Along the southwest coast of Sri Lanka during the winter months, the monsoon winds build perfect swells in this unique corner of the world. If you are lucky enough to travel to this incredible country during this time of year, you are in for a treat. With rich coconut curries, Buddhist temples, and tropical beaches, the southwestern coast of Sri Lanka is one of the most captivating places to surf and travel, with an abundance of culture and endless waves.

A couple of winters ago, my partner and I packed up our bags to head out on an adventure of a lifetime, surfing around the world. After falling in love the prior summer on the North Coast of Oregon, we committed to traveling the world to surf together. One country on Chase’s bucket list was Sri Lanka, and I easily gave into the idea of making that one of our stops on our winter surf trip.

Sri Lanka was, without a doubt, one of the most incredible places we had ever been to. Here are our some of our highlights from our surf trip around the southwest coast of Sri Lanka and the best surf spots!

Roti and Vegetable Curry

Roti is a popular staple in Sri Lankan cuisine, made with a rice flour dough that is prepared in a variety of different flavors and dishes. It’s often one of the most commonly found foods in Sri Lanka, and also one of the spiciest! One of our favorite roti flavors was coconut roti, which, to our delight, wasn’t very spicy and is often served with vegetable curries. At times, we couldn’t decide which was better — the beautiful display of the food we were eating or the delicious, rich flavors that would melt in our mouths.

Stick Fishing

Stick fishing is a traditional and simple fishing method practiced only on the southwest coast of the country. During our first week in Ahangama, we saw small, shallow sections of reef with large sticks poking out of the water. We heard from others that local fishers used them during incoming tides as a traditional fishing method. We were so excited when we finally came across the local stick fishermen and watched them fish with patience and ease as they carefully balanced on a stick, as if suspended in the air. As they caught fish, they would place them in baskets or bags slung over their shoulders to bring back to their families or sell at the market later in the day.

Local Culture and People

The Sri Lankans were some of the friendliest people we had ever come across. Their warm, inviting demeanor and simple approach to life was refreshing. Buddhist temples were scattered around the landscape, the air always smelled like incense, and the traditional Sri Lankan garments worn by the locals were all uniquely different from each other. Around every corner, we would find a market selling local produce, freshly caught fish, or spices. Sri Lankans carry themselves with strength and are very present in their everyday lives. With a history of oppression, they carry a lot of pride for their country, and their kindness is contagious.

Elephant Safari

During our stay at Coconuts Beach, we organized a side trip to Minneriya National Park for an elephant safari. For an affordable price, we booked our own buggy and driver to take us through the national park to see dozens of Asian elephants in the wild. This was one of the most incredible experiences of our entire winter trip — being able to observe these majestic creatures in their own habitat was mind-blowing and eye-opening.

Traveling by Tuktuk

One of the best parts about Sri Lanka was traveling from town to town by tuktuk. Every time we checked out of a guesthouse, we would flag down a tuktuk on the street to take us to our next destination. Our surfboards would get strapped to the roof with a thin rope, and we would squeeze into the back of the tuktuk with our luggage piled on top of us. It was such a fun way to travel around and a really neat way to observe our surroundings. It wasn’t the fastest way to get from place to place, but it sure was the most fun — and the cheapest!

Favorite Surf Breaks

Surfing in Sri Lanka was what we came for, and it sure delivered! With tropical waters and reef breaks, the waves were clean and consistent, though a bit more crowded than we had expected. To avoid the crowds and heat, we did our best to surf early in the morning. Our dawn patrol sessions didn’t always go as planned, but we found a variety of surf breaks that each offered different types of waves and warm water.

Here are our top 5 waves for surfing the southwest coast of Sri Lanka:

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Start each day in the right mind

Don’t let the little things

take up your time

Each day is a gift, you can vibrate high

The way your approach things

you decide

Sit and complain or express gratitude

It’s your personal choice

see what feels good

To be here now and to be alive

Why waste pure energy

when you can fly

This Fourth of July, my boyfriend and I decided to leave the touristy beach town we live in on the Oregon Coast and head to Canada to escape the fireworks. We decided to bring our bikes, leave our car in Port Angeles, Washington, and hop on the ferry to Victoria, BC. Part bike trip, part city adventure, we had an epic four days exploring one of our favorite parts of Vancouver Island.

From adventurous bike rides along the Galloping Goose Trail and devouring baked goods to late-night treats and a vibrant local farmers market, read on to hear about the best places to explore and eat in Victoria.

Bike Rides around Victoria

The first part of our trip was biking from the ferry port in Victoria to the town of Sooke, less than 30 miles away by bicycle. We hopped off the ferry, headed to Farmhouse Victoria for a divine breakfast sandwich and a hot hojicha (roasted green tea with a nutty finish), and then got on our bikes in the light drizzling rain to continue on towards Sooke on the Galloping Goose Trail.

The Galloping Goose Trail is a multi-use rail trail that runs 34 miles through forests and along Matheson Lake. We cruised along and enjoyed this packed gravel trail, which was easy to follow, extremely safe for cyclists, and mostly flat, making it an easy ride.

We arrived in the cute town of Sooke a few hours later for a relaxing evening on the bay and headed back to Victoria on our bikes the next morning. Two other popular rail trails for cyclists that we were briefly on in the area were the E&N Rail Trail and the Lochside Trail. Between those three routes, you’re in for multiple car-free bike rides. Add in the pristine, green-painted bike lanes of Victoria, and you’re set for success when it comes to bike commuting safely and navigating around this urban hub.

Saunas Galore!

Once we arrived back in Victoria after our cycling overnight in Sooke, we had a hydrotherapy session reserved at HAVN Saunas. This converted marine barge turned Nordic-inspired spa is nothing short of meticulously well-designed. With a mix of saunas, cold plunges, mineral baths, hot pools, and relaxation rooms overlooking the Victoria Harbour as the sun set, it was the luxurious experience we were looking for. We both agreed that this was — without a doubt — the best sauna experience we had ever had. We also signed up for the two-hour late-night session, which was cheaper than the typical three-hour session.

The second night we were in Victoria, we wanted to check out the other sauna spa in town, Ritual Nordic Spa. We booked a one-and-a-half-hour session for half the price of HAVN Saunas. Ritual wasn’t as fancy or well-designed as HAVN, but it was still an exquisite little spa offering everything we needed for a more affordable price. Plus, unlike HAVN, it had a steam room as well, which was a nice added bonus.

Both of the sauna spas we went to were the perfect way to end a busy day of biking or exploring the city by foot, and they left us both sleeping very soundly each night. Our favorite was HAVN, even if the price was a little higher.

Enchiladas, Irish Stew, Perogies for Breakfast & Dumplings

Out of the many places we went out to eat in Victoria, here are our top four places to enjoy for a sit down meal (when we weren’t indulging in baked goods and matcha).

Maiiz

This authentic, traditional Oaxacan-style Mexican restaurant stands out from the usual Tex-Mex you’ll often find. Every dish feels like it’s made with love, and all the tortillas are homemade and fresh. This is a must-stop spot for Mexican food lovers.

Irish Times Pub

A lively, cozy pub with an energizing atmosphere right in the heart of Victoria. The Irish stew is excellent and comes with their homemade soda bread, offering a cozy meal in a fun setting. It’s also a popular place in the city to watch sporting events and we happened to stumble upon this pub during the Canada vs. Morocco world cup game. The energy was contagious, but unfortunately Canada lost the game.

John’s Place

A classic Victoria breakfast spot with a fun, diner vibe. The walls are covered floor to ceiling in posters and photos of famous athletes and musicians. Don’t miss the pierogi omelette or the savory cornbread, they are what keep me coming back to this delicious little breakfast cafe.

Chubby Dumpling

A total hole-in-the-wall spot that’s easily missed, with some of the best dumplings in town. It’s absolutely worth seeking out if you’re craving amazing dumplings and it’ has fast service, so it’s perfect for a quick bite.

The Best Bakery I’ve Ever Come Across

I’m an absolute sucker for baked goods, especially when they’re freshly made. I’m constantly researching the best bakeries around when I’m traveling, and this one specific bakery in Victoria was so good, I ended up eating 8 pastries from there in two days — but it was worth it, I couldn’t resist. This bakery is called

Friends & Family Bake, and it’s famous for its ube baked goods. The authentic Filipino bread and pastries were to die for! From ube ensaymadas to pandan buns, I just couldn’t get enough. The second day we were there, multiple food tours came through the bakery, since apparently it has become one of the hot spots for foodies in Victoria.

This is my favorite bakery I’ve ever been to in my life. There are close seconds in Rhode Island and Japan, but this one tops both of those!

Matcha Heaven

Besides the drool-worthy baked goods at Friends & Family Bake, I tried two fabulous iced matchas in Victoria: a maple lavender oat milk matcha latte from Just Matcha Tea Shop in Chinatown, and an iced strawberry matcha with macadamia milk from Wairua. They were both delicious and made with ceremonial-grade matcha, but my favorite was the iced strawberry matcha — and it seems like that’s what Wairua is famous for!

The Fishermans Wharf

Fishermans Wharf is a fun houseboat neighborhood in Victoria where you can explore all the floating homes on the docks, along with some local eats. The charming floating houses are home to families living there full-time, and with no short-term rentals allowed, it makes for a quaint and fully local community. Each home pops with color and comes with an array of boats docked up for transportation, plus flower boxes with miniature dockside gardens. We loved walking around and exploring the marina and fishing boats as we waited for our water taxi to get back to the other side of the bay.

The Famous Victoria Water Taxis

The water taxis in Victoria are more than just transportation — they’re part of the city’s culture. For $16, you can catch a ride on these 12-person vessels to 14 key locations around the city. Not only are they convenient, but they also offer a scenic view of the city from the water. The best part about these water taxis is the daily water ballet performance in the summer, put on every morning at 10:30am — a free, choreographed boat performance. We felt like we were watching bathtub floaty toys putting on a synchronized dance performance for us; it was super fun and cute!

James Bay Market

The best farmers market in the area is the James Bay Market! This quaint neighborhood market was overflowing with farm-fresh blueberries, delicious homemade onigiri (Japanese rice balls) for lunch, and a Turkish stand selling some of the tastiest rosewater baklava I’ve ever had. There was a two-woman cover band playing popular tunes and attracting a crowd, and local artisans were selling a wide variety of crafts. This market runs Saturday mornings from 9am to 3pm, May through October, and is a short 1-mile walk from Fishermans Wharf.

Late Night Adventures: Eats & Treats

Lastly, we couldn’t hold back our two favorite late-night spots! We don’t drink, but both are bars offering a wide selection of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, perfect for anyone. The first stop was Tora Tiki, a Hawaiian-inspired cocktail and mocktail bar, where we ordered a delicious dole whip and a virgin piña colada. We were immediately transported from Canadian to island vibes. The atmosphere was fun and also laid-back.

The second place we went to was The Mint, a live music venue and Asian fusion restaurant. When we arrived, there was a Grateful Dead cover band playing (which took me back to my twenties), and the overall vibe was positive and groovy. We were told by our waitress at Tora Tiki that this was the spot for late-night snacks, and she said we had to try the butter chicken poutine. And yes, she was right — that butter chicken poutine was the perfect late-night snack. Mix traditional Canadian poutine with Indian food, and that butter chicken poutine really hit the spot!

Let me know your favorite places in Victoria, BC in the comments below (or if you’ve tried that fluffy ube ensaymada 🤤).

I first came to Short Sands Beach on the North Oregon Coast in Oswald West State Park in 2014, unknowing that it would one day be one of the most important places in my life.

At the time, I was road tripping down the coast after spending several weeks skiing at Mount Hood and was on a hike overlooking the stunning cove beneath me. I had no idea it would one day have such a huge impact on me and how it would affect the twists, turns and outcomes of my life.

That day—12 years ago at Short Sands Beach—was the first time I ever looked at the Pacific Ocean. And without much afterthought, here I am, living under the same mountain that towered over me the first time I truly explored the rugged freedom of the West Coast.

Short Sands, in a way, has become a part of my identity.

My first time at Short Sands, I was a pretty hardcore skier. I remember looking down in the cove thinking the surfers in the water were “lazy” because they were all just sitting on their boards. Little did I know that there wasn’t much swell in the water that day, and oftentimes you have to wait 20 minutes for a set to come. At that time in my life, I had never considered surfing and never expected it to turn out to be one of my life’s biggest passions.

Now, here I am, living in this place that brought me back full circle, without me even knowing I would end up here, calling this place my home. I have so much to sing praise for, thanks to this majestic cove surrounded by soaring bald eagles, jagged cliffs and old-growth forests.

Short Sands is the place I went to as much as I possibly could during the pandemic when I was living in Portland. Then a few months later, I moved into my van and spent every waking moment when I wasn’t waiting tables learning to surf here at the beach. I would spend hours, day after day, wearing myself out in a thick 5/4 neoprene wetsuit, stumbling back to the sand to eat my sandwich in the sun, then somehow paddling back out there for another few hours. Despite the wind, the bad waves and my terrible surfing skills, I was hooked on the thrill of the sport and spent as much time as I possibly could in the water down there.

Short Sands is the place where I met my partner. It’s the first time we laid eyes on each other, the first time we spoke, and the place we eventually—two years later—fell in love. It’s where we spent so much time together when we first started dating, slowly learning each other’s details and sharing stories from traveling the world while discovering each other’s dreams.

It’s the place where we sat on a rock that first summer that was shaped like a love seat, just like a couch. We spent hours down there before or after we surfed, all summer long, entangled in each other’s arms, watching the waves and falling deeper in love, morphing into each other’s souls.

Every winter season on the Oregon Coast, the storms come, and the logs and rocks along the shores of Short Sands Beach shift. To me, it always feels like a transition, a shift from each season, and in a way, a metaphor for my life and all the different chapters it entails.

Every winter when I come back from my travels, the rocks and logs have shifted. Months have gone by, storms have passed, and the moody landscape ebbs and flows with its surroundings. Each spring, I go down there and see how the beach has been transformed from the currents of the sea. The beach is always changing, and as a new season arrives, the people who are called to this place are the ones who keep coming back.

And year after year, even as friendships come and go and people’s lives change, they still come back to this place. Maybe they sit on a different part of the beach, maybe they are with new friends, or maybe I haven’t seen them in years. But if this place brings them the life in their soul that it brings me, I always know they will be back.

Short Sands has been a place where I have poured out my soul. I have laid down into the cracks of those rocks and cried. Letting the tears pour out and my swollen eyes get puffy from the suffering of life. During hard times, this has been the place I have come to. To think, to be alone and to feel. This has been a place where I can both tune out and also reconnect with myself. It’s been the place that makes me feel the most alive and the most free.

And how I’ve seen new life on this beach, postpartum mothers lying in the sand as their newborns see the ocean for the first time and baby seals swimming along the edge of the water in the evening surf.

And I’ve seen death. The rotting corpse of a sea lion decaying slowly, week by week, leaving a pungent stench when the north wind blows, and the death of a fellow surfer, right in front of my eyes.

The overwhelming pain of looking down the beach and seeing children weeping as other surfers tried to revitalize their father’s lifeless body on the sand. Drowned, with his surfboard laying by his side. And the memory I have of glancing over at a friend the moment he realized the man that we had lost was close and dear to his heart.

Through the suffering and pain, and through the love and light, this beach has been a life force for me. Every time I walk down there, I am still in awe. And every time I put on my wetsuit and plunge into the bitter cold water of the Oregon Coast, in a way it feels like I’m being baptized. There is rarely a time when I am paddling out to the sea, where my mind is consumed. My first duck dive on my board or my first splash into that frigid water brings me back to my body, back to this place and a liberated mind.

Short Sands has become my church. It is both my safe space and a place where I have felt and experienced the high of highs and the low of lows of life. Each season, as the logs and rocks morph on the shore as the 30-foot swells crash into them, I arrive with a fresh perspective, a new season and a new start.

This is my ode to Short Sands. And this is the unexpected impact it has had on my extraordinary life.

While people often choose the popular routes along the Southern California beaches and Big Sur, choosing the dramatic coastline of Oregon and the humble redwoods of Northern California is the best way to avoid the crowds and take in the stunning scenery of the Pacific Northwest. This is one of my absolute favorite road trips to take on the West Coast.

Here is my guide to a 6-day, 5-night road trip for anyone looking for a week-long adventure.

Trip Overview

When: Late September–early October (shoulder season means fewer crowds and often the best coastal weather of the year)

Length: 6 days, 5 nights

Route: Portland, OR → San Francisco, CA

Total driving time: Roughly 20 hours spread across 6 days

Day 1: Portland, OR → Manzanita, OR (2 hours)

Whether you are in the Portland metro area or flying into Portland International Airport, this is the recommended starting point for your Pacific Coast Highway adventure. Rent a car at the airport or gear up at home for your road trip, then hit the road and start driving west. The first leg of the journey is only a 2-hour drive along Route 26 from Portland to the charming coastal town of Manzanita.

Stop #1: Cannon Beach

The first stop on your trip should, without a doubt, be stunning Cannon Beach! Known for its famous sea stacks jutting out of the rugged shoreline and tidepooling. Make sure to check out Haystack Rock (ideally at low tide), as well as Tolovana Park. If you’re lucky, you may see some of the local elk herds and the famous Cannon Beach bunnies that hang out in the grassy patches throughout the Tolovana park.

Take a walk along the coastline or enjoy a short hike in Ecola State Park at Indian Beach (about 20 extra minutes of driving) and explore downtown. My personal favorite shops in Cannon Beach are Basalt Studio, Coastal Yarns, and Cannon Beach Book Company.

Stop #2: Nehalem

Head back on Highway 101 and drive 25 minutes south to the riverfront town of Nehalem (one town past Manzanita) to grab lunch at the food trucks. Choose from Buttercup, Riverside Fish & Chips, tacos, and more for a relaxing lunch along the river. Make sure to stop into Wild Coast Goods for locally made art in a cute, family-run boutique.

Stop #3: Manzanita

Backtrack north on Highway 101 for just five minutes, and you’ll find yourself in the adorable town of Manzanita. Explore downtown, take a walk along expansive Manzanita Beach with Mount Neahkahnie towering above them, rent a bicycle at Bahama Mama, hike Mount Neahkahnie, and grab a snack at Wild Manzanita.

A great place for dinner is Offshore Grill, or hire a private chef such as Picnic Eats for a home-cooked meal prepared by a local professional chef.

Enjoy this quiet little town, and grab a coffee at Manzanita News & Espresso before beginning the next leg of your trip. The best place to stay in Manzanita, with easy access to both the beach and downtown, is the Inn at Manzanita. This newly renovated inn is surrounded by lush gardens and is just one block from the beach.

Day 2: Manzanita, OR → Bandon, OR (4 hours 40 minutes)

Stop #1: Pacific City

Your first stop should be Pacific City, home to another Haystack Rock (not to be confused with the more famous one in Cannon Beach) and the massive sand dune at Cape Kiwanda. Park your car in the lot by Pelican Brewing Company and tackle the sand dune for epic views of the rock and town. It’s a serious burner, but the view from the top overlooking Cape Kiwanda and Haystack Rock is well worth the hike!

Stop #2: Newport:

Newport is the perfect next stop, arriving in the mid- to late morning. Your first stop should be Yaquina Head Lighthouse, Oregon’s tallest lighthouse, surrounded by seabird colonies, beautiful hiking trails, and incredible ocean views.

After exploring Yaquina Head, take a short drive to Nye Beach for a walk along the shoreline and to browse some of the local art galleries. Then head to my absolute favorite place on the Oregon Coast for local seafood:

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It’s so easy to slip away

and forget,

falling into the mundane chaos

of everyday life.

__________________________

Less is more they say,

but the buzz and the grind

grasps us by the throat.

__________________________

Striving for more,

to do better,

make more money.

__________________________

Distractions,

social media,

burnout

and expectations.

__________________________

Always consuming,

filling our schedules,

and performing for everyone,

but ourselves.

__________________________

Until the pressure

makes you crack.

__________________________

Withering away your soul,

leaving you

nothing left to give.

__________________________

Then, all of a sudden,

you wake up

and are left wondering,

What are you even living for?

__________________________

You remember,

the mist rising off the sea

in the morning.

__________________________

And the silence

as you take

your first sip of coffee at dawn.

__________________________

Feeling the rise and fall of your chest

and the flush of bitter warmth

consuming your taste buds.

__________________________

As the day winds down,

you come back to the sea

to sit with stillness,

watching the swallows dive

as the sun sets.

__________________________

And you think to yourself,

don’t forget.

__________________________

It’s time to wake up

and remember the peace.

As someone diagnosed with ADHD, but functional enough that I never felt the need (or rather, the want) for medication, my mind certainly is a whirlpool of endless possibilities. I often have felt that my brain functions very differently from many people, and that, of course, there is a lot of noise in my head, but also that my brain is somewhat my secret superpower.

I go through cycles where I feel slightly stuck, and it comes off as being lazy. I become aloof with my mind in the clouds, I have trouble focusing, and the feeling of being overwhelmed encapsulates me so much that I want to sink into the cracks of the couch and completely disappear.

I also go through cycles where I am intensely motivated and hyperfocused and can do something in hours that might take someone all week. This is where my true superpower unfolds, and I drop into this hyper-vigilant, creative side of myself that shows my true entrepreneurial spirit. It makes me want to learn and do everything I possibly can in the world!

During these times, I act out in bursts of an excited, childlike wonder where I tap into new hobbies on a regular basis with the extreme expectation that I am going to become the next “big thing” in a certain discipline. And I’m telling you… this often happens on a weekly basis. Whether it’s writing music and singing along on the ukulele (thinking I’m going to write an album), starting a new craft, writing a book, diving into graphic design, or leveraging a new skill for my freelance business.

The possibilities truly feel endless to me, and anytime I get a new idea that sparks an “Aha” moment in my brain or see someone doing something that brings me curiosity and joy, I decide that I want to dive into it too! I drop everything I’m doing in most cases, and I mean everything.

I will immediately go to the store and buy that new craft. I will spend the next three days staying awake until 2 a.m., watching YouTube videos on my laptop and learning about a new idea where I can leverage AI and make passive income. I will, out of the blue, decide I want to commit to training for a triathlon or take on another part-time job (even though I already have five).

This hyperfocused, superpower version of myself goes all in during these times, and it’s incredibly exciting until a few days later when I learn that this new craft is incredibly tedious and hard to learn. The five hours it took me to make one beaded earring eventually ends up with me giving up after making a single earring and just turning it into a keychain, the beads never to be picked up again. Similarly, the passive income ideas aren’t realistic unless I commit to them several hours a week for the rest of the year. The part-time job I end up quitting after the first day, and I never sign up for the triathlon.

After a few days, the excitement seems to fade, and I get busy with life and my other hobbies. I often feel too overwhelmed to try again, and more often than not, I end up not following through.

A lot of times, this inability to follow through comes with a lot of shame. I often feel like I have so much potential, but not enough hours each day to do everything I want. I get angry and frustrated at myself for not following through with all the new things I try to take on. I certainly can fall into shame cycles, and it can make me feel low, but recently I have come to realize that even though I’m just okay at a lot of things or have way more hobbies than any one person should have, I think there is actually more of an advantage to it than I realized.

I might bite off more than I can chew, but one thing I can say is that, yes, I might fail at many things, but at least I tried. Not many people ever act on the ideas they have, and I can tell you without any doubt that I have acted on most of the thousands of ideas I have had in my lifetime. I am able to just do things, and not many of them stick, but the ones that do stick have encompassed my identity and allowed me to choose this non-traditional and fulfilling life I live.

I became an entrepreneur and created my own freelance business, offering a variety of services in the outdoor and wellness industry. From digital marketing, SEO blog writing, web design, and modeling, I have served a number of wonderful clients all over the US. I didn’t quit surfing and have spent hours tirelessly trying to catch waves in the ocean all over the world, and I actually manage to surf well enough after years of practice. I started this Substack, and even though I don’t write in it as much as I want, I am doing it and didn’t stop after my first or second post. And lastly, I have read more books than I thought was humanly possible for someone as distracted as me.

I have found a way to take this scattered, shiny-object brain of mine and turn it away from shame cycles and more toward the idea that I have an incredible superpower and that I take way more shots than most other people do with opportunities in life.

This past winter is when I really discovered this shift in my mindset. Over the past year, a group of women around my age (including many of my close friends) have decided to deep dive into knitting. Clearly a trend that has been exploding on social media, and with the number of artists in my community, it has truly stuck around here in our little town by the sea. After a stint of self-sabotage, comparing myself to all the women at knit night (and how talented they were), I finally accepted that it’s okay to be where I am on my metaphorical knitting journey of life.

Finally, after one of my friends, who was a first-time knitter, dropped into knitting as well, I built up the courage to talk to my friend Alyssa to learn more about knitting and what I should do to start my first project. I went over to her cozy home, and she patiently took the time to teach me the basics of how to cast the yarn on the needle and how to stitch. Eventually, I was excitedly knitting on my own and was diving into it in the evenings while I relaxed. I was actually knitting, and I had a feeling this hobby was going to stick! My mind was exploding in colors with ideas, and I was getting so excited. I decided to join one knit night, which was more of a social hour, but seeing all the projects around me was inspiring!

Christmas came and went, and over the holidays, I practiced knitting more and had my aunt help me out as well. The number of times I had to restart my project because of mistakes was incredibly frustrating. The number of times I got distracted by what was on TV and messed up again was an everyday occurrence.

I was so frustrated, but determined. I decided that during my winter travels this year, when I had less work than the rest of the year, I was going to commit. I was going to really focus on knitting since I finally had the time.

So when I packed up the car a few months ago to take a road trip to Southern California with my boyfriend, I placed a very large basket in the back of the car with an assortment of colors of yarn and various sizes of knitting needles. I was really finally committing to something new, and I was getting better!

Famous last words…

Fast forward three months later, and I have managed to only successfully make one good-looking project: a sad and shitty, but super cute, little bookmark (or a scarf for my banana slug stuffed animal).

Several times over the winter, I worked on a scarf, but the mistakes continued, and as I certainly improved slightly, I have not successfully made the scarf, and no matter how hard I try, I absolutely suck at knitting.

Coming back after my winter travels, I went to a birthday party, and my other neurodivergent friend, who was way worse at knitting than I was before I left, was wearing a perfectly well-manicured Sophie scarf around her neck that she knit meticulously well. All my other friends who started knitting just a few months before her were also now decorated in their beautifully knit beanies and scarves.

Normally, this situation would have made me feel jealous of their ability to succeed and result with me falling into a deep shame spiral, but I reflected to myself and thought: You know what? Knitting is really fucking hard, and I am damn proud of myself for my cute little bookmark.

Maybe one day I will successfully knit a Sophie scarf, or maybe I won’t, but at least I tried to knit. And my other friend with ADHD who has superpowers like me— this hobby for her actually stuck! And I’m so proud and excited for her!

Just like surfing and reading and building a freelance business stuck for me, knitting really stuck for her. So, although I’m a mediocre jack of all trades and master of mostly none, I think it could get me somewhere in the long run.

Yes, I am very slowly working on a book that I might have started five years ago, but at this rate, maybe it will be finished when I’m 40 or 50. And yes, maybe I have dabbled in a variety of ideas for passive income that only make me $10 a month, but maybe one day that will amount to 20 different side hustles that each make me $20 a month. And no, you won’t find me knitting lavish sweaters, Sophie scarves, and Sophie hoods, but I will make another shitty, but cute, bookmark one day, and hopefully my half-finished scarf will resurface again in a few months.

This whole experiment with knitting and the slight pang of jealousy I felt about knit night and the incredible projects everyone was making made me see another light in my own life and my neurodivergent brain.

I might not follow through with most hobbies, but I certainly will be the person who tries everything at least once. And I have an incredible superpower of hyperfocusing on creating magic, maybe even if it’s only in small bursts.

And if I continue to use my superpower to my advantage, I am capable of way more than I ever realized.

All in all, I might suck at knitting, but at least I tried!

As we ease into this new year, I find that I am living in the strangest time I’ve experienced in my entire life. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to be my authentic self with an abundance of distractions filling every empty void of each day. For me, all I want is to simplify my life with ease, but in order to make that happen, I have to be incredibly intentional.

I’m currently spending my winter in Southern California, taking a break from the quaint little town on the Oregon Coast where I live to escape the rain and enjoy surfing in the sunshine. Throughout the last month, the buzzing world of the city (which I most often avoid) has become quite an unexpected culture shock for me.

Cybertrucks and Waymo self-driving vehicles take over the streets, children roam free on e-bikes and in the surf lineup (I’m still wondering why they aren’t in school?), going out to eat has somehow become cheaper than buying my own groceries, and as I bounce around to different pet-sitting gigs in North County San Diego, the technological gadgets are endless: automatic pet feeders, cameras all over the outside of the house, a smart TV in every room, and endless apps to get into people’s garages and front doors.

It seems like we are becoming hypnotized by technology, consumerism, and materialism. But are we even living if this has become our continuous state of being? Around every corner of our homes and on the streets are endless distractions— comparing ourselves to others, swiping endlessly on our phones, watching TV all night, listening to podcasts on walks, and stressing out over our work even after we have logged out.

People are more disconnected from themselves than they have ever been and now they are becoming more disconnected from each other by tuning into a more unauthentic online world. As I walked along the boardwalk in LA, busking street artists in Santa Monica now perform for screens and people sit on benches glued to their phones as the sun sets over the Pacific Ocean.

With a tense political landscape, skyrocketing inflation prices, AI, and other technological advances, we are becoming so disconnected from ourselves and our purpose. People are forgetting why they are even here and have become consumed by money, power, image, and success.

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Throughout my travels this winter in California, I have been finding deals at local yoga studios to continue my practice at an affordable rate. Many yoga studios offer their first class for free or a small set rate to enjoy unlimited classes for two weeks. While in San Diego, I attended a yoga class without giving it much thought since it was free and the timing worked out well with my schedule.

The entire yoga class was a replica of a nightclub; house music blasted through my eardrums for the entire hour, the room was heated to 97 degrees Fahrenheit, and the lights changed through an array of neon colors when the beat dropped. I was sweating more than the last time I was at an actual nightclub in my twenties, and the pace we were flowing through our surya namaskar A’s was genuinely concerning for injury prevention.

Sweat was beading off my body onto my yoga mat, and the split seconds we transitioned into downward dog consisted of me sliding right off my mat. Mirrors surrounded the room, the teacher clapped his hands saying we looked great, and he even made a cocaine reference as a joke, making the room laugh. As the workout was certainly fabulous, I looked around and the room and it was full of women with boob jobs, lip fillers, and toned college girls in Vuori and Lululemon looking at themselves in the mirror as they worked out.

At the end of the class, with sweat coming out of every pore of my body, the instructor put us in savasana, and I ever so quietly opted out, rolling up my mat and exiting the room just in time for the class to end with a “namaste”. Although this may be some people’s cup of tea and the workout was exhilarating, I was genuinely confused about why it was considered a yoga class. I found it rather alarming and an interesting analogy to what we are experiencing while living on this earth today.

While I have dove into my yoga practice to help me become more present and in tune with my thoughts and daily intentions, the strength, flexibility, and mobility I have gained are a huge part of the practice. But what I had just experienced felt completely unaligned with the entire philosophy of yoga, and as I left the studio freezing, with dried sweat all over my body in the crisp morning air, I thought to myself—how can I be more intentional to live a life in alignment and intention, being one with this earth? How can I escape all these distractions and the grind?

The following evening, I went out to dinner with a friend from high school who has been living in the area for a year and a half. She spoke about her remote job, the expensive rent in Southern California, and how hard it was to make it work down here. She was desperately burnt out from her job and looking for a new one, with plans to move back to the East Coast within the next couple of months.

I curiously asked her how much money she made, if she was comfortable sharing, and she made $15k more than I make each year. As she hesitantly told me her income with a laugh, she ended by exclaiming, “I’m fucking broke.” I then shared with her how much I made each year, and she responded by saying, “It’s 2026, that’s not enough money.” And although I keep things pretty cheap, have no debt, no pets, affordable rent, and own my car in full, it was a bit of a wake-up call.

It was clear to me at that moment that what she said was true, I was definitely not making enough money. But all I yearned for was to go back to a slow and simple life where I could constantly have a regulated nervous system, have the ability to read a book at a coffee shop at noon on a weekday, have a log cabin with a wood-burning stove, a king-size mattress, a chicken coop, and an orchard full of fruit trees. Unfortunately, all the things I strive for to create a slow and simple life take a lot of work and, unfortunately, it also takes a lot of money. And for someone who lives in a rural area, money usually comes to me through technology, which involves working remotely as well.

This winter, I have felt so perplexed, these two ideas pulling me apart: the want to own a house with land and live simply with grace each day while still traveling a few months of the year, but in order to manifest this and have all the nice things, I need to work hard and make money.

The money I have made from my online remote freelancing business has given me the ability to work less than I ever have and make far more money. But all of a sudden, in the fifth year of my business, I feel a bit stuck, uninspired, and have realized I’m not quite making enough anymore. Somehow, my grocery runs of $100 have turned from two full bags lasting me two weeks into a small bag full of food to get me through dinner and breakfast for the next two days.

All of these wake-up calls and the weird state of the world—advancing technology and endless distractions—are making me more and more drawn to building a homestead and living off the land in solitude with my partner. But because of the reality of the expensive world we live in today, I have to become more creative and hard-working than ever to make it work.

I’m currently in a time of reflection and transition, figuring out which path to take next for my business and continuously deciding to choose to live with more intention each day. I might have to work really hard to get where I want to be, but I know for a fact that along the way, even though it will take hard work and money, I will not fall into the trap of what our world has become today or be stuck in a toxic, money-sucking, egotistical cycle.

I will continue to read books weathered with time, turning the pages each morning. I will go on beach and forest walks, intentionally leaving my phone behind to allow for peace and silence. I will not finance a fancy car or overextend my finances for my image. I will take time to play outside and rest when I need to, canceling plans if needed to take care of myself because my friends understand. And as I age, I will continue to nourish my body, but embrace the sunspots and the wrinkles as a part of my beauty. I will work hard to make money and serve my clients well, but also learn to work smartly, refusing to be overworked and underpaid through corporate America. I will only take work that feels aligned and work hard to continue to build toward the life my partner and I want, taking baby steps along the way, while still arriving each day with compassion and grace.

During this strange time where everyone continues to strive for more while becoming more disconnected and stressed out, I will not succumb to the rat race. I will make it work, but I choose to reach my goals by prioritizing a simple life and my physical and mental well-being along the way.

Lately, I find that the earlier I wake up, the happier I am throughout the day.

In the past, early wake-ups often meant alarms for work, a hangover, or a bad night of sleep. But an early morning wake-up for me now usually means I went to bed early, am well-rested, and am ready to start the day!

The quiet hours of the early morning, when I’m alone in my place of solitude, are my favorite time of day. When most of the world around me is still asleep, I thrive.

I leave my phone in a separate room, still plugged in from the night before, and enter into my morning flow. The silence of the space around me feels reflective and calming, a perfect way to ease into my day.

I take time to move with softness and ease; putting the kettle on the stove, drinking a glass of water, eating a light salty snack before I drink my coffee, and putting the dishes away from the night before. I make sure the lighting of the room is exactly the way I want it and move around gently in my cozy sweatpants and sweatshirt, listening to the hum of the refrigerator or the pitter-patter of rain on the roof.

Once I press my coffee and add my obligatory half & half, I sit down in a cozy corner of my home and settle in with my journal or my book. I often take the first few sips in silence, soaking up the bitter and creamy warmth in my mouth as I start to wake up.

These slow and solo mornings also come with time for reflection; whether I’m still laying in bed or sitting with my cup of coffee, I often take time to take five deep breaths, forgive myself for yesterday’s mistakes, set an intention for the day, say what I’m grateful for, and smile to myself. I try my best to do these five rituals at the start of each day to remind myself to be the best version of myself and to bring positivity and grace to each day.

Once I’m settled in with my coffee, I take time to journal a few pages, write a poem, or—most likely—deep dive into reading my book for the next hour or so. Nothing makes me happier than starting my day getting lost in a good book.

I am most happy in my day-to-day life when I am in a routine where I can go to bed early and rise way before the sun with my intentional morning routine.

These quiet beginnings feel like a promise I make to myself each day; a gentle reminder that how I begin matters, and that peace is something I can choose before the world wakes up.

Every year when the rains come here in Oregon, my partner and I migrate for the season. I often pack only what I can carry on my back for several months, plus a surfboard in tow. Together, we purchase flights across the world to tropical surf destinations and spend the winter surfing and traveling side by side.

We’ve been doing this for the past four years, and while it sounds dreamy and magical—a pure bliss that people often get jealous of—it certainly comes with its challenges. This past year was much more difficult than we had expected. Hopping planes all over Asia, navigating jet lag, and consuming questionable food led to my boyfriend’s autoimmune disease flaring up. Our dreamy little winter turned more stressful than we had hoped, with a lot of time spent in bed toward the end of the trip.

Despite my partner’s health challenges, we still had an incredible winter—surfing world-class waves in the Mentawais, hiking to giant Buddha statues in Vietnam, and scootering around islands in the Philippines. Still, we had to relook at how we wanted to move forward while navigating his health concerns. Long-haul flights, street food, and seed oils simply weren’t going to make the cut anymore.

Once back home and settled in last spring, we took time to reflect on what the following winter could look like. How could we still enjoy the “off season” while taking care of ourselves as best we could. We landed on two decisions: spending part of the winter resting at home on the Oregon Coast and taking a road trip to Southern California for a couple of months to do some pet-sitting gigs. We wanted space to recover after a busy work season and to travel in a way that allowed us to stay for free, buy our own groceries, and cook for ourselves, ensuring we were eating the right foods for my partner’s autoimmune disease.

Without hesitation, we created a TrustedHousesitters profile last spring and took on local petsits to build reviews and references, increasing our chances of landing pet sits in California the next winter. Fast forward eight months, and I’m sitting on the couch writing this, looking out at my packed car full of surfboards, reflecting on the fact that we leave for our road trip tomorrow!

We’ve been preparing for this all year and have built a profile with seven 5-star reviews and references, along with petsits lined up within walking distance to the beach in Santa Cruz, San Clemente, Carlsbad, Encinitas, and Ocean Beach. We have places to explore on our way to San Diego and friends to visit in Los Angeles along the way.

This transition into winter has felt so much less overwhelming and stressful than years past, and our wallets are certainly happier, too. Every pet-sitting gig is an exchange where we receive a free place to stay, and several friends are generously hosting us for a few nights as well. It’s the perfect balance of planned stays and flexibility.

Life transitions are hard and weird. For much of my life, my partner and I have been deeply nomadic, traveling all over the world. This year looks different, and it feels different—but in a good way. My partner’s body was telling us to slow down, and the anxiety I often felt around big seasonal transitions was another clear sign to do the same. Even though I still dream of traveling to countless places around the world, I feel incredibly lucky and grateful to be taking a slower road trip south this winter, moving with more intention and a softer ease.

I’m writing this not only to share with others, but also as a reminder to myself that my cup feels fuller when I slow down. Every New Year, I journal and reflect on the year behind me, rereading past New Year’s entries. Without fail, my intention for the coming year is always the same: fewer plans and being less busy. And yet, somehow, I still manage to get excited and book some pretty wild travel.

I haven’t regretted any of the incredible trips I’ve taken, but I can say with certainty that I feel significantly less overwhelmed, and far more excited to simply hop in the car, drive south with my partner, take care of some dogs, and surf waves in Southern California this winter. We hit the road tomorrow morning, and for the first time in a while, I’m heading into my winter travels with a regulated nervous system.

Communication is an art, or a dance, where we consistently push and pull, navigating being heard and understood while also trying our best to stay considerate and kind to the person we are trying to communicate with. Sometimes, we must choose our words wisely and not let all of our emotions come out of our mouths.

Something I have always felt proud of is my excellent ability to communicate, but it hasn’t been until recently that I have realized that my communication abilities still have a long way to go.

Yes, I’m very organized and in tune with my emotions and have the ability to go over my “I feel” statements, but one aspect of communication that I have found I’m still trying to navigate is that less is more. Not everything that comes to your mind needs to be said. Sometimes it’s just not worth it.

As someone who is a verbal processor, I have always felt insecure about how much I talk. I often say things out loud to other people that I wish I was just saying inside my own head. Diagnosed with ADHD, it’s often easiest for me to stay on task if I say things out loud, and receiving confirmation from others when making decisions perpetuates my habit of verbal processing. Whether I’m solely thinking of what I want to do with my day or am having an anxiety spiral of emotions, much of the time these ideas in my brain are shared with the people I surround myself with.

I certainly do have a way with words though. When I put a pen to paper and am present, I can immediately come up with a poem that makes you feel a connection. I can spitfire a rhythm in an instant, ctreating a song or a silly freestyle rap, and when a friend needs someone to talk to, I always know the right thing to say. Words are everything, whether they have a positive impact or they create conflict. And the art of communication is the same exact thing.

Oftentimes, the idea of “communication” can be associated with resolving a conflict or avoiding a conflict. It helps create boundaries and clarity when navigating life, work, relationships, and daily tasks. Communication is necessary, but as someone who has always been labeled as a good communicator, I’m leaning more toward this new idea that less is more and that maybe I have been over-communicating my whole life. Maybe there is so much more I can improve on when it comes to communication.

Maybe not everyone needs to hear all my ideas all the time. Maybe I don’t need to over-explain or repeat myself, and maybe not every little thing needs an explanation. But when you have had the same patterns your whole life, it can be really challenging to make that change.

I am currently working on making this switch and damn, it is hard. I know I won’t be perfect, and I know my brain is wired a certain way, so all the hopes and dreams of being an intentional and observant speaker are probably going to go out the door. But one thing that has helped me become more intentional with my words is to; pause before I speak.

Nowadays, I will often take a pause and think to myself, “is this comment absolutely necessary? Is this worth it? Is this effective communication?” Sometimes the answer is yes, and sometimes the answer is no. If I am navigating a hard conversation with someone, the communication comes naturally to me and it flows right through me, but the times when I over-communicate or say something that doesn’t need to be said are the times where I’m working on pausing and thinking more before I speak.

Now I’m not writing this all down to try and shame myself for talking too much, over-communicating, or putting myself down. I am putting this into the world as a reminder for myself, and for others, that the dance of communication is a lot more challenging than we think. I do label myself as a good communicator, but there is so much more to communication in the subconscious that we can tap into to make our relationships and life feel stronger and more secure than before.

So this specific side of communication—the idea that “less is more”—is the approach I’m leaning toward these days. I’m using this not only during times when I’m comforting a friend or during conflict resolution; I’m using it more during times when I am connecting my emotions too much to something someone else said or did that is very small and insignificant in the big picture. My over-communication and verbal processing can be an excellent tool at times, but at other times, it’s my worst enemy.

My biggest takeaway from this new practice is:

Everybody doesn’t need to know what you’re thinking or feeling all the time.

So now, when someone says or does something I don’t agree with or don’t like, I try my best to pause and think before I speak. When someone does something that triggers something inside me, I reflect before I say anything. My biggest question to myself is, “Is it worth it?” If the answer is “no,” I carry on without saying anything at all. If the answer is “yes,” that means there is a reason that I should respond to what was said or the current situation.

Communicating is hard. Sometimes no words at all have more power than saying a lot of words. And no words at all may be the best way to resolve something or avoid more conflict. Oftentimes, when something is said and no words are responded back, there is less emotion attached because the lack of words and the silence in the air tells you everything. It tells both parties to move on. Or if something is said or done that the speaker or doer had no idea affected you, take a minute to think if what they did was actually wrong or if you’re just reacting to it solely based on your own emotions.

So as we navigate this dance—the dance of our words and how we communicate with others—I encourage those of you who are more quiet and observant, who may hold back, to speak up more. Because most of the time, the words you share have more power than you realize. And I encourage the ones who speak a lot, who have so many good words to say, to hold back a bit and pause before you speak, because maybe the less you say will have more impact than all the explaining you can ever do.

I have a friend who I met about ten years ago while working at a ski lodge in Utah who changed my entire perspective on life. The first moment I realized his impact on me wasn’t on some spiritual journey—it was when he was wearing board shorts and an apron (with no shirt on), cleaning, elbows deep in breakfast dishes in the back of a ski lodge restaurant.

It was one of the first days of the season working at a ski lodge in Utah. I was waiting tables at the in-house restaurant, and he was in the dish pit cleaning the dishes. We were just wrapping up clearing the dining room after the buffet breakfast service.

Every table received a side of sugar and a miniature pitcher full of half & half for their coffee. As the guests cleared the dining room, I went around with two trays, stacking the ramekins of sugar packets on one tray (which we were going to save) and all the half & half pitchers on another tray to bring to the dish pit. I went around to every table—probably around 30—and collected everything.

As I cleared piles of dishes with uneaten food from greedy, wealthy retirees and bug-eyed children with no self-control at the buffet line, I couldn’t help but think about what a waste it was to throw all that food away. I thought the same exact thing with the half & half as I collected it, with a majority of them never even being touched. But I knew how it went in a restaurant—if it wasn’t sealed and was placed on a table, it needed to be tossed. Who knew who may have sneezed in it, or what child might have licked it while their parents weren’t watching?

Walking towards the back of the house, I entered the kitchen and placed the tray full of sugar packets on the counter for restocking and brought the tray of mostly full mini pitchers of cream to the dish pit, which accumulated probably around half a gallon of creamer.

The guy doing dishes, Ian, was way overly positive for someone who had to work the 6 a.m.–9:30 a.m. shift. He was bumping tunes, dancing, and his smile was so wide as I passed him the tray of half & half pitchers, meeting his gaze. As I got closer to him, I could see the crow’s feet that formed as he smiled, and I could tell that this wasn’t just a random morning of smiling because his favorite song was on—this smile was a daily, everyday occurrence that was embedded in his skin.

Ian grabbed the tray from me in motion as he danced and made eye contact with me as he set the tray down. I hovered for a moment longer than I should have because I was genuinely curious and thought to myself, What is up with this guy?

In that slight moment as we were making eye contact, he picked up one of the pitchers of half & half and drank down the entire thing, just like a shot. I looked at him with a gasp and started to laugh slightly.

“I don’t want it to go to waste,” Ian said, smiling and swaying to the music.

“Totally,” I replied, jaw dropped, as he took another shot of half & half.

I watched, stunned, for the next minute or so as Ian drank every single mini pitcher of half & half on that tray. As I stared in a trance, backing up ever so slightly to not look so creepy, I was completely mind-blown. Around me, coworkers reacted with disgust and disbelief: “Ew, that’s so gross,” “What the fuck, Ian?” and one of the cooks even yelled, “Get used to it, he does this every day!”

As all the other employees gasped in disgust or laughed because of how silly the moment was, I was completely captivated by the glory of this moment. I was seriously questioning if I had just reached some form of enlightenment. I had so many thoughts running through my mind: Where did this guy come from? Is this my version of God? Is he from Outer Space? I needed to learn more about this individual. I could immediately tell I had never met anyone like this in my entire life.

I went back to work physically, but mentally I was elsewhere. His energy was intoxicating — his positivity, his zero-fucks-given attitude and the way he refused to waste even a drop of cream. And it wasn’t every day you meet someone who drinks around 30 shots of half & half from dirty restaurant tables while dancing in board shorts. Without trying to stare, I couldn’t stop glancing over. I was drawn in. I needed to learn more.

Fast forward a decade later, and Ian Klepetar still blows me away over and over again with laughter, inspiration, and endless joy through his approach and perspective on life. While I made so many incredible friends working for two seasons at a ski lodge in Utah, Ian is the only one I am still in contact with and spend as much time with as possible.

He has been with me through so many chapters of my life. During some of my darkest times, he has been my light at the end of the tunnel. Whether he’s found a pair of women’s jean shorts on the side of the road during a bike ride and worn them the rest of the weekend, or talked about his collection of 2,000 puzzles he purchased for a screaming deal on Facebook Marketplace, he brings such a unique and playful perspective to this world. It’s impossible to spend a day with him without smiling until your face hurts.

Ian lives entirely outside the confines of societal expectations. He has made the choice to live a life as human-powered as possible—promoting sustainable transportation, especially biking, and encouraging people to drive as little as possible. He has spent the majority of his life living and traveling off of his bicycle and started the national organization Bicycle Benefits in 2009, which supports local businesses, reduces city traffic, and gets people moving their bodies on their bikes commuting sustainably. He has established Bicycle Benefits programs in cities including—but not limited to—Seattle, Milwaukee, Burlington, and Boston.

Ian is also known for his random acts of kindness that can come off as alarming to many strangers. He often gives away free donuts or mate (an Argentinian beverage) to cyclists and builds human “bike tunnels” by lifting his arms with another person for people to bike through. Sometimes people give him odd looks and second-glances, but to me, he’s one of the most refreshing humans I’ve ever met.

Taking life too seriously is not on Ian’s agenda, but he is incredibly passionate about what he cares about. Bike advocacy and sustainable transportation are at his core, and building community is another one of his deepest values. In 2020, Ian purchased a piece of land with a historic water tower on it near Portland, Maine after cycling by it and tracking down the owner to buy it. Now known as The People’s Perch, it has turned into a community hub providing a pay-it-forward cafe, art projects and a Sunday ice cream or salad social. And you can be sure that every morning for sunrise and evening for sunset, Ian climbs to the top of the 120-foot water tower to drink mate, play musical instruments inside the tower, or even enjoy a lobster dinner on top of the water tower at the picnic table that has been welded to the outside of it.

Ian has been a continuous inspiration for me throughout my entire life. I am reminded of him every single day when I see one of the books he wrote, Limitless, sitting on my coffee table. It helps me live my life more intentionally and with purpose. Throughout the ten years I’ve been friends with Ian, I’ve surfed with him in Ecuador, eaten food out of the dumpster together, sent and received letters from him (often cut up into a puzzle pieces), biked to and from a music festival with him, watched him do countless handstands, ran a 5K with him as he carried a boombox the entire way, and held spontaneous dance parties with him on random street corners in Burlington, Vermont.

It is without a doubt that when someone asks me, “Who is your favorite person in the entire world?” My answer will always be Ian Klepetar.

Out on the horizon

are lines of gray

as if perfectly painted

the ocean on display

The smooth heavy sea

tumultuous but clean

with droplets of rain

surging a grayish green

As dusk rolls in

I float and sway

the sun dips into the shadow

a light drizzle ends the day

Storm clouds on the horizon

puffy and light

elegant and moody

no sunset in sight

As I tilt my chin

rain falls on my cheeks

lightly sprinkling down

all my tension released

Above my head

the darkest of gray

a thick but wispy rain cloud

slowly moves across the bay

Behind me in the mist

a marine layer coats the shore

scattered palm trees poke out

begging the sun to linger more

Below me the depths

the secrets of the sea

churned up and mysterious

black as can be

As the lines form around me

layers of gray

I float and observe

as the sun slips away

When the word “home” comes to mind, most people think of the place they live. Maybe they think of the town where they reside, their neighborhood, or the actual structure they live in. But maybe they think of something else—a place, a person, an idea, or a feeling in their body.

For me, when I think of home, a lot of thoughts cycle through my mind. For many years, the idea of a “home” felt so unfeasible to me because of my lifestyle. Between the age of 18, when I left my parents’ house for college, and the age of thirty, I never spent more than two years in one place.

Whether I was doing a seasonal job, traveling, or knew in my core that it was time to move to the next spot, I never really had the sense of an actual home. For a period of time during college, my home was the house I lived in with my friends, or my home was the community I lived with for a couple of winters at a ski lodge in the mountains of Utah. At one point, my home was the 1993 Ford Econoline van I converted for vanlife during the pandemic. In many ways, I felt like I had multiple homes across the country, but when I really thought about the idea of what home was to me, I felt like I had no home at all.

There are many people on this earth who may not have an actual home, and there are certainly many people who own multiple homes, yet may not feel a sense of home at all. This made me think that the idea of having a home is much more complex than simply having a roof over your head. So, when I really took the time to dive into what home means to me, it was much more abundant than I had ever realized.

I’ve decided to reflect more on what having a home means and all the different ways you can interpret what a home might look like.

An Actual House

An actual house, a built structure, might align with what home means to you. Maybe it’s the home you spent years saving up for in your favorite neighborhood. This house was your dream, and you have completely crafted it to make it exactly yours. Maybe your home is the house you built on the land you bought, with every detail designed to an exact ratio. The shelves are full of your favorite books, the house is decorated with beautiful furniture, and there are vast views of mountains and valleys through your windows. Your home is the house that you have spent years dreaming of and building to make it perfectly aligned with your vision of what a cozy home means to you.

Community

For some, the idea of a “home” is the community you surround yourself with. Maybe it’s a room full of friends at a potluck, an afternoon at the market shopping, a tiny town where you see someone you know on every corner, or a neighbor you see daily walking their dog. Community feeds the soul and brings people together, building an immense feeling of safety and joy. Living among a community in this day and age is a privilege in a world where everyone has become so disconnected with each other and more connected to the internet and technology. To many people, their direct community is their home more than anything else.

A Person

Maybe your home is the person you love more deeply than anything else in the world—the partner you’ve decided to share your life with. When you are physically with that person, you feel very much at home. Whether you’re waking up together in a shack on the beach or they fall asleep on your shoulder on a long train ride, you feel at home. Wherever you are in the world, when you are with your person, you are home.

Your Family

Without a doubt, one of the main ideas of what “home” is, is being with your family. Being surrounded by your blood and bones, the people who raised you and your offspring, is one of the concepts of home that stands out for many. Whether you live near or far from your family, coming together as one unit brings generations, stories, memories, and a shared understanding. Your family are your roots, and you are the person you are because of them. While some may feel estranged from their family, or maybe they have a new “chosen” family, the idea of family, for many, is their home.

A Feeling in Your Body

For many, the idea of being home is a feeling in your body. Maybe it’s the feeling of having free time to rest and relax, or maybe it’s the simple feeling of safety. Home might be a huge sigh of relief after leaving a toxic relationship, or it might be moving in with a roommate who makes you feel happy and secure. Home might be healing after years of suffering through PTSD or feeling lost in your identity and who you are. Most often, the idea of home comes with feeling comfortable. Maybe it’s a place, person, or activity that makes you feel good inside, or maybe it’s your own body coming back to itself, bringing you joy and making you feel safe again.

A Specific Place

Sometimes the idea of a home is a certain place. It might be the trails that weave through the forest, the coffee shop you’ve gone to over a hundred times, or the stunning views you’ve driven by day after day for years. Your home might feel like the place that keeps you there because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Home might be that place you hold so dearly in your heart—always in your memories and always in your dreams.

A Roof Over Your Head

For some people, just having a roof over their head might bring the sense of home more than anything else. There are so many challenges and struggles everyone has to face in life that just trying to make it work and doing our best is all we can really do. For many, just having a roof over your head, where the water runs and the lights work, is all you can ask for to feel safe, grateful and at home.

At this point in my life, the feeling of “home” has been something I have both overcome and reflected on for years. For so long, the extremes of what a home was to me ranged from feeling an overabundance of joy surrounded by 20 friends that I lived and worked with to sharing a house with a narcissistic roommate who made me feel unsafe.

Through all the ups and downs of my “home life” and all of my solo endeavors around the world, I’ve taken the time to truly think about what home means to me and what my personal definition of home is, despite all the places I have lived and called home in my life. When I think of home, I think of safety. When I think of safety, I think of many different ideas of what a home is to me.

For me, home is waking up next to the person I love, opening my front door for the first time after months of traveling, a cozy morning in pajamas making breakfast with a friend, spending Christmas with my family, lying on my friend’s couch with her cat, riding the perfect wave on my longboard, and the lake in New Hampshire I grew up visiting in the summer. Home is more than just a house, it’s an all-encompassing feeling for me. It’s a feeling where I am relaxed, present, safe, understood, and loved.

My current home (the place where I have a roof over my head) is on the North Oregon Coast, where I have lived for three and a half years (I’ve finally made it living somewhere for over two years)! I reside in a cozy cabin two blocks from the beach, and although I know it’s not my forever home, it’s the people, the place, and the safe feeling I get in my body that keep me here year after year.

So, I guess after all the ideas of what home is to me, the North Oregon Coast is the place I call home. It’s the place I lean into more than the actual structure I live in. It’s the place where I am surrounded by fresh ocean air and dense forests, where I’ve formed friendships that will last a lifetime, where I fell in love, and it’s the place that continues to call me back more than any of the other dozen places I’ve lived throughout my life.

So, I invite you to reflect on the idea of “what does home mean to you?” If you feel so inclined, let me know about your home in the comments below, and feel free to share what makes you feel at home—beyond just the roof over your head.

Do you ever believe that everything happens for a reason? That every event, decision, and move in your life is building toward something greater—something larger than you could have ever imagined.

Do you believe you can manifest your dreams and watch them unfold before your eyes? Something you’ve repeated in your mind so many times, that eventually it begins to fall into place.

Have you ever noticed that after times of deep suffering, come moments of immense joy? After all the pain you’ve endured, a break in the clouds appears, and the sun pours down brighter than it did before.

And have you ever wondered if these moments are random or if they’re all somehow interconnected? Whether it’s fate, a higher power, or energy pulling you like a pendulum, have you wondered how you ended up here in this exact place at this exact time—everything unfolding, just as it was supposed to.

Think of a time you worked really hard for something. You poured endless energy into it, only to feel defeated in the end. But once you finally let go and stopped trying to control it, the universe took over, and eventually, everything worked out. Whether it was the way you wanted it to, or something completely unexpected, the pieces all seamlessly fit together solving your overbearing puzzle.

Whether it took days, weeks, months, or years, the destination was closer than you ever knew. All it required was to trust the process, surrender, and to allow yourself to be guided by something greater than your own understanding.

I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and that everything always works out. You can manifest your dreams and make things happen if you put in the hard work and trust the process.

Maybe it’s something small and simple. Maybe it’s more complex. Remember, it’s never too late to follow your dreams and pay attention to the signs from the universe when it’s guiding you.

You never know the magic that might unfold.

The truest gift

I could ever receive

in this lifetime

is growing old

with you.

To watch your hair fade into a gray

and the skin on your hands

roughen with age,

is all that I need.

Let us watch 20,000 more sunsets,

hand in hand,

anchored as one,

for the rest of our lives.

And in the mornings

when dawn arrives,

let me bury my face

into your neck

and feel your heartbeat

while your chest

rises and falls.

In our old age when we’re tired,

with locked eyes

and no words spoken,

we’ll know exactly how each other feels

because of all the years.

And when life slows down

more than we could have ever known,

let us rest together,

soaking up the glory

we’ve spent a lifetime building.

The one gift I could ask for in this life

is to grow old with you

and to take

our last breaths

at the same time.

At the time, it meant nothing. I could care less about discussing it with my therapist. I had just moved to a new city in Vermont, had recently been broken up with, and was drowning my problems in drugs and alcohol.

I was incredibly lonely and lost. I had no sense of identity.

It wasn’t until years later, when I revisited the word autonomy, that I figured out what it meant to me. After googling the definition a few times, discussing it with my therapist, and journaling about it, I had a bit of an AHA! moment.

It was time to take control of my life.

So, I took a leap.

I made the choice to do things that were hard but transformative for myself.

I moved across the country alone. I biked across Europe with a friend. I learned to surf. I bought a van and lived out of it alone. I bailed on graduate school a week before classes started. I moved to Mexico. I quit my toxic job and started an online business. I quit smoking cigarettes, stopped falling into toxic relationships, and stopped drinking alcohol. I learned how to take accountability for my actions, to trust the process, and I found what makes me happy.

I decided to live life for myself — not for others, not for what society expects of us. I wanted to live an unconventional life.

I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, that you can manifest your dreams, that the universe will give you signs on which path to follow, and that it’s okay to make changes in your life when something is no longer serving you.

I didn’t understand this until I took full autonomy over my life.

Here in my Substack is a place for me to share my stories, my musings, and my journey of self-growth.

I plan to use this platform to inspire others — by sharing my adventures from traveling around the world, writing about things that inspire me, and tapping into the dark sides of life that I’ve had to face in order to become the best version of myself.

As a reflective, introspective dreamer, I gravitate toward reading and writing. I’m here to lean into sharing my poetry, book recommendations, creative writing, hardships I’ve overcome, and stories from around the world.

I invite you to join me and take autonomy over your life.

I hope to inspire others to live life embracing their most authentic selves and to understand there is more to life than what’s written.