the world breaks everyone...

and then we become strong in the broken places.

The world breaks everyone. And then we become strong in the broken places.

Recently, I found myself thinking about Dina from The Mosquito Coast, sneaking into a resort, surrounded by vacuous teens and manufactured experiences. Her line echoed in my mind: "I think I only know how to live off-grid."

I understood her completely.

There's a profound liberation in stepping outside conventional systems. Anyone who has truly lived knows this—the moment you realise the expectations that once constrained you are nothing more than fragile constructs. Gossamer threads you can slice through with a single breath of authenticity.

My spiritual journey began in my early twenties as an observer. Distant. Aloof. I was the witness, standing apart, believing detachment was wisdom. But life has a way of teaching you. Slowly. Painfully. Beautifully.

Now, I know spirituality is immersion.

Not observation, but participation. Each moment a question: How am I living right now? Are my actions in alignment with my deepest truths? Not tomorrow. Not hypothetically.

Right now.

I've dated men who spoke of ascension as if human life were something to escape.

Cowards, I thought. Master this existence first. The divine isn't found in running away but in ruthless, tender engagement with the present moment.

Travel became my truth serum. Not an escape, but a confrontation. With each border crossed, each unfamiliar horizon, I wasn't running from myself but running directly into my most authentic form. It challenged me. Stripped me. Rebuilt me.

It taught me that happiness is not a destination. It's a discipline.

A choice made repeatedly, against comfort, against the easy path. Most people settle for momentary dopamine hits. Real joy demands sacrifice. Demands presence.

I've learned this in mountain passes and desert crossings. In conversations with strangers who became mirrors. In moments of absolute solitude where the self dissolves and something larger emerges.

We are not our thoughts. We are not our past. We are the space between breaths. The moment of choice.

The world is vast. Brutally indifferent. And within that vastness, we create meaning. One step at a time. One breath at a time.

I surrendered the illusion of a "normal" life long ago.

Predictability is a false god.
Safety an ever-shifting mirage.
True living isn't about guarantees.

It's about courage. About showing up. About being willing to be transformed.

Life teaches you this. It loosens the chains of your own cognitive limitations. Shows you that judgment is just fear dressed in intellectual clothing. That there are infinite possibilities in every experience, every encounter, every breath.

We are not defined by where we've been, but by how deeply we've allowed ourselves to be changed by the journey.

And I am still changing. Still becoming.

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You have one week left to join me, and a brilliant group of others for:

The Art of Noticing ~ A 6-Week Writing Club 📝

A practice of writing, yes. But more than that, a practice of being present, of paying attention, of opening ourselves up to the world in ways that deepen our creative lives.

If there’s one thing that stops people from writing, it’s this: the idea that they’re doing it wrong.

The truth? There is no wrong way to write.

Preconceptions about what writing should be — what a “real writer” is, what an achievement in writing looks like — are the biggest barriers to creativity.

So here is my invitation to you: drop all of it