The Mind Can Travel (Even When You Can’t)

This past December, I really wanted to go to London. I don’t know what got into me, but I had this idyllic vision of taking Sasha to see the land of Peppa Pig and Paddington, and having high tea at Claridge's, and walking down Regent Street under the twinkling lights, soaking in the city at its most festive.

I found tickets, I researched hotels, I planned it all out in my mind and had Dave semi-convinced. Then, right around the time the tickets tripled in price overnight, Dave threw a curveball my way. We had traveled a lot this year, he said, adding that holiday prices were out of control, our expenses were about to triple with a new house and baby, and he was opening a new business in a few months that required his undivided focus.

I have to admit, it was a tough blow. While I’m the kind of person who can fall in love with a Bottega Veneta bag and forget about it two hours after leaving the store, my travel FOMO is real. It’s a greedy monster that eats me up from the inside, consistently reminding me of all the places I’m not seeing, the experiences I’m not having, the pictures I’m not taking (and, admittedly, not posting). It doesn’t help that I happened to be nearing the end of a pregnancy that will come with a certain loss of freedom, a transition from one to two children that will make it that much harder for us to just pick up and go. Soon, I will be nesting and breastfeeding and cocooning with my new baby, an indefinitely grounding chapter that will tether me to my home even more.

And yet, I didn’t have a leg to stand on, given that Dave had gone above and beyond to honor my travel whims over the years. We abandoned the London idea and planned a few quick getaways that were fun, yet failed to quench the Europe-thirsty beast inside. And so, I began exploring alternative options, firmly believing that where there’s a will, there’s always a way. I reached out to a couple of European friends, proposing weekend trips that were met with lukewarm interest and no concrete plans. I tried to galvanize a girls’ trip that consequently fell apart when nobody could make the dates work. I kept pushing, determined to make something happen, until I realized I was flailing against the tide, driving myself mental without getting an inch closer to shore.

And so, I surrendered. December rolled around and I celebrated my 38^th birthday with family and friends. Sasha had a sequence of dance recitals, which we attended and watched our baby enthusiastically command the spotlight. We bought a tree and decorated it with Squishmallow and Disney ornaments. I took Sasha to see Nutcracker, her first real ballet. The week before Christmas, Dave went to New York and I caught up on movies, gobbling up Challengers (sharp, stylish, highly entertaining), Emilia Pérez (visceral, unforgettable) and The Substance (too gory for me to appreciate), alongside various indie flicks that Netflix spoon-fed me via the algorithm. I enrolled Sasha into a Jewish winter camp where she learned all about Hanukkah tradition while simultaneously celebrating it at home (8 days of gifts, what could be better?!) Dave and I escaped to Palm Beach for a night, where we met with friends and rode bikes and talked about extreme wealth and what it does to people. We celebrated New Year’s Eve in a close-knit circle of friends and spent the entire first day of 2025 on the beach.

It was a great month that came with a different kind of thrill than the one you get during travel, with the subtle realization of how lucky you are to be surrounded by people you love, in a life that you don’t always need to run away from. It wasn’t London with its festive Mayfair spirit, but it was a beautiful time.

As we wean off a holiday season rife with consumption, with endless gifts, indulgent dinners, and burgeoning credit card statements, I’m thinking a lot about this more grounded energy that I want to bring with me into the new year. An energy of scaling back and paring down, of simplifying my constant needs and desires, of staying in the present and being truly grateful for what I have.

At the same time, I have so much hunger and ambition—to create our new home, to build up this Substack, to adjust to second-time motherhood, to keep all the balls rolling while also having fun along the way. (And yes, I have travel plans too! Too many!) In a way, I’m trying to find a way for these two mindsets to coexist in tandem, aiding each other without either tipping the scale.

From my weak understanding of spirituality, this is entirely possible, for inner peace is actually the first step towards manifestation. (Pardon the unexpected woo woo, vision boards coming up next! Jk.) Only when we surrender and accept our circumstances do we open ourselves up to new possibilities. Only when we embrace the natural flow of things does the universe start working in sync and allowing us to attain our vision. These are things I always believed in but never truly accepted, for the fear of not getting what I wanted was far too daunting. Maybe, this is the year to grow up and finally take the leap.

xoxo

Your very own Gabby Bernstein