Talking Excitingly

I don’t know about y’all, but I’m at a point in life where what I treasure most are the slow moments.
 
The older I get, the more I crave slow. I crave peace. I crave calm.
 
The hustle, at least for the sake of the hustle, just feels less important. I still love being inspired. I still love creating, working hard, and earning the results of an honest day’s work. But I want those pursuits to live in a world where openness, respect, kindness, and understanding come first. Where the endless news cycle quiets down. Where speed doesn’t outrun thoughtfulness.
 
Where quality isn’t rare, it’s expected.
 
That’s what made this moment so special.
 
It came after a long day where everything needed my immediate attention. But eventually, I shut it all down, phone, email, Teams, and took a moment for myself.
 
And I walked. Barefoot on the beach. Cool sand between my toes. The Pacific Ocean splashing around my ankles. A SoCal sunset that had everyone on ooh-ing, ahh-ing, and .
 

Tahoe is more than a place.
It’s a spiritual plane that exists somewhere between the water and the sky…
 
It sits between adrenaline-pumping adventure and a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Between snowboards and paddleboards.
Between champagne and IPAs.
Between 1,000-thread-count sheets and sleeping bags.
Between steaks and vegan sausage.
Between long hikes and sunbathing.
Between après-ski and sunrise yoga.
 
And if you’re lucky enough to spend even a moment in this slice of heaven on Earth, and it doesn’t get you , then please, by all means, unfollow me.
 
Because somewhere between water and sky…
that’s where Tahoe lives.
 

Why are we so predisposed to answer questions before they’re even asked? Already shutting off possibility before the first glimmer of wonder even has a chance. It’s so easy to scream in our heads, “NO, NO, NO” to what might be just steps ahead, because it’s easier to be comfortable, easier to let fear guide us, easier to say no than open ourselves to what we can’t yet see or hear.
 
OK, that might be slightly dramatic, but it was the internal battle this day (and honestly, many days). I dropped three pins on my map, one for each waterfall along Stonewall Creek I planned to photograph. The day was perfect: cool air, the last bits of fall color clinging to the trees, and not a soul around. I frolicked (yes, frolicked), waded into the cold mountain stream, shot classic waterfall scenes, staged leaves like a kid playing dress-up in nature.
 
Then, leaving waterfall two, the siren song started: warmth, dry socks, shoes, snacks. With every step, long before the trail split, I heard: no… no… no…
 
I hadn’t even asked, “Will I hike to the third waterfall?” and I was already answering.
No, head back.
No, you’ve seen enough.
No, snacks are life.
 
I hadn’t let the world ask, “What might you find?” I was already shutting it down in favor of dry feet and crackers.
 
Finally, I hit the fork, left to home, right to adventure, and despite a mile of internal no’s, my feet said yes. Yes to the question.
 
And that’s the long way of saying my favorite moment wasn’t the “best” photo, it was stepping out of the brush and seeing Lower Stonewall Falls framed by glowing yellow leaves. A moment I would’ve missed if I’d answered before listening.
 
That’s what has me , saying yes after hearing the question, and finding joy waiting in the unknown.