“So, what is going to be your next big adventure?” I get this question a lot and I don’t really have a good answer. On this day, in particular, I’ve given it considerable thought. Exactly one year ago, I hopped a plane to Los Angeles, picked up my camper van and started my Whatever Journey—a three-month trek through the American West. It’s a tough act to follow, adventure-wise. But it seems so remote now. Since I’ve been back, “life,” in all its goriness, has been coming at me pretty hard. I’ve had relationships end, a surgery, and the death of my mother, which was unexpected. I’ve long said that life is all about balance and this past year couldn’t be a clearer example.

As these chapters close I look ahead and try and figure out how all of this will shape what I do going forward. But none of it is making sense at the moment. I feel like I’m in my senior year of college looking out at the world and wondering where I would fit in, what part would I play and, most important, where do I start? (Naturally, I procrastinated by going to Paris and getting my Master’s Degree.)

I believe that a large part of my unease is the loss of important anchor points or mooring lines (in keeping with my nautical metaphors). I am no longer someone’s daughter, no longer someone’s girlfriend, no longer a publisher, which makes me…what?

Then I look back and realize that I am a hell of a lot of things outside of those roles, one of the most important being a passionate and avid adventure-seeker. So, what is my next big adventure? I have no earthly idea. Life is an adventure, whether I’m in the Redwood Forest or my own backyard. Time will tell, but it won’t be dull.

P.S. If anyone has any ideas, I’m all ears.