ink and trail
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journey to self
And make the self so absolutely complete, fulfilled, unrushed, that it is this—the most anticipated trip of all time. And it’s true—here, the crowds thin, the paths become narrower, the horizon, once distant, now feels like a mere figment of your imagination — and that’s how you know. And as the journey unfolds, you understand the destination was always within you — it is you.
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oscillating
Reality’s got a bad rap. Every time we talk about facing it, it feels like confronting the greatest of beasts—except this one isn’t fought with fists. It’s a restless tide of fears and anxieties, briefly held at bay by moments of comfort, only to resurface and crash down all at once. The pendulum swings back—just slightly—yet enough to crack the gates open. The what-ifs flood in. I look at my old patterns, and for a moment, my faith vanishes so completely that I almost wish…
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the slow burn of satisfaction
I need affirmations for when I’m in the thick of it—for when the goal is achieved, the dream is being palpably, presently lived. What should I be telling myself in the mirror when I know I am enough, when I feel so lucky, when life is so good? When right here, right now is beyond my wildest dreams—and that’s all there is. Something softer than a call to arms. Less like a self-aggrandizing pat on the back. Just a gentle hum—of pleasure and fulfilment—without the…
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coconut circles
At Shamba Miti Mingi, Christine tells me about one of her special mini-experiments: her two coconut circles—coconut palm trees planted from seed in a circle with a large, 2m-deep pit in the middle filled with compost and dead matter (leaves and branches) from around the farm. Nature’s quiet alchemy at work: her first circle, planted about 2 years ago, now reaches 2.5m high. Then she points to a lone palm tree planted a few meters away—barely reaching my knees. Like the trees in a forest,…
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déjà vu but new
So, here’s the thing. There’s a great deal of comfort in returning to a destination, especially when traveling solo—the familiarity of the experience, suddenly fresh in my mind, calms down the nerves that, even after so many years of faraway travels, inevitably come over me for days leading up to departure. The key is to add somewhere new to the well-trodden, and the excitement is once again palpable. For this next one, it hits such a sweet, sweet spot—I’ll land in Mombasa, an airport I…
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dreamer, meet your dream
There’s this exercise therapists make you do; you’ll likely find it in some self-help book or another: meeting with your child self. Closing your eyes, walking into your childhood home, into the bedroom where, on the bed, your 6-year-old self is sitting, joining her, and telling her about how life has gone for you so far. Holy shit, you have no idea how absolutely blessed we are. How our dreams of escape and adventure have come true in ways we could never have imagined. How…
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summer soul
I miss summer. The beach. The sun-soaked, carefree days. Do summer memories fade in the cold, dark nights of November? No. No—summer memories shine. They carry me through. This is my magic trick. It won’t be long now.
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mark my words
The last-minute, non-date date. I love how I look forward to it—not with flutters, but with a kind of jolly excitement. —I told mom. She sends her regards. So we sit down (and I love this place—a little throwback to a past life). We order to share. It starts off a little awkward, but we always find something to say. How incredibly lucky— to have this kind of timeless connection. Of all the connections I’ve known, this is the one where we could go silent…
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too much of a good thing
I’ve been revisiting a rather specific feeling—or maybe, lack thereof —over the past few weeks. It goes like this: A few years ago, after the apex of non-stop travel, I had just wrapped up one of the most incredible stays imaginable: a converted convent in Antigua, Guatemala. I was en route to Guatemala City to catch a flight to Medellín, Colombia. I’d been to Guatemala a few months earlier—though this was my first time in Antigua—so the route felt somewhat familiar. Medellín, on the other…
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pollyhristova 