Adapting to modernity but longing for simplicity
The stale, heated air dries my skin and nasal passages, suffocating me and compelling me to open my bedroom window. I'm met with the piercing wail of sirens, the rumble of garbage trucks, the angry shouts of people in the streets, and the incessant drone of traffic and construction.
This chaos makes me yearn for the sounds of monkeys howling at dawn and dusk, the calls of the Kiskadees, and the buzz of the cicadas.
I’m craving the simplicity of living outside without the need for air conditioning. Just the gentle hum of a fan above is all that’s needed.
I’ve chosen to be in New York City. I love the anonymity, the humanity, the productive energy, and the feeling that I’m not alone on this planet. Every person, like an ant, carries a bit of leaf. As humans, we adapt to modernity.
But is this progress?
The Journey of an Adult Third Culture Kid: finding home and belonging
As I sit in my quiet living room, I open WhatsApp, and my heart skips a beat as I see a new post in my old hiking group. Tapping on the image, it expands to reveal a breathtaking scene from the Swiss Alps near Gryon.
In the photograph, my friends are walking through a pristine, snow-covered landscape. The majestic mountains rise behind them, the snow sparkles and covers the tree branches heavily.
I zoom in on the picture, and nostalgia washes over me. I see the smiling faces of my friends, their cheeks pink from the mountain air. Some walk side by side, deep in conversation. Their dogs bound through the snow, tails wag with joy.
As I study the image, I can almost feel the crunch of the snow beneath my boots, the sharing of stories, dreams, and fears as we walked together. The mountains became a sanctuary, a place where I could escape the chaos of the world and find solace in good company.
I yearn to be there with them, to feel the invigorating exertion of the hikes and the warmth of their friendship. But as I sit here, miles away, I realize that even though I may not be with them physically, a part of me will always belong to those majestic peaks and the incredible women who walk among them.
As an Adult Third Culture Kid, I may not have a single place to call home, but in moments like these, I realize that home is not just a location—it's the people and experiences that matter.
As an Adult Third Culture Kid (ATCK), I've often found myself grappling with the question, "Where do I belong?" Born to an American mother from Bostonian families and a Swiss mountain guide father, my childhood was a mosaic of different countries and cultures.
From the moment I was born in Chicago in 1970, my life has been a series of moves. I spent time in Ocala, Florida, and Switzerland before moving to Rivières, France, from 1973 to 1975. Monaco was my home from 1975 to 1981, followed by stints in Newport, Rhode Island, North Andover, Massachusetts, Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, and New York City.
In 1994, I found myself in Germany, only to return to Newport from 1995 to 2002. Switzerland beckoned once more, and I spent the next 17 years there until 2019. After a brief stay in Florida, cut short by Covid, I returned to Newport in 2020. Recently, I’ve been sharing my time in Newport, New York, and Costa Rica.
Throughout this journey, I've often felt a sense of longing and wistfulness when I see my expat friends hiking together in the Swiss Alps. Despite my deep connection to Switzerland through my late father, I never quite felt like I totally belonged in his village.
Similarly, I don't feel a strong sense of belonging in the United States. As an ATCK, I've come to realize that "home" is a complex concept that transcends geographical boundaries. It's not about a specific place but rather the experiences, relationships, and memories that shape us.
Growing up in different countries has given me a wide perspective on life and an appreciation for diversity. It has taught me adaptability, resilience, and the importance of embracing change. While the question of where I truly belong may never have a clear-cut answer, I continue to enjoy the connections I've made along the way.
Defragmenting your mind: the benefits of meditation
Our minds, like computer hard drives, accumulate 'fragmentation' through daily use. Things get cluttered, and our ability to focus decreases.
In the past, we had to "defrag" our computers by restarting them using an external hard drive. Similarly, we can optimize our minds through meditation, using an external, spiritual source.
Defragging improved computer performance, and meditation does the same for our minds. By reducing stress, meditation allows our minds to perform at higher speeds.
Every day, we encounter stress, multi-tasking, and information overload, leading to a scattered mind, reduced focus, and mental fatigue. Just as a hard drive becomes fragmented over time, our thoughts become disorganized.
Meditation helps reorganize our thoughts, clear the mind, reduce stress, and enhance focus, similar to tidying up a cluttered room. Regular meditation improves mental clarity, reduces anxiety, enhances concentration, and promotes overall well-being.
While we no longer need to defrag our computers manually, we still need to meditate.
To incorporate meditation into your daily life, use reliable "anchors" as triggers for 30-second moments of deep breath and body awareness. These anchors could be:
Sitting down at your desk
Opening or closing your laptop
Turning on the coffee machine or water cooker
Hearing the click of your seatbelt
Getting out of bed
Regular maintenance of your brain is as important as maintaining your physical health, car, and house for a smoother and more efficient life.
Start your journey of mental optimization today.
The allure of unhealthy treats
"I deserve a treat," is an enticing phrase that often leads us astray.
When we utter these words, we tend to reach for things that provide short-term satisfaction but leave us feeling awful afterwards, like that beer or sugary cookie we swore off.
In the moment, we crave the quick hit of pleasure. But later, we're left bloated, hungover, and full of regret.
If a so-called "treat" makes us feel terrible, can we really consider it a reward? Shouldn't treats make us feel good?
Rather than defaulting to unhealthy indulgences, we might expand our definition of what constitutes a treat. An evening playing cards, watching the sunset, or taking a walk with friends can lift our spirits.
Treats don't have to be edible at all - they can simply be experiences that bring us contentment.
The next time we feel we "deserve" something, let's pause and consider what would really make us feel cared for. Chances are, the unhealthy option won't pan out the way we hope. On the other hand, activities that nourish our spirit can be the treats we’re truly seeking.