Be careful where you tread Small life grows here. Fragile yet persistent Chances of success Wax and wane constantly. Look closely Don’t miss the tiny opportunity To witness something Greater than yourself. A tree can grow With roots born from stone.

“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” – John Muir Fewer words ring truer in my mind than John Muir’s transcendental musings on nature, the wilderness of this world, and the triad connection between man, the outdoors, and the universe. For me, Winter arrives with a contemplation as a companion every year. There is something about snow, the coldness of winter, and the stripping down of life to its raw bones that always leaves me in awe. In many ways I am gladly forced into this state of introspection during this time of year; it is during these times that Muir returns to me again and again as I confront the devastating beauty of the natural world. ...

Ever since I can remember I have been coming to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to visit our family compound on the shores of a lake fed by Lake Superior. I never went to summer camp or a sports camp as a child, instead I gathered alongside my numerous cousins, aunts and uncles, and under the amused gaze of my grandparents to run amuck in the forests and swim in the Great Lakes. The sun never seemed to fade on those long summer nights.The memories and experiences I had during those endless summers forever altered who I was and who I would become in ways so numerous that this blog post could never even begin to contain all of them. The shores of Lake Superior will always be my second home, but standing where I have stood many times before on the Sandstone cliffs of Jacobsville as the light from the first day of 2018 fades into shades of soft pink, I realize just how unfamiliar and new familiar places can become. ...

Honestly, I do not know how to begin again. This space was my home for so many years when my words could find no ears to fall upon with quiet urgency. For those who have joined me on my journey either part way or all the way back eight years ago from the very beginning, and for those who are starting today, know this: the last two years my words have been nonexistent. I could name a thousand reasons that left me hesitating with my fingers hovering above a dusty keyboard, but none are sufficient to strip the guilt away from my heart. Writing has always been the life-blood of my being and to halt the progress of pen on paper is to bring my heartbeat to a startling stand still. However, that isn’t even true. It was more gradual than that, there was no jarring day where the words stopped coming, it was a slow, drawn out decay of all that made me, me. ...

I know I have been gone for so long now And I was gone long before you noticed my absence; Long before the words stopped appearing on the page Life took me in and swallowed me whole. Before I realized that the dream was really A monster waiting with epic patience And a growling gut with my name written On the insides of its being, etched into its bones. It was born for me and I for it. ...

My final full day in Chicago was a blur of car horns, books, helicopter noise, cracks in the pavement, and good food. I dedicated my day to simply walking everywhere in the city. The only way to know the heart of a city is to walk the streets that pulse with people like the lifeblood pumping through the veins of this vast entity. Before putting my feet to the pavement and letting the sole of my shoes meld with the soul of this city I visited a place that brings my heart great joy, a library. The day was long and the journey longer to get to the center of the city. ...

On the hunt for a new home, seeking graduate school with great coffee, better books, astounding architecture and a cohort of inspiring academics. I am touring graduate schools across the nation while I drive, and had to stop at Northwestern in Evanston, IL. So I took a whole day off by myself to drive up there and tour around the campus. But first, I grabbed coffee at Caffe Streets on Division to prepare myself for the adventure to come. Honestly, it has been really hard on me visiting graduate schools when my heart still belongs in Berkeley. I miss my academic home dearly and all of my friends who are still there. Nothing makes the sting of nostalgia more painful than the constant reminder of what you left behind by where you are going next. Trying to find a new home when I don’t want to give up the last is a brutal conditioning towards the constant change of my future. Despite my deep desire for everything to remain exactly the same, the world is shifting underneath my feet and I can either get off the crumbling rock or let my fear paralyze me. ...

Getting to visit family is priceless, especially family that I haven’t seen for some time. Long talks over drawn out meals or nights spent laughing next to warm fireplaces together are the foundations of memories for years to come. I have loved being with my family here in Chicago, we have had a lot to catch up on and what better place to do it than this beautiful city. Yesterday we explored the Pilsen district in the rainy Halloween weather, and ate delicious food (I got chicken and waffles for the first time) while talking for a long time. Today we went into Downtown Chicago since the sun was out in force and there was so much to see. We got Dim Sum and then meandered around Millennium Park together. ...

I have exchanged my endless forests with city streets and skyscrapers; swapped Lake Superior with Lake Michigan, and found more family along the way. If there is one thing that I have learned on this journey thus far, it is that even on a solo road trip, I am never truly alone. The are so many people who take part in this journey with me, friends, family members, and strangers that become friends. Even when I think I am truly alone there is always someone on the end of a phone or at the end of a long day of driving. There is a peculiar feeling of desolation that I have grown familiar with, that clings to me like a shadow and sometimes eclipses my vision. However, the desolation is only as real as I make it. ...

Even though I have a home once more, I have found myself taking to the road. Not to get anywhere in particular, I have no grand destination at the end of a long road anymore, but I take to the road all the same. Somedays I drive just to feel normal again, the road has become my home in more than one way. But most days, I drive to watch the fall leaves twirl in the air of my car’s wake as I devour mile after mile of empty roadway. This is my now, after the colors turned, after the winter winds began, and after the leaves began to fall. But this isn’t where I want to begin, I want to go back when the trees were still green and the lake lay still. I want to tell you where I have been, how strange life has become, but in the best of ways. ...