The World is divided by Space Travelers & Time Travelers
And all the travelers in between
NOTE:
I originally wrote this for a semi-programmed Quaker meeting. It’s still a thought in progress—something I’m feeling my way through rather than presenting as finished truth. As always, I offer it not as an answer, but as an invitation to consider, question, and connect. This will be fleshed out into a chapter of a book some day, anybody who wants to offer their opinion or experience is welcome.
On being a #2 stirrer
Some of you know I like to interrupt tired and absurd social patterns,
My instinct is to question whatever becomes common knowledge—to uncover questionable assumptions, challenge contradictions and inconsistencies, and encourage self-examination and self-awareness. And then, of course, share my observations with people who didn’t ask.
I have a habit of shaking people out of their automation and off their foundations.
Intentionality is my compass. In a world shepherded by algorithms, being merely conscious is revolutionary.
We are held captive by the most delicate golden thread.
This gives me hope—because I see how easy it is to break out.
But it also brings a lot of frustration. I mean, imagine watching the people you love trapped in a dopamine prison, reduced to shells of their potential. The drug dealers are using our own biochemistry as their labs.
In short, I confront groupthink and hypocrisy wherever I see it—and believe me, there’s no end to it, even in myself.
I’m often called a contrarian.
It seems to be my calling, and I come by it honestly.
I come from a long line of #2 Stirrers
My dad challenged everything I said growing up—always playing devil’s advocate, even when it went against his own beliefs.
To this day, he turns everything into connections: how war can lead to saved lives, or how the Black Plague didn’t just decimate Europe—it indirectly led to the rise of the middle class by making labor more valuable. Suffering leads to progress., progress leads to suffering… ad infinitum. God isn’t working in mysterious ways, she’s keeping us on our toes, she’s making sure we appreciate life.
My mom, on the other hand, encouraged me to think more deeply, to question assumptions, and to look beneath the surface for intention. She had me reading Jung, Freud, even Ayn Rand—nothing was forbidden. Knowledge is knowledge, and you can’t have too many perspectives.
For a long time, I wreaked chaos on my life—breaking things down, but never building anything back up. More questions than answers.
Only recently, in my 50s, have I realized this gift of mine doesn’t have to provoke conflict—it can be used to build peace.
I give a lot of the credit for that to Quakerism.
I’m still probably annoying to most people—maybe even more so—but I’ve learned I don’t have to reach everyone. Just a few.
The ones with the humor or charisma I lack are the ones who can carry this drilled-down honesty further than I ever could—even if, in doing so, they turn it into something I might not even recognize.
They’re the ones who translate what I stir into something others will actually drink. They put sugar in the medicine.
My calling is nothing on its own; it only has power when it’s joined with the calling of those different from me—those more focused on relationships than ideas.
They bridge my ideas to others.
Today, I want to talk about two kinds of travelers: Space travelers and Time travelers—and the bridge between them.
Space Travelers
There are people who grow by moving through space—traveling, relocating, trying new foods in new countries, drinking local wine or beer, learning new customs, maybe even picking up a language or two.
They tend to see the world in broad brushstrokes. Their worldview becomes a mosaic of the places they’ve been and the places they long to go.
This excites them.
They measure their growth against the selves they used to be—and the difference feels profound.
So much so that they sometimes view those who haven’t traveled as less developed. Less awakened.
Then there are people who grow by moving through time.
Time Travelers
These are the folks who stay rooted. They watch the same streets evolve over decades. They learn the rhythms of the seasons and the people.
They carry the stories of their communities in their bones.
They remember the mischief of grandfathers and grandmothers as children and talk about how ornery they still are.
They don’t collect passport stamps, but they might have a 50-year-old stamp collection.
They gather wisdom through repetition, tradition, and long-term relationships.
They know who they are—and so does everyone else—and they try to keep it aligned with who they’ve always been.
Consistency is reliability. Their branding is solid.
A space traveler travels to experience time travel
These are metaphors, of course. People aren’t meant to be filed into neat little categories.
But they do reflect two very real ways of becoming.
And let me say this up front: neither is better.
But both often think they are.
Space travelers—those who move and explore—can feel like they hold the moral high ground.
I know this because I’ve been one.
Movement can feel like expansion, like travel automatically leads to empathy.
Sometimes it does.
Sometimes it just leads to better Instagram stories and a little too much partying with people just like you.
Here’s the irony: space travelers often spend thousands of dollars and fly halfway across the world to experience the “charm” of people who live simply, in tight-knit communities, honoring tradition.
They crave what they’ve lost—or what they never had.
And who are these people they go to see?
Time travelers.
Those who’ve stayed. Whose wisdom has been quietly fermenting for decades… maybe alongside their vineyards that produce those beautiful wines we love to drink when we travel.
But when people like that appear in our own hometowns—rooted, traditional, maybe a little skeptical of change—we don’t always honor them.
We don’t see them as people who’ve had a front-row seat at the theater of time.
Instead (probably using our inside voice), we call them “stuck in their ways.”
We mock what we romanticize when it’s far away.
That’s not empathy.
That’s selective romanticism.
Time Travelers Stay to experience their Space
On the flip side, time travelers—those who stay—can also feel superior.
They may see space travelers as shallow, restless, ungrateful.
They might say things like, “You can’t find happiness out there if you don’t have it in here,” or, “What are you running from?”
There’s truth in that.
But sometimes people leave not to escape themselves—but to find parts of themselves they never had permission to explore at home.
Sometimes those parts are new ideas—ideas that might threaten the cohesion of a community.
Which is why space-traveling politicians might have a hard time writing a unifying motto like Make America Great Again.
So we have this tension.
Each group thinks the other is missing something.
And maybe they’re both right.
Space travelers bring freshness, new ideas, reminders that there are other ways to live.
They stretch boundaries and challenge assumptions.
They can be a lifeline for places that need change.
Time travelers bring depth, memory, and commitment.
They remind us that purpose doesn’t always look like adventure—it sometimes looks like showing up again and again for the same people in the same place.
And you know what? We need both.
If all we ever do is wander, we risk becoming untethered; our life becomes a montage of short stories instead of a novel.
If all we ever do is stay, we risk becoming closed off and left behind in a rapidly changing world.
But together?
We offer one another both stability and movement.
Identity and expansion.
Insight and grounding.
Resilience and wiggle room to grow within the parameters of our travel type.
In a world that’s more mobile—and more divided—than ever, maybe the most radical thing we can do is build bridges between these ways of being.
So today, I invite us to soften toward one another
If you’ve moved often, try to honor the wisdom of those who’ve stayed.
If you’ve stayed, try to imagine the courage it takes to keep starting over.
And for all of us—whether we move through space or through time—remember:
You can see all the cathedrals of the world and compare their histories,
or you can know only one cathedral—by knowing why moss grows on certain stones,
why that gargoyle lost its nose,
and how the squirrels store their seeds in bullet holes.
Benediction
May we go forward with softened eyes and open hearts,
honoring both the roads we’ve traveled and the roots we’ve laid down.
May we learn to cherish those who move differently than we do.
And may we come to know ourselves—so that we may truly come to know one another.
Postscript:
I’m learning as I go, and I suspect I always will be. If you see yourself in this—or see something I’ve missed—I’d love to hear from you. We need all kinds of travelers to make the journey worthwhile.