Your Life Is Made Up of a Billion Little Moments

I notice this more when I’m traveling – the strange, small, beautiful moments that make my days up.

The curtains being drawn on a restaurant as the night comes to a close.

The brewery smell drifting down the city streets at night. It is quiet and the scent is rich.

The texture and curve of the wood furniture in the coffee shop.

The scone that you would call a biscuit except in the UK biscuits are cookies, and they drive on the wrong side of the road, on the wrong side of the car.

The way the light refuses to ever really leave, even in the middle of the night.

The sound of rain on the fabric of a tent.

The discovery of a fiddlehead fern, unfurling slowly.

The taste of white hot chocolate with lemongrass and lavender.

The camaraderie of people who have known each other their whole lives, but still invite you into their world.

I love falling into this beautiful life over and over again, in the subtlest ways.


Hitchhiking on Someone Else’s Dream

A few weeks ago, a friend told me of a business he wanted to start: an online archery shop.

I wanted in.

It was easy to imagine myself in charge and building an incredible company. More than anything else, I imagined all of the content I could create for the world, particularly for young girls interested in archery. I had such good ideas.

But the dream wasn’t mine. I was hitchhiking on his dream.

It wasn’t the first time I had done this. I’ve lost myself in teachers’ plans for me, the requirements of companies I worked for, the expectations of graduate school.

I remembered standing in my graduate advisor’s office, as he told me that I needed to give up my hobbies if I wanted to be a philosopher, that I needed to dedicate more time (subtext: all my time) to this career. It was then I decide I was done trying to please other people.

I left grad school, got a job, and started working. I tried to excel but there was no place for initiative. I tried to fit in but I felt entirely out of place in a company where everything was wrapped in red tape. I was told I wasn’t quite meeting expectations. It was then I was done with not being myself.

I wanted freedom – to travel when I wanted to, to dress in a way that expressed who I am, to live wherever I’d like, to take time off when I need to, to be myself – my full, vibrant self.

I considered what working on this archery shop would look like for me. It wouldn’t be mine, not properly, and there would be new expectations. So I asked myself,

Why hitchhike on someone else’s dream
when I can dream something even better for myself?



The Questions You’re Left With

Travel is my drug of choice. Every time I find myself somewhere new, or somewhere I haven’t been in a long time, I’m pushed and pulled. I notice more, I adventure more, I dive into my non-self a little deeper.

Skye did that to me. It pushed my boundaries, and as I drove off the island my last leisurely morning in Scotland, Skye left me with troubling questions:

Can I love at the depth I long to? Will I have the chance?

What am I meant for? What destiny am I creating for myself?

Where do I need to be to grow?

They’re not questions that can be answered in a day or a night. I am required to give them a lifetime, to ask them and answer them over and over again as if twirling in a never-ending dance.

I’m troubled by that and I’m also in love with it. The questions all weigh on my heart.

And all I know is that Skye will draw me back again, when the time is right to ask more of me.


The Highlands

Three years ago, I wrote a note and buried it in the middle of a stone circle, beneath a rock at the center. The circle wasn’t made of tall standing stones the British Isles are known for, but smaller ones, easily carried and moved. But the circle was special and the land was special and I promised to return.

And so I did. I made my way back to the Scottish Highlands.


I don’t know entirely why I’m homesick for a place that I’ve never lived. But it calls to me, even now when there are too many months between now and when I next return.



Somehow, the Highlands have bewitched me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.


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