A Morning Walk Along the Railroad Tracks | Finding Stability in Unstable Places

I Thought I Was a Dandelion. Turns Out I’m a Mushroom.

 By: Wander Seeker, Licensed Nurse & Travel Blogger

    I once believed I was a dandelion, floating wherever the wind carried me, hoping one seed might land somewhere good. But in truth, I’ve always been a mushroom; creating my home in the in-between spaces.

I recently left my career of 15 years as an LPN to become a travel vlogger and, so far, I couldn't be happier. If you think I've lost my mind, you can read more on Why I Left Nursing (After 15 Years) to Become a Youtuber. 

    I recently started a Youtube journey, or as I refer to it, midlife crisis. This morning instead of waking up and heading to work, I overslept and then filmed a peaceful walk along the railroad tracks through central Indiana farmland. What I thought would be just another video day became a lesson on what stability really means.

Survival Isn’t the Same as Living 

    There’s a difference between wandering because you have to, and wandering because you choose to. When I left home this morning, I didn’t feel like running away. There was no fear pressing me out the door, no guilt leaving my animals safe and asleep. Only excitement. Curiosity.  

September 15th, 2025 - 7:23am Central Indiana Farmlands   

    I had set this date aside for my second official filming day. My original plan was a different nature hike, but after yet another morning waking up late and groggy, I decided to stay local. At first, I was disappointed because I wanted something bigger, more “worthy” of a second video. But staying nearby guaranteed I’d catch golden hour light for filming, so I grabbed my tripod and walked out to the tracks.

    The shots were worth it. Morning sun spilled across the rails, shined through trees, and stretched over fields of freshly harvested corn. Though, I’ve never considered myself the “outdoorsy” type before, and after only fifteen minutes of trudging along uneven gravel, fatigue hit me hard.

    Holding the tripod steady was a workout I had not anticipated and my black sweatshirt soaked in the heat as the sun rose higher in the sky, but I kept pushing through. I wanted a full thirty minutes of uninterrupted nature walking footage. Each step became a battle fighting to maintain balance along the tracks, creeping exhaustion, and regretting not bringing a bottle of water for what I assumed would be an easy walk. This was not the peaceful experience I had planned.

    About a mile down the tracks my breathing had become noticeably ragged and I worried that it might get picked up in the audio. I made a bargain with myself: reach the stop sign in the distance ahead, or make it to thirty minutes of recording time. One or the other.

Confronting Limits Within Yourself

    I finally made it to the stop sign and shut my video off. I flopped down into the dirt catching my breath. I was worn out already, but it was the walk back that would confront me with my own limits.

    The road home seemed endless. I was regretting not being in better shape, not making the decision to choose this lifestyle sooner. I peeked back to the stop sign I had marked earlier. It had barely budged. I hadn't realize how far I wandered, but I knew that if I had to I could call home and get picked up. An embarrassing thought. 

    Huffing, I paused to notice a unique weathered log with large disc-shaped fungi pushing through its rotting surface. I've always learned to tie stability to measurable things, but peering down at this disregarded log I realized stability wasn’t about where I ended up. 

    Stability isn’t about a house, a car, or a job title. It’s about finding roots wherever you can; like in family, strength built through personal growth, relief of financial steadiness, or in finally learning to accept and trust in yourself. Looking at these mushrooms I recognized that I'd finally made the shift, from just surviving to living. This level of stability gave me something I hadn’t felt before. Despite the struggle I was enduring now, this lesson is what made my morning walk along the tracks so meaningful.

       Mere minutes after walking past the mushroom log, my right shoulder panged. Struggling, I looked back at the stop sign. It had shrank into a tiny red speck. A representation of how far I’d already come.

    My resolve now was just to make it back home on my own two feet. I trudged along the gravel at a focused, moderate pace and set my sights ahead on a tree overhanging a section of track. When I reached it, I would pause, film a still shot, and breathe. 

I made it.

    Lowering myself onto the gravel beneath the shade tree, the tripod thudding against the iron rail, my lungs caught up with my body. The air smelled faintly of rust mixed with the sweetness of dew lifting off the cornfields. Crickets sang like a chorus keeping time with my heartbeat, and above me the trees let sunlight wash across the tracks in fractured panes of gold. A moment of perfect peace... 

This is why I wander ~ 

    This time my walk stayed close to home in the Indiana farmlands, and I realized adventure doesn't have to mean traveling to far places. Sometimes, exploration is about experiencing new things right where you are. One way I love doing that is with Try The World, a subscription service that delivers gourmet snacks from around the globe straight to your door. You can check it out HERE, and if you subscribe, it helps support my channel at no cost to you.