“I have a lot of proof that the world is conspiring to make me happy”

Matthew McConoughey, Greenlights

The teardrops were pouring out, and the forecast didn’t call for rain.

Sitting in the runway at Denpasar airport in Bali preparing to take off for the next adventure, this was the first moment it felt real. The plane kicked into gear, picked up speed and I was physically and emotionally flung back into my seat as all of the feelings overtook me at once.

I had spent the last forty days with nine of my favorite people I had only met a few months prior in Hawaii at a co-living/co-working facility called Surfbreak. We had rented out a massive villa in the heart of Bali with a full size swimming pool, a view of the rice fields and a backdrop of the sunset we could admire any night from our rooftop. We had just gone on trips to two neighboring islands, hiked a volcano that emits blue fire, rode motorbikes through the winding mountain roads, dropped about a grand on a hell of a night at the biggest beach club in Canggu and threw the most memorable Halloween party hosting all of my favorite people I met during my time living in Bali.

I was having Deja vu. This feeling was reminiscent of the Uber ride to the airport in Hawaii where I left all of these special relationships behind and the best memories flooded my mind and heart.

Living as a nomad, you quickly create intense connections with people who have the same ideals in life as you. People who live as if we’re not promised tomorrow, are present in every moment, work hard to create something beautiful and who appreciate everything in this world for the meaning it posseses within it.

The law of attraction pulls you to these people that are like you. It’s magnetic. Once you’re connected, there’s no letting go of this special bond.

Literally from the very moment the wheels came off the ground and I entered Balinese air space, I found myself emotional with gratitude for the past, embracing this present moment, and curious what the future has in store.

“I’m not ‘not down’”

Since this adventure began in October 2021, I have always traveled alone. The only difference now is that, as you live a life of spontaneity and meet like-minded people everywhere you go, you oftentimes find yourself with the same people on the other side of the world.

To that point, what started as a scheduled solo trip to Vietnam turned into a group adventure. Ava and Jojo, my friends from Hawaii who joined the massive reunion of the Surfbreak crew at the villa in Bali, booked accompanying flights to join me. With no return flights planned.

When you put these two in the same room as me, crazy things happen. We are always down for any adventure, as ridiculous as it may sound, and we’re not to be trusted traveling together under any circumstances.

So 3 goofballs walk into an airport in Indonesia ready to fly into Vietnam.

This already starts off as a bad joke.

We show up to the ticket counter and run into a little problem. Apparently we needed a visa to enter Vietnam, and we couldn’t leave Indonesia until we went through the process of obtaining one.

Whoops!

So here we are sitting on the floor of the airport, luggage by our sides, visiting various Vietnamese websites to expedite a visa to enter the country. In a language we can’t understand. One hour before our flight is scheduled to depart.

Needless to say, this is just how we do things.

What we thought was our last day in Bali ended up becoming our second to last, as we had to book a hotel room, wait twelve hours for our visa, wake up the next day and try it again.

Thankfully, it worked. These things always do.

I want candy

After twenty-four hours of unplanned delays, we touched down in Ho Chi Minh, the capital city of Vietnam. The three of us made our way through customs and called a taxi. Of course our taxi driver spoke zero English, but he looked to me in the front seat and asked if I liked house music.

With a smile on my face, I nodded in confirmation and gave a thumbs up. That was my way of responding in Vietnamese “Yes, please blast that shit, sir.”

He put on a jam in a language we didn’t speak, cranked the volume to the maximum, and the 4 of us threw up our hands and raged as if we had our own personal EDM music festival in a Vietnamese taxi.

We had arrived, and this was only the beginning.

That very first night I had to find a place to setup my computer in order to work my remote job from 9pm to 5am. This had become routine in my travels. Doing whatever is necessary to get the job done and keep my employer in the Eastern Time Zone satisfied.

You know, responsibilities.

Before entering the coffee shop for a night of work, Ava and I entered a nearby corner restaurant. This was clearly a local hotspot, and nobody spoke a lick of English. So we found ourselves pointing at items on the menu, looking for nods of affirmation from our server that it was delicious and ordering everything without a clue of the contents of these food items. We learned to use our hands and heads to communicate the best we can and just accept whatever came to us.

After we essentially ordered the whole menu and ate everything in front of us, we paid the $8 for a two-person dinner and walked next door to the coffee shop in preparation for work feeling overly-satisfied from our first Vietnamese food experience.

In the heart of a university town, the cafe was bustling with people working, studying or passionately playing League of Legends on the top floor. Every seat was taken except a little corner table where we were able to setup our things, order a Taro latte and make some international phone calls.

As we were leaving around 4am, I spotted a cute Vietnamese woman sitting on the patio outdoors. I looked at her and smiled. She smiled back and winked at me.

I cannot make up what happened next.

This woman walked up to me, said “You’re cute”, and asked me if I would like some coconut candy.

This is how true romance will always be seen through my eyes.

For Your Applause

There are so many moments in a lifetime where you find yourself feeling “off”. It doesn’t even matter that you’re traveling the world, living a life of adventure and following your dreams.

We all experience this feeling regardless of the circumstances.

In those moments, it’s imperative to observe your thoughts and feelings in order to understand where you have to take a certain action to permanently resolve whatever is bothering you.

Leaving Bali still felt fresh, and the memories of the people closest to me were flooding my mind. My best friends from Bali, the Surfbreak community from Hawaii, the people I met driving across the United States as I was Chasing Waterfalls, and most importantly, my friends and family from back home.

One of my most cherished relationships is with my mother, who left this world for a better one in October of 2010. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in the summer of 2008 when I was a junior in high school, and she passed away my sophomore year in college.

What followed afterwards were years of trials and tribulations that I had to fight through in order to become the person I am today. I can’t count how many times people would tell me “Your mother would be so proud of you” and I thought to myself, “Actually, she’s probably rolling around in her grave right now.”

I simply survived my 20’s, but I’m actually living my 30’s.

Finally, mom would be proud.

My mother and I had such a special relationship growing up, and it only continues to strengthen as I keep her memory alive wherever I go. I think back to the moments I was driving across the country alone in my 2012 Nissan Maxima. The only thing that’s different in my mind is that, in the picture I remember, she’s sitting in the passenger’s seat next to me.

I’ve never truly been alone.

As Ava, Jojo and I skipped around the streets of downtown Ho Chi Min, we stumbled into a book store. Book stores tend to call me, and when they do, I answer.

A short little book caught my eye that was called “Thank you mum for everything.”

Losing your mother, even if twelve years have passed, wakes you up in ways that are difficult to explain. I will say, however, that it leaves you with a spirit that points you in certain directions when you need it most. A guardian angel, if you will.

My guardian angel wanted me to see this.

Everything seemed to slow down as I walked across the bookstore over to the stand calling my name where I picked up the small book, and almost as if I was hypnotized by something out of this world, I proceeded to read every single page in that book.

It reminded me of the special bond I had with my mom.

As I was on a page titled “For your applause”, it read like this:

Everyone needs a mother
To cheer when things go right.
It’s good to have the applause
Of friends, family and colleagues –
But one looks above
Their heads, to make sure your
Mother is clapping!

I flashed back to my childhood where I saw my mom in the back row of my piano recitals, video camera in hand, filming me as my little fingers glided across the keys as a young boy. There were fifteen to twenty mini carpets stacked underneath my feet because they couldn’t reach the ground. I could picture my piano professor placing those little carpets underneath my feet as I sat down in preparation to begin playing.

After my piano piece would conclude, I would stand up, prepare to bow, and immediately look for my mom in the back row of the recital hall only to see her beaming sign of approval as she smiled and clapped earnestly for her son.

That’s when this moment brought goosebumps to my skin.

As my eyes scrolled across this very page and my mind took me to another place in time, I heard the soft piano keys over the coffee shop speakers playing Canon in D. A song that epitomizes my history of piano from the age of three, and one that holds a number of memories with my mother. It’s one that I played at a wedding for a close family friend, a number of other key performances, and one that my mother loved above many others.

The song played. on repeat, until I finished the book and walked away from that moment.

Only then did another song come on. When the moment passed.

I had chills.

I felt my mom there with me.

I was just talking to Ava about how it’s been awhile since I’ve felt my mom. And there she was. Making an appearance in the quietest of places where I had to slow down the clock in order to feel her presence.

As it turns out, Ava caught the moment on camera as if she knew exactly what was happening.

This moment here – this cannot be explained by anything the human mind is currently capable of understanding.

There was significant meaning behind this moment, and I knew I had to listen.

This was a sign.

When lightning strikes twice

It’s important to understand that in Vietnam, I was at a point in life where my business had been picking up, requiring more of my attention, and I was quickly approaching a point where my full time job would no longer be sustainable in addition to growing a business.

Oftentimes I”ll go to my Dad or my sister for advice, and this circumstance was no different. Although my mom isn’t around, the family that I have by my side has only strengthened through tragedy and time. We talk about life openly and hold space for each other when we need it most. This was definitely one of those times.

My dad’s suggestion was that I wait until Christmas time to make a decision on my career when we could all discuss it together.

My sister is typically a little bit more progressive with her advice. She’s the person I go to when I want to hear something along with the tagline, “YOLO!” – You only live once kid.

Still, she came to me with something like “I mean…I don’t know what Dad would think about that.”

Go figure!

Although I take their advice seriously, I was experiencing feelings that only intensified within my bones that I couldn’t ignore anymore. Only I was capable of understanding the magnitude of my present situation, and I continued to listen to everything the universe kept throwing in my face, begging for my attention…

…like mom’s messages to me.

The very same night of my experience at the book store, I ended up experiencing a huge uptick in my coaching business. It’s as if, by magic, the events of the day were indicators of the things to come and my purpose in life.

“I think I can actually do this”, I thought to myself.

The very next evening, I began writing again. I walked to a coffee shop and rediscovered the passion that brought me so much peace and allowed me to reflect on everything happening around me. At the coffee shop, I was reminded of a plant my mother used to love that we put in a vase with our pet Beta Fish. It’s called a Peace Lily. We’d make fun of her for pronouncing “peace” like the word “piss” and it became a huge family inside joke.

Mom. Was. Everywhere.

“Piss Lily’s” and all.

It was after dark, and I ended up being drawn into a group call while sitting at the coffee shop with a few friends of mine from Bali that I felt called to. These two women I spoke with are so full of love, drive and ambition. You want to be around them. They are entrepreneurs living in Bali and had previously experienced the position I was currently in within their own personal journeys. They are pivotal role models in my life and incredible friends, so this moment came with serendipitous timing.

One of the girls told me that she vividly remembers the time she was struggling with this same dilemma. She had to decide whether or not to close off her current career venture in order to pursue her true passion. I listened intently as she told a compelling story explaining how she made the decision to quit her job while sitting in her car waiting at a traffic light.

As I sat on the outdoor patio of this cafe in Ho Chi Min city hearing this narrative, I looked up to the bustling street to my right. As she continued, my eyes were magnetically drawn to the street light above the long line of motorbikes and cars waiting to go.

In that very moment as she concluded her story, the street light that blared red for the past couple minutes switched off.

Almost as if it had waited for the conclusion of this story.

Green light.