A Farewell to Snow and Stagnation

Following My Heart (and the Sun)

Chronic Thrillness, but also Chillness. :)

Greetings, friend.

Well, I finally did it! After nearly three back-to-back, hellish Canadian winters, I’ve chosen my next landing pad: Guatemala.

Guatemalaaaahhhh. Just saying it feels liberating. When the word escapes my lips and flutters into the air, I can’t help but feel my heart and soul going with it.

In just seven weeks, I’ll be heading southbound, fleeing the annual brutality of winter.

For me, everything unravels when the cold sets in—my body, my mind, my determination. (Is it possible to be allergic to winter? 🙋🏻‍♀️ Because I think I am.)

Even as I type, I can feel the cracks in my knuckles splitting open, burning from repeated exposure to the callous elements.

“This country has taken enough from us,” I told my boyfriend the other day. He fervently agreed. For the past eight months, he’s been the one trying to convince me: it’s time to leave Sweet Home Ontario in search of kinder climates and fresh-baked adventures.

Adventures like the ones we had five years ago, when we plane-hopped across Southeast Asia, South America, and Central America with just our backpacks and laptops to weigh us down.

Enjoying the serenity of Sa Pa, Vietnam - August 2019.

When 2022 arrived, it felt right to put down roots again. Settling back into the familial vibrations we’d missed during our jet-setting years was welcomed and timely. We needed grounding, soul searching, and the hard lessons of living in a highly regimented society (even if it occasionally drove us mad).

I also needed stronger medicine to manage my chronic condition. By spring 2022, amid the pandemic and demanding remote jobs, my UC flare-up returned with a vengeance, showing no signs of easing. So, homeward-bound we went—my boyfriend, more reluctant than I, to leave paradise behind.

Three years later, we both crave a change. We’re tired of barren winter landscapes drained of colour. Soulless industrial complexes make us gag a little every time we drive by.

I won’t lie, friend. I got comfortable here. I lingered a little too long in the embrace of ‘home-ness.’ My roots dug in a bit too deeply, and now, the prospect of travelling feels daunting all over again.

I’m learning there’s a delicate balance between groundedness and flow. It takes a kind of surrender to pluck yourself from the ground you’ve called home, trusting that new landscapes will nurture you. I’ve always believed nature provides what we need—but we must keep moving to align ourselves with her gifts.

That’s what I’m doing. Finding new alignment. New places, new people, new opportunities. Time to swivel my head toward a new horizon.

Keep an eye out for my updates.