What are we when we’re in between periods of stability and routine in our lives? Is there anything truly solid about us or are we like ferrofluid; dynamic and undefinable until an outside stimulus forces us to crystalize into complicated, beautiful geometries? I’ve examined these “in-between times” ad nauseam on this sparsely updated blog. At this point it’s safe to say I have an unhealthy fascination with these liquid-like times in life; and for good reason. These times are transformative. They are some of the only opportunities in our lives where we can escape the gravity of routine and repetition and be free to metamorphose in a direction of our choosing. The person we are when we leave a time of flux doesn’t have to be, and likely won’t be, the person we were when we entered it.
The specific period of time I wish to reflect on has completely new meaning from where we all stand now. A couple years have passed, and our daily lives are dominated by a pandemic and absolute political turmoil. I would never have predicted this future back in 2018. Nevertheless, reexamining a major life transition… Leaving a city I’d lived in for more than a decade, navigating a 6 month trip around the world, grinding through the logest job search of my life, and finally landing in a new place with a new routine… Is the kind of escapist therapy I think we’re all in need of these days. To help chronicle this mental and physical journey I’ve selected 18 photos and their memories to better convey each step I took through the unknown. In hindsight, this time of uncertainty prepared me well for the issues we’re all facing currently. It taught me that in the end, we are liquid, and we have developed to flow around and through new obstacles… Sitting still and stagnating is what should truly be feared. We must all continue to stride toward a more hopeful future. Whenever the dust settles, I am confident we will find ourselves peering back at the uncertain times in our lives in awe of the marvel human adaptability.
And, by the way, if these photos and words whet your appetite, you can find a detailed daily photo blog of this around-the-world trip at Root & Rail.
Diving in | Meow Wolf, Santa Fe
Having packed up our entire lives in New Orleans, we headed to Santa Fe to visit my folks and stage our big leap across the Pacific to South-East Asia. Santa Fe in the winter is the definition of comfort: A fire in the mantle, the smell of Pinion wood burning and a view of the Jemez mountains through a frosted window pane all combine to create a rather pleasant setting. I remember fretting the potential whiplash of leaving such a distinct comfort-zone and launching into one of the most unfamiliar and potentially uncomfortable experiences of my life… Spoiler alert: It turned out magnificently. This photo from the interactive art experience Meow Wolf in Santa Fe feels apt to describe these first few weeks of 2018.
Easy Riding | Central Highlands, Vietnam
After spending an enjoyable few days adjusting to our new adventure and exploring Saigon, we embarked on a 6 day motorcycle tour through the central highlands of Vietnam. This jaunt was our first truly significant itinerary item of the trip. In awe of this unfamiliar territory, we tore through rural, mountainous roads, and our existence fell into sync with the roaring song of the motorcycle engines. As we flew past countless lives so immensely different than our own, the numbing grip of the routine we left in America began to slowly withdraw its oppressive fingers from our psyche. It was this point that I began to realize the power of repetitive patterns in our lives. They can be pretty useful for productivity, but I’ll be damned if they don’t result in tunnel vision and the atrophy of imagination beyond what we’re directly facing on a day-to-day basis. As I sat on the back of that machine, hours of introspection collided with brand new sights and sounds in constant succession around me. My brain seemed to be rewiring itself in real time. All of a sudden I remembered things or experiences I hand’t thought of in years. These particular memories wouldn’t have had much use in my old routine, but now, blinders off, I could notice their gentle solicitations within the order of my thoughts. Beyond these memories, welcomed like old friends, every scene, sign or sound seemed to trigger a domino effect of thought and inspiration in my mind. I felt I was gaining a new awareness of my consciousness that only a complete submergence in the “new” could possibly afford. This trip had just taught me its first major lesson.
Deep in the ground | Phong Nha Ke Bang
One of the greatest examples of Vietnam’s natural beauty is undoubtedly Phong Nha Ke Bang, a national park area home to one of the most distinct and recognizable karst landscapes in the world. Rugged, arboraceous limestone formations rise dramatically above an otherwise flat and farmable terrain. The daily life of the locals unfolds beneath the giant sentinels; tending to crops, fishing and introducing tourists to the astonishing geological phenomenon that is their home. These things only make up half of the story, however, because below ground there lives a different and equally impressive beauty. Some of the world’s most impressive caves, including, in fact, the world’s largest cave, are conveniently clustered in this small vicinity ready to be explored and enjoyed. Our eventful descents into the Nuoc Nut and Hang Va caves remained a highlight throughout the rest of our journey around the world (while also providing some of the trip’s most stunning photo ops).
Between Layers of Consciousness | Wat Pa Tam Wua, Thailand
At the suggestion of a friend, we found ourselves at the Wat Pa Tam Wua Forest Monestary for a 4-day meditation retreat. The otherworldly sight of this Buddhist monastery, nestled in an idyllic forest in the northernmost regions of Thailand, is in itself a reward for braving the hours of countless mountain switch-backs that must be carefully traversed to reach it. At this remarkable place, for whatever donation one can manage, anybody can join the monks in Vipassana meditation for around 6 hours a day for up to 10 days; lodging and vegan food included. Our 4-day visit at Wat Pa Tam Wua had more of an impact on me than I have the ability to express in written word. I always understood meditation was good for mental health and staying present and active in the current moment, but it took 4 days of intensive meditation for the practice to reveal its true power to me. At the beginning of our retreat the prospect of spending 4 days there was daunting. 6 hours of meditation, not eating after 11:30am and helping maintain the grounds was not exactly easy (or my idea of a vacation); but by the morning of the third day I felt myself locking into a stride, and had what felt like a “breakthrough” meditation. During this sitting session, I started to feel a separation between my body, my mind and my…self, for lack of a better word. I was able to make distance between the sensations of my body and the thoughts trickling into my mind, and thus retain my focus and my sitting position for what felt like a limitless amount of time. I finally felt like I understood the merit of meditation. If we are able to remind ourselves that our consciousness can be distanced from the difficulties and minutia of life, we can take some of the gravity away from these unavoidable things and overcome them more effectively. This 4 day period of introspection helped me grasp how much learning and self-growth is possible during a trip like this. I swore to continue practicing Vipassana Meditation even as life’s little difficulties begin to drip into our days again (spoiler alert: My practice has fallen off, but the lesson retains its impact in my mind)
Sand Dune Sunset | Wahiba Sands, Oman
At the midway point in our trip around the world we found ourselves marching deeper into culturally unfamiliar territory. Oman, a country on the tip of the Arabian Peninsula, would be the subject of our explorations for 10 days of scenic off-roading and wild car camping. Cooking meals over a campfire atop rugged mountains, sunrise hiking on dunes surrounded by miles of shifting sands, bathing in the pure oasis waters; these are the moments I experienced the largest gap between present moment and routine normalcy that I’ve ever felt. These are the moments I felt a part of a story that is larger than I can describe or understand. Moments of my own personal myth. And thats what they feel like to me now, after the fact, looking back.
Breakfast on the Ridge | Jebel Shams, Oman
Camping in Oman was nothing like I had ever experienced. There was a constant feeling like we were getting away with something we shouldn’t have been able to… Driving to the edge of a geological feature closely resembling our Grand Canyon, looking over in complete solitude and then setting up camp right on the rim with the wind rushing noisily past. No entry gates, no park rangers, no selfie sticks and no tour buses belching gobs of people then swallowing them back up again. This was my first travel experience that felt like an exploration of something relatively undiscovered… A sense that the wave of tourism was only just beginning to form in this country; far from cresting and even further from crashing into frothy white chaos. It was an invigorating feeling to be able to enjoy Oman’s natural bounty with a feeling of intimacy punctuating a collection of breathtaking moments. I’ll always feel grateful for this visit to Oman, and will chase experiences that check similar boxes when I’m lucky enough to travel.
Culture Jump | Berlin
Our jump from Oman to Berlin, starting the European leg of our travels, was definitely the most significant transition of the trip. The experience of being surrounded by Eastern culture for 2 months, and then shifting straight into the middle of Western culture as quickly as a direct flight created a palpable feeling of difference that could not be ignored. Combined with a natural lull that seems to find its way into any extended period of travel, Berlin hit us like a ton of bricks. Despite the haze these elements and less-than-ideal weather created, we truly enjoyed a week or so of living in the Kreuzberg neighborhood, rocking around the city’s awesome metro system and getting in touch with important pieces of world history in which Berlin played a central role. Additionally, personally, visiting the city was an important pilgrimage as it is a global mecca of graffiti and street art. I even got to paint on a portion of the Berlin Wall that was turned into a legal wall for graffiti and street artists to hone their skills. Pretty neat.
Architectural Valleys | Prague
From Berlin, we began snaking our way towards the Balkans in a series of bus and train rides, stopping over in cities composed of so much history that it seemed to seep out of the worn facades and wander the streets alongside us. Prague is a special example of this kind of city. Surviving World War 2 relatively unscathed, it was not uncommon for us to pass still-inhabited buildings that were built four or five hundred years ago. Having traversed lush valleys echoing with antiquity in Southeast-Asia and the Middle-east, we were now exploring humankind’s best facsimile of nature’s sculptural work. Cobblestone streets and alleys ambled as fluidly as rivers and their tributaries. Stone walls older than my great-great-great-grandparents rose above the street like adorned cliff faces. A patina created by a mixture of the elements and graffiti was splashed across some of them, creating a visual layer cake where evidence from eras hundreds of years apart existed in beautiful and awe-striking unity. History tends to invite our interest more effectively when its voice calls to us from every direction and around every corner.
Quiet Hum Between Stops | Slovenia
In a trip around the world, where the primary focus is to pack as much activity into each day as possible, sometimes the quieter, more contemplative moments start to become very valuable. A train ride is the perfect example of this kind of moment. Passengers are given the gift of a handful of captive moments to process the extreme surplus of information and stimulus that comes along with visiting new places. Nothing to do but watch the world go by, listen to the carriage sway on its worn hardware, and sink into the seat with the weight of your thoughts. For me, this kind of time was particularly coveted, as I discovered that this kind of adventure was a wellspring of inspiration for art and design. Interesting pieces of history, beautiful architecture and local art bubbled in my head like a primordial ooze; spinning off brand new concepts and ideas that I couldn’t wait to put onto paper. Penned up moments like these wonderful European train treks gave me an opportunity to sketch and write; releasing that cerebral discomfort of the idea that will stop at nothing to boil over the rim and finally…escape.
Elation | Slovenia
Some of travel’s best highs correlate directly to actual altitude, and our paragliding adventure over the gorgeous Bohinj region of Slovenia was no exception. The experience of this kind of flight is actually a pretty accurate metaphor for the different stages of extended travel itself. It starts with a huge jump. Literally ignoring every urge to stick to the status quo, and making the conscious decision to run off of a cliff into the unknown. Then, catching an updraft, we soar. The excitement of the new sensation of flying can be felt throughout the entire body. You can’t believe what you’ve just done, but, damn, are you happy you did it. Now we’re literally touching clouds, and we begin our slow, scenic descent back to the earth. After 10-15 minutes, the feeling of newness has worn off. You’re content and happy, just gliding and sitting back in awe of your surroundings. Then, your guide hits you with some aerial acrobatics; large, swinging turns, and g-force inducing downward spirals. The adrenaline rushing through your veins gives you a physical reminder of the gravity of the adventure you’re on that cannot be ignored. Your mood spikes and again you are thrust directly into the present moment, whether you like it or not. Finally, we’re back to drifting. Closer to the ground now, the reality we left starts coming back into focus, and, you know what, you’re okay with it! The ride has been fun, but the prospect of returning to ground and putting rubber back to the road doesn’t feel so bad. Feet up, we clock a perfect sliding landing on the green grass, and with a wobble or two, we stand. Elated, we walk away from the adventure, changed. In some way, big or small, we’re a different person than the moment we made that first jump; and that special moment of elasticity in between is what travel is all about.
Wartime Stories | Mostar, Bosnia
As we snaked our way deeper into the Balkans in our rented car, we were in awe of the natural beauty that has blessed this part of the world. A beauty that unintentionally covers, distracts, diverts attention from a dark and bloody story that was written in the pages of these hills and valleys. The Balkans were home to one of the more recent significant conflicts in our history; bloodshed and war surrounding the dissolution of Yugoslavia in the early 1990’s. Bosnia’s geographical location and its populations’ demographics put it at the center of a great deal of this turmoil. During our stop in the city of Mostar, we decided to stay at Hostel Miran, run by Miran himself, a veteran of the Bosnian War of 1992-95. Travelers can book a full-day tour with Miran, during which he details many significant sights and stories from the conflict that his hometown is still recovering from. To many non-military Americans like myself, war has always been a somewhat abstract and distant concept; difficult to unpack and translate into any kind of day-to-day comprehension. So beyond actually going to war, talking to people who have experienced it directly and walking amongst bullet-hole laden urban ruins seem to be some of the better ways to gain an understanding of its earth-shattering impact. With the help of people like Miran, and places like Mostar, second-hand accounts of the horrors of war can serve as reminders that this kind of conflict should be avoided at all costs. Beyond serving as a beacon for the importance of peace, Mostar, and Bosnia as a whole, was a wonderful place to travel thanks to its amazing people. Having gone through such a ringer so recently, there is a strong sense of hope and joy radiating from the rejuvenated opportunities of a country no longer subjected to the hell of war.
Spomenik Lunch Break | Montenegro
As much as we try to define these big trips by the most exciting and extraordinary activities we pack into them; I find that the quiet and seemingly forgettable moments tend to cling synaptically and grow into some of my favorite and clearest memories. As we mapped our winding path through the Balkan nations, we aimed to pass as many “Spomenik” as possible. The word translates to “Monument” and has come to serve as a blanket term for a great number of these brutalist WWII memorials erected in the mid 20th century; scattered in former Eastern Bloc countries. They were once very important. Large groups of people gathered and celebrated their unveilings. Now they are a bit lonely. The people that built them and died for them were communists, and communism is not very popular at the moment. Time passed. Ideas changed. The pendulum swung, and now the Spomenik are best known for the photographic listicles that are published about them regularly. Although their meaning has been diluted with time, we feel a nebulous affinity for them and sought to visit as many as possible in their wonderfully remote and bucolic resting places. This quiet lunch at the base of a Spomenik in Montenegro constitutes one of those special in-between moments that intrigue and inspire me. Between stops, watching shepherds ferry their herd through the exurb greenways, eating the take-away sandwiches and drinking gas station juice under a foreign concrete assemblage – feels special to me. The significance and meaning of this object was once colossal. I chipped away some of that meaning and took it as my own. I hope the individuals that are memorialized by it can forgive my trespass.
Family Rendezvous | Croatia
We flipped the car back west. We’d been on our balkan road trip for about a month at this point, and it was time to pay a visit to Croatia and its legendary coastline. After spending time in Dubrovnik, and on an island called Mljet, we headed to a small town called Trogir which is 20-or-so minutes up the coast from the larger urban center, Split. My parents had been on their own Croatian adventure for a few weeks, and we planned to meet up near Trogir, share a little apartment and explore for a few days. The ultimate familiarity of hanging out with my folks after months of new places, sights and smells was punctuated and welcomed. We enjoyed swimming off of a scrappily constructed concrete platform across the alley from our AirBnb. It was poured directly into the limestone, and was a charming place to drink tall cans of Ozujsko beer and periodically dip into the giant rippling gem that is the Adriatic sea. Zig-zagging around the area in the little euro standard transmission, we stopped whenever our interests piqued, adhering to no schedule other than the rotation of the earth. This part of the world has lots of “Old Towns”. Town centers dating back to the Renaissance and even further. Settlements popped up here at the very beginning of history. Greek colonists started new lives here. A roman emperor built his summer house here. Those settlements and summer houses snowballed into towns with cathedrals and tunnels and statues. Levels of history and stories of lives piled on top of one-another in a fractal-like cosmic tapestry that is impossible to digest fully. Old white stone worn beige. Old stone soft, smooth and shiny from so many mothers, and their mothers’ mothers, walking upon them over centuries. New businesses operate out of the old stone buildings. New people live in the apartments. Humans are hermit crabs, stuffing themselves into old structures with the unseen and unheard histories of whoever was in there before. Gelato by the sea on the old stone promenade with my soon-to-be fiance and my parents. This is Croatia.
Graffiti and Cobblestones | Lisbon
Lisbon was the final city we’d visit on this trip. No amount of sweet, syrupy Ginjinha could abate the realization that this adventure was about to end. Introspection could not be avoided as we walked through the compressed, graffiti-ladened neighborhoods of the Portuguese Capital. The chaotic writing on the walls mirrored the frenetic dialogue in my mind. Routine was calling. Jobs and files and software and emails. Real life shit was lurking around the next corner, waiting to re-envelop my existence. I could no longer pretend like I’d never have to go into an office again. It was almost time to balance the cosmic checkbook and pay for this 5 month joyride with the uncertainty and self-doubt of a full-tilt job search. All cobblestone strolls have to end sometime. These expressive, carefree, flaired-out spraycan tags won’t last forever. Eventually the wall will be buffed and regularity will regain its power and post. Best to just internalize and welcome it like an old friend. Lisbon, and Portugal as a whole, had plenty of potently wonderful characteristics to help bring my thoughts to back to the present moment. Beautifully haunting Fado music vocals echo in its labyrinthine urban depths. The food was delicious, and stunning in its simplicity. And the prices made me question how anything could be this affordable in Western Europe. Hand-painted tile adorned almost every building in both Porto and Lisbon. It depicted stories and events from Portugal’s history, and protected them from the forgetfullness of antiquity. World class graffiti and street-art told more modern stories. Stories of love, youth and the perseverance of self-expression, no matter what tries to oppose it. No one can silence the streets and the stories that flow like rivers in their cobblestone cracks. The vibrance of Portugal was the perfect exclamation point to cap off our trip around the world. Its cities and stops like staccato sentences; deliver the story of humanity in the unspoken prose that my eyes and mind will never tire from.
Easy Landing | Blue Ridge Parkway, North Carolina
We deplaned at Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta International Airport and stepped into the warm embrace of family and familiarity. Addie’s childhood home in Atlanta, Georgia was to be our home base as we fished for opportunities around the country and started building the next phase of our lives. Readjusting to life at home was interesting. We were used to being on the go most of the day and night, trying to squeeze the most juice out of every single day, nearly to the point of exhaustion. There was now an absence of this sharp pressure on every moment that was refreshing and welcomed. We enjoyed a gradual deceleration of daily routine and basked in the glow of transition for a couple of weeks. I remember a heightened sense of enjoyment in basic pleasures like watching trashy television, home-cooked meals and a general proliferation of down time. That being said, even more adventure was never too far off on the horizon. Summer was quickly gaining momentum, which meant that it was the perfect time to visit the nearby Smoky Mountains and spend some time at Addie’s parents’ lake house near Cashiers, NC. Each visit to this part of the country seems to reinforce a desire to spend as much time as possible surrounded by the area’s emerald waters, cool mountain breezes and vivid sunsets. The image above was taken on a quick day jaunt up to hike off of the Blue Ridge Parkway. In addition to the standard activities that make our trips up here to the mountains special, there were a few additional instances that made this particular visit a lifelong memory. For one, my parents joined us at the lake house as a stop on a long road trip they were doing to visit far flung family members. Additionally, I had planned to use this convergence of our two families in such a special setting to finally ask Addie to marry me after being together for almost a decade. Needless to say, the proposal went off very well, and resulted in a hazy night of joyful tears, champagne toasts and the excited din of two happy families becoming intertwined.
Morning March | Chicago
Time went on and reality sunk its claws in again. We needed to get some irons back in the fire and figure out what story to start writing on our current tabula rasa. So began the long and exhausting process of applying for jobs so that one of us could get an opportunity to start designing our next steps around. Momentum in our new professional endeavors… did not come quickly. We were casting a wide net, with virtually no limitations on where in the country we wanted to be; and failing to gain much traction. We had some loose ideas of cities that could work well for us, but lacked specific direction at the time which could have been helpful in focusing our efforts. After a good deal of time casting lines into the void, I was able to grab a minor foothold with some freelance work with an Atlanta office of an agency called IRIS. This was a pretty exciting development. The agency had some pretty cool clients, and if I was able to leverage this contract work into a full time position, we’d be able to set up the new chapter of our lives in proximity to Addie’s family and a built in social network of her friends and connections in the city. Unfortunately, the full time need was not there in the end. But this opportunity was valuable in many other ways. I was able to get a handful of subsequent freelance opportunities with Iris that brought be up to their Chicago office, where I was able to stay with my sister and visit friends that I hadn’t seen in way too long. I also got to revisit the grinding but nostalgic feeling of the daily commute in Chicago. I tried to capture this reality with the image above. Knowing that my time going through these motions was limited gave them a sheen of novelty and enjoyment. Ultimately, the freelance contracts I was able to snag during that first summer served as an incredible foothold for climbing back into professional life. In full transparency, I was questioning my ability to succeed as an Art Director in competitive markets after more than half a year without practice. The contract work I completed that summer boosted my confidence again and helped me ease into the reality of working every day. Looking back, I feel lucky to have had this smooth transition back into the swing of things, rather than a stark and painful collision with reality.
Golden Cottonwoods | New Mexico
Despite the glimmer of hope that a blip of freelance work gave me, I was still without long term prospects when the dust settled. Both Addie and I were still interviewing regularly, but hadn’t been able to make anything stick quite yet… And we had found ourselves in the hiring dead-zone between Thanksgiving and the new year. The leaves in Atlanta had turned and fell. The year was ending. There was only one thing left to do in this jobless state of flux we had found ourselves in: continue to make the best of not being tied down by, you know… Obligations. We decided to back head out to Santa Fe to visit my folks, whom we had only seen once since returning from abroad. Back out in the west we filled the pit inside that doubt and insecurity had carved with a healthy dose of nature and family. Santa Fe is blessed with a vast collection of areas to explore within a reasonable distance. Plaza Blanca (pictured above) was particularly stunning during this final breath of the year. The Cottonwoods, still adorned with their golden crown of leaves, illuminate the stone white setting like fire. Aside from soul-warming views like this one, our return to Santa-Fe was special for another reason: The moment we walked back into my parents house marked a full trip around the world. We had departed from that very doorway almost a year ago. I can’t remember if we properly celebrated the moment at the time. I’m sure cocktails were enjoyed sometime within that vicinity, so I hereby retroactively dedicate them to the successful circumnavigation of our beautiful, chaotic planet.
The Resolution | Texas
In my personal experience, “when it rains, it pours,” is one of those old dusty phrases that grew from a seed of truth. Harrowing stretches of professional transition seem especially affected by this age-old adage. After nearly half a year dedicated to job searching, we began to crack through the barrier and glimpse our future taking shape. Addie landed a great role with a concert and festival promoter in Austin called C3. This job was more than good enough to be our anchor. We went ahead with the move and I refocused all of my search on the Austin area. Lo and behold, within a week of arriving and beginning to sort our new life out, I had 3 competitive job offers on the table. This windfall of opportunity felt quite pronounced, and frankly overwhelming, after a lack of movement for months. I guess it just goes to show that persistence is the only option when seeking new opportunities, but that is not news and it is certainly not profound. With anything in life; build enough momentum in a positive direction and eventually the floodgates will crack. After conquering the anxiety of having to make this difficult choice, I ended up joining an awesome team at a company called Drumroll. To celebrate our new beginnings, we began to explore our new surroundings, and were shocked to discover how much the Austin area has to offer when it comes to nature. The image above is from Pedernales State Park, and is representative of the kind of gems around Austin that you wouldn’t expect to find in Texas; if in the United States at all.
Looking back on 2018, and the first few months of living in Austin, I am reminded once again of how special these transitive moments are in our lives. Something about being surrounded by so much unfamiliarity seems to fill us with positive energy. A feeling of falling soon gives way to a realization that you’re floating, and then before you know it, you realize you’ve been flying all along. I don’t know if there’s any real lesson or message to this long winded blog post, but I hope that recounting this story of “taking a big leap” in life might reassure anyone who feels like they’re in flux, or who is considering making a change, that they are capable of handling anything life throws their way. Once we realize we are liquid, there’s not much more to do than… Flow.