About a year ago, I met a woman on a plane traveling to an island off of Indonesia. She was probably around sixty, going scuba diving by herself. We were talking about traveling and seeing new things, pausing to soak in our own memories and each other’s. After a brief while she said “you know I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place that wasn’t interesting”. I beamed. “Same”.

Something I’ve learned about life is it really doesn’t matter what you do but rather how you do it. This could be seen as attitude, I believe that’s valuable and important, but I also think it has a lot to do with perspective. And maybe they are one in the same, yet how you choose to look at something (perspective) grows to determine your words and actions (attitude). It’s an issue if you can’t, though.

To the right is a photograph of highway one, but reminds me of a cliff on Bali, off the coast of Uluwatu. Liv and I spent some sweet, slow soul time here last year. Sweat-producing central. We drove our motorbike on this treacherous hill until we realized that was not going to be possible without one or both of us falling. Our feet became our wheels, pulling and running us down this steep cliff. You can look at this and see that it’s all beautiful, honestly every piece, and it was. Holy bananas was it hot. Deathly hot. There weren’t many people there that day and the ones that were, were hiding under towels or scarves, trees and leaves, seeking some sort of protection. But Liv and I ran down that hill and into the coral floor of that beach. Giggling and screaming.