I didn’t know what I was looking for,
I only knew it was something different.

The year was 2015 and I was 23.
I’d just quit my job to hike the Pacific Crest Trail.
I wasn’t prepared,
but something inside me said,
“Go on ahead, you’ll be just fine.”

It took six months.
I walked from Mexico to Canada,
met beautiful people,
immersed myself in nature
(nearly died a few times),
and most importantly,
spent a lot of time alone.

There, I noticed something:
my mind had a hard time staying in the moment
and finding peace with what was.

These were, for me, foundational insights.
The first steps of self-observation.
A seed was planted, but I wanted to keep growing,
to understand my mind more clearly.

I found a meditation retreat center in the Texas ranchlands
and spent ten days in silence.
There was no reading, no writing, no phones.
Just me.
For ten hours a day,
from before sunrise until after sunset,
I meditated.

I learned tools and techniques,
the nature of the mind,
and how to sense the body.

I kept returning to these retreats,
searching for deeper insight.

One day,
I thought I’d found enlightenment.
I came home, sat on the couch, and thought:
“My life is complete.
If death comes to me,
I could now die happily.”

But it was just a feeling.
And like all feelings,
it passed away.

I found myself searching for that feeling again,
a permanent state of peace
and the end of suffering.
My life had changed,
but I was still looking for something different.

I traveled to Nepal,
lived with a wise woman for three months,
and spent three weeks trekking the Himalayas.
I didn’t find enlightenment,
But I did learn about my true nature.

It’s hard to explain our true nature with words,
But words are the best we have.
That’s why I love writing.
Storytelling is how I process the world.
It’s how I express, share, and connect with others.

Even after one book about the trail,
a short story about my first meditation retreat,
and a book about true nature,
I want to keep writing.
I love digging into the unconscious,
finding what I can,
and bringing it back to the surface.
It’s like exploring a deep, dark cavern
with only a small flashlight.

This adventure is how I integrate
and celebrate
what cannot be known.

So it’s here I’ll keep moving forward,
not knowing what I’m looking for,
always on my search,
not for something different,
but for whatever comes next.