Trading one adventure for the next

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained” – John Heywood, 1546.

As I sit here writing this, staring out the window at a stock standard suburban scene in the south of Christchurch, it’s not hard to wonder “Did we dream it all?”. The buzz and clatter of the re-entry into our new lives in New Zealand has died away, and the frenetic catch ups with family and friends eased to a more sustainable pace. The memories of our epic roadie now seem faint and remote. Such is the curse of the human condition, obsessed and consumed in the immediacy of the moments we are living in right now.

What did we truly gain from our escapades? Was it just a collection of fleeting moments now confined to memories that only exist in print and 1080p videos?

Was it all in vain?

With our 15 seconds of fame over, and interest in our experiences diminishing as we re-join the more regular swim of life, it is apt to reflect on what the journey meant for us, and what echoes will remain.

Investing in a shared adventure as a family is not an investment in a traditional sense. You can’t run a Return on Investment analysis, or a Net Present Value to measure it against other things you could spend your money on. In fact, it can’t really be measured by currency, but rather by what you have spent your time on. It’s a sobering reality that I have just spent as much time together with my children over 3 months as what most men would take 4 years to accrue. It wasn’t all “quality” time, but having a long, slow period of time just hanging out with your kids teaches you a lot about what makes them tick, and what makes them unique.

Michelle and I also used to be adamant that there was no way we could ever work together in a business, or on a major project. We are well suited, but are quite different people and personalities. Now, after thinking back on everything we have been through in moving to the other side of the world and back, we have an enhanced sense of confidence together. There were surprisingly few antagonistic moments, either minor or major, during our time on the road and our ability to solve potentially stressful problems together has grown exponentially.

For me the greatest reward is a lingering sense of quiet assurance, one that I have not traditionally experienced. I’m happier in the small moments, and less rifled when plans get derailed by unexpected moments. It’s given me the confidence to go out on my own as a contractor, shunning the certainty and predictability of regular employment for the flexibility and uncertainty of contract and project based work. Michelle is also extending herself, having won a coveted spot Ao Tawhiti Unlimited Discovery School, an open learning environment with no fixed courses or classrooms that uses the city and surrounds as its extended learning space. Her time on the road helping to turn every moment into a learning experience for the boys certainly helped to get her application over the line for these hotly contested teaching positions.

Lastly, our experience has really impacted our life view and helped us to decide what is important. We were always more “do things” than “have things” people, but we have comfortably downscaled our lifestyle to a more sustainable level following our return. We drive an electric car (powered by NZ’s hydroelectric power supply), bike as much as we can, and eat less red meat to reduce our carbon footprint. We’ve learned to be happier with less, and feel richer for it.

So, if you do have that niggling thought at the front of your brain saying “what would happen if we ….”, don’t ignore it – explore it. Take some calculated risks, make some positive changes to your life and in the lives of those around you. Go explore the world around you, and watch as your own world gets improved in return.