I’ve gotten used to having three SIM cards, three addresses and three countries to call home.
The idea of home has shifted somewhat, and so has my obsession with defining it.
Where I’ve landed is that home isn’t so much a place, or a fixed location, but a feeling.
I’ve always been my happiest when I’m moving around, between places. Whether that’s a rickety tuk-tuk dashing through dusty streets in south-east asia, or the few moments of calm waiting at the airport departure gate. I’ve never really had any good ideas sitting in one spot. I tend to have a clearer head when I’m in the air, on a boat, or scrambling around a foreign train station. Maybe it’s the challenge of it all that activates me.
The world is so global now that my favourite experiences can be unlocked anywhere. I can enjoy Melbourne-quality coffee in any major city, and I can appreciate Scandinavian design wherever I choose to look for it. A great book is still a great book, regardless of where you read it.
I’ve done reasonably well in life, and consequently I get to enjoy the label of being a nomad. Which isn’t really fair, because I’d be more than happy to accept the term gypsy, or better yet, a lost kid who is just wandering around, chasing new experiences and moments of bliss. That sounds pretty good to me too.
There comes a point where you’ve seen too much, and done too much, to stop and appreciate one single place forever. Home is in many countries, with many different people.
I have the feeling that I can unlock home anywhere, and that’s really quite a liberating thought.
Except for the 4 tax returns, that’s a pain in the ass.
Originally published at https://www.bencampbell.co on October 18, 2020.