Why We Aren’t YouTubers: Living in the Moment

Worlds We May Never Experience

We so appreciate YouTubers who bring us into worlds we’ve never experienced, places we’ve never been, activities we may never do, and some we just might try because now we know how. (Sure we do.)

Like millions of other people, we get a kick out of vicarious living when we watch a guy chop huge chunks of snow for a supposedly cozy shelter. We discuss the reasons anyone might want to spend a night in an offshore duck blind with a blizzard coming in. And who knew you could reserve a glass pod hanging off the side of a cliff in Peru as your hotel for the night? That last one is definitely on my bucket list, although I’m guessing I wouldn’t sleep a wink. But the ones we subscribe to are the full-time RVers who tell it like it is, because of course that's where we begin translating vicarious living into real life. (See below for a list of some of our favorite full-time RVers on YouTube.)

What Goes Into YouTube Videos

Sometimes friends jokingly tell us we should start our own YouTube channel. But have you thought what goes into every single episode? How do YouTubers get their footage? You watch Joseph and Kaylan hike through a creek, but what you don’t see is Kaylan picking a spot to set up the camera, both of them hiking past it three or four times, coming back to get the camera or phone, and checking the video before hiking on. Honestly, when I’m hiking I'm not willing to stop unless it’s to dig out my next energizing snack, preferably one that includes M&Ms.

And all those cool drone shots of the RV rolling down the highway? Somebody’s gotta get out of the truck to fly it, and I’d rather it wasn’t me. Besides generating visual content, how many hours does it take to come up with engaging narratives, voice-overs, and intros? And I haven't even mentioned the steep learning curve and expense of a good video editing program.

So all the hours of prep, setup, retakes, and endless editing that go into making a single YouTube channel episode—not for us. At least not right now. For us in this season, it’s about choosing presence over production.

Living in the Moment on the Road

Because when you’re driving long stretches of highway and NOT editing your 40 hours of video into a 20-minute video, you notice things. You can be in the heart of Wyoming or the prairies of South Dakota on those seemingly endless roads and suddenly, there it is. A billboard for Wall Drug or the Corn Palace—both are worth a look-see. Or a Mobile Chapel for truckers. Or a herd of bison. Not only do you spot the mundane and mildly interesting, you have time to think about what you’re seeing, have a conversation with your partner about it, and perhaps feel thankful you get to ride in your air-conditioned truck right on past it. All without scrambling for your phone to record the moment.

Living in the moment suggests a posture that is anticipatory, eager, and open. You’re engaged with whoever and whatever is near. I learned a bit about this as a kid, long before RV life became our reality. It was during an outdoor school assignment I initially thought would be infinitely boring. Each kid in my grade was assigned a square foot of the school field to observe. For ten minutes, we were to pay attention to the plants, the bugs, and anything else within our square foot of dirt and grass. How interesting could it be? I thought. Must be one of those assignments designed to give the teachers a break.

For the first minute, I squatted and gazed disgustedly around my plot. Nothing, not even a snake hole. But I was an obedient student, so I kept looking. And then I spotted an ant. And another. A trail of them, just like the song: The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah. Where were they going? I could see little bits of something they were carrying. These guys were busy. They had a mission. And suddenly I wished I were an ant and could join them, see what it was like, find out what ants thought about as they scurried along. The ten minutes flew by, and I had to quickly write down all I could remember about the flora and fauna of my little square. I still remember that ten minutes, probably better than many other learning experiences in grade school.

Living in the Moment Means Settling In

So living in the moment means allowing yourself to relax into whatever is happening in your little square foot of the world. It also means deciding in advance that you'll be interested and engaged. Too many times I’ve been guilty of deciding in advance that I won't enjoy it, whatever "it" is. If I’ve never tried it before, why do I think I know enough to decide I won’t like it? Of course, some things are obviously beyond my capabilities, like Crossfit training. And some things are definitely not for me, like the “drunken nude Tai Chi” party someone in San Augustine, TX, recommended to us a couple of months ago (true story, and in case you’re wondering, we didn’t show up).

But other things, like attending a rodeo, could be entertaining in ways that go beyond watching someone on horseback rope a steer. Look at the cute kids’ western wear, the food booths with fried everything, and the way no one seems to mind the manure-scented dust. Living in the moment makes me want to experience it the way the locals do, not just document that I was there. Maybe without the horseback riding, though. Our last horseback tour was fabulously beautiful, around the mountains of Lake Tahoe, and, boy, were we happy when it ended a half-hour earlier than expected. Ow!

The Inner Bully That Keeps Us From Living in the Moment

Especially when it comes to our friendships and family time, living in the moment is not a commodity to be wasted. We all love to record the moment in pictures and videos, and there's nothing wrong with that. But even better is being a part of what’s recorded. Because sometimes the camera lens cuts us off from full immersion in life. For some of us, the camera might even be a defensive wall, a way to maintain our personal space and avoid the pain of being human. Or remain an observer rather than a participant.

These are some of the ways an inner self-defense bully shows up. The self-defense bully isn’t interested in our positive development. It's one of the patterns I explore more deeply in my book, Turning Your Inner Bullies Into Allies. The self-defense bully loudly, positively insists it’s just trying to protect us. But when this bully consistently gets the deciding vote in our relationships, we end up isolated and depressed.

Dismantling the self-defense bully may mean you and I need to get out from behind the camera, so to speak, and step into the moment with vulnerability and courage. And what rewards we find when we live in the moment. We won't miss out on the ants, bison, and Wall Drug billboards. Or the laughter while sharing memories with friends and family. So while we value and appreciate a good YouTube channel, Roger and I have decided the best parts of life aren’t the ones we capture. They’re the ones that quietly change us because we’re paying attention.

When has staying behind the lens, so to speak, interfered with your best life? I’d love to hear your story.

(If you’re wondering, a few of the full-time RVers YouTube channels we enjoy are Happily Ever Hanks; Less Junk, More Journey; Open Roading; and Wild RV Life.)

For more on how real life beats a screen, you might also enjoy these posts:

• Real Life: 1, YouTube: 0. Where I learned the hard way that real life doesn’t always match up with what looks easy on a screen.

• Wetsuits, Dinghys, and Kayaks—When Dreams Meet Reality. A story about how some dreams are worth chasing.