I Bet You're a Nomadic Spirit. You're Not Alone.

Just this morning, I read a LinkedIn post from a newly retired senior executive. As she recounted the profound impact of a recent trip, she stated, "I'm traveling differently these days. I now have the time and focus to move around the globe with greater intentionality."

She's not alone. In some form or another, that sentiment pushes its way into nearly every conversation I have, particularly with people in their 50s, 60s, and beyond who are traveling more than ever, but differently than they used to. While there's always the "I've just got to get out of this Chicago winter" kind of travel, I'm hearing more about the desire, even the demand, for something else: curious, meaningful, soul-stirring travel.

There's less interest in checking off boxes in a new location and more interest in engaging with places, people, and parts of themselves that come alive when they're somewhere new.

That way of traveling feels familiar to me. And the more I listen, the more I realize it isn't unusual. It just hasn't been named very well, and it certainly hasn't been served very well by an industry mostly aimed at younger travelers.

This is where the idea of Nomadic Spirit came from: inspiration, clarity, and curation for intentional travelers.

Here, you'll find:

If you see yourself as a nomadic spirit, this will feel less like instruction and more like recognition. It's about exploring the world, and your life, with purpose.

You can find Nomadic Spirit online at mynomadicspirit.com. If you're reading this somewhere other than your inbox and would like to receive future editions, you can sign up (HERE – LINK) If this resonates, share it with someone who travels, and thinks, this way too.

Before I go, one question.

What's a place that's stayed with you?

If you're inclined, reply and tell me. I read every response.

— Paul M. Rand Founder, Nomadic Spirit For a Life Well Explored.

Dead for 160 Years. Visitors Still Can't Stop Saying Thank You. 

Why strangers climb a Massachusetts hillside to leave pencils at Thoreau's grave

The path through Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, Massachusetts climbs steeply, winding past newer graves and older monuments before reaching the hilltop where some of American literature's most influential voices are buried: Author's Ridge.

Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Louisa May Alcott, Nathaniel Hawthorne rest within a few yards of one another. Oak and pine trees surround the graves. The Concord River valley stretches out below.

Most visitors arrive slightly out of breath. Then they do what visitors have done for decades. They leave something behind.

At Thoreau's grave, visitors leave pencils mostly, but also pens, coins, small stones. People leave them for what Thoreau's writing gave them—permission to step away, to refuse the expected path, to look closely at the world.

At Emerson's headstone, flowers appear regularly, and handwritten notes too. One read simply: "Thank you. You have changed my life."

They come back, sometimes across decades, to spend time with voices that shaped how they see the world.

Patricia Hopkins is the cemetery supervisor. She's worked at Sleepy Hollow for thirty-eight years, and when I spoke with her, she described clearing what she calls "a whole host" of pens, pencils, trinkets, and handwritten notes during warm months—most expressing deep appreciation for the impact these writers had on visitors' lives.

She considers it an honor to be part of a place so meaningful to so many people. "For many," she told me, "It's a pilgrimage."

Visitors use similar language. "I've made this pilgrimage before," one wrote. "As always, I'm moved to tears to stand on the path of giants."

The word "pilgrimage" shows up in the guest book over and over. People come back. Some every few years, marking changes in their own lives at this unchanging spot. Others bring their kids to see the graves their own parents showed them.

The pile of pencils and stones grows. It becomes part of what people see when they arrive.

The walk down is easier, though people tend to stay longer than they planned. Something about the hilltop makes it hard to rush.

By next week, someone else will add a pencil to the pile at Thoreau's grave. Someone will stand at Emerson's headstone and feel close to a voice that changed them. The pattern continues—the climb, the pause, the small thing left behind.

The Luxury Isn't the Resort. It's Traveling with Adult Children Who Actually Want to Be There.

You can't tell your friends, "I can't talk now, I'm late for my polo lesson," without sounding like someone people want to punch in the face. And I knew not to add that I was at the Rosewood Mandarina in the Riviera Nayarit riding the same polo pony Kendall Jenner was recently seen on in Vogue. Some details are best kept to yourself.

Still, there I was.

This was after a two-hour morning ocean fishing trip with my three kids, where we caught enough fish that one of the resort's restaurants turned into tacos and ceviche by lunch. There is something perfect about catching your own lunch and then sitting down to eat it together a few hours later, the ocean still in view.

Traveling with adult children is a joy in this stage of life. Gone are the days of planning trips around nap schedules, strollers, and lines for water slides. Now our travels include massages on the beach, rounds of golf and tennis, tequila tastings, and long meals that stretch into unrushed conversations.

On this trip, my wife took our two new daughters-in-law on a meditation hike up one of the surrounding mountains. They came back tired, happy, and glowing, calling it "totally exhausting and completely worth it." I skipped out on that one. I enjoy hiking, but I've learned to be honest about what nourishes me and what doesn't. Growth sometimes looks like opting out, especially when it includes breathwork and gongs under a tree.

Traveling with your partner brings its own kind of closeness. My wife and I are about to spend several weeks hiking together in New Zealand. But traveling with adult children, who don't need caretaking, who say thank you, and who seem to even want to be with you, is a gift you don't fully appreciate until it arrives. Just don't look at the final bill when you sign it.

Staying at a place like the Rosewood Mandarina certainly elevates the experience. But the real luxury isn't the setting. It's the season of life. It's having the time, the health, and the people you love beside you. For a few days in Mexico, everything felt unhurried, connected, and exactly right.

Mark Rothschild is an author at Accidental Wisdom, where he writes about work, family, faith, and the mess in between.

91% of travelers say they're interested in slower, simpler trips built around rest, reading, nature and meaningful experiences Yahoo Finance, according to Vrbo. This isn't about saving money—it's about control, deeper engagement, and choosing quality over quantity.

Travel is less about the "where" and more about the "who" and "why." A new AAA study confirms this: 76% of travelers now plan trips around landmark life events. "Travel has become an essential way to stay connected," says Stacey Barber, VP of AAA Travel.

True exploration requires looking past the "tidied up" version of a city. This AP dispatch explores how Rio residents are reclaiming their narrative through tours focused on history and urban art. Local guide Vitor Oliveira: "Rio's essence comes from the favelas."

56% of global travelers say their number one leisure motivation in 2026 is "to rest and recharge" Travel Tomorrow, according to Hilton's Trends Report. The term "hushpitality" captures the shift: quiet vacations for nature, mental health, and precious "me time." Even reading retreats are surging.

Entering your 50th decade isn't just about reaching a milestone birthday—it's about embracing a transformative period where freedom, wisdom, and financial stability converge Women Travel Abroad. Women over 50 are the fastest-growing demographic in solo travel. This isn't about "finding yourself"—it's about finally traveling on your own terms.