) was great. And listen to his chat with my friend Chris Bailey about his new book, Hyperfocus.

Waking Up – I’ve known about this podcast for years, but only started listening recently. Episode 136 on “digital humanism” gave me so much food for thought. Honestly, any interview you find with Jaron Lanier will be interesting. (Actually, Ezra Klein has had him on a few times! Check those out, too.)

TV (Pure Entertainment)

Follow This: Part 2 (Netflix) – There are two episodes that touch on topics we discuss here: (1) Tech Addict and (2) Teen Boss. Teen Boss is about teen “influencers” and it is particularly scary.

Killing Eve – I watched the first 4 episodes on my flight to DC and was hooked!

To end things on a delicious note, here’s a new recipe I tried and loved: magic garlicky tofu! The name says it all.

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Well, friends—you asked many (many, many) times and I finally listened. After three years of creating Mindful Budgeting Planners that ran for full calendar years (January 1 to December 31), I finally made them evergreen! That means you can start whenever you feel ready, not just on January 1st.

If this is your first time hearing about them though, you might be wondering what a Mindful Budgeting Planner is.

For years, I searched for this planner in bookstores. I would stand in front of the shelves, scan the titles and open every single one that looked even remotely look this—but I never found it. The daily financial planner I wanted didn’t seem to exist, so I decided to create it myself; that’s how Mindful Budgeting was born in 2015.

Inside these pages, you’ll find the things you love about a regular daily planner. There are blank calendars you can fill in. There is an area to write down your to-do list each day. There are also spaces to reflect on how you’re feeling about the changes and progress you’re noticing. (It could be a great companion to a shopping ban.)

mindful: attentive, aware, or careful

What makes this planner unique is the personal finance content. My own journey started with tracking my spending, so that’s what this planner was built around. Along with the daily spending sheets, you’ll also find spreadsheets and budget templates to track all your numbers for 12 months.

And the best part: like I said, the planner is now evergreen! That means it’s not dated (though I’ve made it easy for you to write in the dates) so you can start whenever you feel ready to change your financial life. Or pick it back up with no shame, if you’ve fallen off track. (This often happens with planners. It’s not bad. It just is.)

budget: an estimate, often itemized, of expected income and expenses for a given period of time

Unlike some other financial planning tools, you won’t find any pressure to be perfect in this planner; it doesn’t exist and that’s not the goal. But the more you use it, I think you’ll find you naturally begin to put more attention and energy into managing your money, because you’ll want to—not because I told you to.

My hope is that you’ll finish this 12-month period of your life with a new awareness of your personal finances and a vision of what you want for the future. If nothing else, I hope the planner helps you embrace the idea of being a beginner, let go of the past and start where you are. :)

So, What’s Inside?

Note: You can visit this page to see more pictures, or click to order and “preview” the whole thing!

• Daily spending sheets to track both your spending and your to-do’s (31 blank days per month)
• Monthly calendars (12 blank, so you can start whenever you’re ready, not just on Jan 1)
• Monthly budget templates (12)
• Spreadsheets to track your debt repayment, savings, bill payments and net worth
• Two pages of writing prompts to reflect at the end of each month
• Two pages of writing prompts to reflect at the 6-month mark
• Four pages of writing prompts to reflect at the end of the 12 months
• Motivational quotes to inspire you at the start of each month (12)
• Instructions on how to use the planner
• 6×9 inches, hardcover, 310 pages

Two Covers, Pick Your Favourite!

Printing, Shipping + Customer Service Info

Every copy of the Mindful Budgeting Planner is printed on demand (meaning it gets printed and bound when you place your order). You will place your order directly through the Blurb website, which is my print shop of choice. They have printers in the US, the Netherlands and Australia.

Blurb doesn’t offer wire coil binding, but their hardcovers are beautiful. That means the planners don’t lay perfectly flat, which is something I’ve been wanting since I first launched the planners in 2015. However, it does mean they are printed a little closer to home, instead of being made in China like most other planners.

When you place your order through Blurb, they handle the printing, as well as the shipping and customer service. Because they handle everything, I don’t actually receive personal information about any of the orders. If you have any issues, you can fill out this request form.

One thing to note is that some countries collect custom fees/duty on orders. In all the years I’ve sold the planner, I’ve only had two people tell me this was charged (and both were in Toronto)—but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen to you. More information about this can be found on the Blurb website.

I’ll leave it there with you, friends! Thank you for challenging me to imagine this planner could take a different shape. This exists because of YOU! And I am grateful. :)

I want to start this week’s newsletter by thanking you for being so supportive of the shift I’ve made in my work this season. Truthfully, I spent a few months’ time worrying about making this change, but your response has been overwhelmingly positive and made me excited about the future. Thank you. :)

When I first started thinking about the kinds of conversations I wanted us to have going forward, I wrote down a combination of two words over and over again in my messy notes, and realized I would have to begin by describing it—it being the term “mindful consumer”. While I don’t always like calling myself a minimalist, I will happily say “I’m a mindful consumer”. As someone who has been a binge consumer of many things, it almost feels like a gift. So, when I got an email expressing some concern that I was calling us all consumers, I knew it was time to explain what it means to me—and it started when I took back the meaning of the c-word.

By most definitions, a consumer = a person who purchases goods and services. Even if that sounds a little gross, it does describe all of us. If you’ve ever bought groceries or paid for someone to help you with anything, you are a consumer. So far, this word feels ok to me.

A consumer also = a person who eats or uses things. Again, that’s all of us! If you’ve eaten food or drank water, or worn clothes or watched/read something, you are a consumer. To that end, it’s safe to say a consumer = a living and breathing human being.

When I look at it that way, the word doesn’t bother me. Where it starts to feel dirty is when you think about how many companies out there use the word “consumer” to describe us, as they come up with strategies to make us consume things we don’t need. They study our behaviours and our insecurities. They implement strategies to see what works. And they write entire books to share their findings with others, so even more people can try to get + alter our attention. Because more than any other statement I’ve made here, that feels the truest: it’s not just that they want our money. They want our attention. They know we, as humans, are consumers, they want to make sure we are consuming them, and it starts by getting our attention.

Starting to feel icky yet? I am—or I was, until I decided to take back the meaning of the word. Instead of worrying about what companies were thinking of me as, I embraced the fact that a consumer = a living and breathing human being. And there’s something kind of beautiful about that.

I am a human with a mind + body that takes in a lot of things every day. Because of that mind + body, I am able to breathe, think, feel, touch, smell, taste, hear, talk and see what is all around me. I am consuming the world, because I am a consumer.

And not just a “conscious consumer”. That is someone who votes with their dollars, and chooses to buy things that are ethically and/or sustainably produced. This is a noble cause, and one I believe in too! But it still focuses on the goods/services aspect of being a consumer and, as you can tell, I like to go deeper. That’s why I’ve embraced the idea of being a mindful consumer. It means I use my mind + body to pay attention to what I’m consuming, why, and how it makes me feel. The key phrase being: I pay attention. I can thank my human capabilities for that. :)

So, if you’ve noticed that I’m calling us all consumers lately, that’s because I am. We are consumers! And there’s nothing dirty or wrong about it. We are consumers because we are humans. And because we are humans, we are equipped with the ability to pay attention, think and make choices.

Choices about what we buy. What we eat and drink. What we read and watch and listen to. What kinds of conversations we have and with whom. We aren’t stupid. And we aren’t just our insecurities or our behaviours. We are human beings who consume things, and those things affect us. You could even say those things can consume us.

“I am a consumer. And I want to respect my attention, energy and time.”

You can start saying this to the people + companies you think need to be reminded that you are a human being.

And then give it to yourself. :)

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Last week, I returned home from a retreat in California. What I thought was going to be a creativity workshop being taught by two of my favourite authors ended up being more like two days of therapy being provided by them. While I know that the work was important for many of the people in the audience, it was work I had already done for myself over the past couple of years. Acknowledging and pushing through my fears? Yep, I’m basically always doing that. Actively pursuing things I want and creating an engaged life? It was fun to write the list of ways I’d done that recently. And trusting my clarity? I’ve been doing that, too (and is what helped me quit all the projects I’d been working on).

As I wrote each of the prescribed letters to myself, and then exchanged the words with strangers, I started to feel like I shouldn’t be there. I wasn’t going to the deep, dark places other people seemed to be venturing into. I wasn’t crying or having any kind of emotional reaction at all. I was just writing facts on paper. When others opened up and shared parts of themselves with me, I felt guilty for only giving them a few facts in return. I also hated that the whole setup reminded me of the documentary I Am Not Your Guru. It felt like a gross waste of money. So, when I realized day two was going to be a repeat of a workshop I’d done in London, I decided to skip it and sit with these thoughts.

Looking back now, I can see that might have been the most important thing I did all weekend: taken a step back. It gave me time to think about why I had signed up in the first place, as well as why I was disappointed in what it had ended up being. Sitting alone with my thoughts also prevented me from bringing other people down with me. Because, yes, I was disappointed and I did feel like I wasted my money. I could have moaned or complained. I also could have taken to social media and told others how annoyed I was. Or worse yet, used the event hashtag so the attendees/organizers could have heard my opinion too. But I knew it wasn’t meant to be shared.

And the reason I knew I shouldn’t share this is because that was my experience—not theirs. And it didn’t feel fair for me to alter someone else’s experience in an attempt to match mine (especially when mine was negative).

This has been, perhaps, one of the hardest things for me to learn—and actually practice—since embracing mindfulness: the art of not complaining. And I won’t pretend I’m good at it. Honestly, I think I’m just getting started. There are stats that say we tell anywhere from 2-10x as many people about a bad experience, compared to a good experience. Why is that? I don’t know, because I truly am just starting to think about this. What I do know is that the art of constant complaining is the main reason I deleted my Facebook profile + page, and finally decided to walk away from Twitter. I used to do it too, so zero judgment from me, but I simply grew tired of being dragged down.

So, instead of dragging anyone down at the workshop, I went for a hike then sat outside by one of the fire pits and wrote in my journal. After listing all the things I was feeling about the experience (including frustration about the non-stop pitches to visit the gift shop, which I did talk about on Instagram in a way that would hopefully open reader’s eyes to how often it happens) I asked myself why I was there. Why had I bought a ticket for this event? The answer had a few layers of influence.

1. I saw one of the author’s share it on Instagram.
2. It felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
3. I didn’t think there would be many tickets available.
4. I was in a bad place and wanted something to look forward to.

Now, let’s really break that down:

• Influence #1: my love of the author’s work (which is why I follow her).
• Influence #2: a desire/dream.
• Influence #3: a scarcity mindset (which is behind many impulse purchases).
• Influence #4: my mental health.

Notice that none of those things are anyone else’s fault. They all had to do with me. I had no one to “blame” for wasting money but myself. I made the decision to buy the ticket. As for not enjoying the content of the workshops, I can take some of the blame for that too—and it’s not all bad blame. The reason I didn’t enjoy the workshops was because I didn’t need them. And the reason I didn’t need them was because I’d already done a lot of that work for myself. If I hadn’t gone, I might not have realized just how far I’ve come this year. So, what would I complain about? Why is that anyone else’s problem? Why is it a problem at all?

When we talk about becoming mindful consumers, we are looking at how outside things/experiences affect us on the inside. What we eat affects how we feel, what we read/watch/listen to affects how we think, what we consume affects what we create, and so on. We can talk about how all of those things influence us, and two weeks ago I did suggest you start keeping track of what you consume. But the “mindful” part means being conscious and aware of what’s happening in the present moment, and that includes recognizing your role in influencing each moment as well. We can’t blame everything on everyone else. Who we are today influences us as well.

This is one of the reasons I won’t leave negative book reviews. There are lots of books I read and don’t enjoy, but it’s not the author’s fault. It’s my fault I didn’t enjoy it. Either I already knew the advice (similar to the workshop, this is actually a good thing) or didn’t agree with the content or didn’t relate to the writing style. But it’s not the author’s fault they didn’t write the perfect book for me. They don’t know me. That’s too big of a demand! So, why would I complain about it—especially in a public forum, which could alter other people’s thoughts and stop someone from reading a book that could really help them? Who am I to think I should have any control over that?

My friend David once wrote that mindfulness is the opposite of neediness—and practicing it means “observing something without trying to immediately change it”. It’s noticing and accepting. And in the example of the workshop I attended, it was noticing that I was influencing my negative experience, and accepting ownership of that rather than blaming it on anyone else. Sometimes it seems easier to place blame or to act like a victim of circumstance. In fact, it’s a lot harder to recognize your role and take responsibility for it. But being able to see—and accept—that you are part of the equation makes you a better communicator, problem solver, and member of all your communities.

The original point of this newsletter was to get you to think about what influences you. But now I’m curious: how are you influencing yourself? And who are you influencing?

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Before I officially made the big decision to retire from blogging, I took a bunch of smaller steps toward it; dipped my toes in the water, so to speak. You might remember the first thing I did was decide to take two weeks off. After a month, I decided to take the entire summer off. And then I did a bunch of things behind the scenes that were less visible. After hearing my friend Paul say he removed Google Analytics from his website, it dawned on me that maybe I could do the same. Then I did a huge content audit and deleted 200+ posts from my site. And finally (I think this is the last one!?) I signed out of Twitter.

If you are a blogger or content creator, some of that might shock you. I’ve heard actual gasps come out of people’s mouths, when I mention the Google Analytics step, specifically. It’s a tool that keeps track of how many people visit your site, how many pages/posts they look at on average, which country/city they are located and so on. And if you’re trying to figure out how readers find you, so you can create more content that brings even more readers in, and ultimately build a huge audience who might pay you/earn you ad revenue, it’s a great tool! But that’s not my goal (and never was).

Still, when I first heard Paul say he had deleted Google Analytics, I let out a little gasp too. Because it goes against the narrative of what we are told we “should” do. And so, my first thought was that I couldn’t possibly delete it from my site—could I!? The more I questioned it, the more it became clear that I could. For starters, I couldn’t remember why I had installed it in the first place. I also never used it the way you’re “supposed to”. So if it didn’t have a purpose and I never used it, why did I have it!? (Also a question to ask when decluttering!) There was no good answer, so I let it go. Hit delete and said goodbye.

Taking a bunch of smaller steps toward the idea of retiring from blogging was almost like testing a few theories. If I do X, what will happen? Ok, now what if I do Y? And then Z?Thanks to my wild imagination (and anxiety), I envisioned countless things that could go wrong. But in the end, even after taking the final plunge, nothing bad happened. People understood. It all worked out. If anything, it was actually one of the most exciting times of my “career” (is that what this is? lol). Because making the slow, intentional decision to let go of what I didn’t want to do anymore also gave me the time to figure out what I do want to be doing—and being “good” at the internet is not part of the equation.

Before we dive deeper into this topic, I should clarify that I don’t aspire to be a luddite. I love and use technology every day, including my smartphone, computers and the electric standup desk I built last summer. On my phone, I send texts and make calls, listen to audiobooks and podcasts, take pictures and still spend a little too much time on Instagram. On my computer, I write this newsletter, read/reply to emails, do research, write, record podcasts, create graphics, watch videos and so on. I also store things in the cloud, buy products, sell products and manage all of my money online. It is an incredibly useful tool that powers so many of the good things in my life. I am very pro internet!

What I’m no longer interested in is being “good” at the internet. I’ve known this for a long time. In fact, I remember meeting an online friend at a conference and having her ask me why I wasn’t doing a long list of things to grow my site. “Don’t you want to build a big audience or start your own publishing company? You totally could!” When I said “no,” she looked confused and almost frustrated. And it wasn’t her fault for reacting that way. I was at a conference where people were literally there to talk about how to create content that would build audiences and make them money! I was just there for different reasons (to see friends, not attend sessions).

We had that conversation in September 2016, and it took two more years for me to finally realize that maybe being “good” at the internet wasn’t my career path after all. Of course, over the past two years, a lot of other things have changed the way the internet works and feels. Not just in politics, but in the world of social media in general. Some people even believe the internet is terrible now. I wouldn’t go that far, but I did enjoy this podcast interview with Tim Wu. My personal feeling is simpler: the internet is extremely reactive now. It is fast-paced, stressful and requires a lot of energy to keep up with. And that is the exact opposite of living a slow, mindful and intentional life.

So, I’m opting out—at least of the way many content creators use the internet today. In fact, I think my new career goal is to be bad at the internet. When people ask if I’ve read a certain post, or heard about what someone did or said online, I want to say no. I don’t want to keep up with what “my competitors” (that language is so toxic) are doing or which tools they are using. I just want to read/listen/watch stuff I find and then close tabs when I’m done. And I really don’t want to hear about another tool, plugin, or app that can make the internet “better” or easier to manage. I want to use the internet so little that I can’t even imagine needing them at all. Because I don’t want to be known as just a blogger or someone who lives online. I want to be a human who lives + helps in real life.

All of this is to say that, basically, I want to go back to using the internet the way I did when I was a teenager. I want to read/reply to emails, do research, create content and watch videos. And I will keep the few products I have, and of course log on for any workshops we do together, because the internet is the only way we can connect! But I’m done with all the extra stuff that happens online now. That feels scary to type, because it’s the world I’ve been caught up in for the past 12+ years. But there are a lot of people (including friends my age) who have always used the internet this way. Some have never had Facebook. Many have never read blogs. They only open their computers to do work, check email or perform a quick search. Then it’s back to real life with their humans—and that sounds really nice.

There are only a handful of things I’m excited about these days. Getting back into + improving my writing (this newsletter has been a huge help!). Launching a new podcast (already have the skills for that). Learning new design skills (just for fun). Upcoming travel. And spending more time with my family and friends. Some of those things require the internet to work, but they don’t require me to be “good” at the internet. And, as you’ll soon see with my new podcast, they actually won’t require that I spend more time on the internet at all. Right now, I’m making intentional choices and shifts, so I can work online less in order to live offline more.

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Two December’s ago, I finally took my friend Paul’s lead and spent the month offline. I checked Instagram occasionally, but the blog, Twitter, etc. all went quiet. Not surprisingly, I can still remember moments from that month vividly. Without the distractions of needing to keep up with what was happening on the internet, I made memories with people in real life. Baking days with friends, playing with the dogs, relocating to Squamish, walking through heavy snow, going up the gondola with my mom and brother. That’s not to say it was all simple and peaceful (the holidays rarely are, at least not entirely). But I remember it.

I don’t remember last December. Actually, the one memory that sticks out is breaking down crying and calling Anthony from the floor of my living room. I eventually laughed at how ridiculous the situation would look to an outsider (grown woman laying on her rug sobbing). But that’s what I remember. I was neck-deep in book launch tasks and had no idea what I was doing. Being my first book, it was completely foreign territory. I couldn’t see where the task trail was going to lead me, but I was running down it at an uncomfortable pace. It didn’t feel good, and it wasn’t sustainable. Unfortunately, because that’s the pace I set, I felt like I had to keep it up—and did so for five full months.

You know how the rest of this story goes. After doing more than 100 interviews in the first four months of the year, I took May and June off to travel and spend some time with myself. Then I took the summer off to properly sit still, think, and begin to process what happened in the first half of the year. In that time, I decided to stop blogging altogether, and opted to write a newsletter instead. My original intention was to write this weekly, but I missed a few here and there while travelling, and have no guilt or regrets about that. I wrote what felt good, when it felt good. And right now, I feel more like myself than ever for one simple reason: I changed the rules.

I didn’t change the rules for everyone, but I changed the rules for myself. The rules about what I thought a blogger was supposed to do after writing a book. The rules about what I thought a first-time author was supposed to do before/after its release. The rules about what I thought I was supposed to do next. And currently, I’m changing all kinds of rules about how I’m living my life. It hasn’t been easy (as you know from my stories, but more importantly from your own). It’s hard to change stories you’ve been told, and stories you’ve told yourself, about who/what/when/where/why/how we live this life. But there’s one thing I keep telling myself that makes it a little easier.

This thing we’re doing? Living, working, challenging ourselves, etc. It’s all an adventure. Despite the fact that it feels like we are living in a time where everything is right/wrong, there is actually no right/wrong way to do this stuff. We have to try new things and learn, and take new trails and see where it all goes. More simply put: we have to be open and considerate—of ourselves and others. Sometimes that means starting down one path and realizing it’s the wrong one for you. That’s ok. With every step you take, you’ll find new paths open up. And no matter which path you take next, you’ll never be able to see the outcome. Just stick to a pace that feels good and you’ll find your way.

As you begin to think about what your goals or intentions might be for the rest of 2018 or early 2019, remember that you’re in control. You can change the pace or the rules to meet you or your family’s needs. If you do what feels good for you and those around you, there’s really no way you can go wrong. Again, you may not feel certain of that at the beginning. But eventually, you’ll find you have a personal map of your life and experiences. It’s only after you’ve taken steps forward, though, that you can look back and connect the dots to see where you came from. So don’t be afraid to take that first step. It’s the hardest one to take, but it’s also the closest.

Thank you for joining me for this season of the newsletter. I’ll be taking December off to travel a bit, spend time with friends and family, and think about what I want the future of the newsletter to look like.

Before signing off, I want to share quotes from two of the most meaningful pieces of content I’ve read this year. First, on the topic of consuming . . .

“While choice is infinite, our lives have time spans. We can’t live every life. We can’t watch every film or read every book or visit every single place on this sweet earth. Rather than being blocked by it, we need to edit the choice in front of us. We need to find out what is good for us, and leave the rest. We don’t need another world. Everything we need is here, if we give up thinking we need everything.” – Matt Haig, from my favourite book of 2018: Notes on a Nervous Planet

And on the topics of both consuming and creating . . .

“We are porous, highly susceptible creatures whose words and actions are affecting each other constantly. We’re taking cues from each other in every moment about who and how to be. The consequences of this are pretty massive. Everything is contagious. Every word, every action, every tweet, every Facebook post is a contribution to the collective. Every encounter affects us in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, and then that affects our next encounter, and our next, and so on and so on. We are wildly underestimating the impact we have on those around us. Those of us who are visible—and by that I really mean all of us—have a beautiful and holy opportunity. We can be contagiously good.” – Josh Radnor <3

That’s all for now, friend. Be kind, be safe and have a beautiful month! I’ll see you back here in 2019.

x Cait

PS – I’m signing off from the newsletter, but not Instagram! From now until December 24th, I’m doing a daily post using the hashtag #tistheseasontobemindful. If you’re on there, feel free to say hi and follow along. I’ll be giving away a few bundles of books, too. It should be a fun month. :)

Happy New Year, friends! Popping in to let you know I’m doing an event at Powell’s in Portland, Oregon on January 16th. We’ll be celebrating the release of the paperback version of The Year of Less—as well as the first birthday of the book! I’ll share a bit of my story, but would love to open it up more for Q&A and have some discussions about money, minimalism, being a mindful consumer, and whatever else is on your mind. If you’re local, I would love to see you there! :)

Location: Powell’s City of Books

Address: 1005 W Burnside Street, Portland, OR 97209

Date/Time: January 16, 2019 at 7:30pm

Hello, my friend :)

It’s been just over four months, since I sent my last newsletter. A lot has changed in that time, and there are also a lot of new people who are hearing from me for the first time. So I’m here to say: hello to all! A very belated “happy new year”. And before starting the next season of the newsletter, I thought it would be nice to share some of what I’ve been doing, consuming + thinking about so far this year. Future newsletters may not make sense, without this info.

What I’ve Been Doing

Overall, the first few months of 2019 have generally been pretty quiet. I created a nice routine: writing first thing in the morning, going to the gym/hiking in the afternoon, visiting with friends (and spending many hours/days holding the new identical twin girls born to one of my oldest friends!) and having a night at home. As much as I like to challenge myself, I’ve also accepted that routine really does help me get things done—as well as supports my mental health.

What has made this a little more interesting is that I’ve done all of this in my hometown, Victoria, BC. Last summer, I began to wonder what it would be like to give up my apartment and travel full-time for a year. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it also seemed like a natural extension of how I’ve already been living. And so, after sitting on that question for some time, I ultimately decided to give it a go. I gave up my apartment in Squamish and left there at the end of 2018.

My idea, for this year anyway, is that I’ll spend a few months at my dad’s house in Victoria, and then spend the rest of the year travelling. I want to move fairly slowly, staying in places for at least one month at a time—and that’s both so I can maintain my routine and enjoy the new places I’m in. It’s not something everyone would enjoy, and I certainly won’t sell it as a dream, but it’s feeling quite natural, so far.

So, that’s a fairly big update on my personal life, I suppose! Aside from that, I’ve actually been working a lot. The paperback version of The Year of Less came out in January, and I did two events to support that: one at Powell’s in Portland, the other for a great group of people in Nashville. But most of the work I’ve been doing this year was on my proposal for book #2. And I’m so happy to share that it was acquired by Little, Brown Spark a few weeks ago!

I’ll be able to tell you a lot more about that, as time goes on. For now, I’m excited to share the title: ADVENTURES IN OPTING OUT. It should be ready for you in fall 2020. :)

What I’ve Been Consuming

Whew! Ok, that was a pretty massive update, haha. But oddly, I’m more excited to share what I’ve been consuming + thinking about so far this year. Because that’s the nitty gritty stuff, right? Some of the details that make up our days!

At the start of 2019, I still felt completely tapped out of nearly everything happening online—and in a lot of ways, that hasn’t changed. The general feeling I get when I look at most blogs/social media profiles is that everyone is an expert and they are all prescribing expertise I’ll never have or yet another long list of things I will never achieve, all of which, ultimately, just makes me feel worse about myself. And I can’t read it anymore.

I’ve been craving stories. Journeys to follow. Even just the “boring” (NOT BORING) updates we used to share on blogs. Like what are you thinking about right now? What have you been curious enough to actually learn more about? And where are the BEGINNERS!? Where are the people who are raising their hands and saying “I have no idea what I’m doing, but here’s what I’m attempting and my progress so far”? I miss those days. Blogging was actually fun, back then.

Books

In the absence of reading whatever is on the internet these days, I’ve picked up more books this year. Way more than usual. To date, I’ve read 14 (about 4 per month)! And aside from Company of One and Digital Minimalism (both of which I love), they have been memoirs and works of fiction. Stories. Real-life thoughts and lessons. Characters you are rooting for (or some you’re not). And my gosh, it has felt both indulgent, and like a really positive shift.

A few of my faves so far have been:

• Becoming by Michelle Obama (listened to the audiobook, which she narrated)
• Come Back Frayed by Colin Wright (the first line basically described me to a tee)
• Let My People Go Surfing by Yvon Chouinard (a mix of personal stories and lessons)
• No Happy Endings by Nora McInerny (I appreciate her and love the message of this story)
• ***The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer + Annie Barrows

***THIS BOOK! UGH, so good! I read it after watching the movie (for the second time) and believe it is one I will read again and again. It’s written entirely in letters being sent between people, and has inspired an idea for this newsletter.

Podcasts

You might remember that last year I basically unsubscribed from everything, including most newsletters and podcasts. I also stopped using Twitter. Part of this was to help with the general sense of overwhelm re: how much content exists (reminder: you can’t read, watch and do everything). But I was also curious how my thoughts about them all might change. And change, they have! There were a few newsletters I missed (and a few more I unsubscribed from). And I kept experimenting with Twitter, but don’t think I’ll ever go back there. It’s simply too hostile.

The change with podcasts was a little bigger. First, I not only unsubscribed from them all but also deleted every episode I had downloaded. A little digital declutter, I suppose. Then, whenever I missed a show, I would download the latest episode that sounded interesting. Sometimes I enjoyed them, but I haven’t subscribed to any of them. Instead, I’ve taken recommendations from friends to listen to a specific episode of a podcast, and have found so many new voices and topics that way. I’ve also found a few people I enjoy and listened to many interviews they’ve done, so I can learn more.

This isn’t particularly helpful, I’m sure, but I’m sharing because it’s been yet another act of letting go. Releasing the expectation that you have to follow something entirely from beginning to end, and being ok with the fact that some things only come into your life for a reason or a season.

Anyway, here are the few podcasts I’ve listened to more than one episode of:

• Climate One – candid conversations about energy, the economy and the environment. I started by devouring the episodes with Yvon Chouinard (who I’m fascinated with right now).
• Front Burner – my new fave podcast by the CBC. Every weekday, Jayme Poisson takes one of the big stories in Canada and helps you understand what’s going on, what the impact is, etc.
• Making Sense – Sam Harris changed the name of his podcast, which threw me off. I’ve listened to the eps with Jack Dorsey (Twitter) and Roger McNamee (Facebook). Also have the one on digital capitalism downloaded.
• Real Talk Radio – Nicole has done TWENTY (20) seasons of this show now and I still love it! Have a few episodes from the new season downloaded for upcoming travel days. :)
• The Slow Home Podcast – Brooke and Ben decided to change the format of the podcast and start doing it in seasons, which I am always in favour of (change is healthy). It was also lovely to hear about their journey home.

What I’ve Been Thinking About

The better question might be: what haven’t I been thinking about this year? As you can imagine, with giving up my home, selling another book, travelling full-time, there’s a lot on my mind. For the sake of keeping things simple, I’ll share two topics and some of the thoughts I’ve had around them both. I will preface this by saying there are no answers here. Just thoughts, questions, etc. :)

1. A few months ago, I listened to this podcast called The Dream. It’s about the history of MLMs (multi-level marketing companies) and I devoured all 11 episodes within a week. There were so many interesting points shared throughout it (including people’s experiences with them) but there was one that really stood out for me: the fact that, yes, there are some people who make a lot of money with MLMs. But they are the 1%. The majority of the money they earn comes from the people they have recruited. And while MLMs haven’t disappeared, more and more people now see them for what they are and avoid them at all costs. While I was listening, the only thing I could think about was: wow, this sounds a lot like selling the dream of being a full-time blogger. Yes, some people make a lot of money doing it. But they are the 1%. The majority of the money they earn comes from people clicking on affiliate links, buying products, etc. And people can package up their tips, tricks and expertise, but they can’t sell their unique experiences, character traits, or skills that help them do what they do. A few questions I’ve pondered since: I wonder how long the “make money online” industry will continue to seem appealing? If this hasn’t happened already, I wonder when people will begin to avoid blogs that talk about ways to make money, the same way we avoid friends who join MLMs and try to sell us products we don’t need? And I wonder if/when the whole thing will crumble? Maybe never! Actually, probably never! But anyway, that one podcast series opened my eyes in a way I wasn’t expecting when I first started listening.
2. How can I do more to help the planet? It’s the one question I’ve thought about more than anything else, this year. And it’s scary to start writing and sharing any of the thoughts that have come up for me, because I only know enough to know I don’t know much of anything yet lol. I am not an expert on the environment or climate change or consumption or waste or anything else. I’m also not interested in becoming an expert or trying to be “perfect”. But I’m standing in the place most of my other personal journeys have begun: where I’m starting to notice things and pay more attention, ask questions and figure out what feels right for me, before taking too many steps down a new and unknown path. One thing I have done is committed to donating 1% of my income to environmental causes via 1% For The Planet. I’ve also been looking for more podcasts on these topics, so I can find new people to learn from, books to read, etc. If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears! Please! Anything you want to share. :)

Ok, I’ll leave it there for today, my friend! I’ll be starting up my newsletter again, and have a fun idea for it that I’m excited to share with you. But now I’d love to hear from you. How has 2019 been so far? What’s on your mind? Is there anything you want to learn more about this year?

xx Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Hello, my friend :)

I’m writing from the kitchen table at a friend’s flat in London. It’s 9am, around 11°C (52°F) and looks like we’re in for yet another classic British forecast: some sun, some cloud, some rain, and a little wind to mix it all up and sprinkle it throughout the day. Note that I’m not complaining! This weather is similar to what I would be experiencing at home. I’m only talking about it because that’s what you do in the UK. ;)

I’ve been in England for a month now, and it’s taken that long for me to feel like I can settle in and get some actual work done now. That’s not good or bad. It’s just something I’m going to have to think more about, as I continue to map out my travels. Because I’ve been here before, I assumed I would be able to quickly settle into a routine of writing, going for long walks, cooking, seeing some friends, etc. Of course, it’s never as simple as we want it to be, is it?

Within 5 days of being here, I reconnected with someone I met last year and our first conversation quickly opened my eyes and shifted one of my priorities. At the same time, it only took one trip to the grocery store for me to be faced with a new truth: that my thoughts and values around the consumption of single-use plastics have changed dramatically over the past year, and I feel really (read: really) uncomfortable shopping here now, where nearly everything is wrapped in it.

Before I left Victoria, I had coffee with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a few years. When we said goodbye, he hugged me and whispered, “you know you’re going to come back changed, right?” It hit me hard, and felt like the most honest thing someone had ever said to me. I said yes and, one month later, I can confirm that he was right. But it’s also true that I changed even before I left. I just didn’t know it, until I returned to somewhere I’d been before and saw it with new eyes.

Anyway, I still haven’t dug deep enough into those thoughts or feelings yet, to make more sense of them or figure out what’s next for me. What I have done is kept a detailed journal of everything I’ve done so far on this trip, along with little notes so I can remember what I was thinking while I was here. In flipping through the pages, I realized that some of my notes might actually be helpful for others. So I’ve compiled a list of 30 thoughts to share from my first 30 days away.

I hope at least one of them feels good for you. :)

1. Sometimes meeting someone one time is good enough, and you should leave the memory at that.
2. Sometimes meeting someone a second and third time proves to be better, and you realize you might have even more in common than you thought the first time.
3. You won’t know who the “one time only” people are, until you see them a second or third time.
4. You can change a lot in a year.
5. Your values can change a lot in a year too.
6. The people you can sit in silence with, or quietly read your own books together with, are special. It’s strange how being silent with someone can actually be more memorable than forcing your way through a conversation.
7. When you’re unexpectedly in the same place as someone at the same time, make plans. The universe wants you to spend time together.
8. It’s not always a good idea to meet your heroes. But sometimes, you meet them and are pleasantly surprised to discover they are exactly who you hoped they would be.
9. If you don’t ask, the answer is always no. (I already knew this lesson, but have been reminded of it a few times.)
10. There are people who understand you and people who never will. Don’t try to force the latter. It’s ok if only a few people really understand you. It’s a gift to have even one.
11. You don’t owe anyone an interaction. Hard stop.
12. Being a beginner sucks most of the time, until you’re no longer a beginner. When you start to see the early signs of your efforts paying off, you’ll be glad you tried something new.
13. Being self-aware is exhausting. But it can also be a gift for you and everyone who comes into your life.
14. You don’t have to always be right. One day, you will overhear a stranger from another country try to explain something silly/inconsequential about yours. And they will get it all wrong, but tell the story with such enthusiasm that you can’t bear to tell them the truth. So, don’t! Let them think they are right. Who is it really hurting?
15. It can feel really good to do regular daily life things in new cities.
16. Move at the pace that feels natural to you.
17. “Treat everyone you meet like an old friend.” (I first read this quote in a book last year, and have thought about it almost every day since—especially when it comes to dating.)
18. Rejection isn’t about you. Even if it seems like it is, it’s really not.
19. A breakup won’t be the worst thing you go through. You’ve survived worse.
20. The kindest thing you can do is let someone go on their own journey, even if it doesn’t include you.
21. Don’t be afraid to tell people what positive impact they’ve had on you. We don’t do this enough, probably because it’s scary. But put yourself in their shoes. Wouldn’t it be nice to hear how you had helped someone?
22. The thought of trying to do anything to help the planet is so overwhelming, because you quickly realize that basically everything you do is bad for the planet. Turn the dial back and remember what ONE thing sparked these spiralling thoughts. Start with that.
23. All you can do is live according to your values.
24. When someone invites you to go on an adventure, don’t ask too many questions. Say yes, pack water/snacks and go.
25. The state of your space is the state of your mind.
26. Decluttering is just a tool. You need to dig up the root(s) cause, so it doesn’t keep spreading and you aren’t clearing out the mess again every 5-10 years.
27. There’s no point in earning more money or being successful if you aren’t sharing it with people/the world.
28. Nothing matters more than the health of you and your loved ones.
29. When it comes to big/tough decisions, take your ego out of the equation and then ask yourself what you should do.
30. When in doubt, rent the pedal boat. You will laugh. A LOT.

xx Cait

PS – I wrote the intro to this newsletter in my journal, and am thinking about writing them all like that while I’m away and, of course, sharing them with you! It feels like I’m writing a letter to a friend (and who doesn’t love snail mail?). The tone will naturally be much more conversational, but I’m curious if my writing will get any better as time goes on and I can’t constantly self-edit? I won’t know, unless I try! Here’s to new experiments and being a beginner again. :)

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Another thoughtful guest post for slow travel week! This one is from my friend Amanda.

Travel has been part of my life since I was nine years old, when my parents packed us up for a six-month motorhome trip around Europe. Thanks to Australia’s long service leave provisions, my dad could take six months off work and still get paid, so off we went. It was a low-budget trip with lots of simple meals and days spent playing in local parks, following the principles of slow travel long before anyone started to describe it that way.

To say that the travel bug bit me on that trip would be an understatement, and so much of my life—and let’s be honest, my money—has been spent on travel ever since. In my teens and early twenties, I couldn’t really explain my desire to travel more, I just knew I wanted to do it.

I grew up in Perth, Western Australia, which is a gorgeous city but is known to many as the most isolated city in the world. Even the next significant city is close to a two-day drive away. It’s improved a lot thanks to the internet age, but Perth in the past really lagged behind the rest of the world and it felt stifling growing up here; most people from my age group have moved away at least for a few years. Some come back; others never do.

It wasn’t until I finally left Perth, after several failed attempts, and moved to teach English in Japan at the age of 25, that I finally began to understand why I wanted to travel. When I’m travelling, I really and truly feel alive. Leaving behind the humdrum of daily home life and exploring cultural differences, meeting people who speak different languages, and taking in amazing landscapes and enticing cities—all of this gives me so much energy and inspiration.

But even more than making me feel properly alive, travelling has changed me and taught me so much. Most of my core values are thoughts I developed from my experiences living and travelling throughout Asia and Europe. Empathy for others—especially others who have a different background to me—is something I learnt when I had to understand why my Japanese friends were so worried about making a mistake speaking English; acknowledging and accepting different viewpoints was something I understood after chatting many times with friends in Slovakia about how their life had been different under socialism and capitalism.

Travelling also taught me confidence and the quiet ability to know that everything will work out okay, eventually. When I left Australia, I’d been suffering from bouts of severe anxiety since my late teens, and I had phobias of driving on highways, of flying, of being in elevators. But removing myself from the place where it all started, and opening myself up to these new experiences of the world, changed everything. I lived in buildings where I could only reach my apartment in an elevator, and doing that every day dissolved that phobia. I loved so much to see new countries, and flying was often the only way, so I kept doing it until I didn’t have a panic attack on take off. I still don’t love driving on highways, but I pushed myself enough that I managed to pass my German driving licence test, including a stint on the Autobahn.

I could go on, but suffice to say, when I think about what makes up my personality and outlook on the world, I know that all of it has been influenced oh-so-heavily by my travels.

And now I have a seven-year-old son and I’m back in Perth. It’s such a big responsibility, trying to shape the way a small human being thinks, but I’m trying to use what influence I have as effectively as possible. So far, I’ve raised him to love to travel, and to not really see differences but to see the similarities that we all have, because after all, we are all human. When he plays with his Lego, or his cars and trucks and planes, so often his games turn into experiences on a world-wide scale—his Lego car is driving some Lego guys to the airport to fly to Iceland and see the puffins; his trucks are carrying sumo wrestlers and taiko drums and sushi stands for a festival in Japan. It warms my heart.

As a single parent, I don’t have a huge budget, and remember, we live in Perth, the most isolated city on the planet. But travel is important, and I find ways to take my son travelling as often as possible—usually abroad once or twice a year, at least. It changes him every time.

Just before our most recent trip, to Malaysia and Singapore, he’d been getting stressed in school and was emotionally pretty worn down. By the first night of our trip, it was like a huge weight had lifted off him, and he was back being a happy-go-lucky seven-year-old. He brought that feeling back from our trip, and I saw him run so confidently into school, restored by the same inspirational feeling that travel gives me, too.

My son hasn’t even yet reached the age I was when I first travelled, and he’s been to a dozen different countries and experienced so many varied cultures and people. When I look at how much travelling has impacted my life, and to think that at his age, none of that had started, I feel proud that I’m able to give him these amazing lessons that are shaping his personality and thinking. And I look forward to travelling with him to many more places, and watching both of us continue to grow through travel.

Amanda blogs about travel at NotABallerina.com and hosts The Thoughtful Travel Podcast where she chats with fellow travel-lovers about all of the wonderful lessons travel provides.

May was not meant to be a month of silence. I did not intend to disappear. My plan with the slow technology experiment was only to take a break from social media, not the blog. I had planned to write a post about the role television plays in my life, these days. I had also planned to write a post about how I use technology, as a whole. Of course, as I continue to learn again and again, things don’t always go as planned. Life is not always in our control. In fact, I think it was Lauryn Hill who said, “We can’t plan life. All we can do is be available for it.”

And that’s exactly what I did in May. I made myself available to the two creatures who needed me more than anyone or anything else: our family dogs.

The girls, as we call them, have been part of our family since shortly after I graduated from high school. We brought Molly home in 2004, and got Lexie in 2005. There is no doubt we spoiled them, the way many small dog owners do (and sometimes have to). But they loved the same things as every other dog: going on walks (especially at the beach), eating food and hanging out with their pack. And they each came with their own unique personality. Lexie is a brat who plays by her own rules, and Molly quickly became her protector.

In April, Molly started showing signs she was aging. She ate a little slower, took the stairs a little slower, walked a little slower. We had one scare with her in early May, where we had to leave her in the animal hospital overnight. She quickly recovered, though, and came home the next day. Unfortunately, just 2.5 weeks later, we had to bring her back in. Again, I thought we were going to bring her home the next day, but things don’t always go as planned. Her test results showed us we had to let her go. We said goodbye to Molly (age 13) on May 22nd.

Since then, I have spent almost every minute of every day with Lexie. She’s been adjusting to life without Molly fairly well (probably because I rarely leave her side). However, she started showing her own signs of aging a few weeks ago. While Molly was slowing down, Lexie started doing circles; and walking around like she was drunk; and even bumping into things. It was easy to assume she was just going blind—until she had two seizures. With all of that combined, our vet says it’s likely she has a brain tumor. We got this news on May 26th.

It’s fair to say I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster, this past week. The pain comes in waves. Lexie and I will have a great day, then I’ll crawl into bed and be so uncomfortable in the silence that I burst into tears. Sometimes, it’s just the little things: doing a routine that would have normally involved Molly and remembering she’s not here anymore. I’ve even missed hearing her bark at the mailman. To counter this, there have also been a lot of smiles and laughs in our family, as we share our favourite things about her. Molly was truly loved.

If Lexie does have a brain tumor, there’s no way to tell how long she will be here with us. My heart is broken at the thought of having to say goodbye to her too. So far, two things have helped me not have a breakdown about it: 1) knowing she’s not in pain, and 2) knowing she is blissfully unaware of her condition. That second point is something I think about many times each day, and comes with even more lessons of its own.

While I’ve been trying to figure out what slow living looks like, the girls have been exemplifying it their whole lives. And while they have needed me this month, Molly and Lexie have taught me lessons I will carry with me for a lifetime. <3

• Live in the moment. Dogs have no concept of time. They live one day at a time, and enjoy each moment as it comes. Whether they are laying in the sun, playing with a toy or going for a walk, they are simply happy to be alive – and to be spending that moment with someone in their pack.
• It’s ok to cry. That’s not to say they have no emotions. Molly was one of the most emotional dogs I’ve ever met, and wore her heart on her sleeve. But she didn’t sit around worrying all day. She simply had emotional reactions in the moments they were needed (like when something was wrong with Lexie).
• Make sure your basic needs are met. Dogs only have a few basic needs: food and water, a place to sleep and access to a patch of grass. They don’t care what colour their leash is, how cute their toys and beds are, or anything else. They just need food, water, exercise and sleep. And a human. :)
• Be grateful your basic needs are met. One of the best things about living in the moment is that dogs also have no concept of wanting more. They don’t care about getting the newest or best of anything. They are simply grateful to eat their food, lap up their water, soak up the sun and get some attention.
• Give people your full attention. Speaking of attention, dogs are the one animal that give humans all of theirs. They greet you with pure love and joy. When you’re together, they look at you – not at their cell phones. And for as long as you are willing to give them your attention, they will give theirs to you.
• Nature is therapy. I have never met a dog who didn’t jump at the words, “Do you want to go for a walk?” They don’t care about climbing mountains or running personal bests. And they really don’t care about the pictures you can take and share on social media. Dogs are simply excited to get some fresh air and spend more time with their pack. It also helps them release some energy and sleep better at night.
• Don’t take life too seriously. There is always a reason to play. <3

None of this is to say I’ve put it all into practice and am high on life right now. I’ve spent much of the past week in a daze. While I’m present with Lexie, I have ignored my inbox and my client work. I dragged the vacuum out last Monday, but didn’t actually vacuum the house until yesterday. I even forgot about an important interview, and wrote down the wrong date for my nephew’s birthday party. Grief messes with us. It’s human. I’m human. But my four-legged family members are doing their best to bring me down to earth and remind me to be present.

I’ll do an update on the social media detox next week, but for now I will say this: I don’t know what was shared online, but I know it wasn’t important to me. I don’t care what news I missed, which trends became fashionable or who made the top 10 list of whatever. The only thing that mattered was taking care of the girls, starting to grieve the loss of Molly and making sure Lexie was living her best days. There is nothing more important than the people and animals in our lives. Please give yours an extra hug and cuddle today. xo

UPDATE: Lexie lost her fight on May 31st. My heart is broken, but I’m so grateful I got to spend all her final days with her. The girls are together again. <3