Most speak to fill the air,but you… you leave the silence there.You let my words find their own ground,and in your eyes, I feel unbound. It’s not the phrases that we trade,but how the walls between us fade.No need for masks, no need for show,your listening tells me you already know. In a world that shouts to be believed,you hear the truths I’ve never grieved.And in that space, so calm, so wide,I find my voice. I find my guide. …
The Currency of Discomfort – Lessons from Take It Outside
Some stories stay on the page. This one seeps into your bloodstream.Elise Rose Richmond’s Take It Outside isn’t polished inspiration or a highlight reel—it’s raw, unfiltered proof that a life well-lived often looks messy up close. She moves through her adventures like a washing machine of emotions—spinning through fear, awe, fatigue, and elation, often in the same afternoon. No vocabulary feels big enough to hold what she describes, but she manages to let you feel it: the blisters, the bone-deep cold, the split-second decisions between …
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Stop Letting Yourself Off the Hook
If there’s one thing I’ve perfected, it’s the art of the excuse. I could write a book about the clever detours I’ve invented to sidestep my own plans. The thing is, after a while, those little “not todays” don’t sound clever at all. They’re just heavy. They pile up, get dusty, and start to crowd out the part of me that actually wants more from life. No one ever warned me how sneaky excuses could be. They slip in quietly, wearing the mask of logic and self-care, telling me I’ll be ready tomorrow, or that I deserve a break, or that someone …
Vietnam’s Grandparents Kicked My Butt and Made Me Smile
There’s no gentle way to say this—Vietnamese grandparents are morning ninjas. My first sunrise at Da Nang beach hit me with the kind of reality check that should come with a warning label. I got there thinking I’d find peace and quiet, maybe a few sleepy walkers. What I found instead looked like an all-ages Olympics, headlined by the seventy-plus crowd. The air was thick with salt, the chatter was easy and unhurried, and the beach felt more alive than a Monday in a coffee shop. It started with the swimmers, slicing through the waves as if …
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I Went to Vietnam to Travel. A Tiny Town Taught Me How to Live.
The bread was still warm—soft, golden, comforting in my hands as we wandered through Tam Coc’s morning market. Here, nobody called out prices or tried aggressively selling anything. Instead, the vendors simply smiled warmly, pointing quietly toward their fresh produce as we passed. Everything—fruit, vegetables, tofu, freshly cut meat, and bread rolls for banh mi—arrived at sunrise, perfectly fresh. Over those fifteen days, we grew so accustomed to the morning market's rhythm that eventually, Hari and I could simply glance at the fruits and …
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When the Bucket List Wasn’t a Place, but a Feeling
I thought I wanted the Valley of Flowers. What I really wanted was to sit on a damp rock outside a crumbling homestay, a dog curled beside me, clouds playing hide and seek with the mountains—and Hari walking up, placing his arm gently on my shoulder, settling next to me like it was the most obvious thing to do. That moment, more than any meadow or misty summit, is what stayed with me. That was the real bucket list—quiet, unexpected, and wildly alive. I first read about the Valley of Flowers while drenched to the bone on the Bhrigu Lake …
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