# Week 2 October 2026 Mindful Moments Digest


## October 5: Making Room for the Next Adventure

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261005-f-house-on-market" alt="Making Room for the Next Adventure" width="1200" >}}

There comes a time when you realize that sometimes making room for the next adventure means letting go of something you love.

This week, we are putting our home on the market. It's more than four walls, windows and a place to keep our things. It's the home where we have shared meals, celebrated milestones, welcomed family and friends, laughed until our stomachs hurt and created memories we will carry with us wherever we go.

Life has a funny way of reminding us that home isn't always a place. Sometimes home is the people we love, the experiences we collect and the freedom to follow curiosity wherever it leads.

We're ready to make room for more travel, new places, different experiences and perhaps a little more spontaneity. We don't know exactly what the next chapter will look like, and honestly, that's part of the excitement.

Of course, we're hoping for a quick sale! But there is something rather lovely about imagining another family walking through these doors and eventually saying, "This is home." They'll fill these rooms with their own celebrations, Sunday dinners, quiet mornings, family gatherings and stories we will never know.

And that feels right.

We're not really leaving the memories behind. We're simply making room for new ones.

Here's to closing one door with a grateful heart, opening another with a little excitement, and leaving plenty of room for whatever adventure comes next.

Sometimes the best way to make room for the next chapter is to let someone else begin theirs in the pages of the one you're leaving behind.

Adventurously yours,
Ms. Mindful Traveller

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261003-2-awesome-colours" alt="The view from our home toward the pool, surrounded by autumn colours" width="1200" >}}

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261005-2-fire-pit" alt="The fire pit in our backyard where so many evenings were spent" width="1200" >}}

## October 6: The Essential Traveller

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261006-f-essentialism" alt="The Essential Traveller" width="1200" >}}

For a long time, I thought making the most of a vacation meant making the most of every minute. If we were in a new city, surely we needed to see the famous sights, visit the museums, find the best restaurants, take the walking tour, explore the neighbourhoods and somehow fit in a sunset cocktail before collapsing into bed. After all, we had travelled all that way, so we certainly weren't going to waste a minute.

Then I realized that sometimes I was coming home from vacation needing another vacation to recover from the first one.

Perhaps there is another way to travel.

Essentialism is about recognizing what truly matters and being willing to let go of everything that doesn't. When I think about that through the eyes of a traveller, it feels wonderfully liberating. We don't have to see everything, do everything or experience every attraction a destination has to offer. In fact, trying to fit it all in can leave us so busy checking things off our list that we forget to actually experience where we are.

Some of my favourite travel memories have nothing to do with the things we planned months in advance. They are the moments when we sat at a little café longer than we intended because the conversation was too good to leave, wandered down a street simply because it looked interesting, discovered a restaurant because someone recommended it, or found ourselves sitting somewhere beautiful with nowhere else we needed to be.

Those are the moments when I feel like I'm actually travelling rather than simply visiting.

Maybe essentialism is also about deciding what we want to carry with us. I'm not just talking about the suitcase, although I have certainly learned that I can survive a trip without packing an outfit for every possible mood. I'm talking about the mental baggage, too. The pressure to make every day extraordinary, the feeling that we're somehow doing travel wrong if we haven't seen enough, and the temptation to compare our experience with everyone else's highlight reel.

There is something wonderfully freeing about saying, "This is enough."

Maybe today we don't need another attraction. Maybe we need a long lunch. Maybe we don't need to catch the next tour. Maybe we need to sit by the water and watch the boats go by. Maybe the best thing we can put on our itinerary is a big, beautiful blank space.

For me, travelling more mindfully has meant becoming much more selective about what deserves my time and energy. I want the meals that turn into memories, the conversations that make us laugh until our stomachs hurt, the walks that lead somewhere unexpected and the quiet mornings when there is nowhere we have to be. I want to experience a place rather than conquer it.

I think that is the beauty of essentialism: when we stop trying to fit everything into our journey, we finally have room to notice what is already there.

The world isn't going anywhere. We don't have to see it all in one trip, and we don't need to leave a destination exhausted simply to prove that we made the most of it. We can always come back, or perhaps leave a few things undiscovered for the next adventure.

**The Mindful Traveller thought**

Travel isn't a competition to see who can do the most, visit the most places or return home with the longest list of accomplishments. It is an invitation to be somewhere new with an open mind and enough space to actually notice the people, the food, the beauty, the laughter and the unexpected moments that make a journey memorable.

Choose what matters to you. Let go of what doesn't. Leave room for the unexpected.

The goal isn't to return home saying, "We did everything."

It's to return home thinking, "We were truly there."

Yours in reflection,
Ms. Mindful Traveller

P.S. If the idea of doing less but better resonates with you, the book that inspired this post is {{< ref-link "essentialism" "<em>Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less</em> by Greg McKeown" >}} — a wonderful read for travellers and anyone craving a simpler way.

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{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261006-1-harbour-view" alt="A quiet harbour view with boats drifting by — the kind of place worth sitting a while" width="1200" >}}

## October 7: Travelling Through the Pen

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261007-f-pen" alt="Travelling Through the Pen" width="1200" >}}

I've always thought there was another way to travel, and it doesn't always require a passport.

You can travel through the pen.

Before we leave, our journal is the place where we put all those thoughts swirling around in our heads. Where are we going? What are we curious about? What have we heard about the place? What are we hoping to find? If we're being honest, what are we slightly nervous about?

Writing those things down before we leave can be surprisingly interesting. Then, when we come home, we can see how much of our imagined trip actually happened. Usually, some of it did. Some of it definitely didn't. Inevitably, some of the best parts probably weren't even on the list at all.

While we're away, the journal doesn't have to become another item on the vacation schedule. There is no need to write a three-page essay every evening after walking 20,000 steps. A few words over breakfast, a paragraph while having a coffee, or a quick note before bed can be plenty.

Write down the funny things.

The unexpected things.

The people you met.

The place you almost missed because you were looking at your phone.

The restaurant someone recommended that turned out to be fantastic or the dud.

Write down the things you want to remember but know you'll probably forget.

Photographs are wonderful, but they don't always capture what was happening inside your head. A picture might show the sunset, but your journal can remind you who you were sitting beside, what you were talking about, what you were drinking and why you thought, "I really like it here."

There is also the writing we do after we return.

That's when we get to look back with a little distance. We may remember the trip differently than we expected. Perhaps the attraction we were most excited about was forgettable, while an ordinary afternoon became one of our favourite memories.

That is the beauty of writing while we travel. We're not simply recording where we've been. We're paying attention to our own experience of being there.

So pack the pen.

Leave a little room in the suitcase for the journal.

And don't worry about writing something profound. Sometimes "best coffee ever" or "got completely lost and somehow ended up at the beach" is exactly the kind of valuable information future-you needs.

Travel through the pen before, during and after the adventure. You may be surprised by what you discover when you read your own story later.

Yours pen in hand,
Ms. Mindful Traveller

## October 8: The Treasures We Take Home

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261008-f-shopping" alt="The Treasures We Take Home" width="1200" >}}

Some days simply fill your bucket. A day spent shopping with my mom, my aunt and my sister-in-law is one of those days. The kind of day filled with conversation, wandering, unexpected finds and, most importantly, belly laughs.

Shopping has always been a bit of a love language for me. Some of my earliest memories are of taking my great-grandmother out every other week with my mom. Over the years, Mom and I have had countless adventures, wandering through local shops and exploring stores wherever our travels have taken us. Shopping with my aunt brings an instant smile to my face, and my sister-in-law and I have searched for that special something in boutiques and markets all over the world.

Notice that I keep saying shopping, not buying.

Sometimes we find the perfect treasure. Sometimes we walk out empty-handed. We might vintage shop one day and wander through a little boutique the next. It really doesn't matter what we find or whether we find anything at all.

The best part isn't what comes home in a shopping bag. It's the stories, the laughter, the conversations in the car, the "look at this!" moments and the memories that somehow become more valuable with time.

These are the core memories we don't always recognize we're making while we're making them. A simple day out with women I love becomes another chapter in a lifetime of shared adventures.

So yes, I love to shop. However, if I'm being mindful about it, I know the real treasures aren't the things we bring home.

They're the people we get to wander with, the laughter we share and the memories we carry with us long after the shopping bags are gone.

Those are the treasures I wouldn't trade for anything.

Yours heartfelt, Ms. Mindful Traveller

## October 9: The Stoic Traveller

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261009-f-stoic-travel" alt="The Stoic Traveller" width="1200" >}}

Travel has a funny way of reminding us that we're not actually in charge.

We can book the flight, reserve the hotel, plan the excursions and map out every restaurant we want to try. And then life looks at our itinerary and says, "That's adorable."

The flight is delayed.
The weather changes.
Traffic comes to a standstill.
The restaurant we were excited about is closed.
Occasionally, our luggage decides it deserves a holiday of its own or is filled with shampoo that has somehow busted through a few layers of armour.

This is where a little Stoicism can be surprisingly useful.

At its heart, Stoic philosophy encourages us to recognize the difference between what is within our influence and what isn't and to put our energy into our own choices, actions and responses.

Travel is practically a masterclass in this.

We don't get to choose the weather or the traffic. We can't make another person behave differently, and glaring at a departure board has yet to make a delayed plane leave any sooner.

Trust me. I've tested the theory.

What we do have is a choice about what happens next.

We can take a breath. Change the plan. Ask for help. Find another restaurant. Go for a walk. Laugh about the situation.

Sometimes the best response to a travel hiccup is simply, "Well… this wasn't on the itinerary."

### Maybe the detour is the point

Some of my favourite travel memories haven't come from the perfectly planned days.

They've come from the wrong turn that revealed a beautiful little neighbourhood, the restaurant someone insisted we try, the unexpected conversation that turned into a friendship, or the afternoon when our plans fell apart and we simply wandered.

That's one of the gifts of travel.

It teaches us that an experience doesn't have to unfold exactly as imagined to be wonderful.

### Save your energy for what matters

There is a certain freedom in realizing that not every inconvenience deserves our frustration.

We can prepare well. We can be thoughtful. We can leave enough time for the airport, check the weather and remember the sunscreen.

Then we have to let the rest unfold.

Worrying about something we cannot change doesn't give us more control. It simply steals some of the enjoyment from the moment we're actually living.

Isn't that precious energy better spent enjoying the view?

Or finding tacos?

Preferably both.

### A different question

Perhaps the real lesson is to stop asking:

"Why is this happening to me?"

and start asking:

"What can I do with what is happening?"

That little shift can change everything.

The unexpected becomes something to work with rather than something to fight. A disappointing moment becomes an opportunity to improvise. A change of plans can become the beginning of a story we never could have planned ourselves.

Is that not what travel is supposed to do?

Open us up.

**The Mindful Traveller thought:**

We don't control every road, delay, detour or person we encounter along the way.

But we do have a say in how we meet them.

So make the plans. Pack the bags. Book the table. Catch the flight.

When the journey throws you a curveball, take a breath before you react.

There may be nothing you can do about the situation but there may be plenty you can do with it.

Control what you can. Release what you can't, and leave a little room for the unexpected.

After all, the best travel stories rarely begin with:

"Everything went exactly according to plan."

Yours embracing the unexpected, Ms. Mindful Traveller

P.S. If a little everyday Stoicism sounds like a good travel companion, the book behind today's thought is {{< ref-link "everyday-stoic" "<em>The Everyday Stoic: Simple Rules for a Good Life</em> by William Mulligan" >}} — short, practical wisdom for exactly the moments travel loves to test.

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{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261009-1-fall-tree-colours" alt="A tree-lined road in brilliant red, orange and gold autumn colours" width="1200" >}}

## October 10: Pool Chair Philosophy

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261010-f-pool-chair" alt="Pool Chair Philosophy" width="1200" >}}

There's something about a pool chair that makes you feel a little wiser. Maybe it's the vitamin D courtesy of the sunshine, the gentle sound of water, or the rare opportunity to sit still without feeling like you should be doing something else. Whatever the reason, the thoughts seem to flow a little differently when your biggest decision is whether to turn over for an even tan or reach for your next chapter.

It's finally having the time to reflect on life, to let your mind wander, or to consider an idea sparked by that great book you've been reading. Sometimes, the best insights arrive when we stop chasing the next thing and simply give ourselves permission to be present. No schedule to follow, no errands to run, no need to be productive. Just you, the sunshine, and a little space to think.

As mindful travellers, we often spend our days exploring new places, discovering hidden gems, and filling our memories with experiences. But sometimes, the most meaningful moments happen when we stop moving altogether. A pool chair can become our own little thinking space, where we gain a fresh perspective, dream about the next adventure, or realize that life is pretty wonderful right where we are.

So the next time you settle into that pool chair, don't feel guilty about doing absolutely nothing. You might be soaking up more than sunshine. You might just be giving your mind, body, and soul exactly what they need.

**Mindful Traveller thought:** Sometimes, doing nothing is the very thing that helps us figure out what matters most. If no great revelation comes to mind? Well, there's always another chapter to read and another hour of sunshine to enjoy!

Yours in thought, Ms. Mindful Traveller

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261010-1-pool-chairs" alt="A row of inviting pool chairs beside calm turquoise water" width="1200" >}}

## October 11: Closing the Cottage, Welcoming a New Season

{{< cloudinary src="mt/20261011-f-cottage" alt="Closing the Cottage, Welcoming a New Season" width="1200" >}}

There is something bittersweet about closing the cottage for the season. One last look at the water, one more walk around the property, and a few extra minutes spent remembering all the little moments that made summer special. The laughter, family visits, meals shared, quiet mornings with coffee, and sunsets that reminded us how lucky we are to have a place to escape the busyness of everyday life. It is amazing how a place can hold so many memories within its walls.

Closing the cottage is more than putting away the patio furniture, shutting off the water, and locking the door. It is a gentle reminder that every season has its purpose. Summer invites us to gather, explore, and slow down, while autumn encourages us to turn inward, embrace change, and make room for what comes next.

As Mindful Travellers, we know that life is made up of seasons, too. Some chapters ask us to stay awhile, while others invite us to pack our bags and discover something new. We can be grateful for what we are leaving behind without being afraid of what lies ahead.

So, as we close the cottage for another year, we do so with full hearts, wonderful memories, and the knowledge that the seasons will turn again. For now, it is time to welcome crisp mornings, colourful drives, cozy sweaters, and new adventures. Puerto Vallarta is just around the corner.

**A mindful moment:** Every ending carries the promise of a new beginning. Rather than wishing a season away or holding too tightly to what has passed, take a moment to appreciate what it gave you. Then turn the page with gratitude, knowing there is beauty in every season, even the ones we have yet to experience.

Yours in gratitude, Ms. Mindful Traveller