A reflection on slowing down, shedding layers, and returning to self through travel.
There’s this idea we’re sold, that travel should be a rush. To see the world is to move quickly from country to country, ticking off iconic sights and staying “on the go.” I thought that energy would sustain me.
But if I’m honest, the most profound moments of this journey haven’t come from the views or the movement. They’ve come from the coming back to myself — from the time, space, and quiet that have finally allowed me to feel the things I’ve long brushed aside.
And that, it turns out, is the bliss I’ve been looking for.
The More I Carve Out, the Better I Feel
Every day, I move my body, yoga mostly, but also strength training, mobility work, and recently, running again. What I find, over and over, is that the more I carve out time for myself, the more I return to balance.
Not in a performative way. Not for anyone else. Just… for me.
The more I commit to my rituals, the better I feel. It’s simple. And it’s radical.
The Life I Left, and What I Found
It might sound extreme, but I had to walk away from the life I’d built to hear myself again.
I let go of the plans, the structure, the expectations — and I found myself happier in a small hotel apartment with just my camera, my laptop, and my thoughts.
Every morning, I look forward to opening my laptop to write. It’s something I’ve always loved but never allowed to take up real space. Now, I feel that clarity is sharpening. I know what I want to share. I know that what I’ve lived can help others, or at least make them feel less alone.
What We Need vs. What We Think We Want
Here’s an uncomfortable truth: what we need rarely looks like what we want.
We chase the polished life, the beautiful home, the designer furniture, the fast car, hoping it will fill something. But it doesn’t. Not really. Because that inner voice, that craving for meaning, can’t be silenced by shiny things.
That voice wants something different. Something quieter. Something true.
Letting Go of Armour
As I travel, I feel the layers of armour peeling away, the protection I built in corporate settings, in friendships that weren’t what I believed, in a version of success that never felt quite like mine.
I’m letting go of the neighbourhoods I thought I’d live in forever. Of the identity I subscribed to. It might not be permanent, I may want a home again one day, but right now, I’ve found space. A clearing. A lightness that’s letting me choose again, for the first time in a long time.
The Beauty of Simplicity
In Asia, I’ve discovered something humbling: a simplicity that the West seems to be craving and repackaging as “slow travel.” I, too, have used the term as it is the most relevant. But put simply, it's the idea that people slow to the pace of their surroundings, they take it in as a local would.
People here don’t care about dining at the trendiest restaurants; they care that the whole family is smiling and present. I love a good meal, but I can’t remember the last time the focus was on connection rather than the recommendations to impress a client.
The “basic” of the East is the very thing I’ve been yearning. And now that I’m here, it’s not so basic at all.
The Currency of Kindness
In yoga, I was always drawn to the philosophies of the East: inward journeys, community, gentleness. Living here for several months, I see those values lived out, not as teachings, but as ways of being.
It doesn’t matter how food is served. It matters that it nourishes. It doesn’t matter what someone owns. It matters who they are.
Kindness is currency here. One I deeply value.
Anchor Points and Inner Rituals
I’ve been living out of a suitcase. Wearing the same clothes. Walking in the same flip-flops. And none of it matters.
What does matter are the anchor points:
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My daily yoga
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Cooking with local ingredients
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Sitting down to write
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Strengthening my body in the gym
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Caring for my nervous system through Pranayama and Meditation
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Choosing rituals that pull me back into myself
The things I used to rush through are now the things I never want to give up.
The Daily Question That Changed Everything
The biggest shift? My daily question is no longer “How can I make a living?”
It’s now: “How can I take care of my human?”
A phrase I heard from Matthew Hussey, but one that landed so fully in me I can’t let it go.
And that’s what this part of the journey is about. Not escape. Not indulgence.
But care. Clarity. And the quiet, surprising joy of finally listening to what I need.
