You Might Die Tomorrow: Recent Episodes
Kate Manser
You might die tomorrow - so live today. The You Might Die Tomorrow podcast is a collection of stories and interviews to inspire you to live now with adventure, gratitude, and joy.
So many of you have followed along and supported me over the past 5 years as my life radically changed. Thank you…and we’re all still changing!
But I thought I’d recap my story and share where I am today. :)
Last year, I had just gone through a tough breakup and was desperate to reignite my inner spark for life. I was also finishing up my book and embarking on a new journey of life as an author. I knew I needed help. So I traveled to France to spend a week at Thich Nhat Hanh’s monastery, Plum Village.
On June 18, 2020, I hosted one hour of live joyful dance music for ages 0-120 years alive. It was a virtual dance party to celebrate that we're still kickin' with breath in our chest and joy in our heart. This event was the third event I was proud to host as a part of Reimagine Festival.
Of all the interviews I have done, Gabe was one that I really had to “sell” on the idea the death can be a source of productive motivation. Like many people, Gabe has an internally coded “block” on the idea of death. After all, we’ve all been conditioned for basically our whole lives that death is morbid and should be acknowledged as little as possible. I loved Gabe’s honesty and vulnerability on this front.
Hey, you. You are going to be ok. I know things are crazy right now. I know it’s all overwhelming and scary. But you are going to be ok. Let’s consider the worst-case scenario.
A stressful disaster like this is, if not an opportunity, a forceful push to consider the hard questions. As we worry about contracting the virus, the inner voice whispers, “What if I did die? Would I be happy with how I’ve lived?”
Brian’s story is similar to Dr. King’s in some ways. He broke from the pack to live the life that was authentic to him. He managed fear, ambiguity, and the unknown. He follows the call of his own intuition and approaches each day with drive, hope, and reverence for the experience of living.
This experience brings together the things I believe make life better: being present, nature, art, community, and cultivating joy and peace. Let's be alive together.
In this video, I share my experience living a monastic life for a week at Plum Village monastery in France, and what I think you and all of us can incorporate into our daily lives for a more present existence.
It’s been a tough few months, but I knew I needed to find my sense of inner peace again.
Enjoyment is a perfectly valid and valiant life’s purpose. When you enjoy — really enjoy — your life, you create a ripple effect of positive influence that goes far beyond that which you will ever know.
How to hack a couple of our main fears of death: our wishes not being carried out and being a burden to people we love.
Death is scary; you’re going to die anyway. Life is hard; it’s going to be hard anyway. Time will pass; it will pass regardless of what you do while it does.
EMBRACE FEAR. ⚡️ There is no getting around it: fear, time, and death are the constants in your life — you choose to deny or accept.
☠️ Accepting my mortality, embracing fear, and recognizing time as my most precious resource is what has radically shifted my life toward zeal, clarity, and satisfaction. You can do it, too. Start now — open your heart and your mind to your certain mortality. You don’t have time to waste.
youmightdietomorrow #truth #bealive
I am moving home in a week and this is what sparked my death anxiety, the thought of: "WHAT IF I DIE BEFORE I GET HOME AND SEE MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS?!" I feel like I am trying so so so hard to accept death but I keep bouncing back and forth and seem to be very stuck. How on earth do you accept death!?
YOU MIGHT DIE TOMORROW has pledged a monthly donation and will give 5% of all proceeds to give people clean water and a chance to think about more fulfilling things in life than whether they or their children will die from taking a drink.
“This was a huge wake up call for me. I have thought about this experience daily since our group meditation. I loved it.”Find the urgency to live like you might die tomorrow.
Join us for this powerful workshop designed to radically reshape your relationship with death to remind you to live.
When: Sunday, April 28 from 10:30am-12pm
Where: Casa de Luz near Lady Bird Lake in Austin, TX
Includes: A huge dose of perspective and zeal for life! Plus the 1.5 hours workshop + journal
Only 20 seats available!
“Kate's message and guidance was beautifully delivered. Truly an experience you will not forget.”
“This workshop changed my life. The next day, I did things I had been putting off and dreaming of for YEARS.”
Schedule:
10-10:15am — Arrival
10:15-10:30am — Welcome & cultivate a sense of calm
10:30-12pm — Guided exercises & the deathbed meditation to open your heart, help you find your sources of meaning in life, and inspire a sense of urgency to live vibrantly while you’re still alive.
~
12-12:30pm —- Optional time to connect with your fellow workshopmates + shop YOU MIGHT DIE TOMORROW mementos
Session: LIVE LIKE YOU MIGHT DIE TOMORROW
49.00
Virtual meeting with Kate for a transformational 1:1 session designed to help you tap into an urgency to live, identify your Meaningful Things, make friends with your mortality, and focus on finding your bliss in life.
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Venue
Casa de Luz
“Through community, we get to see the face of something larger than our individual selves. We are all teachers and we are all students at the table of life.” - Wayo, Casa de Luz
1701 Toomey Rd, Austin, TX 78704
Only 20 seats available. Get your ticket here: Session: LIVE LIKE YOU MIGHT DIE TOMORROW
49.00
Virtual meeting with Kate for a transformational 1:1 session designed to help you tap into an urgency to live, identify your Meaningful Things, make friends with your mortality, and focus on finding your bliss in life.
Quantity:
Add To Cart
How can thinking about death invite you to live? Can contemplating death be a spiritual practice? We talked with Kate Manser of You Might Die tomorrow to discover what it means to live like you're dying.
Video by the wonderful Savannah Power, founder of Primrose Path Productions .
Listen to Shelby Forsythia and I talk about perspective, grief, and hypochondria (!) on her new episode of the Coming Back show.
I want to experience an awakening every single day. I want to appreciate the smell of flowers and coffee. I want to force myself to engage daily in the healthy habits that I know make my life brighter and more peaceful: meditating, writing, remembering I might die tomorrow, feeling gratitude.
Y’all, I was lucky enough to be interviewed by Morgan Dix of the OneMind Meditation Podcast. The timing couldn’t have been better. First, I am a big fan of the Podcast. Second, I’ve been really down lately, and this conversation helped lift me up.
This book is my dream, my passion, my life’s work, and will hopefully be a major source of your inspiration to live like you might die tomorrow every single day.
It’s part life story, part real talk about death and dying, and part a collection of lessons on how to live living like you might die tomorrow. Sign up now to be notified first for pre-order.
I was fortunate to have the opportunity to be interviewed by Dennis Odeny of Peace Revolution today! Peace Revolution is an online platform that aims to help individual cultivate individual inner peace before sharing the peace to people around the world.
Here are some shots from the desert. Check out many more by searching the
youmightdietomorrow hashtag on Instagram.
I'd be very ok with shaking my head at the wild antics and calculated risks I had taken at this time in my life. All the power to create a sense of satisfaction in the future lies in me now. I create my legacy every single moment.
Hi, friends! I'm hiring a part-time, remote, freelance Virtual Assistant / Marketing Coordinator to help me grow and organize You Might Die Tomorrow and other projects.
I substitute taught Elementary school for a hot minute, and I learned a profound lesson about avoiding disappointment in life. Watch the video (2 mins):
This is pretty big. Not just big news, but physically big: I am presenting my first ever large-scale art installation at Burning Man 2018.
A collection of songs about living urgently, loving freely, and enjoying your life. Turn it up, and enjoy.
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
I have been traveling around the world for two years doing mostly nothing. The places where I did the most nothing are probably Indonesia, my six weeks in Japan and my collective three months in French Polynesia, but I have done nothing all over the world.
Love in the present. If you're worried about tomorrow, you can't experience the wild beauty of today -- right now.
That day in the café, I had this epic realization: I have absolutely no control over when or how I die, but I have complete control of how I live until that moment comes.
Here's a lesson I heard over and over again since age five that took me 25 years to learn.
You Might Die Tomorrow stickers are ridiculously compelling and -- honestly -- the best conversation piece I've ever encountered in my life.
This month only, You Might Die Tomorrow stickers are PAY WHAT YOU WANT!
The current state of my life — mostly alone, sometimes forgotten about, with family members vehemently opposed to my chosen lifestyle, a sick dog, adjusting to stationary life, light on cash, job seeking and with no idea what I’ll do next — is exactly what I was looking for in travel. It’s a real life, in your face, lesson-producing struggle. And I’m so grateful for it.
We didn’t know at the time that our relationship was doomed. It wasn’t like we had gotten the dog as a last-ditch effort to save our marriage like some do with a child. We just both connected over this shared empathy and affinity for pit bulls and knew we had to get one.
After a collective two months aboard a sailboat in French Polynesia, I have come to realize two things: I have a lot to learn, and boat lessons are basically life lessons.
Pajamas and I are leaving this week for our next adventure: a 2.5 month road trip around the US. Pajamas just beat cancer and my brother is letting me use his old '03 Dodge Stratus so we're hitting the road to celebrate!
What will you regret at the end of your life? What will you wish you had done? Who in your life needs to be reminded that you love them before you don't have the opportunity to do so?
I went to Nepal largely inspired by the spirit of my late adventure role model, Dan Fredinburg. Dan was a fellow Googler who exuded warmth and joy and attempted to climb Everest, twice. On his second adventure, he passed away at Base Camp in the 2015 earthquake. I didn't know Dan very well - we had only spoken a couple of times - but I was always inspired by his adventure badassery. I also had a crush on him. I think everyone did.
Revel in the beauty of being alive. A beautiful poem slash pep talk to remind you to be grateful every single day.
I have this thing I do I call 'deathbed regret avoidance.' When I'm faced with a decision I'm unsure about, I mentally put myself on my deathbed and consider how I'd feel at that moment, looking back on how I made the decision I'm facing now. If, in this conjured future state, I feel regret about having done or not done the thing I'm considering, I know that's not the way to go. Conversely, if I look back and feel good about my choice, bam! That's my green light.
xAs a solo female traveler, I felt totally safe. I used Tinder and met some questionable fellows. I used the Couchsurfing app to meet some fantastic Russian friends. I had a drunk Balinese man knock on my window and whisper to me in Bahasa Indonesia at midnight, but nothing serious. Unless he was trying to whisper to me that he was having a heart attack, in which case I probably killed him because I was frozen in fear inside of my mosquito net.
When I was around thirteen, I took about forty Tylenol. I both wanted to die and also needed an outlet for my overwhelming despair. Today, I look back and my heart breaks for that sad teenager. I know now that everything which flows also ebbs: joy, love, despair...life. Nothing gold stays, Ponyboy. Like the gold, the blackness also fades. The hopelessness I felt then is minute compared to the insane gratitude and zeal for life that I possess today. Ironically, it was remembering that I am going to die which helped me truly live.
Why shouldn't we observe
the phases of the moon
like the hands of a clock? What better
calendar,
what better guide? Good day, good night,
good life.
A poem whose profound beauty made me cry on a Thursday afternoon.
The Old Astronomer
by Sarah Williams (1837–1868)
Reach me down my Tycho Brahé, – I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then to now.
Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,
Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,
And remember men will scorn it, 'tis original and true,
And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.
But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,
What for us are all distractions of men's fellowship and wiles;
What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.
You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate.
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.
What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
You "have none but me," you murmur, and I "leave you quite alone"?
Well then, kiss me, – since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
I can dimly comprehend it, – that I might have been more kind,
Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.
I "have never failed in kindness"? No, we lived too high for strife,--
Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!
There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
And remember, "Patience, Patience," is the watchword of a sage,
Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.
I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;
But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleep
So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.
I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars, –
God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.
Guys, I've been traveling full-time now for 14 months. I carry all of my possessions with me in one bag, so the stuff I choose to carry around is mission critical and makes me a happy traveler.
I get asked a lot of questions about travel, and while You Might Die Tomorrow isn't necessarily a travel blog, Imma help y'all achieve your travel dreams, if that's your thing. So this is the first in a series of posts about how I logistically travel around the world:
- How I found a remote job in three days
- How I get all my international flights for free
- Which travel necessities I don't leave home without (broken up by categories like technology, beauty, luggage, clothes, and random funsies)
- I'll also do a Kate the Great AMA, a video conference in which you can ask me questions and I'll try to screw up your life in the sense of helping you to live like you might die tomorrow and do something awesome!
Stuff I carry on my back around the world - PART I: Tech
In some of the remote islands of French Polynesia, the only place to get wifi is on the stoop of the local post office. My new friends and I sang some Edward Sharpe and checked out my photos from New Zealand despite the language barrier.
Before I even say one word about the mostly expensive and super first world list of tech items I carry around the world, I have to tell you the ONE THING I learned to never travel without.
The one thing I never travel without: Gifts for strangers and new friends.
My mom hand-draws cards, and I keep at least 30 on me to gift to special people I meet along the way. I carry about a dozen plush finger puppets to hand out to little kids, and I always buy cheap candy from corner stores around the world to give.
Gifting is one of the biggest lessons I have learned while traveling around the world. Gift with no expectation. Give for the sheer joy of giving. From what I've experienced, American culture is one that tends to give spontaneous gifts much less than other countries.
Don't want to buy anything to give? Give what you have. Give a cool t-shirt from your luggage. Gift time - ask the guy shucking coconut on the roadside if you can help. Don't ask "Do you need help?" Ask, "Can I please help you? I'd really enjoy it." (Use Google translate if they don't speak English). The gifts will be gifts to yourself -- I promise.
Okay, now on to my technology menagerie. Dude, don't tell the robbers, but I'm a walking media company. Being a writer and someone with a remote job, I need to be connected. Here's the technology menagerie I've culled to what I need most to be effective on the road.
Don't leave home without a headlamp, okay? Just don't do it.
When I bought my first headlamp for $1 at Wal-mart, I had no idea it would change my life. I use it for reading at night, hiking, caving, watching the horizon for oncoming ships during a night watch shift on a sailboat, finding lost shit in hostels at night, and other creative uses. Plus, I feel like a badass when I wear it; official, and like I've got important stuff to do. I've since upgraded to this beauty which includes red filter (for being on night watch on a full moon night sailing) and brightness options.
Sony RX100 III Digital Camera
I asked my dear friend and professional photographer Daniel which DSLR camera I should get for my big Soul Vacation round the world trip. He said, "ARE YOU CRAZY?!" I'll never forget what he said afterwards: the best camera is the one you have on you.
Instead of a huge DSLR, he recommended this little guy - which he also travels the world with. So I bought this tiny yet incredibly powerful camera, and I’ve never looked back.
Polaroid-style camera to take pictures of kids in countries who have never had a tangible photo of themselves and their besties throwing up the peace sign.
Kindle Paper White (but I still carry around too many books)
I’m a spoiled brat and this was a gift from my Dad before I left on the second leg of my trip. I’ve been known to travel with up to a half dozen books, so I suppose he took pity on me. I love this thing and the 3G connection is the most clutch.
My lucky (and free!) BOSE headphones.
So, I was lucky enough to find a pair of these in the return vault of one of those Best Buy kiosks at 3am, with no one around in the entire terminal. They are the best headphones ever. So comfortable and beautiful sound. Thank you, universe, for my free headphones! May they bring you luck as well.
Apple Macbook 12"
So, I have a love/hate relationship with the very device I type on at this moment. I love the portability, the display, the general Mac-ness of it. I can carry it around in my purse!
I hate the USB-C only port. I hate that it has a small hard drive. But if I had to buy a new computer for travel, I'd probably buy this one again.
World adapter with USB plugs (my dear, my darling)
THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER. Just buy it. I could write a love letter to this beautiful device. And every time I use it I think of my dear friend Margeaux, who gave it to me as a bon voyage gift.
There are a few other tech odds and ends I travel with, like my iPhone (one got stolen and ransomed back to me in Nepal and one I threw off a balcony in India), my GoPro (I don't use it as much as I thought I would), and my LaCie 1TB hard drive (It's just okay but gets the job done).
Back soon with the next installment of Travel Tips by Kate the Great.
You are in control of your life and how you choose to live until you die. What's your definition of badass?
Today, I am here to talk about the extreme polarization I am encountering from people regarding the title of my project, You Might Die Tomorrow.
Love hard, be occasionally reckless, say yes to adventure. You can start by stepping your toe outside your comfort zone, or you can harness that rare desire to do so and jump out with an unreliable parachute.
Let's inspire people to live today, together.
Investors My almost-finished book, You Might Die Tomorrow, has evolved into a social project and brand. My mission is to inspire people to live urgently with gratitude and joy. You Might Die Tomorrow will be a multi-channel brand including the book, YT series, Podcast, apparel, lifestyle content brand, and Soul Vacations.Think authors like Tim Ferris and Elizabeth Gilbert, Ellen, or TUT Notes from the Universe.
The funds will go towards finalizing and publishing the book, marketing costs including hiring my marketing and audience building guru, and funding a book tour around the US.
Contact me at kate@youmightdietomorrow.com with investor inquiries, or ideas for other funding sources.
Virtual Assistant / Marketing Manager
“In my life right now, I’m eighty. There is so much left to do. So I would like to go back and give myself a bit longer, but as it is, I don’t know how long I have to live, but certainly it is that every year takes me closer to the end, whenever that end is. And so there is this feeling of desperation - there’s so many places I want to go, so many people I want to talk to, and so many hearts I want to reach.”
— Jane Goodall, Human documentary
She and her husband both accompanied me to the train station and we were mostly quiet as we snaked around the mountain. The mist was thick and the drizzle matched the way we felt, I think: a little sad to say goodbye.
Recently a friend and I were sitting at a cafe when someone walked by, apparently talking to himself. I looked over to her with wide eyes and high brows like, “Yikes.” She said, without a hint of sarcasm, “Let’s assume he’s got a bluetooth in his other ear.” That struck me; I realized it’s a really powerful thing to give people the benefit of the doubt.
That’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned this past month, but my six months on the road have been building to this one important realization, I think.
For the past week I’ve been convinced that I’m about to die as a result of a brain-eating amoeba with a 99% fatality rate.
See, if you contract this amoeba, you end up with meningitis, and there are only about three cases of people surviving this thing. Ever. The amoeba lives in warm water and gets into your brain through your nose. My sister and I did this epic two-day trek in New Zealand and at the top of the trek, there were these super hot geothermal pools. It felt incredible to soak in the water after a day of uphill hiking, and it felt like the natural waters were melting away the tension in my muscles. Soaking flat on our bellies in less then twelve inches of water, we rooted down in the silt to immerse our bodies in the shallow water. It was pitch black out and near freezing, and all we could see through the beam of the flashlight were the thick, wafting, spirit-like sheets of steam in the night sky. We closed our eyes and breathed it in.
The geothermal pool by day
Anyway, since then I’ve been about to die. The Department of Conservation warning sign outside of the pool said not to dunk your head under water to avoid contracting the amoebic meningitis. And I didn’t. But the next day I started feeling a sore throat, and a headache, and possibly a tingling in the top of my spine, and was that also a frontal lobe headache? I worried that I contracted it when I may have scratched my nose and that’s how I was going to die, from a nose scratch. Apparently the only way you can contract it is if the infected water is insufflated (good word) deep into your nasal passages where the amoeba can attach itself to your olfactory nerves in your brain, and start having dinner up there on your brain I guess and no more than eighteen days later, you’re dead, with doctors having less than a 1% chance of saving you.
I don’t know why I was being such a ridiculous hypochondriac about this. But that’s not the point. What I want to tell you about is how this (imaginary) brush with death affected me.
When I read the list of symptoms and identified with the majority of them, the realization that I could have this deadly disease hit me. I could die in less than eighteen days, I thought. I looked up from my Google search results.
“I cannot die. I’m not finished with my book.”
Just like that, in the face of death I found clarity. And it was that one thought that helped me realize that this book, You Might Die Tomorrow, is part of my life’s work. See, I believe that thinking about death, or the possibility of dying, or remembering that life is short or whatever you want to call it, strips away everything to reveal what is truly important in one’s life. There’s something about being faced with one’s own mortality which provides perspective like few other things can. In a life or death situation your brain quiets and your intuition screams out. Steve Jobs said, “Remembering I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death.”
Last week when I was convinced I had only a few days left to live as a result of amoebic meningitis, every day that I woke up I was thrilled. I had made it another day. My coffee tasted more delicious. I worried less about money. I bought less stuff. I had another piece of chocolate. Traveling with my sister, I realized I would be content to die doing something so special and meaningful. But most importantly, I realized I’ve got to finish this book. Even in my imaginary near-death experience, my lessons were life-changing.
I’m still not in the clear from my hopefully imaginary disease. It can take up to fifteen days for the serious symptoms to present. I’ve realized I’m most likely just getting a cold, but I wouldn’t trade my imaginary brain-eating amoeba for anything. In the face of a fatal disease - imaginary or not - I found out what’s truly important to me.
Me trekking back down the track, simultaneously contemplating the pain in my back and purpose in life.
Listen, I’m not good at sugarcoating stuff. I hate gray areas; I prefer the comfort that comes from knowing where you stand. So, You Might Die Tomorrow isn’t going to be a soft, gentle inspirational read. This is a book for people that want to wake the fuck up.
I've recently embarked on a round the world trip - my Soul Vacation, as I call it. Here's why I'm quitting my job and leaving everything to go explore a bunch of places I've never been to.
To Break the Habit of Buying Stuff I Don’t Need
I’ve gotten into the habit of, ‘I like it, I buy it.’ I even stopped paying attention to prices, which led to the fateful day in which I got home and realized I had purchased tortillas at Whole Foods for $9.99. Tortillas. For ten dollars. On the road, I’m forced to schlep everything I’ve got on my back, so I only buy things I really, really like and for which I’m willing to potentially get a backache. But it’s bigger than the backache: I’m conditioning myself to spend my money on experiences instead of things. That’s the stuff I’ll gladly schlep with me everywhere until I die.
To Learn New Things
To learn that people are mostly good. To give surfing a try. To do stuff I’ve never done that puts me outside my comfort zone. The collective experiences will either age the shit out of me or keep me forever young. Either way, I get to keep ‘em forever. I’ll gamble.
To Be Young Before I Look Old
I’m turning thirty-one in a month, guys. Lucky for me, people usually estimate 27...but that ain’t going to last forever. I've spoken with more than one older-than-I traveler who said it's lonely on the road for them, because they are often avoided by wary and likely immature young fellow travelers, and found it difficult to make friends. I like to think I can still pass as one of the ‘them’ in a group of drunk 25-year olds for a night just enough so they treat me as one of their own. Most of all, I don’t want to waste my youth and put off for my retirement what I want to do now.
To Fall in Love
What would a round the world journey be without a few broken hearts along the way? Falling in love is crazy fun, and I intend to feel heartbreak more than once when I have to push off for the next city and leave someone awesome behind.
To Be Alone
The other night I walked by a bar with a super fun live band playing and people dancing. So I went in, and after a few minutes of awkward internal debate, I started dancing. By myself. And I had the best freaking time.
Doing something solo is a huge confidence booster for me. It reminds me that I like me, and I’m a badass. It’s not easy, but it’s absolutely worth it. Want to give it a try? I believe there are three levels to solo dining badassery:
Level one: sit in the back and bury your face in your phone. It’s okay - this is your first time and you’ve got to ease into it. Level two: dine al fresco on the front patio, but bring a book and be fabulous. Level three - and this one isn’t for the weak, but will pay confidence dividends: Dine al fresco on the front patio, solo - no book, no touching your phone - just watching the world go by. Good posture is a key piece of the badass energy you’ll be projecting, so no slouching. Now go take over the world.
To Learn About People
And improve my empathy and understanding in the process. I’m one of the first generations to grow up in the Information Age and the 24-hour news cycle. Images, videos, news - they’re everywhere All. The. Time. I’m afraid I’ve become desensitized to the stuff I see on TV. I’m desperate for the real world. So I’m going out to see it for myself. I believe that people with difficulties appreciate sympathy but really value understanding. They want to be treated as people. So instead of eating everything on my plate to save the starving children of Africa (mom), I’m going to go say what up to people who have less and live differently than I do, and get to know them and their story.
To Do the Thing Now I’ll Regret Forever If I Don’t
You might die tomorrow. You never know. I had it in my head that I’d travel around the world when I retire. But what if I don’t make it? I decided to take control of my life, align with what I feel in my soul, and do this thing now that I’d regret forever if I didn’t. It feels incredible.
What’s the thing you’ll regret if you don’t do? Do that thing.
I realized one thing I'd regret on my deathbed if I hadn't done it is travel around the world. So, I'm doing it. Because I could die tomorrow, right?
Everyone always looks at me aghast, "So you're doing it alone?" Well, yes. I figured if I waited around for someone to do it with me, I'd never do it. But it turns out lots of people - including you, probably - are looking for an excuse to use up those vacation days somewhere incredible, and to travel with someone awesome (that's me) for awhile. So the door is open. Where will you meet me?
Itinerary (All subject to change & suggestion!)February - March 2016: Australia | work @ Google Sydney
April 3-11, 2016: New Caledonia & Vanuatu | cruise
April 12-18: Australia | Cairns/Great Barrier Reef
April 18 - May 27: Indonesia | Yoga retreat, Java travel with friend Daniel
May 28 - June 23, 2016: New Zealand | south island road trip with my sister, Kelly
June 23 - July 23: French Polynesia | Live aboard Kaimana
July 24 - September 26: USA | My sister's wedding & Burning Man
September 27 - November 6, 2016: Japan | Food tour, Zen Buddhism Meditation Retreat
November 7-30, 2016: Nepal | Trekking, Volunteer with Chhahari Nepal & homestay
November 30-December 29: India | 200-hour yoga teacher training at World Peace Yoga School
January-February 2017: Southeast Asia | Housesitting in Thailand, Trips to Malaysia and Myanmar
March 2017: Hawaii | my best friend's wedding
Bhutan | Help me pay for my research trip to Bhutan! Paypal or Venmo manser.k@gmail.com
UPDATE OCTOBER 2016: It turns out all tourism in Bhutan is controlled through the government, and they charge a flat fee of $200/day to visit, which is double my travel budget. As a result, if you'd like to support my research mission, I would be incredibly grateful if you donated to help me pay for this trip. Help me pay for my research trip to Bhutan! Paypal or Venmo manser.k@gmail.com.
You might have read the BBC News article, Bhutan's Dark Secret to Happiness, in which the author discusses the Bhutanese custom to think about death five times a day. The article was of course fascinating, but for me, also gratifying: to learn that an entire culture uses death as a tool to appreciate life was another notch in my theory-proving belt.
So I guess I'm going to Bhutan.
Look, my main goal isn't to get people to think about death. My mission is to empower people to take control of their life, shed fear and inhibitions, gain clarity on what is important to themselves, and develop an incredible zest for life. Whether that happens through the awareness of life's fragility or through some other means, I don't care. But I do believe that having a healthy awareness of one's mortality is a valuable tool to find that clarity and appreciate life.
Back to the Bhutanese. I'm still researching about their 'think about death five times a day' custom - where it came from, what it's rooted in, what they get from it - but my understanding is that awareness of death is deeply rooted in their culture. I can get down on some solid research in the library - which I will - but why not just go there? This guy in the article confessed to a Bhutanese man while he was there about the panic attacks he'd been suffering. His advice was simple:
“You need to think about death for five minutes every day,” Ura replied. “It will cure you. It is this thing, this fear of death, this fear of dying before we have accomplished what we want or seen our children grow. This is what is troubling you.”
Fear is paralyzing. Yeah, yeah: flight or fight, I know. But in my experience, fear and uncertainty give me decision paralysis. I don't know what to do, so I do nothing, and let my life happen to me. Well, death is certain. We all have that in common. So I believe that if some of the fear around death is alleviated, we're more likely to take control of our lives and appreciate being in it.
This custom of thinking of death isn't the only reason I'm going to Bhutan. This is also a country that came to the table at the UN General Assembly with a proposal to add GNH - General National Happiness - as an country's measurement, in addition to GDP. And it passed. In July 2011, the UN General Assembly passed, without dissent, a Bhutanese-initiated resolution recognizing the pursuit of happiness as a fundamental human goal and noting that this goal is not reflected in GDP.
Bhutan has a Gross National Happiness Commission, chaired by the prime minister, which screens all new policy proposals put forward by government ministries. If a policy is found to be contrary to the goal of promoting gross national happiness, it is sent back to the ministry for reconsideration. Without the Commission's approval, it cannot go ahead (Singer, ABC News).
The country that thinks about death five times a day is also on a crusade to measure and improve happiness around the world. Unexpected? Not for me. But I'm going to find out more. See you soon, Bhutan.
I arrived to Sydney on a cloud of optimism. I chatted with my taxi driver, telling him excitedly that this was my first experience driving on the left side of the road. He listened with as much excitement as a photographer being asked to do some free work “for your portfolio.” I arrived to my Airbnb and chose to ignore the fact that the room was not the one depicted in the glossy photos. In any case, it still had a lovely view overlooking the private, flower-filled courtyard. I texted photos of said lovely courtyard to everyone in my contact list with the caption ‘The view from my room!’ I might have more accurately captioned, “I am fabulous!”
View from the window of my Airbnb room. I'm walking on sunshine! For now.
After a quick shower, I set off to explore the neighborhood. I marveled at all the tanned, blonde and absurdly good looking Australians I walked among. They were so…smooth. I was for some reason surprised by how well-dressed these Sydneysiders are. Like J. Crew, but better. The fabrics are light and the hems are of short enough length to show off tanned limbs, yet remain tasteful and chic. The first glimmer of discomfiture flashed in my chest. My fabrics weren’t right, I was mid-winter pale, and the weeks of goodbye toasts and dinners in Austin had caught up to my thighs. I tried to wave off the feeling.
I wrapped up my first day in paradise with a yin yoga class mostly to keep myself awake until my self-imposed anti-jetlag bedtime of 9pm. More lithe Australians poured into the yoga studio around me, men and women alike. My head was buzzing with exhaustion at this point, having only been asleep for a few jaunty hours in an Economy Plus seat 30,000 feet up. I’m certain I dozed off during the class at one point. I woke up a crumple of American body who was probably moments ago lightly snoring among the Aussie yoga gods stretching and flexing. I stumbled home afterward and fell immediately asleep.
Around 5am, I became conscious to a high-pitched buzzing in both of my ears. I swatted and dozed off. Minutes later, more buzzing, and then more…I alternately dozed and swatted until the sun came up. Good morning! I remembered, I’m in Australia! I stretched out lazily and began to notice red marks all over my legs. A rash? Chicken pox? I remembered the constant buzzing the previous night: mosquito bites. At least thirty just on my legs. In the mirror I marveled in horror: I was covered in bites. My arms, legs, back...even my ass. As if I hadn’t felt enough like a leper already.
At work, I worked on both US and Brazil time zones, which meant 6am meetings with California and 11pm meetings with Brazil. In between, I played hour-plus long games of Lord of the Rings and Batman pinball at the office, and found cubbies to nap in (thank you, Google). The women at the office were more of the well-tanned, well-tailored and toned Aussies I was now annoyed to see. I realized I’ve enjoyed being a blonde who stands out. Here in Australia, I’m a slightly fatter, much paler blonde with clothes that don’t fit in and what probably looks like a highly concerning contagious skin disease. I felt like I did when I started sixth grade in a new school in Iowa: grossly out of place, and wanting desperately to fit in. I was mad I didn’t fit in and madder I even cared about it.
Tigrona was the best! Until he shunned me when I needed him most. Ah, cats.
Two weeks in, I realized that the first leg of my Soul Vacation world tour so far was a bit…sucky. Work is work, even when you lunch overlooking Sydney Harbor. I hadn’t seen much of the city due to long days at work. I spent more than a couple sad evenings trapped in my hot, AC-less bedroom eating packaged snack food and hoping my hosts didn’t think think I was as much of a loser as I felt. My only Australian friend so far was a stray cat who, in true cat form, ran away from me when I tried to greet him the day after he’d laid out with me on my bed. I was lonely.
When friends and family inquired about my (nonexistent) social life here, I lied and told them I was using this time to recharge after a crazy busy last few weeks in Austin saying goodbye and moving. I wasn’t alone for a lack of friends, gosh, I was choosing to be alone.
The weird thing is, I started to believe that white lie, and that attitude shift changed everything. Maybe being alone was exactly what I needed. After those two weeks of feeling foul, I actually did begin to recharge. I took advantage of my Classpass subscription and tried everything from HIIT training to aerial yoga. I owned my solo dinners and ate alone right on the front patio of restaurants like a badass. I set up a few coffees with Googlers.
A few days later, I met my first friend. Then I went on my first Tinder date ever with a nice guy I spent an hour researching before our date. He took me on his motorcycle and as the wind whipped my hair and I held on, I finally felt like I thought I’d feel as a woman traveling the world. Free. And awesome.
A few weeks ago I read something online that said, “Be patient with yourself. Nothing in nature blooms all year.” Dude, I gotta give myself a break. Beating myself up for, essentially, not being Australian? And for not having a social calendar immediately upon arrival in a country I knew literally no one? I think I just learned my Travel Lesson #1: Be patient. And cat friends are more than okay.
I’m on a transpacific jet hurtling from reality to dream. In just a few months I’ve dismantled a perfectly lovely life in favor of a feeling that there is something better for me. Something I’ve got to do.
My bright and cheery apartment pre-move out.
I’ve now closed the door to my downtown Austin apartment, toasted goodbye to my Austin friends, and hugged my family and puppy for the last time for awhile. On one of my final days in town, I walked through the now-vacant apartment that used to be mine and thought about where I started when I rented it. The apartment is all white - floors, walls, ceiling - exactly how I felt when I rented it: a blank page ready for a new story. My story over the past year and a half has been exciting, and unexpected, and pivotal. I found myself with a broken heart at one point, I hosted fabulous parties for dear friends, I sewed myself deeper into the fabric of Austin through volunteer work and leadership, I lost a role model to tragedy, and I was exposed to the idea of living life differently. If you’re looking for a recipe for Big Change, that one proved effective for me.
Over this past year, I contemplated my fragile existence a lot. You could die tomorrow, I thought. I surveyed my life and imagined how I’d feel at the end, looking back. I wanted more. I want to live. I want to die free from regret.
For me, embarking on this Big Trip and sharing my perspective via this blog fulfils that right now. So I made a plan of action, and followed it step by step: Arrange finances (AKA don't buy shit). Move out of apartment. Sell car. Book a one-way ticket.
As I closed the door on that empty white apartment, I was struck with this odd feeling that, cognitively, I know I have taken all these steps to make this dream happen…but in practice it feels so fucking surreal. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that when you are living your dream it feels like, well, a dream. Right? So now the sun is rising over both Australia and my new reality. In a couple of hours I'll touch down into this dreamland and feel it firmly beneath my feet. It’s very, very real, and I am ecstatic.
Here's one for the annals of counterintuitive findings: When asked to contemplate the occasion of their own demise, people become happier than usual, instead of sadder, according to a new study in the November issue of Psychological Science.
Hey, let me tell you a secret: You are in control of your life. You call your own shots. Quick - answer this - what’s important to you?
I’m 30, and some fine lines appeared on my face this year. It was my first full year as an unmarried woman since I was twenty years old.
One day, I cleaned up the kitchen a bit before rushing into work for a regular day. For some reason, I decided to come home an hour early. As I stepped onto my porch, I peered through the glass door and smiled at my dog, Pajamas, sleeping on the couch. I swung open the door, so happy to see her - and was immediately enveloped in the putrid smell of natural gas. Pajamas raised her little head (okay, she’s a pittie, so it’s kind of a big head) from the couch and gazed at me as if in a stupor. I ran over, heart pounding, and grabbed her by her pink collar and dragged her outside into the fresh air. I began frantically waving my hands in front of her snout between hugs and apologies for almost murdering her. Oxygen! Oxygen! It probably looked a bit like I was prostrate and bowing repeatedly to her, Queen Pajamas of Austin. Part “I’m so sorry!” and part “I’m really not worthy/capable to care for an animal!” Once I felt fairly certain she wasn’t dead or about to die, I went inside to open windows, turn on fans and figure out what the hell happened. Ah - I had tweaked the knob on the stove so that for more than seven hours, natural gas was pouring out of the stove with no flame. I had locked my dog in a veritable gas chamber all day long.
That night, after the gas had dissipated into the evening air and I tried to win back my dog’s affections with steak and tennis balls, I thought about what might have happened had I not decided to come home early. I allowed myself to feel how I might feel if Pajamas had died. The guilt was there, of course, but it was mostly sadness and yearning for my best friend. My attempted murder of Pajamas reinforced, for me, how much I love her and appreciate her. Death has a way of doing this, showing us our true feelings. It also has a way of reminding us what’s important in our lives. So sometimes, like last week when I left work to go shopping, halfway down the road I took a screeching right and skipped the mall to take Pajamas to the dog park instead. Because if she was going to die tomorrow, I’d want her last day to be a steak and tennis balls kind of day.
"Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain...To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices - today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it."
-Kevyn Aucoin
"Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain...To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices - today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it."
-Kevyn Aucoin
I still have bad days that end with me wallowing in my underwear on the couch guzzling a $20 Montepulciano and shoveling mashed taters into my mouth.
“The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune’s control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.” ― Seneca, On the Shortness of Life
6/4/2015
I’m just so fucking happy to be alive.
I’m happy for it all. I’m happy to hear the sounds of the traffic outside my window. I’m happy to eat the dinner I made myself. I’m happy to have beautiful people in my life. I’m happy to send them cards and maybe brighten their day just a little bit. I’m happy to hug my dog and feel her incredible energy. I’m happy to meet new people in ordinary places. I’m happy to fall in love with half of the people I meet. I’m happy to work in a job in which people are passionate about what they do. I’m happy to feel the energy of people I know and meet. I’m happy to have a little bit of struggle. I’m happy to have endured some struggle so far, and everyday, and still feel grateful to feel things and happy to be in this life.
I made a decision recently to quit my job and leave everything that I know. I made this decision knowing people would think I’m crazy and tell me it’s a bad idea. But I’m grateful to be powerful enough in my own life to say “Fuck all y’all, I don’t care. I know this is what’s best for me.”
I am so happy today because I experienced a difficult time in my life. I didn’t survive cancer, and I wasn’t destitute or hungry. My life wasn’t in danger. But even the small, insignificant period of sadness and hopelessness in my life was enough to provide perspective. In order to feel this incredible feeling of happiness and gratitude, all I had to go through was losing several friends and loved ones and the depression of losing a marriage to a person I loved. That’s it. It felt really hard. I felt depressed, I gained weight, and retreated within myself to a place of pain.
But today, to feel how I feel today...it was nothing. The pain was worth it. I feel so strong, so capable, so ready to take on the world.
In some ways I feel bad. I feel that I’m a person of strength, of confidence, of common sense. If anyone could survive tragic death and divorce, I could. But even so, as a result of that pain and sadness, the power I feel today made it all worth it. Could I have seen that in the moment of hopelessness? No. I didn’t feel it, and I certainly didn’t know it was around the corner.
But life goes on. If one possesses the strength to persevere, there is an incredible gift on the other side.
I do understand that this happiness that I feel now is transient. I may not always feel this happy, this powerful, this connected. But I do feel that I appreciate it. I appreciate it in a way that I never could had I not experienced the pain.
From Steve Jobs' 2005 Stanford commencement address:
"When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.
I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.
This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
"Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place." -Iain Thomas
Maybe I just really love Whole Foods, but for the past year I've had this nagging feeling that love IS everything.
In May, I traveled to French Polynesia to shack up on my dear friends Melissa and Scott's boat, Kaimana. When I arrived, I had no idea what was to come: my life was going to change course.
I made the decision to quit my job in January and travel the world for 2016. But it didn’t start as a decision...it just kind of hit me. This crazy idea hit me and a light went off in my head (or my soul?) that this was exactly what I needed to do.
I woke up this morning to this email from my Grampa. It's National Chocolate Milkshake day, apparently, and my day is made.
It's unusually cool out this morning; I can feel the air seeping through the cracks of my old windows as I lie in bed. Moments later, as I step through my front door with my spotted dog on the end of her leash, the cool air envelopes me. I smile, and I am happy to be alive.