Wheels on the Ground

I am about to board my eleventh flight of the year. Writing this, I am in the ordinary of sitting at the King Shaka International Airport’s Bidvest Lounge. 

It was meant to be just another travel day, but airports have a way of creating space for reflection. I am never really in one place. I’m between where I was and where I’m going. Watching another plane disappear made me wonder whether I’ve spent more than just this year in transit.

A life in motion

Movement has always felt like progress.

I have rarely stayed still for long. New jobs, new industries, new opportunities and new challenges always seemed to arrive just as I was beginning to feel comfortable. I convinced myself that I was building a career by saying yes to every growth opportunity that presented itself.

Looking back, many of those decisions were the right ones. They introduced me to incredible people, sharpened my skills and gave me experiences I couldn't have gained by staying in one place. But somewhere along the way, I also became addicted to the idea of "what's next."

There is always another role to apply for. Another title to chase. Another mountain to climb. Another version of success waiting just around the corner. I am always preparing for take-off.

The fear I didn't recognise

For a long time, I called it ambition. Now, I think it was something more complicated. I am afraid of commitment. Not commitment in the romantic sense, but commitment to staying with something long enough to discover what was waiting on the other side of discomfort.

The beginning of anything is exciting. A new job comes with fresh energy, new relationships and endless possibilities. I feel seen. I feel challenged. I feel like I’m growing.

Then the excitement fades.

The work becomes familiar. Problems become repetitive. Growth becomes quieter. That's often the point where I start looking over the horizon. I never stop to ask myself whether the breakthrough I am looking for requires another move, or simply more time.

The cost of always chasing

When you're constantly moving, you collect experiences more than depth.

My twenties became a portfolio of interesting chapters. Journalism taught me how to tell stories. Marketing taught me how stories influence people. Strategy taught me how ideas shape businesses. Every role added another layer to who I am.

I wouldn't trade those experiences for anything, but I am starting to wonder what happens when movement becomes your identity. I am starting to see the thin line between exploring and belonging. 

Feet on the ground

As I am sitting at this airport lounge, it is occurring to me that planes aren't designed to stay in the air forever. Every flight eventually lands. It has to.

Passengers leave. New ones board. The aircraft is refuelled, inspected and prepared before it flies again. Landing isn't the end of the journey. It's what makes the next journey possible.

I'm 1 year into my 30s and my definition of success is changing. It no longer feels like collecting impressive experiences or adding another line to my CV. It feels like building something that lasts. It feels like becoming known for depth instead of movement. It feels like planting roots instead of chasing runways.

Maybe that's what growing up really is. Realising that your greatest achievement isn't finding the next best thing, it’s finally finding somewhere worth standing.

Somewhere your feet can stay firmly on the ground.