Rooted and Wandering: Where Will We Best Exist?

 

Lately, I’ve found myself reflecting on the places we’ve lived, the places we’ve visited, and the ones still tugging at us from a distance. Not just the locations, but the feelings they left behind. What they taught us. How they shaped who we are—and how they continue to shape what we long for.

With the world shifting so quickly, we keep asking where we truly belong. Where will we best exist—not just to survive, but to feel alive, to grow, to breathe more deeply? The kind of place that supports who we are now, and who we’re still becoming.

For me, the stillness I felt in Mexico wasn’t just peace—it was revelation. It was the quiet understanding that life can look entirely different from what we’re used to… and that’s not just okay—it’s beautiful. Mexico showed me that existence doesn’t have to come with pressure. That it’s enough to live simply, intentionally, in rhythm with your surroundings. It softened something in me, reminded me I don’t need to hustle to be worthy.

Out west, it was a different kind of awakening. The freedom of wide-open land, of movement, of risk and discovery. There was something electric out there—an aliveness that stirred restlessness and wonder in me. That call to roam still echoes sometimes, inviting me to follow it again.

And then, almost unexpectedly, there was Florida. I didn’t think I’d be so moved by it, but something about exploring there—traveling from place to place, discovering the in-between spaces—made me crave more. It stirred the vanlife dream in me: to drive, to wander, to take our time seeing what’s really out there. There’s something about discovering a place on your own terms that feels like freedom.

And then there was Switzerland. That felt like something else entirely. Like home—but not in the way I know home now. It felt like it held me. Like it recognized me. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was something deeper—something ancestral. My mom’s parents immigrated to Canada from Switzerland and France, and being there stirred a quiet question: What if there’s something in the land, in the energy of a place, that calls to the energy in our being? What if belonging isn’t just about where we are, but where we come from?

We traveled to Spain and Portugal, too, and I had imagined I’d be drawn to Spain. But it was Portugal that surprised me. It felt gentle and rich with possibility. Even though I still felt like an outsider there, something in me thought—I could exist here. It didn’t wrap itself around me the way Switzerland did, but it opened a door in my mind. A soft maybe.

I’ve also been thinking about where I came from more literally—growing up in Canada. That life shaped me before I ever stepped into who I am now. Being from a different country gave me a wider lens. I learned early that the world isn’t black and white. It’s not “us and them.” It’s all of us—intertwined and overlapping. That view has never left me.

My dad worked odd shifts as a firefighter—gone when others were home, home when others were gone. That was my first glimpse into a different way of life. One that wasn’t built on a 9-to-5 rhythm. It showed me that meaning and stability don’t have to look traditional. And maybe that early exposure is why I’ve always felt drawn to lives that move a little differently.

And yet, even after all these places, experiences, and awakenings—there are still mornings when I sit quietly within myself on this noisy, busy street where we live now, and feel deeply grateful. Even with the rush of traffic and the hum of life all around, I can still find a kind of stillness. This house feels like a partner. Not just a place we live in, but a space that lives with us. It stands confidently, unique and proud, not trying to blend in. That inspires me. It reminds me we don’t have to either.

Maybe we’re meant to carry pieces of every place with us. Maybe each chapter, each landscape, gives us something essential. Something we need in that season. Some of them stay with us longer, shaping how we dream about the future.

And still, the question lingers:

Where will we best exist?

We don’t know the answer yet. But I think we’ll know it when we feel it.