Sedona with Kids: Beat Spring Break Crowds & Find Space
The best part of our Sedona trip wasn’t the hike or the views. It was what happened when we slowed down and let each of us find our own version of it.
The best part of our Sedona trip wasn’t the hike or the views. It was what happened when we slowed down and let each of us find our own version of it.
Stuck in overthinking or analysis paralysis? A simple phrase from a Marine pilot reminds us to stop admiring the problem and start taking action.
Running a business during a slow stretch can make every decision feel existential. A reflection on generosity, boundaries, and the moment kindness is mistaken for weakness.
Running a small business isn’t always growth and momentum. When things slow down, the smartest strategy isn’t chasing new customers, it’s taking care of the ones who already trust you.
A veteran reflects on state power, anonymity, and why America no longer feels like the country he believed in.
A reflection on independence, leadership, and the coach who taught me how to listen better, ask deeper questions, and build something bigger than myself.
A quiet winter reflection on progress, family, and hope—written at the turn of the year.
A slice of bologna, oddball sodas, and a quiet Sunday ritual with my dad—remembering a small-town deli where abundance meant feeling seen.
A quiet Thanksgiving walk turned into a surprise adventure when we uncovered a hidden geocache that has been sitting in the woods since 2011. A new family memory, a handwritten note, and a fresh reason to explore the outdoors.
A strange encounter at a football game becomes a reflection on empathy, boundaries, and how to release the dark energy we sometimes absorb from others.
On a September walk, I found a forest full of surprises — seedlings sprouting late, fungi bleeding liquid, ants feasting on mushrooms. Each moment carried a question, and each question carried a lesson.
On my September 23 walk, the forest announced its changes loud and clear — walnuts thudding down in a mast year, mosquitoes in last-call mode, pawpaw perfume gone, and late-blooming smartweed still holding on. These abundance signals remind me that the woods don’t whisper their shifts; they proclaim them.