For thirteen years, Dominique Browning lived a fast-paced life as editor-in-chief of Conde Nast’s House & Garden magazine. Days were spent in a frantic office while evenings were for social events where she was expected to schmooze (do people still schmooze?).

One Monday morning she arrived at her office and learned that the magazine was folding; she and the staff had to clear out by Friday. What followed that unwelcome news is the stuff of her book Slow Love, which bears the wonderful subtitle How I Lost My Job, Put on My Pajamas & Found Happiness.

It’s the story of a woman who faces a crisis and discovers things about herself she never knew. That unplanned journey of self-discovery leads her to make dramatic changes in her life including selling her New York house and moving to a smaller place she owned on the coast of Rhode Island.

She writes, “Odd that being fired from a job about making homes would finally make it possible for me to make a new home in a place I have long wanted to know better. I feel a small flash of liberation. I am no longer afraid to make a big move.”

Because of my own impending move, I’ve been thinking alot about how we choose where to live. Many people, of course, remain in the area in which they were born, staying close to family, friends and the familiar.

Not everyone stays put, of course. For the past several decades, Americans, in particular, have become increasingly mobile often putting down roots in places far from where they began life.

Of course, much of that mobility was instigated by corporate decision-makers who moved people around as needed. Don’t like Memphis? Too bad. That’s where we need you now.

For the self-employed, it’s a different story. Free to consider their own preferences, those who work for themselves take advantage of the opportunity to choose a home in a place that is congenial.

Since I have always wanted to live in different places, I realized early on in my Joyfully Jobless days that I had found a way to be as mobile as I wanted. I wasn’t always so smart, however, about how to select a new world headquarters.

When I knew that I had not chosen wisely in moving to Boulder, Colorado, I asked myself, “What would my ideal community include? What do I want access to?” Writing out the answers to those questions was eye-opening.

For starters, weather was not a consideration. I did, however, want access to a good airport, an excellent library, and lively theater in a place that was easy to navigate. Since my daughter was still in high school, I also required a good school system.

Once I identified those basics, Minneapolis was a natural choice. It turned out to be an ideal place for that time in my life.

When I took my sabbatical in 1999 and traveled for 8 months, I was completely prepared to relocate if that’s what my creative renewal project uncovered. That’s not what happened, however. When I returned from my travels, I had some fresh ideas and increased clarity what I wanted to do next. Minneapolis was still the best environment for that time.

Even though we may actively participate in virtual communities and have connections throughout the world, our immediate environment matters, too. As Stewart Emery reminds us, “Nothing in the Universe is neutral. It either costs or it contributes.”

It seems to me that if we are growing, changing, evolving people, we have different requirements as we change and we acquire new goals and perspectives. Sometimes those new needs can be met right where we are.

At other times, a relocation is in order. Like Dominique Browning, we make better choices about where to plant ourselves after we have found ourselves.