For those who are ready for adventure.

It’s an interesting time for me. An exciting time.

I keep noticing how many thoughts spin through my head, ideas and possibilities I don’t always rush to tell people about anymore.

Because I’ve learned — maybe from my upbringing, maybe just from being human — that not everyone can see what I see. Not everyone can feel the pulse inside me that says, this is right, even if it makes no sense on paper.

Growing up in a high-control belief system, my decisions needed layers of approval: God’s blessing, my husband’s comfort, my father’s opinion, my church’s certainty. I don’t resent that anymore — I understand it shaped me. But for a long time, it kept me small.

These days, I keep discovering something radical:

I make the best choices for my life.

Not because I have all the answers — but because I have the awareness to listen for them.

I still love wise mentors. I still treasure counsel. But only I can hear the quiet place inside me that knows when it’s time to stay, and when it’s time to wander.

Lately, one part of me that’s been asleep is waking up: Adventure.

My authentic self breathes through four words: adventure, flow, nurture, magic.

I’ve been deep in nurture — parenting, grounding, building steady love with my partner, holding space for others to find their own alignment. It’s been a sweet season.

But adventure — that restless, playful, curious part — has been in hibernation.

Winter held it still. Stability kept it soft.

Now, as the days grow longer, I feel it stirring in my bones:

What if you didn’t wait? What if you didn’t need a plane ticket or a perfect plan? What if you just started moving?

So here’s my quiet experiment:

I’m working where my body feels most alive. Sometimes that’s my desk at home. Sometimes that’s a campsite at 9,000 feet with my son asleep beside me and the pine trees humming.

Last week, we camped midweek and made it back for school drop-off in time. This Thursday, we’ll do it again. Starlink in my car means my office is wherever I decide to open my laptop. My meeting room is a patch of sun by the river.

It’s not about proving a point. It’s about listening to the truth that adventure doesn’t have to be extravagant. It just needs to feel free.

And it’s about remembering — for me, for anyone reading — that alignment is always more valuable than certainty.

I don’t know how long I’ll want to live this way. Maybe just for a season. Maybe until something new wants to wake up next.

But for now, I love that I get to choose.

I love that my son, when asked if he’d rather have all his toys in one place or adventure wherever we want — said, Adventure.

I love that he’s learning early what it took me so long to remember:

Home can be anywhere your awareness feels safe.

Freedom can be gentle.

And sometimes, the best thing you can do is let an old part of yourself stretch awake and breathe again.