A Place for Exploration

One of the things I’ve come to enjoy about Substack is seeing how differently we all approach writing and living. People show up wanting to share, explore and express themselves. They’re willing to be vulnerable, sometimes a bit messy, and they still find their way through words to put something real on the page and connect.

I know the algorithm mostly shows me what I’ve chosen to follow and I’m sure there’s plenty I never see. That doesn’t bother me because what I enjoy is the sense that this place isn’t all about the shiny surface stuff. It feels safe enough to take a chance and hit publish without worrying about getting everything right. In the end, you get to decide whether the numbers matter or whether it’s simply a place to write and see what comes out.

I notice the posts about how to grow your audience and the stories of people who go from a handful of readers to thousands in a few weeks. I’ve been posting sporadically for a few years and I’m amazed and grateful to have reached just over forty subscribers. I’m happy and a little surprised that anyone wants to read what I share.

For me, Substack feels like a celebration of exploration. I love seeing people of all ages discovering more about themselves and becoming more comfortable in their own skin. There’s a real joy in watching how life keeps unfolding. Opportunities arise, chances are taken, realisations land and we learn new things about who we are, no matter our stage of life.

I keep catching myself wanting to write that there are two types of people and I know that isn’t true. Everyone brings their own experiences and their own way of seeing the world. What I really mean is that I notice patterns. For some, life feels like a series of opportunities, something to explore. It isn’t all good or easy but it’s full of lessons that shape them. For others, life feels like something to manage and stabilise. Change feels risky, disruption feels unwelcome and safety sits in the familiar. Most of us carry elements of both, but some people lean more one way than the other.

A couple of Substacks I enjoy are written by people in their seventies and eighties. They’re unapologetic about staying curious. It makes me think of an elderly relative who’s resisted technology for decades. Even when word processing replaced her beloved electric typewriter, she resisted the change and to this day regularly complains about having to use a computer. Watching these older writers embrace new ways to express themselves reminds me that curiosity doesn’t expire.

I smile as I write about older writers because I’m fast approaching my sixties, so I fit into the category myself. I still catch myself equating a desire for safety and a resistance to change with being old. Recognising that has made me think about how people used to tell me I was old beyond my years in my twenties. I was conservative in the way I approached life.

My formative years created a strong need to feel safe and that showed up as fierce independence, a strong work ethic and a real desire to fit in and please people. As I’ve worked through some of those things I’ve become less risk averse. I’ve started to recognise my own needs and wants as important. I’ve realised that curiosity and exploration aren’t tied to age. They’re tied to how willing we are to loosen our grip on certainty, or as I like to say, go wild.

That same relative often talks about how much harder things were in her day. I don’t doubt she believes it and I can see how the events in her life shaped her. I’ve come to believe every generation has its own challenges and while they’re different, they’re no less real than the ones that came before.

Reading Substack makes that visible and you get to encounter such a range of ideas and voices. Some writers talk about choosing to remain childless, some are navigating career changes or relationship breakdowns or realising the life they built no longer fits. Others are celebrating milestones, working through adversity or simply sharing stories from their lives. It feels a bit like an invitation into someone else’s world.

There’s something almost magical in seeing so many different journeys and recognising some of your own experiences in the experiences of others. I don’t think I’d realised how many women in their fifties and sixties grapple with identity as they navigate menopause, changing relationships and a reassessment of careers and their place in the world. It’s nice to know you aren’t alone.

As I’ve grown older, alignment has started to matter more to me than achievement. I’m trying to compare myself less and focus more on what fits me and what I enjoy. On Substack, I don’t feel that push for comparison as I’m doing it for me and it feels more like a community.

Maybe that’s what keeps me here, the sense that we’re all finding our way at our own pace and in our own voice. Substack gives us a place to do that, even if, like most things in life, it happens to be a little imperfect.