The waves did not welcome me kindly.

Cold water,
crashing resistance,
salt in my eyes,
doubt in my chest.

Each wave
trying to send me back
to the safety of shore.

But I kept paddling.

And somewhere beyond the chaos,
beyond the breakers,
I found calm.

Then one day,
I stopped fearing the waves
that once held me back.

I rose with them instead.

Shall we ride the waves?

~Tim

Table of Contents

• Beyond The Breakers

• Tips To Paddling Forward

• In Closing…

Beyond The Breakers

Years ago, I was driving up the Pacific Coast Highway.

One of those drives that almost doesn’t feel real. Windows down. Salt in the air. The ocean stretching endlessly beside me like it had all the answers and none of the urgency.

I remember pulling over at one point and just watching the surfers.

Not casually watching them either. Really watching them.

At first, all you see is the part everyone wants. The riding. The carving. The freedom. The person standing effortlessly on a wave as if they somehow figured out a secret the rest of us missed.

But the longer I watched, the more I realized something.

Nobody just buys a surfboard and surfs.

There’s so much more to it than that.

They had to learn the ocean.
They had to learn timing.
Balance.
Patience.
How to fall.
How to get back up.
How to stay calm when chaos keeps hitting them in the face.

And honestly, life feels a lot like that sometimes.

Because the hardest part usually isn’t the wave you want to ride.

It’s everything you have to get through just to reach it.

First, you have to step into the cold water.

That alone stops a lot of people, because who wants to do that?

Then come the waves crashing toward shore. One after another. Relentless. Loud. Unforgiving.

You paddle forward anyway.

A wave crashes into you.
Then another.
Then another.

Each one trying to push you backward.
Trying to drag you back to shore.
Further away from the thing you came for.

And if you’ve ever gone after something meaningful in life, you know exactly what that feels like.

The setbacks.
The exhaustion.
The self-doubt.
The moments where progress feels invisible.
The moments where turning around feels easier than continuing forward.

But surfers know something important.

You don’t stop paddling just because the water gets rough.

Because sometimes the next push forward changes everything.

Sometimes one more attempt is the one that gets you beyond the breakers.

And when you finally make it out there, something changes.

There’s calm.

Not because the ocean stopped moving, but because you made it through what once overwhelmed you.

You float for a moment.
You breathe again.
You regain your composure.

And then something almost unbelievable happens.

The same waves that once felt like obstacles now become opportunities.

You stop fearing them.
You start reading them.
Working with them.
Moving through them.

You paddle.
You rise.
And suddenly you’re riding the very thing that once tried to stop you.

That’s growth.

Not avoiding hard things.
Not pretending the waves aren’t real.

It’s becoming someone capable of moving through them.

And maybe that’s where so many of us are right now.

Somewhere between the shoreline and the calm beyond the breakers.

Tired.
Fighting resistance.
Questioning whether we’re making progress at all.

But maybe the goal isn’t to avoid the waves.

Maybe the goal is to keep paddling long enough to realize they were preparing you for the ride all along.

Bigfoot Grabbed My Weiner T-Shirt — Funny Camping Sasquatch Tee

Feral Outdoor Social Club

Tips To Paddling Forward

1. Stop focusing only on the finish line
   When life keeps hitting you with wave after wave, staring only at the end goal can make you feel like you’re failing every day you haven’t arrived yet. Focus on the next paddle forward instead. Small progress still moves you through the storm.

2. Learn how to recover, not just how to push
   A lot of people know how to grind. Fewer know how to rest without quitting. Recovery is part of resilience. Even surfers float beyond the breakers before catching the next wave. Regaining composure matters.

3. Expect resistance instead of being shocked by it
   Challenges don’t always mean you’re on the wrong path. Often they’re proof you’re moving toward something meaningful. If you expect every wave to be smooth, every setback feels personal. When you expect resistance, you stop letting it define you.

4. Use what the struggle is teaching you
   Every hard season teaches timing, patience, awareness, boundaries, adaptability, or endurance. The obstacle is often building the exact skill you’ll need later. What feels like punishment now may become preparation.

5. Don’t quit in the middle of the chaos
   Most people turn back when they’re exhausted, not when they’re incapable. That’s an important difference. Sometimes the breakthrough is one more attempt away, one more conversation, one more day, one more paddle forward. Keep moving long enough to give yourself the chance to reach calmer water.

Socially Selective Since Birth T-Shirt — Skunk Graphic Tee

Feral Outdoor Social Club

In Closing…

Maybe life isn’t about avoiding waves.

Maybe it’s about learning how to look slightly cooler while getting hit by them.

In our last post, we talked about the boat in the harbor. Today, we talk about the river. I’m unsure why I am so stuck on water lately, but here we are.

Maybe next week I’ll think about the rain and growth… Time will tell.

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The River

There’s a river in front of all of us.

On the other side is the thing we keep talking about. The new beginning. The fresh direction. The reboot. The goal we say we want. The life we imagine when things finally line up the right way. And here we are, standing on the bank, waiting.

Waiting for the water to calm.
Waiting for the current to slow.
Waiting for the perfect moment to cross.

But what if the water never gets lower? What if “later” never becomes easier?

Because the truth is, even when the river drops, the rocks and rapids underneath become clearer. The crossing was never going to be smooth. There was never going to be a perfect time to step in. Waiting feels safe, but it quietly, so quietly, keeps us stuck.

At some point, we have to stop studying the river and start crossing it. We have to get one foot in. Then the other…

Yes, the current will push back.
Yes, there will be moments when we lose footing.
We may even get carried downstream farther than we planned. Listen though, that doesn’t mean we can’t make it across. It doesn’t mean we won’t.

It means the crossing is real.

Growth is rarely calm water. Change is rarely convenient. New paths are built by people willing to move before they feel fully ready. Knowing that change is good, believing is good, and realizing what you deserve…. Is good…

And maybe that’s the reminder today, you do not need perfect conditions to begin. You just need the courage to take the first step into the water.

The other side is still there.
The new start is still waiting.
The goal is still possible.
The path forward still exists.

But it will only reveal itself once we stop waiting on the shore. So cross the river. Not because it’s easy. Not because the timing is perfect. But because your future is worth moving toward now.

You can do it!

Table of Contents

• You Are The Ship In The Harbor

You Are The Ship In The Harbor

Have you ever heard the saying, “A ship in the harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships were built for.”?

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.

How many of us are quietly anchored in harbors we’ve outgrown?

Not because we lack dreams.
Not because we aren’t capable.
Not because we were meant to stay there.

But because the harbor is predictable.

The harbor has calm water.
The harbor has familiar people.
The harbor protects us from storms.

And if we stay there long enough, safety begins to feel like….. Purpose.

But ships are not built to sit still. To stay tethered to the post. To be still in the fluctuating tides.

They’re built to explore.
To chase horizons.
To discover coastlines they’ve never seen.
To endure waves, uncertainty, and nights where the fog rolls in so thick you can barely see beyond the bow.

That’s what gives the the journey meaning.

Yes, there will be currents that push against you.

There will be storms that batter your sails and moments where you question whether turning back would be easier. And many times, it’s true, turning back may be easier….

Heck, there may even be sea creatures lurking beneath the surface, fears, doubts, failures, heartbreaks, rejection, all the things that seem terrifying from the safety of shore. Where the waters always look calmer.

Here’s the thing though, your boat is more capable than your fear wants you to believe.

Most people never discover what they’re capable of because they never release the lines.

They stay tied to the dock waiting for certainty.
Waiting for guarantees.
Waiting for permission.
Waiting for the perfect weather forecast before beginning the journey.

But adventure has never worked that way. NEVER….

At some point, you have to leave the life raft on shore. Don’t give yourself the out.
You have to untie yourself from the version of life that only exists to keep you comfortable.
You have to trust the vessel beneath your feet.

Not because the ocean isn’t dangerous.

But because something inside you knows you were meant for more than watching the tide from the safety of the harbor.

And maybe that’s where freedom begins.

Not when the water becomes calm.
Not when fear disappears.
Not when the journey becomes easy.

But the moment you finally decide to set sail. And that when the wind is pushing against you and your boat with all of its might, that you will keep pushing through it. Not hoping the wind gets weaker, but that you get stronger. You WILL get stronger. And that is what I hope for you, today and always.

— Tim

It’s not without hope, this ache we carry, the memory of a time when a summer afternoon could stretch into infinity, when a song could mean everything, when the future felt less like a deadline and more like a door left open to be walked through.
We all lived there once. In that particular state of being where the world narrowed to exactly what was in front of you, a first love, a new city, a dream so vivid you could taste it. Nothing else mattered, because nothing else existed. That wasn’t being naive. That was a kind of genius.
This issue is about that place. And more importantly, it’s about whether we ever really have to leave.
Because somewhere along the way, we were told that growing up meant trading wonder for responsibility, urgency for routine. That the dreaming years had an expiration date. But what if they don’t? What if the only thing standing between who we are and who we once dared to be is the quiet permission to believe it still counts?
The people in these pages haven’t forgotten how to want things. This isn’t about forgetting how to want things, it’s simply about getting better at it, being more deliberate, more honest, more awake. How do we learn that dreaming doesn’t get smaller with age. It just asks more of you.

So here’s to asking more.

Here’s to the door that’s still open.

With hope, always,

Tim

The Dreaming Years Don’t Have to End

There’s a particular kind of afternoon that only exists in memory.
You’re seventeen, or twenty-two, or maybe twentysix, and the whole world has collapsed down to one beautiful, urgent point. A record playing in a too-small apartment. A conversation that goes until 3am. A plan scribbled on a napkin that feels, in that moment, like the most important document ever written. Nothing outside of that room, that person, that feeling, exists at all.

Psychologists call this state of total absorption flow. Poets just call it being alive. And most of us, unfortunately, somewhere in the shifts of our thirties and forties and beyond, quietly, without even noticing, stop living there.

We don’t mean to. Life fills in around us like water, mortgages, schedules, the particular exhaustion of knowing how things usually turn out. We get careful. We get efficient. We stop beginning sentences with what if and start beginning them with yes, but.

And yet. Something in us keeps knocking.

Research into adult creativity and motivation consistently shows that the capacity to dream doesn’t diminish with age. What diminishes is the permission we give ourselves to take it seriously. A child who wants to be an astronaut is indulged. A forty-year-old who wants to change everything is asked, gently, if they’re doing okay.

But the neurological truth is more generous than the social one. The brain remains pliable, reshaping, rewiring, reaching well into old age. The dopamine hit of genuine curiosity, of real desire, of a plan that scares you a little? That’s still available to you. It never stopped being available to you. What changes isn’t the hardware, it’s the habit.


Talk to anyone who has built something meaningful in the second half of their life and they’ll tell you the same thing, in different words. At some point, they stopped waiting for the right moment and decided that wanting something badly was reason enough to begin.

The novelist who published her first book at fifty three. The man who left a twenty year career to apprentice as a glassblower at forty eight. The woman who finally said the true thing out loud, to her partner, to her family, to herself, and found that the world didn’t end. In fact, it opened.

None of them would describe what they did as reckless. They’d describe it as overdue.

It doesn’t require a dramatic gesture. It doesn’t require quitting anything, or moving anywhere, or announcing yourself to anyone. It starts smaller and quieter than that.
It starts with noticing what makes you lose track of time. Not what should, what actually does. It starts with following a thought past the point where practicality tells you to stop. It starts with asking what do I actually want? and sitting with the discomfort of answering honestly.

The dreaming years weren’t a phase. They were a frequency. And like any frequency, you can find your way back to it, not by pretending the years in between didn’t happen, but by bringing everything you’ve learned since into the room with you. You know more now. You’ve survived more. Your dreams, if you let them, are better for it.

The door isn’t closed. It was never closed.
You just got busy for a while and maybe now is the time to open it?

For now, I’m stepping back for a bit.
This isn’t an ending, just a pause.

Lately, I’ve felt the need to create a little more space, to breathe, reflect, and let things settle without forcing clarity or direction.

I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back, but I know this space will still be here when I am, and that’s enough for now.

Until then, take care of yourself, be kind to your pace, and I’ll see you around.

Hi Friend!

As I write this, I am hoping you find the path and direction you want to be on and you’re going slow enough to take in all of its magic.

That is all.

~Tim

Happiness Is A Warm Gun

At least that’s what the Beatles say, is it not?

Sure, their song does not totally correlate with the thoughts that are in my mind right now, but that line has been stuck on a loop in my brain.

For so many years, in so many ways, we are always told “do what makes you happy”, “don’t worry, be happy”, and so many other happiness phrases.

Lately, I’ve been really curious about that, the happiness thing. Especially when I look back.

Ya see, I just celebrated a birthday. And early that week I was forced to move photos around on hard drives to fix a computer issue and I caught myself looking back 10-15 years. Thinking about what made me happy then.

Then it happened, I slipped and fell down a rabbit hole.

And while down there, I realized a couple of things.

One, those were some fun years.

Two, the things that made them fun and brought happiness, as much as I am still chasing, don’t need to bring happiness now. And as a matter of fact, I don’t believe they do anyway.

So how do we give ourselves the permission to let go, to discover new, to shift paths? How do we learn to be a beginner again? And what is this happiness talk anyways?

And in those moments, I found myself reading posts from the Monks walking for peace. Things started to click in my mind, actually, I think they were deeper than that. They were in my soul, that quiet shadowy place we don’t go often.

What if we are constantly chasing the wrong thing. What if happiness is not what we should be setting as our goal? What if…. It’s peace?

Don’t get me wrong here, I do believe happiness and joy should be pillars to our days. Without peace though, do those two “things” really hold much weight? And if we have peace, wouldn’t that happiness and joy be something that hits harder, stays longer and doesn’t slip through our fingers as fast, leaving us back where we were just before?

And then, a new rabbit hole to fall into. Is this peace stuff a choice or something we learn?

Maybe, both?

For now, as I write this, I believe we first need to make the choice. A small quiet decision made in each moment.

Before we react, we breathe.

Before we lean into anger, stress, or fear, we choose what to do with them when they show up.

Then… Then I believe that’s something we start to learn. Once we make the choice, we learn how to keep making it. How to step back and from your own thoughts and battles, and how to practice the choice to find peace over and over again.

Let’s not believe for one second that this is an easy “choice”. An easy thing to do. Because it’s not.

But, if we are willing to put in the work and make the choice.

If we decide peace may just be something we could feel happier in. Then maybe it’s at that moment we realize peace is where happiness actually lives after all?

Who knows, maybe they’ve been there the whole time, holding hands, walking together?

I believe in you.

Till next time,

~Tim

https://www.facebook.com/groups/walkforpeaceusa

Letter from the Editor

Hi Friend!

There’s a lot right now that begs for our attention, our outrage, our fear, the division. And while staying informed matters, so does staying human. This issue is a gentle reminder that noticing beauty isn’t turning away from reality, it’s anchoring ourselves within it. If the world feels heavy, let this be permission to pause, look up, and remember that you are made of more than what’s breaking.

I believe in you, Tim

Table of Contents

• Letter from the Editor

• Let’s Keep Seeing

• Today Is the Point

• Journal Prompt For The Letter,

• Seek Up - the poem

• Photo Information

Let’s Keep Seeing

It can feel almost irresponsible to pause right now.

To stop. To Slow. To look up at the stars. To notice the way trees still reach for the light. To stand quietly in front of mountains that don’t care about headlines. To let the ocean remind you that something older, deeper, and steadier still exists.

When the world feels like it’s burning, politically, socially, emotionally, wonder can feel foolish. Indulgent. Like rearranging flowers while everything else is on fire. Like mowing the lawn as a forest fire burns 360 degrees around you.

And yet.

Here’s the quiet truth no one tells us loudly enough: Holding wonder is not denial. It’s resistance.

The world has betrayed many of us. Systems fail. People disappoint. Promises fracture. History repeats itself with alarming enthusiasm. It’s understandable to armor up, to stay tense, to believe that softness is a liability.

But as much as we wish it was, beauty is never meant to be an escape hatch. It’s an anchor.

Wonder doesn’t erase tragedy, but it reminds us that tragedy isn’t the whole story. That we are not made solely of grief, outrage, or survival instincts. We contain more than the worst things we’ve endured.

Beauty isn’t just sitting there dumb. It’s ancient. It’s seen so much ugly all around it.

The stars have witnessed worse than this. Trees have grown back after devastation. Mountains have outlasted empires. Oceans have held both wreckage and rebirth.

And somehow, so have we. As much as it may have hurt… So. Have. We.

Pausing to marvel isn’t quitting the fight, it’s remembering why we fight at all. It reconnects us to something fundamental, something that existed before the noise and will exist long after it fades.

Beauty is where we come from. And when everything feels unsteady, it’s where we can return.

So if today you find yourself staring at the sky a little longer than usual, or running your hand along a tree trunk like it knows something you don’t, good. And actually not “if”, let’s just make sure you find yourself staring a little longer, feeling a little more. because it’s not foolish. It’s human.

And right now, being human might be the bravest thing we can do.

Today Is the Point

What we do today is what matters most.

Not yesterday, no matter how sideways, backwards, or upside down it went.
Not tomorrow, no matter how much we’re counting on it, hoping for it, or excited about it.

Each morning, in quiet and unremarkable ways, we are born again. You wake up with the chance to begin…… again. To build…… again. To choose forward motion……. again. Even if yesterday felt like slipping backwards. Even if progress looked more like survival than momentum. Today is your chance.

Starting over doesn’t require a clean slate. It only requires a present moment.

And here’s the part we tend to avoid: while we are gifted this daily renewal, we are not promised the next one. Tomorrow is hopeful—but it isn’t guaranteed. That’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to wake you up.

Today is the place where life actually happens.
Today is where kindness counts.
Today is where courage shows up—quietly, imperfectly.
Today is where you get to live the life you keep postponing.

So say the thing.
Take the step.
Breathe deeper.
Hold wonder longer.
Move—even if it’s just an inch.

If this is the day you have, let it be enough.
Let it be honest.
Let it be lived.

Because today—right here—is the point.

Journal Prompt For The Letter,

Where have I been denying myself moments of wonder and magic because the world feels too heavy, and what small act of noticing beauty could I allow back into my life this week?

Seek Up - the poem

The world is loud with breaking things,
sirens, screens, unfinished fires.
It asks us to stay braced,
to never unclench our fists.

Still, the stars show up.
Still, trees practice patience.
Still, mountains refuse urgency
and oceans keep breathing.

We are told this is foolish
to look, to feel, to soften.
But wonder is not surrender.
It is remembrance.

We were born of beauty,
not despite the chaos,
but alongside it.

And even now,
especially now,
you are allowed to look up.

Photo Information

I had a studio in Collinsville. And almost always had flowers in random jars. These guys, to this day, were my favorite. They were just so bright and “shiny”… So yea, that’s all. Flowers in the window.

This guy was on a beach in South Carolina while I was on a random travel adventure. The sun was dipping toward the horizon. The air was warm. I could use that warm right now.

This. One of the most magical places in New England. The New England Peace Pagoda outside of Amherst. I was lucky enough to have my wifey introduce me to it. https://newenglandpeacepagoda.org

Hi Friend!

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about time, and how little of it we feel we have anymore. Everything moves fast. Too fast. We’re expected to respond instantly, stay informed constantly, and carry the weight of the world without ever setting it down.

This edition is a gentle pause. A reminder that it’s okay to slow down. To breathe deeper. To disconnect on purpose, even if it’s just once a week. The world will keep spinning, but your nervous system deserves some peace along the way.

If 2026 becomes the year we choose quiet over constant noise, presence over pressure, and soul over speed, then maybe we’re doing it right.

Thanks for being here. I’m really glad you are.

Tim

Table of Contents

• When Did Time Stop Being Something We Moved Throug …

  • Slowing Down Isn’t Laziness

  • What If We Practiced Disconnecting—Just a Little?

  • The Noise Is Loud Right Now

  • Maybe 2026 Isn’t About Doing More

  • This Week’s Journal Prompt

• Walking for Peace ❤️

  • Track the Walk in Real Time

  • Why It Matters

When Did Time Stop Being Something We Moved Through

Somewhere along the way, time stopped being something we moved through
and started being something we chased.

There never seems to be enough of it anymore. Not enough hours. Not enough margin. Not enough quiet. Not enough space…

Everyone is expected to do more. Be more available. More responsive. More “on.”

Texts answered immediately.
Emails returned at all hours.
News updated by the minute.
Opinions formed on the spot.

And the cost of all this speed?

We’re tired.
We’re tense.
We’re forgetting how to breathe.

Not the shallow, in between breaths we take while scrolling but the kind that actually reaches your ribs. The kind that tells your nervous system, you’re okay right now. And I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it harder and hard to find those breathes. That breathing.

Slowing Down Isn’t Laziness

It’s Resistance, and at this moment, I’m working really hard to RESIST!

The world doesn’t really encourage slowing down. At All…..
In fact, while I would say it quietly rewards the opposite, I feel as if it’s shooting off fireworks for the opposite.

Busy is praised.
Overloaded is normalized.
And unfortunately, burnout is worn like a badge of honor.

But slowing down, intentionally, isn’t quitting. It’s choosing not to be consumed. (even though lately it doesn’t feel as if we have that choice)

It’s saying:

• I don’t need to respond instantly to be worthy.

• I don’t need to know everything right now.

• I don’t need to carry the weight of the world every single moment.

What If We Practiced Disconnecting—Just a Little?

Not forever.
Not dramatically.
Just gently, quietly…

What if, once a week, you did one thing disconnected?

• Bring a book to a coffee shop and leave your phone at home… or at least in the car.

• Go for a walk without tracking it, posting it, or documenting it.

• Meet a friend and let the conversation be the only thing you hold.

• And what I would find the most challenging of all, sit somewhere quiet and do nothing productive at all.

No updates.
No notifications.
No urgency.

Just presence. Just quietness. Just softness for the world and people around you?

The Noise Is Loud Right Now

That doesn’t mean your soul needs to match it right now.

There is a lot happening—in this country, around the world, and inside our feeds.
The volume is high, the tension is real, the push is constant.

But constant exposure doesn’t equal awareness.
And being plugged in all the time doesn’t mean you care more. May actually mean the complete opposite, no?

Sometimes the most responsible thing you can do is step back long enough to steady yourself.

To breathe.
To feel your feet on the ground.
To remember who you are beneath the noise.

Maybe 2026 Isn’t About Doing More

Maybe It’s About Doing Less… On Purpose…

Less rushing.
Less reacting.
Less living like everything is an emergency.

More quiet.
More intention.
More moments that feel like yours again.

This might be the year we give ourselves permission to slow down.
To protect our attention. To choose what actually feeds our souls. To remember just because someone else’s speed and anxiety is fast and high, doesn’t mean you need to match it. It’s okay to do you…

Even if it’s just once a week.

Especially if it’s just once a week.

This Week’s Journal Prompt

When was the last time you truly slowed down, not because you had to, but because you chose to?

What would it look like to create one small pocket of quiet in your week?
Where could you leave the phone behind, breathe a little deeper, and give your attention back to yourself?

Write about what you notice when the noise fades.
How does your body feel?
What thoughts surface?
What might your soul be asking for right now?

Scary I know, but there’s no need to fix anything.
Just listen.

Walking for Peace ❤️

Right now, something powerful is moving across the United States in such a quiet way.

A group of about Buddhist monks, accompanied by their loyal companion Aloka the Peace Dog (though he just had surgery and will now be able to walk the rest of the way. However he is still traveling in the convoy with them), are on a 2,300-mile pilgrimage from Fort Worth, Texas to Washington, D.C. all on foot, to share a simple but profound message… Peace, compassion, and unity.

This isn’t a protest. It isn’t a rally.
It’s a deliberate walk, slow, steady, mindful… Reminding us that peace isn’t somewhere on the horizon… it begins right where we are.

As they travel state by state, towns and cities are pausing to greet them, listen to their message, and sometimes even walk a few miles alongside them. And wha I have loved, as their walk continues, they are greeted by MORE AND MORE AND MORE humans. Each being touched in their own way. And listen, if I’m being honest. When I pause and take in their posts, their videos, their messages. It seems to make my eyes leak Every… Single… Time…

We could all use a bit of that calmness, peace, and compassion, especially in times when everything feels rushed, loud, and urgent.

Track the Walk in Real Time

👉 Live Map (today’s location & stops):
https://walkforpeace.short.gy/live-map

👉 Overview Map (entire journey progress):
https://walkforpeace.short.gy/overview-map

These maps update regularly so you can see where the walkers are, where they’re headed next, and even plan a visit if you’re nearby. It’s probably a good thing I don’t live in the south east because I would be there at the start and finish of every day’s journey.

Why It Matters

This journey isn’t just a headline, it’s a reminder of the power of deliberate pace:

• Peace isn’t instantaneous, it’s a practice.

• Compassion isn’t rushed, it’s felt.

• Unity doesn’t happen in a moment, it’s built step by step.

In a world where we’re pulled in every direction, this simple walk invites us to pause, notice, and reflect.

Walk for Peace – Dhammacetiya – The Ancient Sacred Buddhist Scripture Stupas

dhammacetiya.com/walk-for-peace

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Yesterday, into today, and probably tomorrow, has brought and will bring a wave of emotion that hit me harder than I expected. Especially since news like this can come at you when you’re least expecting… Because we are never expecting…

Bob Weir, the co-founder of the Grateful Dead and one of the architects of a sound that has threaded through so many lives and other musician’s styles, passed away yesterday.

For as long as I can remember, music has been a constant companion, the only companion through every part of every “thing”, a kind of emotional atlas through life’s highs and lows. And the Grateful Dead? Well, their music wasn’t just background noise. It was a milestone maker time and time again, it soundtracked road trips, first loves, heartbreaks, and quiet mornings with coffee. It was there when I felt unstoppable, defeated, or just plain lost. And to this day, it still is.

When someone like Bob Weir departs, or any other artist, even though we generally never know them personally, it still hurts. At times, more than we think it’s should. And in the past 24 hours, I have thoughts as to why that is. Because, if you can’t tell, I’ve been struggling on why this one is such a gut punch.

Music Isn’t Just Sound, It’s Memory, A Moment, A Place

When a song plays, we don’t just hear notes. We often remember so many pieces of our lives.

• The first time we heard it

• Where we were

• Who we were with (or without)

• What we felt

That’s the thing about music, it anchors us. It lives in the same emotional space as our memories. So losing an artist we grew up with often feels like losing a corner of our own past. Or am I totally off track on this one?

This may sound crazy, but outside of my mom and sister, no one has been there as long as the Grateful Dead has been. Not in a literal sense, but in a meaningful one. I know there are still people I went to school with out there etc. But I haven’t heard from most of them in years. So like… Well…. Yea, they just haven’t…

And with that, our playlists become a timeline of us. And for me, Bob Weir’s voice was part of that timeline. From my first show in early high school, to sleeping on the sidewalk of a rest area while my sister was sleeping in the car because after a weekend of shows in VT and being up for 48 hours straight, sleep was the only option. Or maybe traveling back and forth across the country meeting strangers who became good friends… Because the music never stopped.

So We Sit And Grieve What Helped Shape Us

That’s what I'm slowly putting together, why we feel this pain, and it’s not just because of the artist’s talent, but because

• They soundtracked our lives highs and lows, goods and bags

• They gave voice to emotions we couldn’t yet name

• They reflected back parts of ourselves we were discovering

• They connected us to moments we couldn’t forget

When Bob left this world, a light dimmed. For hundreds of thousands, probably millions, around the world. But unlike ordinary loss, his music remains alive, ready to wake that emotional archive whenever we choose to revisit it. But right now, it rises the tides in the soul that make my eyes leak. So for now, the volume remains low.

So Here’s to You Mr. Bob Weir

Wherever your soul has wandered next, thank you and god speed….
Thank you for the sound, the spirit, the shared moments, the community, the music that never stopped.

And to all of us who feel that ache, let it remind us of why we listen, why we love, why we hold memories close.

… You know our love will not fade away….

If you love Lifting Others and want to support it, forward this issue to friends, new friends, or anyone who might enjoy it! 🪩 🫶

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Hi Friend,

So many of us are still waiting.

Waiting for the right moment.
Waiting for things to slow down.
Waiting to feel like we’ve earned the space to enjoy, to create, to breathe a little deeper.

This week’s reflection is a reminder that permission doesn’t usually arrive from the outside. It’s something we practice quietly, often imperfectly, in small moments that don’t need explaining.

If this newsletter meets you in a season of hesitation, let it be gentle. There’s no rush here. Just an invitation to notice where you might still be waiting—and what it could feel like to begin anyway.

Thanks for being here and for making space to read slowly.

— Tim

Table of Contents

• Why Are We Waiting…

  • What’s one small way you could give yourself permi …

• When We Stop Waiting, We Start Living…

• You’re Too Old!

• Why Creating Is Important

• Images Used

Why Are We Waiting…

Most of us are waiting for permission without realizing it. And that’s craziness! As adults, we are still waiting for someone else to make it okay.

Permission to slow down.
Permission to enjoy ourselves.
Permission to do something that doesn’t look productive or serious.

We learned early that worth comes from output. That rest should be earned. That joy is something you squeeze in after everything else is handled. That we shouldn’t have joy if someone else isn’t finding that same joy in their own way.

So even when the desire to live, to do, to adventure, to read, to puzzle, to sit, to cook, to listen, to make, to create shows up, we hesitate. We wait until it feels justified. Responsible. Approved.

The problem is—no one is coming to give us that permission. And I don’t know about you, but it will rarely, if ever, feel justified, responsible, or approved.

As adults, permission isn’t something we receive.
It’s something we practice.

And practicing it can feel uncomfortable at first. Even wrong (possibly very wrong). Because choosing joy without an explanation goes against everything we were taught.

But here’s the quiet truth:
You don’t need to deserve the things that make you feel alive.

Ten minutes of doing that “thing” without an outcome is not indulgent.
It’s grounding.

You’re not stealing time from your life, you’re returning to it. And here in 2026, what I believe, is that we should all try to, no no… We all need to return to our life. Our joy, our fun. Because everywhere else around us, well. Let’s just say that what’s streaming into our scrolling and our lives from the outside world may not have that much joy involved.

What’s one small way you could give yourself permission this week—without explaining it to anyone?

When We Stop Waiting, We Start Living…

No one is coming
to tell you it’s okay.

But the wanting remains,
steady and patient,
asking only
that you begin.

You’re Too Old!

We have heard it over and over again, “Am I too old to start something new?”
And the answer is always the same….. NO!

You’re NEVER too old to learn, to create, to try, to begin again. You’re not behind. You’re not late. You’re right on time for your time. For you time!

Starting something new isn’t about guaranteed outcomes or perfect endings. Sometimes it doesn’t turn out the way you imagined — and that’s okay. Because starting teaches you. It stretches you. It reminds you that you’re still capable of growth.

You deserve the curiosity. You deserve the excitement. You deserve the chance to see what happens when you say yes to yourself.

Even if the path changes…
even if the result surprises you…
starting and learning will always be better than never starting at all.

And yes, you can do this.

Because believe it or not, you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Why Creating Is Important

We tend to treat creativity like a personality trait.

You either have it… or you don’t.

Here's the thing though, creating isn’t a talent. It’s a human function.

Long before it became a career path or a social media category, creating was how people made sense of the world. We carved, painted, stitched, sang, built, and told stories, not to impress, but to process. Creating helped us slow time down long enough to understand what we were feeling, fearing……

Balancing Your Rocks | Timothy Allan Studio

www.artwithtab.com/balancing-rocks

Images Used

The images used above, of the surfers. Those were taken along the PCH, I had never drive that highway before and it was one of the most fun drives I’ve ever gone on. All the stops, all the places, all the views. And in one location, so many people waiting. With their surfboards, looking out, watching. I remember those moments so vividly. I can still hear the waves crashing and I can still feel the cool pacific ocean air…

~ Till next time………

Hello Friend! Welcome to 2026….

Every year, we’re told the same thing:
“This will be the best year ever.”

I’m choosing not to make that promise, not because I lack hope, but because life doesn’t work that way. One hard week, one unexpected turn, and that declaration can feel broken.

So for 2026, I’m standing for something simpler and stronger.

The best day.

Let this be the year you slow down, soften your expectations, and nurture your growth instead of rushing it.

Wake up. Be present. Meet the day honestly.

If you do that, today becomes the best day it can be.
And that’s how real progress happens, one illuminated moment at a time.

Keep Shining,

Tim

Seen By Headlights

New Year’s Day has a funny way of asking us questions we don’t actually need to answer yet.

What will you accomplish?
Who will you become?
How will this be your year?

But here’s the honest truth…. Life rarely moves in neat chapters. It moves more like a car driving at night. Possibly with only 3 out of 4 wheels attached.

You don’t see the destination.
You don’t see the full road.
You only see as far as the headlights allow.

The truth may not always be what you want to hear, but “as far as the headlights allow” really may be enough.

You can’t see around the next turn, but you can be prepared. Prepared doesn’t mean having a plan for every outcome. Prepared means trusting yourself to handle whatever appears. Ready says, “I accept what comes.” Prepared says, “I accept what comes, and I know I can meet it and I know I have the tools to overcome or accept it.”

The past few years have been heavy (to say the least) for many of us. Challenging. Disruptive. Full of pauses we didn’t ask for and detours we never planned. If that’s been true for you, let this be the year you stop demanding perfection from yourself.

For 2026, let’s try this instead.

Be kind to yourself.
Be slow with yourself.
Nurture your growth rather than rushing it.

You don’t need to sprint into the future, it will come fast enough. You don’t need to force clarity that hasn’t arrived yet, you may miss the clarity right in front of you. Growth doesn’t respond well to pressure, t responds to patience, care, and consistency. Ask any plant or tree that started from seed.

So let’s choose intention over intensity.
Presence over prediction.
This moment over the entire map.

Focus on what the headlights can see:

• the next small step

• the next honest choice

• the next moment you can meet with care

That’s how real progress happens, quietly, steadily, one illuminated stretch of road at a time.

You don’t need to see the whole year to move forward.
You just need to keep driving. So with out further hesitation, and with out the false preset mindset that 2026 will be the year we’ve been waiting for… Let’s just say today. Today is the day I’ve been waiting for.

Here’s to 2026—moment by moment, curve by curve, with trust in your hands on the wheel.

Winter's Whisper & More - Tim Brown Artist

uplifting.beehiiv.com/p/winter-s-whisper-more

Strangers...

uplifting.beehiiv.com/p/strangers

Nurturing Nature and Nourishing the Soul: Gardening Tips for Pollinato

uplifting.beehiiv.com/p/gardening-101

Driving though the smoke and believing

uplifting.beehiiv.com/p/drive-through-the-smoke

Hi Friend,

Some weeks feel like smooth water.
Others feel like you’re pushing against a current that just won’t cooperate.

This edition was inspired by a simple thought I couldn’t shake,
a river doesn’t stop just because something gets in the way.

If life feels slow, redirected, or heavier than usual right now, I hope this piece reminds you of something important, you’re still moving, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Take what you need. Leave the rest.
And as always, thanks for being here.

~Tim

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The River Keeps Going

A river doesn’t rush itself. It keeps going…

It moves forward whether the day is calm or chaotic, whether the path is clear or cluttered with obstacles it didn’t ask for.

When something blocks its way, it doesn’t argue with it.
It doesn’t take it personally.
It simply finds another way through.

At times, that means slowing down.
At times, it means changing direction entirely.
And at other times, it means widening, deepening, or waiting until the pressure is enough to move again.

But the river never confuses resistance with failure.

It understands something we often forget, forward motion doesn’t always look like progress from the outside. Sometimes, below the calm surface that almost seems still, there is flow. Forward momentum. When the ice freezes over it’s surface, below there is direction…

There are seasons when life asks you to move quickly.
And seasons when it asks you to move carefully.
Both still count.

Even when a river’s course is shifted, by weather, terrain, or time, it doesn’t lose its purpose... It adapts and continues on, carrying everything it’s learned with it.

You’re allowed to do the same.

You’re allowed to pause.
You’re allowed to reroute.
You’re allowed to change shape when life demands it.

None of that means you’re off track.

Like the river, you haven’t forgotten where you’re going.
You’re just finding the best way to get there.

This Week’s Journal Prompt

Take a few quiet minutes with one (or all) of these:

• Where in my life do I feel slowed down right now?

• What if this isn’t a blockage, but a bend in the river?

• How have I adapted before. and what did that teach me about my own resilience?

• If I trusted that I’m still moving forward, what would I stop worrying about today?

Write without editing. Let it flow.
Rivers don’t overthink their direction, and you don’t have to either.

Like A River

I bend.
I slow.
I change my shape.

But I don’t stop.
I don’t forget.
I still flow forward.

Like a river,
I find my way.

If this piece met you where you are today, consider sharing it with someone who might need the reminder.
Not because they’re behind.
But because sometimes we all forget, we’re still moving, even when the water feels slow.

Thanks for letting these words flow through your inbox.
Until next time, keep going.

Hey friends,

This week’s piece leans into that old saying: sometimes you're the bug, sometimes you're the windshield. Came from a conversation with a good friend, Dave. The day wasn’t everything he hoped for and that message about the bug and windshield, it came through the text. And I instantly thought, well, there’s the next newsletter.

And just to be clear, I / we are not out here wishing harm on any actual bugs. It’s simply a reminder that life hands out both kinds of days: the ones that flatten us a bit, and the ones where we feel steady, clear, and in control.

Wherever you are, within that cycle, I hope this edition gives you a little perspective and a little breathing room. You’re allowed to have messy moments. You’re allowed to have powerful ones. Both shape you.

Thanks for reading,
Tim

Table of Contents

• A Bug And A Windshield

  • If you’re in bug season right now:

  • If you’re in windshield season:

  • Journal Prompt

A Bug And A Windshield

Life has a pretty solid knack for reminding us that we’re not always in control of the soundtrack. Some days you roll out of bed feeling unstoppable, dialed-in, and ready to take on the world, or the pickleball match, or the bike race or…. And other days… well, other days you’re the bug.

You know those moments, you’re cruising along, flying toward the speeding light, thinking everything is fine, and wham. Something blindsides you, splatters your plans, or humbles you so quickly you don’t know whether to laugh or go take a shower.

A comment. A rejection. A setback. A season of life that simply does not care what you had in mind.

But here’s the part we forget:
Much like, “this too shall pass”, neither role is permanent.

The “bug days” hurt, but they make you human. They force you to slow down, redirect, or rethink. They remind you that cracks don’t mean you’re broken, just that you’ve lived enough to earn some texture, some grit…

And the “windshield days”? Those are the moments you’re strong, steady, and unshakeable. When you’ve got momentum. When you’re clear. When your boundaries are firm, your purpose is loud, and you can finally see the road again. It doesn’t mean everything is perfect, it just means you’re driving your own life instead of being flung around by it.

If you’re in bug season right now:

Breathe.
Step back.
Let yourself feel the sting without assuming the story ends here.

If you’re in windshield season:

If you’re in a windshield season:
Be grateful.
Stay steady.

And remember that strength doesn’t make you superior, it makes you responsible for how you show up for others.

The truth? Life cycles. And you’re allowed to cycle with it. No shame in having messy chapters. No guilt in celebrating the good ones. Growth comes from learning the rhythm, not pretending every day is a highlight reel.

So next time you feel flattened by life, remember: you won’t stay on the glass forever. And next time you’re soaring with clarity and power, remember: use that strength to steer wisely.

Both roles shape you. Both roles teach you.
Both roles matter.

Journal Prompt

Where in your life do you currently feel like the bug… and where do you feel like the windshield?
What would it look like to accept both without judgment?

Some days I’m the bug,
some days I’m the glass,
learning from the moments
that knock me on my ass.
Both roles remind me
I’m still moving, still alive,
a little splattered sometimes,
but always ready and on the rise.

Table of Contents

• The Four Seasons of Change

  • People change when they hurt enough that they have …

  • People change when they see enough that they’re in …

  • People change when they learn enough that they wan …

  • People change when they receive enough that they’r …

  • So where does this leave you?

• Journal Prompt of the Week

The Four Seasons of Change

Why It’s Not Only Okay to Change, But Also Necessary.

If you’ve lived long enough, you know this truth all too well…
We all change.
Sometimes slowly.
Sometimes suddenly.
Sometimes in ways we can’t explain until years later, if ever at all.

But change isn’t a betrayal of who you’ve been, it’s an honoring of who you’re becoming.

Just like the seasons, we move through cycles. We shed, we bloom, we pause, we burst forward. And at the heart of every transformation, every shed, bloom, pause, and burst, are four turning points, the reasons people change.

People change when they hurt enough that they have to.

Pain is often the first push.
A life that no longer fits.
A relationship that drains.
A job that suffocates.
A routine that buries the spark you once had.

Hurt has a strange wisdom. It nudges. Then it whispers. Then one day it shouts so loudly that staying the same becomes harder than stepping into the unknown. Which, when you’ve been paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, is a pretty loud shout…

If you’re at this season, the winter of your life, know this…
You are not breaking down. You are breaking open. And just as winter brings time of quiet, of recharging. It does so for growth. New growth. Strong growth. Your Growth.

People change when they see enough that they’re inspired to.

Sometimes it’s not pain that shifts us, it’s beauty, or magic, or light and energy.

Seeing someone reinvent themselves.
Witnessing kindness that ripples.
Noticing a life that looks freer, lighter, more aligned.
Or even watching a dream unfold for someone else and realizing, “Wait… maybe I can do that too.

This is the spring season, when possibility feels close enough to touch.

Inspiration is contagious. Let it move you. Sprout into the light, rise up… Grow with it.

People change when they learn enough that they want to.

Knowledge awakens the desire.
We read something that just hits different.
We hear a truth that hits at the right moment.
We understand ourselves on a deeper level, our patterns, our wounds, our needs.

Learning gives clarity. And clarity gives direction.

This is the summer season… When growth feels natural, alive, and expan

People change when they receive enough that they’re able to.

Support.
Love.
Resources.
Opportunities.
A hand held out at exactly the right time.

Sometimes all someone needs is permission from the world or from themselves to finally take the leap.

And know this, that when you do take that leap, you may not know every answer to every question, but you have time to “build the helicopter” on the way down. As they say, “leap and the net will appear”…

This is the autumn season, the harvest time, when the work done quietly inside finally shows on the outside. When you can take the resources you’ve worked to create, and go!

So where does this leave you?

Whichever season you’re in now… Wherever you sit. Remember this…
You’re allowed to evolve.
You’re allowed to start again.
You’re allowed to grow in a direction that feels true even if nobody else understands it yet. And even if others may not agree.

Change is not a flaw. It’s your proof of life. And it’s your life. You get one run at this, no retakes, no do-overs. Life is meant to be lived…

You are not here to stay unchanged.
You’re here to keep becoming, over and over again, in your own timing, your own rhythm, your own beautiful way.

So give yourself permission today.
It’s okay to change.
It’s okay to shift.
It’s okay to follow your own path, even if it leads somewhere new.

Your season is arriving.

Share where you’re at, a story of change, or tips for those going through change. All responses are anonymous

Changes and Truths

forms.gle/PjPfyDhKG8mNZyfv7

Share Your Change / Need / Advice

Journal Prompt of the Week

Take a quiet moment and sink into the thoughts above.

Which of the four seasons of change am I currently in, hurt, inspired, learning, or supported? What is one small shift I can make this week that honors the direction I want to grow?

Write freely. No judgment. Just honesty.

This is your time to shine!

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Before the day gets busy, before the timers beep, the doorbells ring, the conversations rise, and the dishes stack, I want to remind you of something simple.

It’s okay to slow down today.

It’s okay to take a breath before you walk into a room.
It’s okay to step outside for a moment of quiet.
It’s okay to savor your coffee and actually feel the comfort of the mug in your hands.
It’s okay to pause and notice how fresh the air smells, how still the morning is, how small moments can anchor you when everything else feels loud.

And here’s another truth that matters even more today.

Much like I wrote a couple letters ago, it’s okay to protect your borders and your peace.

Families are wonderful, complicated things. Sometimes they bring joy, sometimes they bring chaos, and sometimes… both before dessert. You’re allowed to use your own boundaries, soft, firm, or somewhere in between in order to keep yourself grounded and safe from any drama that tries to sneak its way into the day.

You don’t owe anyone emotional exhaustion today.
You owe yourself steadiness, presence, and a little kindness. (maybe even a lot)

Most of all, thank you, really though, for being part of these notes I send out into the world. Your presence here means far more than you know. In a time when there’s countless other things that want to pull you. You’re one of the ones that stops for 3 minutes. And I thank you for that.

I hope today brings you warmth, rest, and a moment that makes you smile.
Happy Thanksgiving.

Thank You!

When You Stop Holding On

Let them wander, let them drift, let them choose the quieter path or the loud, chaotic one, you do not have to follow.

Let their silence speak in its own language.
Let their distance write the sentences you were too tired to draft.
Let their absence be a teacher, not a wound.

You are not here to tug on the strings of anyone’s choices or bend yourself into shapes that hurt to hold.

Breathe.
Unclench the places you didn’t know were tired.
Your peace has been waiting in the empty spaces where you used to chase explanations.

Let people be who they reveal themselves to be, and let that truth set you free instead of on fire.

Because the ones meant for you will walk toward you without pulling you apart.
They will stand close without being asked.
They will choose you in ways that feel simple, and steady, and real.

Release the rest with softness.

Not because you don’t care, but because caring shouldn’t cost you yourself.

When You Stop Trying To Control Other People

There’s a quiet kind of freedom that comes when you stop trying to manage the behavior, opinions, or choices of the people around you.

When you stop chasing.
Stop convincing.
Stop over-explaining.
Stop twisting yourself into the version of you that others prefer.

And instead… you simply let people be who they are, and you pay attention.

Not out of indifference, or not truly caring, but out of self respect.

Why This Matters More Than We Admit

So many of us spend our days tangled in knots, chest heavy with anxiety, mind filled with worry…. Over things we can’t control.

Who didn’t text back.
Who didn’t invite us.
Who didn’t show up.
Who said what behind our backs.
Who should have treated us differently.

We pour energy into trying to shape other people’s behaviors or actions hoping it will give us security or validation.

But let’s be honest…

It never works.
It only exhausts us.

There is peace in releasing people to their natural choices and allowing their actions to speak clearly. And when they speak, take a step back and listen.

Let People Be Who They Are, and Let That Inform You

If someone pulls away…
let them pull away.

If someone doesn’t return your effort…
let that be the information you need.

If someone chooses drama, gossip, chaos…
you don’t have to ride that train with them.

If someone consistently undervalues your presence…
believe that.

It’s not about resignation.
It’s about clarity.
It’s about stepping out of the emotional tug-of-war you never asked to play.

This Isn’t About Them, It’s About You

Protecting your peace isn’t rude.
Setting boundaries isn’t selfish.
Paying attention to how people show up isn’t petty, it’s wise.

When you stop trying to rewrite someone else’s script, you finally get to return to your own. Your energy becomes yours again and you start investing it where it genuinely belongs.

With the people who choose you.
With the people who show up.
With the people who match your effort.
With the people who make you feel safe, seen, and supported.

The Most Grounding Sentence You Can Learn

“Their actions are information.”

Not a sign you need to try harder.
Not a reflection of your worth.
Not a personal attack.

Information.

When you stop personalizing other people’s choices, life gets simpler, calmer, and more aligned.
You stop trying to force belonging and instead let authentic connection rise to the surface.

How to Practice This in Everyday Moments

1. Someone pulls back?

Give them space and pull forward into your own life.

2. Someone starts stirring drama?

Let them stir, you don’t have to taste the soup.

3. Someone can’t meet you where you are?

Let them stay where they’re comfortable, and honor where you are headed.

4. Someone doesn’t respect your boundaries?

Hold your ground, their reaction is information.

5. Someone walks away?

Let them go, the right ones don’t need to be chased.

Your Energy Is Precious — Spend It Wisely

Imagine a week where you stop overthinking and start observing.

Where you stop trying to change people and simply notice how they choose to show up.

Where you stop trying to fit yourself into situations that don’t support your peace.

Where you don’t chase… you choose.

That small shift changes everything.

A Gentle Reminder

You don’t have to cling.
You don’t have to chase.
You don’t have to explain yourself into exhaustion.
You don’t have to earn kindness or effort.

Let people be who they are and then honor yourself enough to respond with clarity, not chaos.

Your peace is worth protecting.

Journal Prompts For The Week

• Whose behavior am I trying to manage, influence, or fix?

• How would it feel to release responsibility for someone else’s choices?

• Where am I taking things personally that aren’t actually personal?

• Who consistently shows up for me without being asked?

• What could I create space for by letting go of the wrong things?

Images Used In This Edition

Two images in one, a true double exposure done in camera. The first image, a boardwalk in Litchfield CT. at White Memorial, the second image, sun coming through the trees. A cold winter day, but beautiful day none the less.

This was a remake, my father (also a photographer) created an image similar to this. Same sign on steps going up into the Essex steam train. His image, black and white with an egg centered on the step. I was taking pictures of the train when I saw the “watch your step”. I liked the yellow, had a banana, and decided to recreate an image I grew up seeing. In my own way.

Hey friends,

Welcome to this week’s letter, where we talk about strangers, the holidays, and the surprisingly liberating truth that… no one cares.

I don’t mean that in a gloomy eat your feelings over a stale fruitcake way. I mean it in the best, most freeing way possible. The holidays already come with enough pressure… Be cheerful, be social, be organized, be everything to everyone, including people you barely know.

But here’s the simple reality…. Most people are too busy juggling gift lists, surviving office parties, or figuring out why their smoke alarm only beeps at 2:13 AM to care about whether you said the perfect thing, hosted the perfect moment, or lived the perfect life, or even showed up at that party.

So relax. Take the pressure off. Be kind to strangers (they might turn into unexpected friends). Be easy on yourself (no one is tracking your performance). And let this season be less about proving anything, and more about simply being human and true to yourself.

Keep Shining,

~Tim

Table of Contents

• The Man Behind The Curtain

• Embrace the Idea That… No One Cares (And That’s th …

  • What you do only matters to you.

  • If no one cares, you’re free.

  • Your Turn: Try Living Like No One’s Watching

• Why Do I Write This Newsletter…

• As We Rapidly Fall Into The Holiday Season…

The Man Behind The Curtain

Some people are only meant to be in your story for one page. And that’s okay.
In fact… sometimes that one page is exactly the one you didn’t know you needed.

A few days ago, I found myself in Bristol Hospital for 3.5 hours, just me, a chair, and a timer that ticked down in slow motion like it had a personal vendetta against my sanity. No, seriously…. Every 15 minutes the alarm would go off, I’d do the test, and then I’d reset that god awful timer. Basically, it felt like being stuck in a video game level designed by someone who clearly hates joy and had no desire to make an ending to said game.

On the other side of the curtain? An older gentleman doing the exact same routine.
Same beeps. Same tests. Same 15 minute countdowns… Except for one thing…. One thing that started to also wear on my sanity. He was 3 minutes and 48 seconds ahead of me.

How do I know that so precisely? Because when you're trapped in a room with nothing but a timer, you become a certified NASA-level time analyst. (I think I am going to add that to my resume, sounds pretty good. hahah)

After a couple cycles, I broke. I couldn’t take the competitive disadvantage anymore. So I blurted out:

“No matter what I do, I’m never going to win this race. You’re already 5 minutes ahead of me!”

He burst out laughing—a loud, genuine, hospital-echoing belly laugh. And just like that, the curtain wasn’t a barrier anymore.

For the next two hours, this stranger and I became best of friends. Trading stories, swapping advice, talking about life like we were old neighbors on front porch rocking chairs instead of two people racing a clock first thing in the day.

Then his timer hit zero for the final time.
He “won the race.”
He left 3 minutes ahead of me, just as he had the whole day.

And suddenly the room felt a little quieter.

What I realized in that moment is this.

Some people are only meant to appear in your book for a single page…
But that page can still matter.
That page can still change something.
That page can still make the whole chapter make sense.

A stranger is just a best friend you haven't met yet.
And kindness? It’s the quickest shortcut between two lives.

So keep turning your pages.
Let people step in and step out.
Let yourself be open.
Because you never know who the universe will seat on the other side of your curtain—or what they might bring to your story.

And what I will probably always remember about this man, other than his new love of Litchfield after leaving NYC, is how his life desire, what he mentioned at least 3 times, is that he just need to be sure he outlived his two dogs. While his house will be quieter and he will miss them. He couldn’t have them missing him, and feeling the confusion of a new home and new humans that would never love them the same way… So there’s that.

Embrace the Idea That… No One Cares (And That’s the Best News You’ll Hear All Week)

We spend giant, unnecessary chunks of our lives worrying about what other people think, what they’ll say, how they’ll judge, whether they’ll approve, and if they’re quietly ranking our life choices like Olympic diving judges holding up scorecards behind the scenes.

Then, almost comically, we get sad when those same people don’t care enough.

But here’s the little secret that flips the whole world on its head. A secret that I think most discover at a later age than they should…. Ready for this? Sit down, buckle up… Here it comes.

No one cares.

Not in the “no one loves you, retreat into a cave” kind of way.
More like: everyone is too busy dealing with the chaos of their own life to obsess over yours. (and anyone that’s not, they don’t deserve your energy anyway)

And honestly? That’s wonderful.

Because when you really let this sink in, you realize this.

What you do only matters to you.

Your life is your story. Your choices are your pages.
Other people’s opinions? They’re side notes written in pencil, forgettable, erasable, and usually based on whatever they’re carrying, not anything you actually did.

If no one cares, you’re free.

Free to fail without an audience.
Free to try without fear.
Free to try again without the imaginary panel of judges shaking their heads.

When you stop performing for the world and start living for yourself, everything opens up.
Your creativity. Your courage. Your next chapter.

The truth is, the moment you embrace the “no one cares” mindset, you get so much more out of life, because suddenly, you’re not living it for them. You’re living it for you. And you realize that if they don’t care, you don’t have to care if they care and then live a life of we don’t care all together.

And that’s where the good stuff begins. That’s where you get to live, your ways, for your soul.

Your Turn: Try Living Like No One’s Watching

Now what if this week you give yourself permission to live with the freedom that comes from knowing no one is keeping score. Do the thing you’ve been avoiding. Start the project you’ve talked yourself out of. Take the risk that scares you just a little.

And when that old voice creeps in, What will people think?, remind yourself of the truth…..

They’re not thinking about it.
They’re thinking about their own stuff.
So go do yours.

Try it for one day. One choice. One moment.
See how much lighter life feels when you stop performing and start living.

And if this message hit home, share it with someone who needs a little freedom today.

Why Do I Write This Newsletter…

Sometimes that’s a question I ask myself too, so I get it. I’m not sure I have the full answer yet… Maybe at times, it’s hoping that a reader will find it helpful and share a link for someone else who needs it. Other times, it’s when I receive a message like the below from a subscriber referring to the previous newsletter.

Good Morning Tim, What don’t I want to miss today? Continued blessings such as this that God (the Universe) sent my way when I needed it most that day. I just “happened” to walk to my back patio slider when I saw this gorgeous bobcat walk into my backyard and then sit in the sun for a few minutes and then proceed to lay down, enjoying the sunshine and light breeze and then groom itself before moving on.  It was a beautiful moment in time watching nature at its best and reminding me to relax and take advantage of these brief periods when all is good in the world.  A lesson learned way too late in life when I’d sadly spent most of it running at full throttle and stressing through it. We are blessed to know you and enjoy your beautiful emails, B

As We Rapidly Fall Into The Holiday Season…

We are all on a road trip through life, and I guess if I could figure out how, my road trip would thrive off helping “strangers” on the daily.

I’m waiting,

Hey friends,

This week’s edition invites you to slow down.

We start with a simple thought: Imagine reading a book with no way to turn back the page.
It’s one of those lines that hit me mid-coffee, the kind that makes you stop scrolling and realize how fast you’ve been flipping through your own story.

So before we sprint ahead, this issue asks, what’s happening on the page you’re on right now that deserves your full attention?

Of course, we couldn’t stay too serious for long. We’ve also included something a little lighter — a feature we’re calling “Herding Up the Drama Llamas.”
It’s a friendly reminder that there are llamas waiting to escape all over.

Between pages you can’t turn back and llamas you’ve got to keep in line, I’d say this week covers the full spectrum of living.

So take a breath. Read slowly. Smile at the absurdity of it all.
And as always, thank you for being part of this growing little community of curious, kind humans.

See you on the next page,
Tim

Table of Contents

• But First

• Don’t Be Good At Speed Reading

  • 📖 The Page You’re On Right Now

  • 💡 The Practice

  • 🛠️ For Me

  • ✍️ Your Turn

• 🦙 Everyone’s Riding the Drama Llamas (But You Don …

  • 🦙 Why Some People Need Drama

  • 🧭 Steady As She Goes

  • 🛠️ Tips to Avoid Drama (and Drama Creators)

    • 1. Don’t Engage the Invitation

    • 2. Protect Your Bandwidth

    • 3. Redirect the Conversation

    • 4. Stay Present

    • 5. Choose Peace Over Participation

  • 🧡 Your Life Is Better Without a Herd

    • Until Next Time…

But First

Today, or this week. Try to take a pause and look at the time you spend staring sideways and scrolling. Watching everyone else’s highlight reels and dissecting others choices, being jealous of their outcomes, and living in their lives. You have so much around you to live in and for. What if you stopped and scrolled your eyes across the skyline and saw how beautiful the clouds are, clouds that you once got lost innocently in. Try to take a break from living in someone else’s curated life and get busy curating yours.

Don’t Be Good At Speed Reading

Imagine reading a book with no way to turn back the page.
No bookmarks. No re-reads. No second chances to catch what you missed.

How carefully would you read it? Because that’s sort of scary, no?

Would you slow down? Would you pay more attention to the details, the way the light hits the scene, the tone of someone’s voice, the warmth in a simple moment? Would you stop skimming? (Be honest, we all skim a few pages from time to time don’t we? Dooonnnn’ttt weee?)

Because that’s what life really is, a book written in real time, ink drying the moment it’s lived.

Every conversation, every sunrise, every chance to start again, once it passes, you can’t flip back and “re-live” it. You can only remember it. You can only keep writing forward.

(Option: If you’re not a book person, no harm no foul, we don’t judge here, so re-read that as if it were a Netflix special with no pause, no rewind, no previous episodes)

📖 The Page You’re On Right Now

The truth is, most of us read our lives like we’ll always have time to re-read them later.
We rush through pages to “get to the good part.”
We think we’ll go back when things slow down.
But what if this page is the one that mattered most?

Take one breath. Look around.
Who’s beside you? What beauty or possibility is right here that you’ve been too distracted to notice?

💡 The Practice

Today, try this:

1. Pause once before the next scroll, the next task, the next complaint.

2. Name one thing on this current “page” you want to remember.

3. Live it fully. Feel it, see it, breathe it in.

That’s how you stop missing your own story, stop missing your own Netflix episode. Because that’s how you see how beautiful that shadow is on the wall from the late day sun coming in. That’s how you look up, smile at a stranger, and bring hope to them.

🛠️ For Me

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how many pages I’ve rushed through, projects half-lived (which I need to fix because they cause anxiety), rides I didn’t savor, moments I photographed instead of felt, or moments I should have photographed but was too busy scrolling.

So I’m learning to slow down again.
To ride the miles, paint the canvas, talk to the people in front of me, as if this page can’t be turned back, because the harsh reality is simple……. it can’t be turned back.

✍️ Your Turn

What’s happening on your page today that’s worth noticing?
Before you read further, hit reply and tell me one detail you don’t want to miss (really, please share).
I’ll read every response.

Because our lives aren’t books to be analyzed later, they’re stories being written right now.

🦙 Everyone’s Riding the Drama Llamas (But You Don’t Have To)

Let’s talk about drama — not the good kind with popcorn, Oscar speeches, and slow-mo montages.
I’m talking about life drama. The kind certain people seem to wake up craving like caffeine.

Some folks don’t just encounter drama…
They breed it.
Raise it.
Name it.
Feed it hay.
And then proudly ride it around like it’s a decorated parade float.

You know the type:
Before they’ve had their first cup of coffee, they’ve already discovered a “problem,” found an audience, and sent out boarding passes for everyone to hop on their personal Drama Llama Express, departing in 15….

And the ticket price?
Your peace, your soul, your mind.

🦙 Why Some People Need Drama

Some people feel most alive when something is going wrong.
Chaos gives them importance.
It makes them feel needed, centered, at the heart of something — even if that “something” is just a mess they made themselves.

Drama becomes their identity.
And if you’re not careful, their identity becomes your distraction.

Because the truth is this:
Every time you get pulled into someone else’s emotional rodeo, you lose time — time you could’ve spent perfecting your craft, getting present, creating beauty, or simply living a quieter, better life.

Drama drains the energy that could fuel your dreams.

🧭 Steady As She Goes

You always have a choice.
To hop on a llama…
or stay on your path.

The most powerful thing you can do is remain steady. Calm. Unshaken.
Let everyone else gallop in frantic circles while you keep moving forward with intention.

There’s a quiet reward that comes with it — peace, presence, and progress. You start noticing that life’s sweetest moments happen when you're not caught up in someone else’s storms.

Drama is loud, but progress is quiet.
And quiet wins every time.

🛠️ Tips to Avoid Drama (and Drama Creators)

Here are tools you can practice today — things that protect your peace and help you stay the course:

1. Don’t Engage the Invitation

Drama creators are always handing out emotional coupons.
You don’t have to redeem them.
A simple “That sounds tough, hope it works out” ends the entire transaction.

2. Protect Your Bandwidth

Your energy is currency.
Spend it where there’s return, passion, purpose, creation, growth — not on complaints, gossip, or manufactured chaos.

3. Redirect the Conversation

When someone tries to stir the pot, steer it somewhere productive:
“Hey, instead of going down that rabbit hole, what are you working on this week?”

You’d be shocked how quickly llamas lose interest when you don’t feed them.

4. Stay Present

Drama lives in past grudges and future hypotheticals.
Presence lives right here.
Breathe. Notice. Slow down.
Be where your feet are.

5. Choose Peace Over Participation

You can’t control who creates drama, but you can choose not to be cast in their show.
Peace is a practice.
Choose it, even when chaos is calling your name like a bad radio ad.

🧡 Your Life Is Better Without a Herd

Drama wants to pull you in.
Chaos wants your attention.
People will try to recruit you into their storms because misery loves an audience.

But your life becomes exceptionally beautiful when you stop being available for nonsense.

So, steady as she goes.
Stay on your path.
Let the llamas roam without you.

The view is better from here — trust me.

Images Used In This Edition

Somewhere along the drive from Arizona into Utah, a bit off the road, a car sat, the sun creating a perfect patina of rust and paint, echoing the background of magic.

A farm along the northern PCH, this truck sat, deep in grass, probably a home to many critters. I obviously have a thing for old vehicles showing their past but holding onto their stories.

This guy here, a typewriter found in piles of “stuff”, that was left. I was fascinated by it though, an item that generations now would find so old, so forgotten. These were still a thing when I was young. Anyway, I carried it with me, making it the subject of a photo shoot.

Until Next Time…

If this week’s wander through the pasture of life (and llamas) gave you a laugh, a nudge, or a moment of “yup, I needed that,” feel free to share it with someone who might need it too.

Spread the peace. Spread the wisdom. Or just spread the llamas — your choice.

Wishing you calm days, steady footing, and zero unnecessary plot twists.
Until next time, friends — stay kind, stay grounded, and keep writing a page worth reading.

— Tim

If you’re still reading, reply to this email or send me an email to

( theadventuretab@gmail.com ) with your name and address and you’ll get a

special something.

No, not the kind with badges and binoculars.The kind that guards your peace, your time, and your sanity.Too many of us walk around with our emotional borders wide open, everyone’s energy, opinions, and needs flooding in without so much as a “passport, please.” We say yes when we mean no, we explain ourselves like we’re on trial, and then we wonder why we feel drained before Monday even starts. So today, you’ll find practical steps for setting boundaries that feel strong but kind, a journal thought to help you practice them, and maybe a few reminders that protecting your peace isn’t rude, it’s necessary.Because when you get good at border patrol, something beautiful happens. You stop managing everyone else’s comfort, and start honoring your own.Stay kind, stay grounded, and keep building the version of you that doesn’t need to be liked to be loved.Let's dive in!

They Don’t Have To Like You

THE DAY YOU BECOME OKAY WITH NOT BEING LIKED IS THE DAY YOU BECOME THE REAL YOU

Let’s be honest — most of us spend a good chunk of life trying to fit into molds that were never meant for us. We smooth out our edges, quiet our opinions, and say “sure, no problem” when everything in us is screaming actually, that’s a huge problem.

But something shifts when you stop chasing approval. The air gets lighter. You breathe easier. You start saying no without guilt, and yes without hesitation. That’s when the real you finally steps out from behind the curtain — unfiltered, unedited, unapologetically human.

Here’s the truth: not everyone’s going to like you. And that’s okay — they’re not supposed to. You’re not a pizza. (Even pizza doesn’t please everyone — someone always says it needs more cheese.)

So this week, try letting go of one small thing you’ve been doing just to be liked. It could be saying “yes” when you want to rest. It could be holding back your opinion in a conversation. Or maybe it’s that extra layer of “nice” that keeps you from being real.

Because the world doesn’t need another perfectly polite version of you.
It needs the honest, slightly messy, fully alive one.

This Week’s Journal Thought What would change if you stopped trying to be liked and started trying to be real? Write down one situation where you’ve been filtering yourself — and one way you can show up more authentically next time.

Its okay to protect yourself

Stop Explaining Your Boundaries

People who respect them will honor them. People who don’t, won’t.

At some point, “people-pleasing” got rebranded as “being kind.” But there’s nothing kind about abandoning yourself to make someone else comfortable.

Boundaries aren’t walls — they’re doors with locks. You decide who gets the key, when they can visit, and how long they can stay. The moment you stop feeling the need to explain your boundaries is the moment you realize they were never up for negotiation in the first place.

The truth? When you start setting healthy boundaries, some people will call you selfish. Others will call you cold. Let them. The ones who belong in your circle will simply nod and say, good for you.

So this week, try putting a little more strength behind your soft heart.

5 Ways to Set and Share Boundaries with Grace

1. Be clear, not cruel.
   You don’t need a paragraph of backstory. A simple “That doesn’t work for me” is complete and kind.

2. Practice saying “no” without a comma.
   Stop adding “...but maybe later” or “...if you really need me.” “No” is a full sentence, use it proudly.

3. Check your comfort level before you commit.
   When someone asks something of you, pause and notice how your body reacts. Tension is information. Listen to it.

4. Stay consistent.
   Every time you hold the line, you teach people how to treat you, and you remind yourself that your peace matters.

5. Don’t over-explain.
   Boundaries are facts, not debates. You don’t need to prove your reasoning. Respect doesn’t require justification.

About the images in this edition

Pre-Storm Roll In This day, Jax Beach in Florida. I walked for miles searching for and finding sharks teeth before a storm which was rapidly rolling. The shark teeth, small, black, and not easily found. Creating patience and slowing my mind, narrowing in on just one task.

To this day… This is one of my favorite images of all times. Weird, I know, nothing special about it. But make up your own story, or know the real one. Cony Island, 6am as the sun came up, I watched this man feed the eagles of the sea. A quick conversation later, this is what he has done every morning since his wife passed. The seagulls are his quiet and his moment “with his wife”

This One Time… I went out to LA. I did not like LA. I rented a car and drove 4 hours up the coast to a friends house ( I photographed their wedding a couple years earlier), they took me in for a couple days. But on the way up, driving the PCH, stopping and taking in what was there. My first, and probably last time I will ever drive the PCH.

The Wild Ponies Off the coast of Maryland and Virginia are the ponies. The Assateague Island ponies. Going one early March day (actually went for a couple days) and hanging with these creatures was some of the best days. The quiet, the peace, no other humans. Just me and the ponies… See more of these images here: https://www.artwithtab.com/post/assateague-wild-ponies

LISTEN TO THIS WEEKS MUSIC LINE UP BY CLICKING HERE

Lifting Others Up

Playlist · TABBURZ · 10 items

open.spotify.com/playlist/0IOSj4Mo2KNTwaRtZvE1Wb?si=6354c8c9803746d5

Until next time,

Keep Shining - Tim

Is Adventure Gone

Table of Contents

• What Do We Do

• Discover The Beauty Around You

I miss the world where love was louder than headlines, where art spilled onto pages and streets, and adventures weren’t a luxury, but a way of life.

Now, the air feels heavier.

Our rights tremble.

Worry whispers at every turn. I wish I could pretend it’s not happening, but pretending would be a lie.

So instead, I ask:

How do we keep creating?

How do we keep loving?

How do we keep chasing the horizon? -

We fight, yes,but we also paint.

We speak up, but we also hold hands.

We march, but we still wander into the unknown. -

Because joy is not an escape.

Joy is resistance. -

Deeper Dive Into This →

Feature Story

Discover The Beauty Around You With Our New Club

The 10-Minute Adventure Club (Yes, Your Street Counts)

If you haven’t picked it up yet, lately, more and more of my thoughts have been how the world around us feels like one long shout—headlines stacking up, politics playing tug-of-war, neighbors picking sides. It’s a lot, I know… But right alongside the noise is something stubbornly good: ordinary beauty. EVERYWHERE… It’s on the sidewalk, in the way morning light hits a window, in the hello from the person walking their dog who insists it’s “really the dog walking me.”

Adventure doesn’t have to mean plane tickets or summit photos, though I do love me a good summit or two. Adventure can also be a slow lap around the block with your senses turned up. Beauty and adventure can come down to the size of a dandelion growing through a crack in the curb. I mean, talk about strength right, this little seed found the smallest piece of earth and said “I will grow here and create beauty and color and magic.” And if a seed floating through the air can do that, imagine what YOU have the ability to do?!?!?

This Week’s Tiny Adventure Plan

Try this any day you need a reset:

1. Pick a 10-minute loop. Walk slower than you think you should.

2. Choose a theme, only circles, only shadows, or only the color green—and see how many you can spot.

3. Do a 5-4-3-2-1 “awe scan.” Name 5 things you see, 4 you hear, 3 you feel, 2 you smell, 1 you taste. Linger on the surprising ones.

4. Take one photo. Just one. Title it with a verb + feeling: Leaning, quietly.

5. Write a one-line note when you get home: “Beauty found: sunlight jittering on a mailbox at 7:12am.”

Neighborhood Beauty Scavenger Hunt

Add Some Fun Into The Next Walk, Spot any three (bonus points for all):

• A color you don’t have a name for

• A shadow that looks like a map

• Something repaired instead of replaced

• A sound that makes you pause (wind in leaves, sneakers on gravel)

• Evidence of kindness (a lifted trash bin lid, chalk hearts, painted rocks etc.)

• A plant thriving where it “shouldn’t”, sort of like that dandelion…

• Texture that begs to be described (broken, peel, ripple, grain, patina)

Why This Matters (Especially Now)

When the world feels divided, attention is an act of repair. Noticing the small good doesn’t ignore the hard things; it equips us to face them with a more open heart. Slowing down calms the nervous system, softens our edges, and reminds us we belong to a place and to each other, not one side or the other, but as a whole. Together.

Share the Adventure

Hit reply with your one-line beauty note or your single photo title. If you’re posting, use #10MinuteAdventure so we can find each other’s moments. Consider starting a “beauty jar” at home: one slip of paper per day with a tiny scene you loved. Read a handful on the tough days.

Simplicity in Closing

If the headlines feel loud, take your shoes for a quiet meeting with the sidewalk. Look for circles. Or shadows. Or green. Let ten minutes be enough, and watch how often it is.

Find your light again, it’s out there, waiting, one small adventure at a time.

Until next time,

Quiet living. Loud adventures.