While the kids, Carolyn, and I journey through Europe this summer, I find myself constantly reflecting on how movement—both physical and emotional—reshapes us. There’s something about stepping away from the familiar that opens your eyes in ways that staying still never quite can.
Each day brings something new: a language I don’t fully understand, a street I’ve never walked, a flavor I’ve never tasted, a custom that challenges what I’ve always known. It’s humbling—and beautiful. The world is so layered, so nuanced, and when you move slowly through it, really paying attention, you realize how much you’ve yet to see—not just outside yourself, but within.
Travel has a way of slowing down time. You begin to notice more: the way the light shifts across old rooftops at dusk, the laughter spilling out of cafés, the tenderness in the way strangers greet one another. And in those small, quiet moments, you start to remember who you are underneath all the rushing. You begin to hear your own thoughts more clearly.
But it’s not all postcard moments and perfect photos. There are delays. Wrong turns. Exhausted days. Moments when things don’t go to plan. And yet—even those become part of the story. They test your patience and flexibility. They remind you that no matter how much you try to control the journey, the magic often lies in what you didn’t plan.
The bumps in the road aren’t failures; they’re invitations. To let go. To adapt. To laugh at yourself. To trust that even a misstep might be leading you somewhere important.
I’m learning—slowly, gratefully—that openness is a kind of strength. Saying yes to new experiences doesn’t always feel easy or natural. But when you lean in, when you choose to keep your heart and mind open, you start to see more clearly what really matters.
This trip has reminded me to carry that openness into every part of my life—not just while traveling, but in the quieter, ordinary moments back home. To be curious. To embrace change. To notice the small details that make life rich and textured. To welcome people and ideas that stretch me.
So whether you’re on your own adventure right now or deep in the rhythms of daily life, I hope you’ll give yourself permission to stay open. To the world. To wonder. To the highs and the hiccups.
Because the truth is, we’re all on a journey. And sometimes the most meaningful parts aren’t the places we planned to go—but the things we learned, the people we became, and the moments that changed us along the way.
Here’s to the journey, however and wherever it unfolds.
