Do you think we’re shaped more by our experiences or by who we are?

Experiences Are the Best Education…and Apparently the Fastest Way to Scare Yourself

If you ask me whether we’re shaped more by who we are or by our experiences…

Oh, experiences. One hundred percent.

Sure, our parents raise us. Our families teach us right from wrong. Genetics explain why I alphabetize my spice cabinet, make my bed before my feet fully hit the floor, and why my Scorpio intuition is basically a part-time FBI agent.

But experiences?

Experiences are the graduate school of life.

You can’t learn life sitting on a couch watching Netflix.

Well…unless you’re binge-watching travel shows while eating pizza and convincing yourself you’re basically Anthony Bourdain.

That’s called delusion.

Ask me how I know.

You can read every book ever written about Paris. You can memorize every landmark. You can even learn how to say, “Where is the bathroom?” in perfect French.

But until you’ve wandered down those little cobblestone streets with a croissant in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and absolutely no clue where your hotel is…

Congratulations!

You’re officially experiencing Paris.

Google Maps has abandoned you.

Your phone battery is at 2%.

And somehow you’re still happier than you’ve ever been.

That’s an experience.

You can watch Shark Week every year.

Or…

You can climb into a tiny metal cage off the coast of Africa while a Great White swims by giving you the same look I give cheesecake.

Now THAT’S living.

Or temporary insanity.

The jury is still out.

Then there’s Spain.

Who looked at a bull the size of a pickup truck and said…

“You know what sounds fun? Let’s all run.”

Not me.

Well…

Actually, future me probably.

Spirit Water has terrible ideas.

She’ll have me signed up before responsible Christy even gets a vote.

Then she’ll disappear, leaving me standing there wondering why I’m wearing white pants and making eye contact with a two-thousand-pound animal that clearly skipped breakfast.

This is why I can’t have nice things.

Then there’s Scotland.

I’d absolutely convince myself I’m long-lost royalty.

I’d be walking through castles waving at tourists…

“Welcome to my summer home.”

Security would politely escort me outside.

Again.

Then Hawaii.

Standing in front of an active volcano thinking…

“Huh…

Maybe Mother Nature is just showing off now.”

And Greece?

That water is so blue it honestly looks Photoshopped.

Meanwhile, every river back home is over there saying…

“I tried.”

Bless its heart.

Here’s the thing…

Books teach you facts.

Experiences teach you stories you’ll tell for the next forty years.

Books tell you sharks have thousands of teeth.

Experiences make you count every single one.

Books tell you mountains are tall.

Experiences remind you halfway up that maybe cardio wasn’t optional after all.

Books tell you airports are busy.

Experiences teach you that Gate B14 is somehow twelve miles from Gate B15.

Who designed these places?

Satan with a drafting degree?

And don’t even get me started on airplane seats.

Who measured these?

A squirrel?

I don’t need first class…

I just need enough room where my knees aren’t introducing themselves to the stranger sitting in front of me.

Every experience changes you.

Every adventure leaves a little fingerprint on your heart.

Every wrong turn becomes the funniest story.

Every passport stamp becomes another chapter.

Every memory becomes another reason to smile.

One day I want to look back and think…

“I probably shouldn’t have done half of that…”

“But thank goodness I did.”

I want to walk the streets of Paris.

Drink wine in Italy.

See castles in Scotland.

Watch volcanoes in Hawaii.

Float over the world in a hot air balloon.

Run with the bulls.

Dive with Great Whites.

Touch the bluest water in Greece.

Eat food I can’t pronounce.

Laugh until I cry.

Get completely lost.

Find myself anyway.

Because nobody gets to the end of life wishing they’d folded one more load of laundry.

Trust me…

The laundry will still be there judging you when you get home.

Life isn’t about collecting stuff.

It’s about collecting stories.

The kind that make your family roll their eyes and say…

“Oh Lord…what did Christy do NOW?”

And honestly…

Those are usually the best ones.

So book the trip.

Take the chance.

Say yes.

Buy the plane ticket.

Pack the suitcase.

Make the memories.

Collect the stories.

Scare yourself a little.

Laugh a lot.

Because at the end of the day…

Experiences shape us far more than comfort ever will.

And as I always say…

You only live once…so make your passport work harder than your vacuum cleaner.

Carpe Diem!