but what does it really mean to ME (or YOU)?

i was thinking about this yesterday morning in a moment of quiet:

• what would be MY trip of a lifetime?
• somewhere i’ve been already?
• a place i’m yet to visit?

it’s almost five years ago that my husband and i both got made redundant on the same day and, after an evening of talking it over, decided to sell our house in new zealand and go see some more of the world. since then, we’ve visited over 20 countries, some of them multiple times. if you’d asked me five years ago today what i’d be doing it five years time, i’m not sure i could have imagined up such an adventurous life, or that i’d be sitting writing to you here on gypsy girls guide.

i’ve been more places than some, fewer than others…. and i’ve made some amazing friends that i would never have, had i not left new zealand.

a few weeks ago a new friend emailed me… i’ve been invited to travel with them at the end of this year.

this is someone that, a few years ago, i would never have dreamed i would meet (let alone become friends with). since the trip has yet to be finalised, i’m not going to say where, or with who, but it’s certainly going to be an adventure.

the invitation was what started this whole thought process off – would this upcoming trip be MY trip of a lifetime?

 i actually don’t know the answer. it’s certainly not somewhere i would have imagined i would ever go.

have you ever thought about what your trip of a lifetime would be?

is it…

• somewhere you have already been?
• somewhere you have always dreamed of going?
• somewhere you are already making plans to visit?

or… could it be the trip of a lifetime is already happening for all of us…

that it’s not a place, a continent, or one short holiday experience
it’s the life we are already living?

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leonie wise is a regular contributor to gypsy girls guide and co-creator of the new zealand creative retreats
you can read more about her travels and random thoughts at leoniewise.com

Looking at 2012, with daring hope.

There is a genre of music my brother has dubbed “college music.” In his mind, college music encompasses some combination of sappy lyrics, acoustic guitars, hipsters, or whining lyrically. College music to him involves the likes of Damien Rice, the National, Bon Iver, and Cat Power — in other words, every artist whose music strikes a chord with me. One summer, he and I were sitting on his balcony in Greece and I was listening to Ray LaMontagne.

Worry… worry, worry, worry, worry. Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone, LaMontagne sang.

“College music,” my brother retorted.

My life’s music, I thought. I am a professional worrier. I worry frequently, and I worry often. It seems dissonant that someone whose whole day can be uplifted by a perfect blue sky will crash with dark thoughts. I am an equal opportunity worrier: I worry about hurting someone’s feelings, about sufficiency and enoughness, about safety, about the world, about my loved ones, about my health, about the future, I worry about what all this worry will do to me in twenty years, about everything that can be a cause of worry under the sun and that perfect blue sky that will fill me with joy.

“Well, duh, you worry. You work in freaking war zones,” I am often told.

Yet, I am less afraid when I am fully immersed. When I am delivering a workshop in a conflict zone, or conducting interviews in a post-conflict setting, or doing something that makes me come alive, fear fades into the background. It is in the quiet moments of the night that the worry gets back into bed with me, holding me in a suffocating embrace, tainting my dreams.

It is not journeys I long for this year. It is not novelty or fireworks I crave, though I welcome all of this into my life and am open to it if it comes. In 2012, I am willing a quiet mind. In 2012, I want to banish Ray LaMontagne for Damien Rice and his belief that I can “look into my eyes and see that noone will harm me.” Some former smokers say that months after quitting smoking, an exhale comes and they breathe deeply, making it all worth it. In 2012, I am living for the exhale.

Roxanne Krystalli writes, photographs and worries at Stories of Conflict and Love. You can follow her on Twitter at @rkrystalli.

It was almost exactly a year ago I started posting here; I thought it would be a year-long series. The first post was called Getting Ready to say, “Yes!” It was about readying yourself to live your own, unique adventure. As I read that post again now, I cannot believe it was just seven and a half years ago I lived in a sprawling, cookie-cutter neighborhood in Colorado, my study of languages and love of foreign travel a distant memory.

In 2011 I was true to my word, true to that post. I readied myself and said, “Yes!” to all the adventures the Universe presented to me. They were far flung. As my very smart friend from Google’d said, how was just logistics. (At one point I was trying to figure out the best way to get from Livingstone, Zambia to work in Chengdu, China.) This video shares a small slice of what ensued. 22 countries. A TEDx talk at London Business School (that didn’t make the video). Feeding baby pandas in Chengdu, China. Safari in Botswana and Zambia. Rio, Hong Kong, Houston, visiting fellow Gypsy Girl Christine in Los Angeles.

I never imagined life could be like this. Thank you for being part of it. I hope you’ll enjoy the video. It was that same Googler friend who asked, “How was 2011?” Here is my reply. (The perfect Gypsy Girl song is Sara Bareilles‘ “Many the Miles,” purchased on iTunes.) Enjoy.

Life can look like this, Gypsy Girls. I would love to assist any of you who longs to create a life that’s true to you – your own unique adventure. How did the year go for you?

As inspiration, I’ll leave you with this snippet from Tara Sophia Mohr’s poem titled, “In the End.” ’Seems fitting. It’s included in the video above, too.

What you’ll want a thousand years from now is this:
a memory that beats like a heart–
a travel memory, of what it was to walk here,
alive and warm and textured within.

Rebecca is an American expat living in Zurich. She designs and delivers leadership development experiences for multinational firms and works as an executive coach all over the world. She took all the photos in the video in 2011 (except ones she’s in & one a travel companion snapped out their tuk-tuk in Siem Reap, Cambodia).

{Ann Howley ~ another world traveler ~ and Vineeta Nair last week at the Desire to Inspire book launch. Photo by Justin Davis Davanzo.}

I have wanted to visit India for years. Drawn to its wild juxtapositions, color, energy, and intensity ~ all details that I have read or heard about from fellow nomads who have been there ~ I imagine being overwhelmed in ways that would not be possible elsewhere. I don’t know when I will go there, but I know I will. In the meantime, I drink up stories from a country that is halfway around the world as if it were a magic elixir, capable of transporting me to this place I have been drawn to for a very long time.

One of the ways I have been able to get my “India Fix” for the past many months has been Vineeta Nair’s Indian design blog, ArtnLight. Full of color and beauty and vivid imagery, I go there when I need a dose of inspiration for my artwork as well as my travel bug. When I began compiling my list of potential contributors for Desire to Inspire, I knew I wanted Vineeta involved. I simply had to have a little bit of India in the book, and, thankfully, she said yes.

In addition to sharing her stories, sending images, and being an all-around force of good throughout the entire process of writing the book, Vineeta endured an intense visa application process and two long flights in order to be in Santa Monica for the book launch last week. As soon as her flight was booked, I started telling anyone who would listen that I had a contributor ~ and friend ~ coming for the book launch all the way from India….INDIA!, each time punctuating my sentence with the all caps, bold repeat of the name of her home country. At the book launch, I lost track of how many people came up to me and asked, “Where is the woman who came from India (INDIA!)?” and I would happily point her out, our celebrity from Mumbai.

I have had a passion for travel ever since I was thirteen years old, and this passion has taken me all over the world. In addition to the journeys I have taken on airplanes and ships and trains, this passion has also taken me to faraway places through friendships, and many of these friends have brought a little bit of where they are from into my home when they’ve visited. I know I can’t really say “I have been to India”, but in a strange way I feel like I have…or at least that India has been to me. And for now, I’ll take it. I’ll take every single bit of it.

“So far as I am able to judge, nothing has been left undone, either by man or nature, to make India the most extraordinary country that the sun visits on his rounds. Nothing seems to have been forgotten, nothing overlooked.” ~Mark Twain

Christine Mason Miller is an artist, writer, and explorer from Santa Monica, California. She’s off to the Big Apple next month, and after that, who knows. Her latest book ~ Desire to Inspire ~ is now available on Amazon and in bookstores everywhere.

I have been wondering about something. When you go on an adventure, at what point is it that you actually choose to go? Is it when you get to the airport, ticket in hand and bag on your back? Is it when you pick your dates and book your journey? Is it when the dream of somewhere new enters your head? Or is it some other time, when you just choose to break up your routine and do something different, just because?

There is something so exciting about booking flights.  I have booked hundreds over the years, but I always get a thrill from seeing the destination spelt out on my ticket. It is like an invitation to adventure. And we are going on a seriously big adventure. We are moving to Japan and have booked our flights for the end of March.  Not sure how long we will be away – it might be six months, it might be eight or nine.  All I know is that it is going to be so special, and I cannot wait!

What adventures are you planning in 2012?

Beth Nicholls is a regular contributor to Gypsy Girls Guide. After a hectic year of so much ‘doing’ in 2011, she is looking forward to a year of adventuring in 2012.

Take a simple thing like going to the gym. I’ve finally returned to regular workouts, congratulate me please. Apart from being proud of myself for shifting my attention from the bakery to strength training, I’m also proud that I’m no longer feeling ridiculously lily-livered every time I go. But let me tell you it was no easy feat.

For the last 12 years I’ve worked out in gyms exclusively for women and I liked it that way. Never mind the gawking, it was all the grunting and groaning that finally did me in. But there’s only one gym around these parts and there’s no escaping the big boys at this one, not even in the change rooms, or should I say room as there is only one. So far driving home soaked in sweat is working out just fine.

So on my first visit I was hanging by the entrance dilly-dallying to put off the inevitable entry. I finally mustered up the resolve and of course the first people I saw were three gigantic men. I was trying to avoid any eye contact which became impossible as they decided to form a wall of muscle in front of the gym door. Merde. But then the oddest thing happened. With a smiley, “Bonjour Madame,” they each extended an enormous hand for a shake. I complied and they moved on leaving me bewildered and sweating bullets before I’d even started. I soldiered on into the weight room and just imagine my relief to be the only woman in the place.

So there I was doing my best to be inconspicuous when yet another beefy young man came in. He walked straight toward me and a with a gracious bow of his head offered me a solemn ‘Bonjour Madame’ as well as his hand then did the rounds with everyone in the room. I had no idea what the hell was going on but just as I was trying not to heave up a lung on the treadmill, every man in the place started presenting themselves to me for the ritual. Well I never!

Turns out this isn’t a one time introductory thing, it happens every time I go. I’m starting to get used to it, me and a gaggle of the world’s most polite bodybuilders. It’s bizarre to stop in the middle of a set for a greeting but quite simply that’s how it’s done. Even the guy who looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger manages to grunt out a very pleasant au revoir while he’s bench pressing 1000 pounds.

I guess all that testosterone must be having an effect on me because today I boldly walked right up to a burly Frenchman and asked him about this gym etiquette. He told me that when you join the gym you become part of an association sportive, a members only club that owns and operates the joint so social graces are part of the deal. And at 80 euros for an annual membership who can argue with that?

Despite his brawn he was remarkably courteous and so very patient with my disastrous French. In fact he charmed me right into thinking that I’d misjudged these jock types. That is until, without any information about my situation, he said, “So you’ve moved to France for your retirement?” Ah yes, I’m 43 but apparently I don’t look a day over 60. Well they do say that steroids can cause visual disturbances. But they also say that exercise boosts self esteem so I choose to see it another way. I just look rich for my age.

Bobbi French is a regular contributor to Gypsy Girl’s Guide

I just left my love in London. At Gatwick airport. Standing there, watching me go through security, waving goodbye. It breaks my heart every single time no matter how often we’ve done it over the past 2 and a half years. And now here I am again, on a jet plane, 30 000 feet in the air, drinking tea out of a plastic cup, homeward bound, the distance between us growing ever wider.

I wanted to tell you about the view from his flat and how it looked different every single day — the way sunshine fell upon London with romantic affection some afternoons or how the sky cloaked the city with thick grey fog and veils of rain certain mornings. I wanted to tell you how my life in London over the past 5 months felt like that view — sometimes golden, sometimes grey.

But truth be told, I can’t for the life of me write a decent post at the moment. Because truth be told, beneath this thin layer of sadness is a total lack of focus and an overwhelming giddiness every time I look down at the ring on my finger and all I really want to say is I’M ENGAGED! I want to shout it from the rooftops, such is my joy. So you’ll have to forgive this indulgent post. It cannot be helped. I’M GETTING MARRIED!

Despite the challenges, the pressures, the insecurities… he knelt down on one knee at Hampstead Heath last Saturday and proposed to me. And in doing so, he/we are saying yes to it all, to figuring out, to making it work. And there is so much comfort in this yes that I’m just going to sit here and soak it all in for awhile.

We’re thinking winter wedding in Canada and April reception in England. The daffodils will be out by then. Has a nice ring to it, yes?

Jeanine Caron is a regular contributor to Gypsy Girl’s Guide.

But he does have one interesting gap in his rationality.

He loves lottery tickets. When we lived in Canada, every week he’d hand over 2 bucks for his chance at the big prize. With great dramatic flair he’d wave his ticket in the air, “This is the one. I just know it.” And every week he was genuinely surprised to discover that he was not $10 million dollars richer. While I’m no genius, I do know the odds of winning but there’s something so beautiful about his optimism, his unwavering ‘why not me?’ line of thinking.

So now that we live in France, he’s all over the Euromillions prize. He walks up to the tabac and requests his little piece of paper. You should see the smile on his face. Standing next to him I can almost feel his hope. It’s odd because I’ve never seen a person less attached to money and material than my husband. I mean this is a man who was happy to slash our household income by 70 percent to live a small life in a small town. He is a model of financial restraint. Apart from his wedding suit, he has never once paid full price for a piece of clothing.

But my husband is also a kind man. Many a time I’ve asked to hear his plans for a giant check with a big string of zeros on it. First, he graciously offers to give me half as if he weren’t required by law to do so. Then he quickly lays out his plan for his family, how he would want to set everybody up so that they could be free to do whatever they want for the rest of their lives.

Of course I am probably the most illogical person on the planet so his lottery fantasies easily rub off on me. Now I too expect him to win and I find myself creating elaborate fantasies about my half of the loot. Obviously, family, friends and charities are my first thought but I will admit to portioning off a small amount for a new wardrobe from Paris. Nothing stupid like a $10,000 purse from Hermès, just some nice Frenchy clothes that fit me. But my big splurge would be travel. Vienna, Prague, Warsaw, Budapest, Seville, Copenhagen and full tour of France and Italy.

I’d eat a meal at a world famous restaurant and taste one truly great wine. I’d go to a spa and have a few things rubbed and wrapped. I’d hire my physiotherapist, Elodie to tend on me, and only me, for the rest of my days. And I’d buy every book I’ve ever wanted to read.

I’ve thought of getting my own ticket. But I already hit the jackpot with my Monsieur and last week I signed a deal to turn my gypsy stories into a book. And even for a fool like me, that’s just too much luck to push.

What will you do when your numbers come up?

Bobbi French is a regular contributor to Gypsy Girl’s Guide

When you hear people talking about ‘doing what you love’ do you ever find yourself saying things like “Sounds good but… I don’t know what I love… / I love too many things and can’t decide what to focus on… / It takes time and money and I don’t have enough of either… / I’m scared…”?  

I have been receiving a lot of emails lately asking questions like these, so I wanted to share a few of the real truths about doing what you love. These are all truths I have realised over the past year as I have been on this rollercoaster journey towards doing what I truly love. 

1) It isn’t hard, but it is hard work.  You need to be prepared to commit to following your dream.

2) You don’t have to choose one thing and do it forever, but you do need to stick at it until you make it happen – and then you can decide where to go next

3) It does take time and money, but not as much as you might think – and you probably have access to more of both than you realise

4) You don’t have to do it alone.  People are more willing to support you than you might think – sometimes you just need to ask

5) It is possible.  You just have to believe that.

Beth Nicholls is founder of Do What You Love and a regular contributor to Gypsy Girls Guide. When she’s not writing, taking photos or making stuff you can probably find her in an airport heading off somewhere.

{Time to let go and run wild! Photo taken by Desire to Inspire contributor Pixie Campbell.}

Expectations ~ they can make for many a perfect, sparkling fantasy in the wide expanses of my imagination, where the anticipation of how something is going to look, feel, taste, and happen can amplify unfettered. I use the phrase “I am looking forward to….” a lot, and if I’m using it, it is in relation to some kind of longed-for, hoped-for, planned-for experience:

“I am looking forward to the day this project is finished.”

“I am looking forward to the dinner I have planned with my friends.”

“I am looking forward to the day I can teach Tilda to fold laundry.”

Such imaginings are not inherently bad, but I have learned the importance of keeping them in check. I’ve also come to realize that no matter how much I try to manage these particular ribbons of thought, they are going to find a way to unfurl without my even noticing, until the day I physically step into whatever moment I have been looking forward to and run smack into a situation that looks nothing like I thought it would. Whether I decide an actual outcome is good or bad is irrelevant; the more important point is that it is different, often times wildly so, than what I had so carefully (or perhaps unconsciously) sculpted in my mind.

The glaring exception to this occurs when I travel. In no other circumstance in my life am I better adept at releasing expectations and literally going with the flow. Because I consider travel, particularly overseas, such a wondrous adventure, I am always more open to the twists and turns that each journey is going to offer me. It is not only fun and exciting to get my passport stamped, it is also thrilling to let go of so much of the control I delude myself into thinking I have under my own roof.

Ever since I signed a contract with North Light Books for the publication of my forthcoming book ~ Desire to Inspire: Using Creative Passion to Transform the World ~ I have considered it a journey of sorts. It has been a journey of writing and collaboration, where my work has been to explore and then (hopefully) clearly express some of my most deeply-held values with the help of nineteen amazing contributors. And it is the kind of project that, if I had not been especially vigilant, could have become so weighted down by expectations that when it came time to release it to the world, it might have hit the earth with the thud instead of gently setting off like a heron.

I do not know where Desire to Inspire will go. I do not know whether or not anyone will like it and I can’t predict whether or not it will lead to more book projects. With its now mere-days-away official release date*, I feel like I am getting ready to board a proverbial airplane (or rocket ship, or magic carpet, or what have you) with the book in hand, where an unknown adventure awaits us.

Whenever I go on a trip, the officially crossing over from journey preparation to journey commencement occurs when I get through the security screening at the airport. Once I’m through the scanners with ziploc baggie re-packed and shoes back on, any and all mental or actual to do lists melt away. I have done what I can do and prepared as much as I can, and if I’ve done my work, my only task from that point forward is to enjoy myself. In just a few days, Desire to Inspire will begin shipping from the North Light warehouse, and then the journey begins. Whatever happens will happen, and I’m just along for the ride.

* The official release date from North Light is November 22nd, so it should start popping up in bookstores and on Amazon 2-3 weeks later!

Christine Mason Miller is an artist, writer, and explorer from Santa Monica, California. The official book launch for Desire to Inspire will be held there on Thursday, December 15th. Click here for details and let her know if you’d like to join in the fun!