That you can be deeply grateful and deeply grieving at the same time. That the more certain we are about who we are.. the more comfortable we get at admitting how little we know.

Sometimes we spend our whole lives avoiding discomfort or pain, which could be the very things that make us feel alive.

This came up a lot during my travels in Mallorca (that I wrote about in my last article). I was somewhere I loved that’s objectively beautiful, living a life I’m really privileged to live and still carrying grief with me. I could feel everything and nothing at the same time. I could feel really certain that everything in my life is uncertain.

It made me start thinking about paradoxes.

A paradox is a statement or situation that seems to go against common sense or logic, but the more you sit with it the more truth appears.

After Mallorca, we headed to Amsterdam in search of slightly cooler weather and something novel. Wondering what a new place might bring up in me, we hit the bookstore on the first day we arrived. I picked up every book that piqued my interest and read for hours. Completely lost track of time in the creative entrepreneur and consciousness sections. Finally, my husband texts me that it’s time to go and I almost walk out, bookless. But one grabbed me right before the door and I check out with it.

‘The Wisdom of Insecurity’ by Alan Watts. I don’t know what drew me to it but to my surprise, Gavin tells me it was the one he wanted to buy but didn’t. Out of all the books in this 4 story store.. sure.

So I get back to our room in Amsterdam and start my reading on this book written in 1951.

The introduction? On paradoxes.

I hadn’t read a word in this book before picking it up, and yet the very first sentence speaks to my recent thoughts.. “This book aims to travel everywhere and nowhere”.

The thing about paradoxes is.. they are the answer to all of the worlds’ best questions.

How do I matter in this world? Well, you are unique and separate. And.. you are absolutely inseparable from the whole universe.

How do we ‘wake up’ spiritually? You can’t force it. But the more you stop trying to force it, the closer you get.

How do we come to know certainty? Believe completely in something that will always contain uncertainty.

The more I looked, the more I found these contradictions everywhere.

On my flight back to the states from Amsterdam - I came across another Substack writers’ article. A recap of their thoughts on the new Odyssey film. I’m not a huge movie-goer but their take on the lotus eating scene really caught my attention.

They reminded me of the fact that if pleasure is so great, we will forget our purpose and sense of urgency.

Isn’t that something? If you’ve watched the movie you’ll know we were all on the edge of our seats wondering when Odysseus would leave his little slice of paradise for what really mattered: The fight. His family. His leadership.

It made me think..

Where in my life have I chased pleasure when I should have been choosing purpose?

Where have I given up my own drive to complete a mission for short sighted joy?

We live in a world that is truly crippled by quick dopamine. Our phones, the lotus flowers of this generation, giving us just enough pleasure to keep us from seeing or reaching the goal. Because watching someone else cook from scratch from their own garden they cultivate every single day is definitely fun enough. Definitely way less work then actually starting that garden you’ve been putting off for months.

Anyways.. these are the thoughts I’ve been having as well as the questions I keep asking myself in my journal. So if you’re a fellow journal-er, I want to leave you with more of these paradoxes that I can guarantee will have you thinking about life a little differently (at least they did for me). And if they don’t, there’s 6 more questions for you at the end.

1. The most terrifying threats remind us of the value of life

Think about a time in your life when you genuinely feared for your life. Or maybe you lost someone very close to you. When you are put in the horrifying position of seeing life’s fragility is the exact moment you are faced with the reality of its value. On the contrary, when you are dealt a life that is full of joy and lacking pain or suffering, you are not privy to the multitude of reasons you should fight for it.

2. The real danger in life is being comfortable

For we will forget what we need to do. Lotus eaters understand this one. What’s the point if pleasure is great and comfort is already high?

3. The more we are able to feel pleasure, the more we feel pain

Expand your capacity to feel one end of the spectrum, and I promise you will feel the other too. 6 years ago, I changed my view of success to having the capacity to feel the full spectrum of emotions deeply. It’s been a rollercoaster since let me tell you. But in feeling more discomfort and pain, I have felt greater joy.

4. You can only have a happy relationship if you are happy being alone

Learning how to love yourself first is the secret ingredient to every healthy relationship. You teach others how to treat you. That relationship starts with you and the energy you pour into your own cup is how you can pour out onto others.

5. The less afraid you are to die, the less afraid you are to live

This goes back to #1 .. when you truly know that death is inevitable in your core, you start living more. Remembering (and remembering often) that you are going to die can be used as a very important tool to do the things you have always wanted to do. Not a single day is promised, and the more we start living like it, the more juice we will squeeze out of life.

In sitting with these paradoxes, I’ve simultaneously been sitting very closely with the fears I have. Fear has felt palpable in this season. I don’t know where I’m going next. Literally or physically. I don’t know where I’ll be next week.

But if you remember the name of the book I picked up in Amsterdam.. The Wisdom of Insecurity. I have a feeling I’m reading about the exact season I’m in. I’m learning to live inside of uncertainty rather than finding a way out of it. I’m enjoying the process of revealing these deeper truths, rather than needing the truth itself which is most definitely not promised to ever come.

The deeper truth? If we knew the answer, there would be nothing left to search for.

And thank God for that. Because if we had a single answer we would not be free. We would be completely trapped.

It is in the process of bringing understanding to your life that brings you peace. Not having understanding. The pursuit of asking these questions is part of the answer itself.

Naval Ravikant talks about this concept in length and I highly recommend you listen to his podcasts if you haven’t yet.

I’ve had a journal running every year of my life since I was 12. When I look back at them, I can feel the energy of myself searching for answers. But when I look deeper, I realize even 12-year-old me writing about the boy she kissed, was learning how to enjoy the process of self-reflection. It makes us feel alive to ask questions and reflect on these paradoxes.

So if that wasn’t enough to get you reflecting on different parts of your life, I want to leave you with these questions to ponder in your own journal.. Maybe the answers are all paradoxes too.

1. What do you need to let go of in order to receive more?

2. Where would trying less get me further?

3. What part of my life might become easier if I stopped needing it to be easy?

4. What pain am I avoiding that might expand my capacity for joy?

5. Where have I mistaken pleasure for fulfillment?

6. If the point of my life isn’t to become comfortable, what might the point be?

very on brand and paradoxical of me to write about grief, death and fear and close with

stay lighthearted,

chels

<3

Mallorca, Spain, that is.

On a solo trip back in 2023.

I’ve been here before.

So I thought I knew how I would feel.

Ripe with joy, filled with curiosity and ready for adventure.

I’ve been here before.

So I thought the beauty of the mountains would ease the ache of my heart, the grief of a life I no longer live, nor want to go back to at the moment.

I thought being here would be enough to pull me up, shake me, and remind me how lucky I am.

How lucky I am, to live wherever I am. To go wherever I want to go, whenever I want to.

To be my own home.

But the truth is..

I’ve never been here before.

I have never fully trusted that I am my own home. My own safe place.

I’ve never known a place that can remind me of how lucky I am.

I’ve never known anyone or anything that could do that better than I could, for myself.

Before, travel was an escape from a life I lived at home. It was a novel, fresh experience where I could step into a different version of myself. One free of responsibility and accountability.

Now, being here (or wherever I am) is my life.

I’m not running, I’m not living differently. I’m fully here.

And with that, comes all the feelings I used to leave at home.

The streets feel familiar, the restaurants have the same menus, and the mountains haven’t moved.

But I’ve never been here before.

Because I’ve never been this version of me here.

My life is completely different than it was when I took that solo trip three years ago.

I’m finding pieces of myself everywhere I go, while simultaneously letting other pieces go.

When I first arrived, I kept wondering why I didn’t feel the way I thought I would.

Why wasn’t I overflowing with gratitude?

Why didn’t this beautiful place instantly quiet whatever felt unsettled inside of me?

I think I expected it to remind me how lucky I am.

Instead, I was reminded of everything I still can’t control.

The future, our timeline, the desire to know where we’ll eventually call home, when life will feel more settled, what comes next.

I still catch myself thinking.. If I could just know the plan, maybe I’ll feel peace.

But I can’t stop thinking that that is an illusion. No one really knows.

Some of us are just better storytellers.

We convince ourselves that buying the house, planning our baby’s due date, moving cities somehow guarantees peace.

I call bullshit.

As if certainty has ever been promised to any of us (it hasn’t).

That’s why this trip feels different.

There isn’t another version of me waiting back home anymore.

There isn’t a life I’m taking a vacation from.

This is it. Every version is here with me. Even the parts still learning to trust.

Any place on this planet can be beautiful in its own way. Beauty exists everywhere waiting to be noticed.

But what I’ve come to understand is that what I see, what I feel, and what stays with me is shaped less by the place itself and more by what I’m carrying inside.

If I arrive with openness, curiosity, and peace, even the most ordinary surroundings begin to glow with meaning. And if I arrive restless, disconnected, or searching for something outside of myself to fix what’s within, even the most breathtaking view will feel empty.

There is no guarantee that I will feel the way I expect to.

So maybe I was wrong. I haven’t been searching for a place.

I’ve been searching for the version of myself that trusts life without needing to know what’s next.

I’ve never been here before.

xx

Stay Lighthearted,

Chelsey

It helps to know where I started to know why I feel ready to share where I stand now.

Lighthearted Kitchen was built from a version of me that believed she had to work really hard to be ‘successful’. Growing up, watching my parents run their business, the motto was always “work hard, play hard.” And although I love that that works for them even now in their 50’s and 60’s, what I learned was never stop working unless it’s that one vacation a year. And even then, always answer the calls and emails. Always prioritize work, and you’ll be rewarded.

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I am deeply grateful for what that example gave me. Because I also learned drive, determination, and the belief that I could do anything I set my mind to.

And they also always said, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life,” and in many ways, that belief is what gave me the courage to build Lighthearted Kitchen at all.

The problem was.. I started my business with that mindset. I grinded. I basically set up pop-up restaurants by myself in a day, did all the planning, promoting, outreach, and marketing on the days I wasn’t physically cooking and serving the 5 course meals, and of course, tore it all down to start again with a new concept completely new the next day.

And it worked. We grew as a brand every event. Selling out tickets and ultimately partnering with brands for events I could have only dreamed of in the beginning. We went from 1,000 followers to 60K in a little over a year. In a way, I knew it would work, though. Because I grinded. And I had that example of pushing through no matter how hard things felt or how dysregulated my nervous system started to feel.

That was the hard and confusing part. That the thing I loved, that was slowly draining me, was also working. The community was real, the events were beautiful, the food always had a story, the brand was growing. From the outside, it might have looked like everything I had ever wanted was happening.

But behind the scenes, I was building a business about nourishment while slowly abandoning my own. The same reason I left my career in modeling before starting LK. I was craving nourishing myself.

I also made it my whole personality. I mean I literally started this brand with the same values I held so close to my identity at the time. That food is what can heal you. That we need connection and community. That we (I) need a safe place to land and like-minded people to talk to. That if you work really hard, you can play.

I remember the first time I finally let one of my sous chefs take the lead chef role on an event. I couldn’t stop throwing up the whole day leading up to it… and had no other choice but to cancel (and let her do what she was more than capable of doing). I didn’t believe the business should go on without me. Because I believed deep down I had to be present for it to work.

Fast forward a few years of working through that belief system, and beginning to allow more and more events to go on without me present, I started to feel like if I wasn’t 100% invested anymore, why are we still doing business. Because I created it with my whole personality, remember? So if I’m not completely lit up by it anymore, why am I still taking inquiries and getting on calls with clients weekly?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a business owner, it’s that it will probably push you more than anything in life. It’s your biggest mirror. It will undoubtedly show you your shadows and wounds at some point, if not weekly. It will force you to face yourself and the way you show up in the world. And I was being forced to look at my worth lying in my productivity.

I didn’t feel like I was enough, if I wasn’t working hard enough. Doing enough. Therefore I also didn’t think my business was enough, if I wasn’t doing enough. See the mirror?

Your beliefs about yourself become your beliefs about your business.

Fears around being unloved? You’ll probably fear people hating your business or even worse, wanting to sue you.

Think you need to serve your friends in order to be enough for them? You’ll probably over deliver to your clients and spread yourself too thin.

Think you need to work really hard to be successful? You’ll probably never have a real day off.

To be clear: this is not to scare anyone out of starting a business, or to make it sound like the whole experience was only hard.

It was also one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life.

I am abundantly grateful for every table we set, every person we served, every chef who cooked beside me, every brand that trusted us, and every guest who made Lighthearted Kitchen what it became.

I still love that version of LK. And I still have so much tenderness for the version of me who built it.

But I’m sharing this because eventually even with all that love and gratitude… I felt like burning it all down.

Because I started to see the patterns and it was too clear to me that I built something off of limiting beliefs that I no longer wanted to subscribe to.

Luckily my wedding was also right around the corner at this point, so I put the inquiries on pause, and upon returning home from our honeymoon, eventually a sabbatical felt like the next best move for me to really sit with these thoughts instead of pushing through like I usually would have done. I finally created space to grieve how much had changed. To grieve my business that felt like an extension of me. I thought it was over. I thought I had to burn it all down at this point.

Fast forward another 6 months, post sabbatical, currently living in another country where I feel like my nervous system has finally had a chance to breathe. I’ve focused on rest and nourishment for myself more than I have any other time in my life (as someone who was serving nourishing meals to everyone else). I’m in nature everyday, finally feeling grounded instead of just preaching it.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t trying to force understanding it all or having clarity. I wasn’t trying to make the next version of the business happen anymore. I was just living slower, eating nourishing food in the jungle, walking barefoot everywhere, being with my husband, and letting my body catch up to everything I asked it to carry over the years.

And the idea came to me. Lighthearted Kitchen doesn’t have to die.

Maybe it just needs to be a little more… lighthearted ;)

If there was one thing that always felt easy, it was the people. The beautiful people that came to our tables. The wonderful, aligned chefs that reached out to be a part of our team. It was one of, if not my favorite thing about Lighthearted, that the people just came. I never had to work really hard for that part. And if I was going to grow, and restart from a different set of beliefs, it would be that I don’t have to push myself to burn out to create something that I love. I can create something that nourishes and heals others… as much as it heals me.

And that was the shift. Instead of asking, “How can I keep carrying this whole thing?” I thought, “What if Lighthearted Kitchen could become a place where the right people find each other?”

What if the magic was never that I personally cooked every dinner or answered every inquiry or managed every chef and team member or held every detail in my own nervous system?

What if the magic was always the philosophy? Seasonal food, thoughtful sourcing, beautiful hospitality, and people gathering around a table that felt like being taken care of.

So along comes a new beginning. Currently, with my husband, we are building LK 2.0. A curated platform for intentional chefs and hosts to find each other.

Coming this Summer 2026!!!

Think private dining, seasonal gatherings, public ticketed food experiences, retreats, and intimate meals rooted in love like we always have been. A place where hosts can find chefs who align with their values, and chefs can create experiences for people who care about where food comes from, how it’s prepared, and how it feels to share it.

It’s not going to be an open marketplace. We want Lighthearted Kitchen to feel like a curated network of chefs, hosts, and food experiences that still carry the same philosophy the brand was built on.

We are truly so excited to co-create this with the community of seasonal, farm-to-table chefs and hosts. I will be taking every chef through a course and interview process before they can join the platform, to ensure each and every experience is still under the Lighthearted Philosophy.

So if you are a chef who cooks with the seasons, sources with care, and believes food should come from somewhere real, we would love to know you.

And if you are a host, guest, or person who has ever wished it were easier to find beautiful, nourishing food experiences near you, we are building this for you too.

For now the waitlist is open and I am so grateful to finally share where Lighthearted Kitchen is going next.

Stay Lighthearted,

Chelsey

x

I’m excited to bring this over to Substack and share in long format what you should be eating this month. This started before Lighthearted Kitchen was born with me making lists for myself each month to know what I should be eating and grabbing at the market along with some of the benefits for each piece of produce.

Eating this way truly healed a lot of health issues and hormone imbalances I was dealing with at the time. It inspired me to share these lists with others so they could benefit from it too!

I also created digital recipe books for every single month so you know exactly what to cook with this in-season produce, too. Click below to download the recipes.

May Recipe Guide

Every in-season produce item truly serves an important purpose. For example, in the fall, when it starts to get darker earlier and there are more hours of darkness in the day, carrots are being harvested at the same time. And the vitamin A that’s in the carrots… supports eye health and vision in low light.

It’s almost like it was perfectly designed that way

The foods coming into season right now are naturally higher in water, fiber, and micronutrients that support digestion, energy, and a fresh start for spring. Not a full detox, but definitely a shift.

In order to maximize the bioavailable nutrients, minerals, and vitamins that are in the produce that is currently being harvested where you are right now, I would definitely recommend looking into what growing zone you are located in.

These lists we share every month are for growing zone 10B, Southern California, a place that can pretty much grow a variety of produce year-round. Which isn’t the case for most people around the world. So I would recommend taking inspiration from this list and looking into your exact area!

Produce In Season + Their Benefits

Apricots

Apricots are rich in vitamins A, C, and E. They’re especially supportive for skin and gut health, and their natural potassium content can help ease bloating.

Peas
One of the first true signs of spring. Peas are light but surprisingly nourishing, offering plant-based protein, fiber, and vitamin C to support steady energy and digestion.

Plums
Juicy and slightly tart, plums are known for supporting digestion thanks to their fiber content. They also provide vitamin C and antioxidants that help your body transition out of winter sluggishness.

Fava Beans
A spring staple that feels a little special. Fava beans are rich in protein, fiber, and folate — great for energy, blood health, and keeping you feeling full without heaviness.

Tomatoes
While they peak later in summer, early tomatoes begin showing up now. They’re hydrating, rich in vitamin C and potassium, and packed with lycopene — an antioxidant that helps protect the skin from UV damage, which becomes especially relevant as sun exposure increases this time of year.

Grapefruit
Bright and refreshing grapefruit is loaded with vitamin C and hydration. It’s one of those fruits that naturally wakes up your palate and your immune system.

Leafy Greens
Arugula, spinach, butter lettuce. Spring greens are tender, bitter, and incredibly supportive for digestion. They help stimulate enzymes and bring balance after richer winter foods.

Raspberries
Raspberries are high in fiber and antioxidants. They support gut health while also adding that fresh, slightly sweet flavor that feels like spring.

Asparagus
A true seasonal highlight. Asparagus supports digestion, acts as a natural diuretic, and provides nutrients that help reduce bloating and support overall detox pathways.

Eating in-season is all about paying attention to what’s available at your local farmer’s market (if you have one)!

What you see in your grocery store may be largely imported from other states and countries even. You could be living in Montana and eating berries from Peru. This means those berries were picked before peak ripeness, stored, and transported long distances just to reach the shelf.

When you shop seasonally and locally, you’re getting produce that was harvested closer to its peak. It’s more flavorful, more nutrient-dense, and better aligned with what your body actually needs right now.

It also connects you back to the rhythm of the season where you live, the constant shifts in what is available, and what is naturally life-giving.

Even small swaps like grabbing what’s in season when you can, can make a difference in how your food tastes and how you feel.

If you want to cook with this produce and don’t know where to start — there’s 87 recipes in our digital recipe book HERE.

May Recipe Guide

Happy Seasonal Eating!

Stay Lighthearted,

Chelsey

x

That is the energy of spring.

But it’s not just starting a new project, job, or hobby that this season asks of us.

It’s the subtle nudge to heal an old wound.

The thoughts that keep popping up in your mind:

“Do I always externally process my emotions?”

“Have I stayed in this place just because it’s what I’ve always known?”

With each season, it’s something different, I’ve noticed. What to let go of in the fall, what to hold space for in winter. And what to let bloom in spring.

I think after winter, there is this question that often comes up for me:
Where am I resisting change? What am I still holding that isn’t mine to carry?

We need to remember that we, too, are in bloom. And just like nature we can’t hold back our own growth.

I was talking to a friend recently about the death of our old selves and choosing growth. How we have to keep choosing the uncomfortable path instead of the ‘safe’ one (something I feel I’ve done over and over the past year).

And how hard it can be to truly lose the old identities we carry. It reminded me that it’s easier to think of it as alignment vs. comfort instead of “safety vs. what’s right”.

If I wrote out a list of all the things that felt comfortable in my life, there would undoubtably be a few that don’t actually align with my highest self or the direction I want to go.

Staying in California, where I’d lived my whole life, felt really comfortable but didn’t align with the vision I had for myself to explore beyond.

It feels really comfortable for me to always talk about how I’m feeling out loud immediately. To externally process everything as it comes up.

But does that actually align with my higher self?

What would it look like if I gave my loved ones more room to process their emotions with me… and if I gave myself that same space first?

My higher self would sit in silence, connect with her breath, take a minute to meditate, journal or pray about what she’s feeling. And then go to her partner or friend from a grounded place, asking if they have space to hold these emotions.

This is just a personal example from my life… and the reason this article idea came up. Because in these moments of questioning my inner world, I realized maybe that is what spring asks of us.

It asks us to notice where we can become anew. To notice where we’ve been choosing what’s comfortable over what’s aligned. To get curious about the patterns that once kept us safe (and give those parts of us love, too).

It asks us to question if these parts of us still belong and trust that the uncomfortable shifts are part of something in motion. Something blooming.

And sometimes it asks us to push through the cracks of the concrete and rise exactly where you are. Without waiting for the right time, right place or right circumstances to show up exactly as you are.

I’ve always loved this idea of nature pushing through mans’ creation. It doesn’t matter how much concrete we lay down, it seems to find its way through. Or at least I love noticing where it does.

It reminds me how resilient nature is and how we, too, are nature. We can choose to rise despite our circumstances. To rise in a place we feel we don’t exactly ‘belong’. To be our most authentic selves, no matter what.

Because just like nature, we don’t have to force our growth . . we can just allow it.

And that really is the good news. 🫶🏼

So what is spring asking of you?

What wants to bloom inside of you?

Where are you being asked to lean into discomfort?

I would genuinely love to hear your thoughts if you read this. We’re never alone in our struggle or our celebration.

Stay Lighthearted,

Chelsey

x

This year, I knew I wanted to spend my 27th birthday there.

Maybe it was because the cherry blossoms would be peaking the day of my birthday or because I’ve grown to absolutely love matcha and Japan is the matcha capital of the world, of course. But I think more than anything it was the feeling I had about the place itself.

The nature seemed so beautiful with their meticulously looked after gardens.

The culture felt intentional, quiet, peaceful, respectful.

And if you know me, you know I’m always open to embracing a slower, more intentional life.

During my time away from work, I made planning this itinerary my part-time job (lol). With so many free hours to do whatever I desired, I chose to spend many late nights deep in creative flow, building Canva decks, writing Google Docs, saving endless places to Google Maps, scrolling Pinterest for hours… dreaming about Japan.

So it only feels right to share it.

For anyone who’s never been to Japan, or for those who want to return in a way that feels slow, seasonal, and deeply intentional.

How I Plan My Trips (and Why I Leave So Much Unplanned)

I don’t know how you usually plan a trip but my approach to travel might be a little unconventional. I research everything, save everything, and then… I don’t actually plan most of it.

For example, for this 10-day trip, I had over 100 places saved on Google Maps.

Matcha cafés I found on social media and locals’ blogs, ceramic shops, parks, neighborhoods, restaurants, temples.

But I only booked my hotels and two dinner reservations (because of the busy cherry blossom season). That was it!

Because the magic of a trip is absolutely in the getting lost.

And almost everyone I spoke to before going to Japan affirmed the same.

“You have to get lost there.”

(they were all right)

The magic of Japan, especially in the city, is in stumbling upon something you never would have found otherwise.

One of my favorite things I brought home was a handmade ceramic plate we found completely by accident. It was tucked away on the second floor of a small stationery shop. Behind a tiny doorway, was a collection of ceramics made on a remote island in Japan with a population of 17 people.

Seventeen! Every piece was handmade, using clay from the island itself, crafted in a traditional way that has been preserved over generations. As novice ceramicist myself, I could feel the intention in each piece.

That moment wasn’t on the itinerary. But the space I created in my itinerary is what allowed it to happen.

At the same time, having that long list saved to my Google Maps gave us direction when we needed it. On mornings when we weren’t sure where to go, I’d open my guide, zoom out, and see where I had clusters of places saved. We’d pick a general area — and let the day unfold from there.

That’s how I recommend traveling in Japan.. have a plan, but leave space for magic.

The Slow Japan Itinerary

Tokyo (2 nights)

First Night: Landed in Tokyo at 5pm, grabbed sushi close to our Airbnb and went to bed trying to beat jet-lag as best we could.

Second Day: We started in the quiet neighborhood of Daikan-Yama, waking down the Meguro River early for views of cherry blossoms before the city filled up. We went to Shinjuku National Gardens to walk and lay in the park for a couple hours, stumbled into a flea market on a side street in Shinjuku, and had potentially one of the best matchas of the trip: Lambert. Found that ceramic shop I was raving about in Taito, as well as a ‘send yourself a letter’ shop, and a brewery, all before a 12 course omakase experience that altered my brain chemistry.

Izu (2 nights)

Third Day: Grabbed matcha and pastries nearby before getting on the Shinkansen to Izu. I wanted to leave the city for my birthday and found a 400 year old traditional ryokan: Tofuya Resort. We didn’t put on our normal clothes or touch our suitcases the whole time we were there. It was heaven. This was the mineral hot spring bath… in our hotel room.

Kyoto (2 Nights)

We spent 2 nights here, but you could easily do more (same with Tokyo).

First Day: Went straight to Le Labo cafe for a matcha post-train to see if it was worth the hype. It was a beautiful, but tiny cafe and the matcha was 7/10. We walked around the Gion district and then up to Maruyama Park where the cherry blossoms were some of the best we saw the whole trip. We continued up the hill to Chorakuji Temple, where we were yet again rewarded for going the extra mile. It seemed to be a theme on our trip. We stopped at the cutest wine and cheese lounge room on the way down the hill. I don’t remember the name but I think it’s the second floor of this shop.

Second Day:

Had my only coffee of the trip because the Japanese do coffee incredibly well, too. It was 10/10 and the beans were from Costa Rica so I had to. It was called Flow by Nozy and the views were this:

We spend the day walking the Philosopher’s Path (10/10 would recommend doing early in busy season), going to tea ceremony, stumbling into a 500-year-old companys knife shop and buying one, and a random traditional tofu lunch in Arashiyama that was delicious. The kind where you take your shoes off at the door (my favorite kind).

Back to Tokyo (2 Nights)

We returned to Tokyo much softer. We didn’t want to rush anymore, we had already seen a lot of what we wanted to see in Japan. So we used these days to collect any keepsakes we found and wanted to take home, wander through random neighborhoods, watch live music, eat slowly, and do one last onsen soak.

Where we stayed these last 2 night was one of my favorite stays though. It’s a bit out of the way, but I couldn’t recommend it more. The public hot baths are some of the best in the city, I think. And the rooms, although tiny like most in the city, are designed so thoughtfully. It felt like everything I loved about the trip, came together at the end for a little farewell.

What Japan Taught Me

1. Get lost on purpose

2. Save everything… but don’t follow it too closely

3. Bidets in the middle of the night are superior

4. The best things won’t be planned

5. Start your mornings early (it changes everything)

6. Where you stay matters

7. Transportation is part of the experience

   I genuinely enjoyed taking the train.. and the old cabs with doily seat covers and roll down windows!!

8. Leave the city at least once

   And experience wearing a robe for a full 24 hours.

9. The attention to detail is everywhere

   Like essential oil natural soap in the tiny brewery bathroom?

10. Let your body guide you too (not just your plan)

    Japan has some of the best food in the world — truly. But also… a very real note I needed fiber and 7-Eleven fiber packets became part of my daily routine.

11. Slow travel is about feeling more not doing less

    We didn’t try to see everything, and actually avoided a lot of ‘must-sees’, but what we did experience felt deeper, more memorable, and more meaningful.

And in the end, that’s what stayed with me.

Stay Lighthearted,

Chels

x

When I stepped away from work and social media at the tail end of fall, I had no idea what life would look like when I returned.

I was open to the unknowns the time off might bring. I actually wasn’t even sure how long the break would last. In my head (and in the pages of my journal) it was one dedicated month of trying new things. The things I always wanted a little more time for. Ceramics classes, breathwork, a course on herbalism, learning to sew from local grandmas, the list went on.

By about 2 months in, I had nearly checked everything off the list. I did the things I wanted to do. Some even stuck and became part of my weekly routine.

The unexpected part, though, was how much else began to loosen. When you stop moving so quickly you start noticing the layers that build up over the years. The things we accumulate while we’re busy building a life and not pausing long enough to edit, take note, shed.

Little by little, I started to feel this pull to let more go.

And as someone who felt like the entire year of 2025 had been one long season of shedding (I’m talking to you, Year of the Snake). I thought I had already released the big things.

Apparently, there was still more.

On January 3rd, we went to Costa Rica with our best friends.

And something shifted again.

We woke with the sun. Bathed in the warm waters. Walked miles through the jungle. Cried when we needed to. Danced on the beach at sunset. We carried less. We needed less. The days felt open and so free.

This was my third trip to Costa Rica, but my hubby’s first. It was the first place we’ve ever been to together where he confidently said (at least 3 times) “I could totally live here.”

The words ‘trip of a lifetime’ kept coming to me.

Which was honestly kind of strange because it wasn’t that kind of trip.

It wasn’t extravagant or luxurious and it definitely wasn’t effortless. There were moments of frustration, confusion, even deep emotional release for me.

However I noted that little voice that kept reminding me of it. . trip of a lifetime.

On the drive back to the airport at the end of the trip, I remember telling my best friend Dalia, “I wonder if a real estate agent would tell us what our house is worth.”

It was a passing thought. After two years and all the renovations on our first little home, I was just curious how much it might have increased in value.

And then we came home.

Exactly one week later, on a quiet Sunday morning, Gavin and I were getting in the car to drive down to San Clemente. Neither of us said it out loud, but I think we both knew why we were going. We wanted a change of scenery.

But we also had started quietly asking ourselves the question that appears when one chapter feels complete. .

Where else might we belong?

As we were pulling away from the house, something in me said check the mailbox. I would usually never check it before leaving. But I asked Gavin to stop the car in front of it anyway.

I hopped out and opened the little door.

There was exactly one letter inside.

Just one.

From a real estate agent. Asking us if he could tell us what our house is worth.

He had a buyer ready.

I just stood there for a moment holding the letter.

Because a week earlier, in Costa Rica, I had asked that exact question out loud. And now someone had placed the answer in our mailbox.

We went about our day exploring San Clemente. A cute cafe and a long walk on the beach as we love to do on a Sunday together. We talked about this season of life and what it might look like if our house did sell.

Where would we go?

What would we do with all of our things?

And then we came home. And it felt full of beautiful things we chose. Full of comfort. The overflowing shelves of servingware from my business that’s almost four years old now. The white farmhouse sink and the stone backsplash that felt like such a dream when we renovated the kitchen. The passion fruit vine I replanted three times before it finally thrived in its current place, climbing across the garage wall and reaching for the avocado tree I’ve spent so much time with over the past year and a half.

The house was full. Full of the life we had built. Full of the things we had carried for years.

And suddenly I wondered,

Is this the dream?

Because I know my dream was always to buy land one day, to travel the world far and wide and hopefully find a passion that could sustain both of those endeavors.

Almost exactly 2 years ago, I traveled to Italy to stay with a friend who had done both of those. She moved from LA, bought land in Italy and built a beautiful life around it.

Upon coming home from that trip, I had a deep knowing I was meant to move somewhere.

I distinctly remember praying over the sink, asking God to show me where the next door is.

That very same day… we got a call from Gavin’s dad saying he wanted to put an offer on a house in our area and have us renovate it and be the property managers. I couldn’t believe how quickly a door opened after that prayer. It didn’t feel exactly like what I had in mind, but it felt like a glimmer. A blessing, an answer to prayer, and the next natural step.

Fast forward two years later, coming home from Costa Rica and praying the exact same prayer. We were presented with that letter in the mail.

And it feels like the next natural step.

Not because we had a grand plan to leave the country or this house soon after renovating it. Not because we were searching for something better or bigger. But because over the past few months (and my lifetime, really) I’ve been learning what happens when you stop trying to control the journey and start following the glimmers instead.

That 3 month sabbatical did so much more than give me time off. It gave me time to see the signs. It slowed me down enough to trust my intuition. To trust that when I surrender, the plan still unfolds. It softened me.

When we look back at life, it’s always funny, the moments that don’t feel huge but more like little glimmers. Little whispers and nudges that don’t make sense yet, but they feel right.

A prayer at the kitchen sink.

A thought in Costa Rica.

A random stop at the mailbox.

And yet each one, gently pointing in the same direction.

Surrendering to that process isn’t easy. It’s like trusting you can fly a plane blind when you’ve never even had flight training.

There’s a real grief in letting go of what you know. This house holds so many dreams we brought to life. It literally holds the life we built inside its walls.

But at the exact same time, there’s a quiet excitement that keeps rising up alongside the grief.

For most of my life, I’ve tried to control every step forward. I liked having a plan. I liked knowing where I was going and believing that if I worked hard enough, I could build the life I imagined. I’ve always been someone who follows through on her dreams. The kind of person who sets her mind on something and makes it happen.

That identity carried me a long way.

But this season has felt different. This season has asked me to trust the glimmers. To trust the voice that nudges you before you understand why. To trust that sometimes doors open not because you planned them, but because you were willing to pause long enough to see them.

And so here we are.

Our house sold to that off-market buyer.

Almost exactly two years after we bought it.

Now our days are filled with packing boxes, sorting through the things we’ve carried with us over time, deciding what comes and what doesn’t. Most of it being given away.

And in four weeks, we’re moving to Costa Rica.

We don’t know how long we’ll be there.

And strangely… that feels better than knowing.

Because when I look back over the past few months, I can see the thread so clearly now. My sabbatical led me here. Listening led me here. Letting go led me here. Not controlling the outcome led me here. What feels like a series of constantly making the harder decisions. . a break from work, releasing the pressure to stay in the box I created for myself, led me here.

My highest self led me here. My intuition led me here. God led me here.

Sometimes the path forward doesn’t make the most logical sense. Sometimes it looks like choosing the harder option again and again. But every time I’ve followed that quiet inner voice instead of the safe one, it has led somewhere I feel more alive than I could have planned.

So here we are standing in the middle of the unknown.

Letting go of something beautiful.

Trusting the glimmers.

And stepping into whatever God has planned next.

And with that..

Stay Lighthearted,

xx

Chelsey

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I mean.. I completely logged off and (for the first time in my 10 years of chronically oversharing) I didn’t post a single story. For 3 months.

But the story doesn’t start there. I got married in July of 2025. I felt a deep pull to go inwards shortly after coming home from our honeymoon. At first, it was this knowing that I wanted to embrace my new “wife” role. I wanted to stay home, and focus on making it more of a home for us. I was feeling called to nest. Nest like I was deep in the third trimester of a pregnancy that hadn’t happened yet.

I couldn’t get myself to answer inquiries or work emails the way I used to. Every time I tried to push through, I could feel it in my throat. In my jaw. In the way my nervous system would tighten if I tried to go back into “hustle” mode.

My body literally screamed we’re not doing it this way anymore.

So instead of doing what I had done for years (override it, perform through it, share through it)..

I grieved. I grieved the version of me who could do it all. The girl who could respond quickly, create constantly, and build without stopping.

I finally gave myself grace to evolve without trying to narrate it all in real time. I journaled (a lot). I created for no one. I cooked and lived without taking photos or filming it.

And now, 3 months in..

Here’s What I’ve Learned:

1. I don’t miss the pressure.

   I miss the connection online, but I don’t miss the pressure, subtle competition, or feeling like I had to constantly produce to ‘keep my job’

2. My nervous system was exhausted.

   I didn’t realize how deeply until I finally took the break I needed

3. The desire to meet our future children is so real.

   But it can coexist with just wanting to rest, create in other forms, and travel the world

4. My businesses cannot be built from pressure anymore.

   They have to grow and change with me. They have to be rebuilt from a place of creativity and alignment.

5. Creating > Consuming. Forever.

6. Some seasons are meant to be winter.

   I will probably always take time off in the winter from here on out. Even if it’s just a couple weeks. I don’t want to push through seasons that are meant for going inward anymore

In the end, I feel like something was born from this self proclaimed post-wedding sabbatical. A new version of me that has shed the grief, the pressure and the timelines I created for myself before.

And now, just as the Year of The Fire Horse comes riding in.. I think I’m ready to move again.

This time not from fear or lack, but from intuition and an abundance mindset.

We’re planning to travel more before we meet our babies.

Lighthearted Kitchen is going to evolve into something truer to me.

I don’t know exactly what it will look like yet and I’m okay with that. I’ve decided I’m making decisions only when they feel like the next natural breath.

And if you’re here reading this, I love you! Thank you so much for being here.

This space will grow slowly. On purpose. You can subscribe here if you want to grow alongside me.

x

Chelsey