Travel as Mindfulness: Meeting the Unexpected with Openness

Montana and the Practice of Presence

This past month, I had the gift of exploring Montana in a camper van—but getting there was its own adventure. In just eleven days, we moved through nine states, weaving together a concert in Virginia, flights through Las Vegas and Washington, and long stretches of driving through Iowa before finally arriving in Montana for the festival. On the way back, we retraced our steps in reverse, only to jump right into another road trip—picking up our new pop-up camper and heading from Baltimore to Connecticut for a work event before finally returning home. It was fast, full, and sometimes exhausting, but standing in Montana’s mountain air reminded me why it was all worth it. Travel, with all its twists and turns, has a way of becoming a mindfulness practice—an invitation to show up moment by moment, whether that means adjusting when the schedule is tight or pausing to find awe in a quiet stretch of open sky.

Lessons from the Road

Of course, it wasn’t all ease. Traveling across a few time zones left my mind feeling out of sync—I caught myself just feeling off, and a bit frustrated with some scheduling hiccups. We also got stuck in traffic for more than two hours after an event, and by then I was tired and a little worn down, just wanting to get back to our campsite to sit in the quiet and look at the stars. In the end, there was nothing to do but breathe, accept, and let the moment be what it was.

At Glacier’s Lake McDonald, I got a little walk in and even dipped my feet in the water, and for a moment it was perfect. But a part of me kept tugging: “If only we had time to kayak… if only we could stay longer.” It was a small reminder that the mind often chases what’s missing instead of resting in what’s here.

At the music festival, I noticed the sea of long and short dresses, cowboy boots, and wide-brimmed hats—not really my thing. But there was a part of me that was pulled to join in and do something a little different and fun. So I bought a skirt from one of the vendors, cut up a concert T-shirt to match, and stepped into a different version of myself. It felt playful, freeing, and memorable. I even came home with a tattoo, a reminder of our time and what’s possible when I let myself experiment and say “yes” to experiences.

Each of these moments became little mindfulness lessons. Sometimes we meet stress and discomfort. Sometimes we brush up against longing or limitation. Sometimes we get caught up in the stories we tell ourselves. And sometimes we surprise ourselves with new joy or adventure. Travel has a way of pulling all of that together, teaching us that flexibility matters more than control, and presence matters more than perfection.

Looking Ahead

Now back home, we’ve taken another step in our own travel journey by getting a pop-up camper. For the next couple of years, this little camper will be our way of practicing life on the road, building the skills and rhythms that will carry us into our bigger dream: taking at least a year to travel full-time across the U.S., exploring national parks, and bringing my work with me.

I love how this progression mirrors mindfulness itself. Just like in therapy, we don’t leap straight to transformation. We practice. We prepare. We make space for trial, error, and discovery. A camper van in Montana. A pop-up at home. And eventually, the wide-open road ahead.

For me, it’s enough to simply start—to show up for what is here now, and to carry forward what steadies me for the journey ahead. Part of that is learning to follow my own inner energies, noticing what excites me, and letting those pulls shape the path forward.

And I wonder about you—where are you being pulled right now? What energies or longings are asking for your attention? Sometimes the smallest nudge toward curiosity or excitement can be the beginning of something new.

Be well,
Kristin