For me, journaling is a way of capturing little slices of life from our extraordinary, ordinary days, and whenever we read them in the future, it’s as though we’re returned right to that very moment in time.
And so that’s the latest lesson I’ve carried home with me from Cumara: There will always be a time to rest and a time to grow in life — and I think all we can do in between is trust that in time, the new fruit will come.
For the first time, I’m trying to find words for the fog. I’m trying to be more open about this season of uncertainty, in the hopes that it may be of even the smallest encouragement to you on your own journey.
It is this image of beauty and reflection that I will be carrying with me into the start of 2018, having left ‘the lived’ of this year behind — and I hope that this picture, and Ale’s timely words, hold inspiration for you as well.
Love is now my litmus test in my work, and I hope it will also be my legacy; that everything I share with the world—be it a story, sketch, blog post, or book—will bear fingerprints of the joy I felt while creating it.
It’s all too easy to doubt our decisions—but every now and then, I’m grateful for the moments when we suddenly know, without any doubt at all, that our steps have led us in the right direction.
Creating the cover illustration for Christine Gilbert’s new memoir, Mother Tongue—and by extension, getting to help tell Christine’s story visually—was both a joy and an incredible honor.
San Francisco is teaching me that home can be a person, but on a greater level, home is all of the people in our life, whose combined presence forms an emotional foundation just as significant as any physical one.
The Book Passage travel writing and photography conference is a kind of touchstone place I keep returning to, and yet each year finds us all moving forward in our lives and work as well.
My mind raced to plan adventures, but my soul swiftly put her foot down—because deep down, my soul knew that what I really needed most from these seven weeks is stillness.