Focus on what you can try. Not on what you can buy. [English]

Focus on what you can try. Not on what you can buy. Or, in short: Experiences over possessions. Experiences are more important than belongings.

Focus on what you can try. Not on what you can buy. Or, in short: Experiences over possessions. Experiences are more important than belongings.

I had the privilege of turning 50 this summer. Quite a milestone.

And as is often the case with birthdays, it usually means a significant increase in the number of things you receive. Well-intentioned things. Items chosen and given with love. But still. Where do you put all this stuff?

I don't know about you, but personally, I have no need for things. Sure, a bottle of wine or a beer gift set is nice because it’s something you can enjoy and then it’s out of your life.

But other items slowly take over your life.

I'm not ungrateful, but more stuff...? I can't do anything with it.

When people ask me what I want, I’ve had a rule for some time now: just give me an experience.

Things gather dust, but an experience is something you share. You create memories from it. You carry it with you. Forever.

This thought isn’t entirely new. I’ll quote a text I wrote earlier below.

Sometimes, in the endless ocean of content called YouTube, something truly useful comes along. Through one of my favorite bushcrafters, Bjorn Andreas Bull-Hansen, I discovered the channel Carpathian Adventure.

The owner of this channel is Edward O'Toole. He’s been living with his family in the Carpathians in Eastern Slovakia for nearly 22 years. In his video *Experiences Over Possessions - life is for trying not buying*, he says: *Focus on what you can try. Not on what you can buy. Or, in short: Experiences over possessions. Experiences are more important than belongings. Or as you might read on a tile: Don’t save pennies, but beautiful moments.

It’s a phrase that sticks with you because it’s a good summary of my search. A good mantra for the journey of discovery I’m on. In terms of possessions, I—or rather, we—generally have no complaints. Once you reach a certain amount of possessions, you start to wonder how much more you really need.

In the end, it’s mostly about upgrading—a newer version of something you already have. But it supposedly needs to be better. Or a replacement. Something breaks, and you need to replace it. But generally, we have more than enough stuff. Even too much.

So, the answer to—*What do you want to achieve in life?*—isn’t *more stuff*. Or even before that—*more money*. Right now, I mostly want more experiences. To live more. My bucket list doesn’t consist of possessions and money, but of moments and knowledge.

Honestly, I never really thought about a bucket list before because I already have a rich and blessed life. But when I consider what should be on my bucket list? I mostly seek moments to offer my children. Moments to share together. The experience of swimming in open water. The experience of a mountain hike. Watching the sunrise or fully experiencing the universe. The experience of camping in the woods. The experience of foraging and eating wild plants. The experience of freedom. The experience of doing this with a father who isn’t lethargically lounging on the couch but feels in his element. Who can fend for himself.

The knowledge that goes along with that involves knowing about nature. Bushcraft at the extreme end, but also the necessary knowledge to avoid getting lost. To know what I’m doing. What kind of animal that is or what kind of plant. To know that I can be there when it matters. Because that’s not a given.

I spent a large part of my life growing up in the city, in an urban environment where all possibilities are available 24 hours a day. And I enjoyed it. To the fullest. Partying until the sun comes up. Eating at 3:00 AM? No problem! I know my way around the city—day and night.

But since I left the city and the metropolitan area behind, my happiness no longer lies in chasing after all the possibilities that city life offers. My happiness lies in chasing moments and knowledge. Learning the necessary knowledge to make those moments go as smoothly as possible.

For a while, we went swimming in open water. There’s a river near our house. We call it the “Diep.” It’s a branch of a larger canal. Just a short bike ride away, and we can swim. In water that’s brown from the peat, where water plants float, and that isn’t preheated.

As it starts to rain lightly and most people are sitting down for dinner, we dive into the water. An experience I hope is more important than owning things.

Last weekend, my family gave me an experience. Indeed, for my 50th birthday. A whole weekend immersed in the world of bush craft. A survival weekend. From cleaning and cooking a trout to building a shelter, from twining nettles into rope to making fire. We covered it all. You couldn’t make me happier. A whole weekend of new experiences. A whole weekend of gaining knowledge. Not alone, but together.

In a world overflowing with consumerism. In an endless stream of things (designed to break as quickly as possible), I prefer to choose the experience. Time and time again. It seems better for the planet, too. *Focus on what you can try. Not on what you can buy.*

In the part *what you can try*, there’s also a challenge. Saying yes to new experiences. Not hesitating or making excuses, but wholeheartedly saying yes. To new moments. Life isn’t about ifs, buts, and taking the safe path. That’s the path of comfort and convenience. I’ve already walked that path. But by trying new things, I walk the path of discomfort. Because I don’t know how it will turn out. I don’t know what will appear beyond the next ridge in the landscape. Or what’s around the next bend.

That’s where I want to focus my attention. What else can I try? What else can I say yes to? And what moments can I create with my family by not backing down, but by saying—*Yes, we’re going to try that.* What discomfort can I seek out to become even stronger? Even fitter so that I can confidently say—*Of course, I’m joining in. You can count on me.*

That’s a very different path from saying—*That sounds difficult, I’d rather stay on my comfortable couch. Let me rest in my ease and comfort.* That’s not the mindset I want to pass on. I’d rather give my children the idea that an experience is worth far more than possessions.

Perhaps because I’ve spent far too long focused on possessions. Comfort and convenience also revolve around acquiring things that offer even more comfort and convenience. And you keep investing in that. All to avoid discomfort. Those things lose their value. Or they just—seemingly faster—break down. But the moments. They stay.

Focus on what you can try.