September 2017

When traveling, often the first question people politely ask you is where you’re from. That is always such an awkward question to me, because I am not rooted in my hometown or frankly any town I’ve ever lived in. Still, there is truth in understanding someone based on where they’ve lived.

I’ve lived in many places so far, but this is the first time I’m living in the country.

So, to answer that initial question, I grew up in suburbia. East Petersburg, Pennsylvania

Me in my suburban front yard when I was about 5 years old.

was a very, very small town outside of Lancaster, which is only slightly big enough to be called a city. East Pete was a lovely place for a kid: There was a creek that my friends and I could investigate, piles of leaves to jump in, honeysuckle to eat, wild raspberries to pick and not-too-crazy hills to sled and ride our bikes down. I could walk to a store with my friends, and that was about the extent of it.

When I was a little older, my family moved closer to the city, but not too much closer. It was still suburbia, with a few more shops in walking distance, a bigger creek to investigate, a pond to ponder near and hills to hike with my friends. Once I could drive, we’d escape the suburbs to go see live music in Philadelphia, which wasn’t too far away. But it was still pretty far away. In these small suburbs, I learned that the world is safe, fun and filled with family.

Me is the suburban kitchen where I grew up. Now eat your veggies!

In other countries, the suburbs is even not a thing. Where I am now, in the countryside of Argentina, I’m either in the small Villa or I’m in the city. In between is vineyard, no subdivisions or strip malls. I tried to expand this concept to people in Dominican Republic and was met with very strange looks. And it’s true. The suburbs are strange.

At the first opportunity I had, I moved far away from suburbia. I moved to New York City. To anyone who lives remotely nearby, it’s actually called “The” City. That’s where I went to university, and I really enjoyed the first taste of independence as an adult. I bought this vintage, long, black pleather jacket with embroidery and a fake-fur trim, and I wore it over my bell bottom jeans and turquoise vintage printed top and walked down Broadway. And you know what? No one cared. It was a beautiful moment when I realized that I could be anyone I wanted to be. Unlike in suburbia where neighbors peer out their windows at you, I was completely free to be myself in all my glory. I learned during my time in the city that limits are really in your mind. I was immediately able to stop caring what other people thought of me. It was awesome.

But city life can be a drag, too. Although I checked out a lot of live music, museums, art exhibits, parks and awesome parties filled with creative people, I was tired and uptight. It is really hard to lounge around on a sofa all day when there are endless, interesting events going on all around you all the time. Some days, though, I really needed to relax. When I graduated, I moved to the beach.

Me, relaxing on the beach — Note the Fort Lauderdale condo in the background. This is definitely not the Caribbean!

Florida living was cool; I rented a house about five minutes from the beach. It was suburban, too, really, but different because I spent so much time in the ocean. For years, I spent all my free time snorkeling, surfing, bodysurfing, collecting shells and relaxing on the sand. But after a while, I couldn’t deny that Florida is also filled with strip malls and people honking at traffic lights. I went on a date with a man who was proud to have never read an entire book in his life. I had to go.

Suburbia, check. City life, check. What’s next? Sailing life, duh! I got rid of most of my things and moved on to a sailboat. I lived in the Bahamas and the Dominican Republic for a year or so before moving back on to land in the US Virgin Islands. Caribbean living is very different as well. I learned a lot of patience there and embraced the joys of a life without endless consumerism offers. Then I sold everything I owned that I couldn’t carry and started traveling (missing not one but TWO Category 5 hurricanes, still feeling gratitude there). I

To help the US Virgin Islands recover from Hurricanes Irma and Maria, you can donate here: https://www.usvirecovery.org 

lived the last month housesitting in the desert, where I was reminded of the blessings I could offer the beings around me (and in turn, receive). It all helped prepare me for where I am living now.

As I write this, it’s still a little chilly here in the countryside of Argentina, but the intermittent warm days have ushered in fresh buds on the fruit trees. Since I don’t speak Spanish very well, I’m not doing a lot of socializing yet. Every morning, I wake up naturally (there isn’t even a clock in the bedroom) and put on coffee. I’ll make a little breakfast, then feed the dog and cat. If it hasn’t rained, I water the yard. There’s a horse that comes over and asks for water as well. One day I played my ukulele for her and she was so relaxed she almost fell over asleep! I felt like the horse whisperer. I like to pet that horse for a long time.

Every day, the dog and I take long walks by the riverside in the shadows of mountains. We trudge through a small swamp and then meander our way back through the brush. I have to watch where I’m walking because it’s a horse pasture. There’s shit everywhere, but then, I see horses grazing every day as well. The shorebirds yell loudly whenever we are nearby. There’s one big tree that is literally swarming with activity – I can hear the bee nest but I have yet to find it.

We turn the corner on our walk to get on a dirt road that leads back to the house. This is when I see the neighbors. One old man works every day in his yard, tending what seems to be a garden. He always stops and greets me as I pass. There’s a house across the road from his that is teaming with children. Dogs rush out to greet us. Sometimes a motorcycle goes by, and the driver will say “Hola.”

Meet Marianna! She is my neighbor and the first real horse friend I’ve ever had

Sometimes I walk or ride my bike into the Villa, and some days a friend will drive me to the city of San Rafael for provisions. But I am really enjoying the quiet of the country. I write, play music, read, watch movies, practice yoga, cook and day-dream. If I want to interact with people, I turn to social media – but never for long. I’ve already learned that people who lack compassion need to be welcomed with an even more open heart.

Living in the country is a wonderful way to return to myself and listen to myself. When the big plan of the day is collecting the dandelion leaves from the yard for a salad, things are good. I am studying Spanish and practicing my music, focusing on my health while also enjoying a glass of local Malbec.

It’s the simplicity that is so magical. It seems too easy to complicate life in the suburbs and certainly in the city. On the islands, too, I seemed to have drama following me. Now the biggest drama is me breaking a glass jar filled with some nuts and dried fruit. My response? Get a broom and sweep it up. It’s really just that simple.

Forward, never straight! Just walking one foot in front of the other (AKA straight) may get you somewhere, but it won’t get you to where you could dream to go. You want to move forward, not backward, not sideways. It is the only way to truly progress in life … and you only know the best way for you if you listen very, very closely to yourself.

Google for the win! I searched “little voice on your shoulder” and discovered THIS.

There is a voice inside of you, (its name is Intuition) telling you exactly what you should be doing right now. In your heart of hearts, you know exactly how to propel yourself into the next awesome stratosphere of your life. You know better than anyone what is right, without having to debate. How often do you listen?

Today, I am thinking about my little voice – and how I followed it. I am currently on a different continent, nearly 6,000 km from the island I lived on just five weeks ago … an island that is now looking at a serious amount of destruction due to Hurricane Irma. The homes of my friends are destroyed: filled with sand, crawling with crabs, all their possessions lost. Some of my friends are still unaccounted for. Boats sunk. No power. No supplies. No flights out.

I had many opportunities to stay on St. Thomas, but somehow, I knew that was not what I should do. Retrospectively, I was pushing myself to get off the island, even though all the “easy” options had me staying right there. I could have moved on to three – YES! THREE! – boats that were moored in St. Thomas. I could have rented another apartment or moved in with a friend whose boyfriend just moved out. I could have worked as a captain on my friend’s sailboat, which she chartered out to tourists to sail around St. John, which is also

Heartbreak in the British Virgin Islands from Hurricane Irma

facing massive destruction.

Had I chosen any of those options, I would have been facing a post-hurricane disaster right now. I would have been burdened by thousands of dollars-worth of my belongings, a sweet kitty and no way of making money, since there is no internet, no yoga classes, no power to charge up my computer. I would have been suddenly moving backward – sideways at best – instead of moving forward.

It was hard to hear during the last week in June when my plans to sail south fell apart, but that little voice said, “Suzanne, step it up. The challenge is on.”

To anyone who saw me in July, they probably witnessed my eyes rolling toward the back my head with craziness. I was homeless, frantically selling my surfboard, paddleboard, SCUBA gear, djembe, clothing and books, while creating a wild game plan of housesitting for strangers around the world. In a couple weeks, I had bought airline tickets and set up Skype meetings with homeowners in towns I’ve never been to and where knew no one. At the same time, I decided to learn a new instrument and a new language. Seriously, who does that?

Someone who is listening closely to that little voice.

Because instead of dealing with the mayhem of a hurricane – as I type it’s hitting the town in Florida where I lived for more than a decade and could have also very easily

My favorite time of the day is Golden Hour, this time in the heart of Argentina drinking yerba mate with new friends.

moved back instead of moving on – I am enjoying the peace and quiet of a country cottage in a lovely pueblo in Argentina. Today, I took a long walk along the Rio Diamente with the sweet dog I’m watching, and I played ukulele by the fire. A cute cat is currently on my lap. I am drinking yerba mate.

Yesterday, friends asked me if I felt like the universe was conspiring in my favor, to get me to leave the islands and Florida before disaster struck. Yes, it does feel that way.

Looking back, it wasn’t clear why I felt the need to get myself down to a huge backpack of belongings, ukulele and computer all in the span of a few weeks. But my little voice – my intuition, the gap between conscious and unconscious – told me it was time to let go of all the attachments, all the relationships and the habits that were not serving me. It was time to propel myself forward.

News flash: Change is not easy. The last two months were really challenging, as I searched for recipients for the things I couldn’t fit on my back at once. I had to find a loving home for my beloved kitty (an original option was having her stay on island! I am so grateful those plans fell through … a situation that was stressful at the time). Then once I delivered Penelope to her new comfortable home with my friend Dave, I flew on and learned to get along in a strange town without knowing anyone. I had to find own footing and friends while also furiously learning Spanish. I was so unsure of myself. But I

Penelope is a furry companion to all – especially people with three different kinds of cat food, lots of comfortable space for napping and comfortable laps. Thanks Dave!!!

did it.

I flew into Buenos Aires in the middle of an airline strike. Thousands of people crammed into the airport, and no one was working. All the flights were canceled. Did I mention my Spanish allows me to pick up about every fifth word someone says at a normal talking speed? By the grace of God, my friend’s father just happened to be in Buenos Aires that day. He was an angel who helped me catch an overnight bus to the small town where I’ll be living. Did I mention that amazingly good wine is $4US a bottle here?

My point is, dear reader, that I have no idea what I’m doing. I definitely know I’m not going straight … but I’m definitely moving forward.

I feel incredibly blessed to be so connected with my highest self to have enough faith to do the things that are so very foreign to me. Just today, I’ve Googled: “How to build a good fire,” “How to make yerba mate,” and “How to use a bidet.” Seriously, which way do YOU face on that thing?

Or another way to ask: Which way is YOUR forward? You don’t need to know what’s at the end of your road; in fact, that’s probably impossible. I was repacking my over-stuffed pack in New Mexico to head to Argentina last week, and it felt like that scene in the Harry Potter series, when he looks across the pond and sees his Patronus and realizes that he can do it because he already had. I knew I could fit it all in, because I already had.

I can do what is best for me, to propel myself forward, because that little voice deep inside of me already knows what to do. I just have to listen to myself. Are you listening to yourself?