Tokyo, sorted. South Korea, complete. Both countries and cultures were thoroughly enjoyed, aided by what seemed a perpetual red carpet being unrolled with every step taken. The communities took both myself and Kadri, my co-teacher and travel partner, warmly under their inviting wings.

16 workshops in three weeks. Checked in and out of 8 hotel rooms, four of which happened in as many days straight. 3 flights so far, with 18 hours of airtime logged. Luggage has been packed and repacked dutifully, only to be stowed with great care on multiple buses, trains, and taxis. Destinations have been reached, new journeys planned out as others came to a close. I’ve traded almost as many business cards as I have given away.

South Korea. Busan. Daejeon. Seoul. Incheon. Sang Norebang (karaoke). Ate sannakij (live octopus). Taught amazing workshops, took amazing photos, enjoyed magnificent meals, took epic walks. On my first Monday afternoon off, I visited 55 coffee shops in 4 hours for a lark. Reconnected with an old friend for the first time in 10 years, splitting 4 liters of mustachioed sake and eating two plates of tofu tempura. Found one piece of amazing street art. Drank 5 beers.

All of this happened… not necessarily in that order.

On the outside, calm in the face of overwhelming excitement. On the inside, awash in the flow of clarity and growth. Stepping outside of the comfort zone can be wild, crazy, and infinitely intriguing. I lived like this for three years straight once, a yoga nomad with a streak of wanderlove. The wings were strong. The roots became thirsty.

Satisfied upon finding purchase in the fertile soil of the Bay Area, I had grown so accustomed to grounding that I let my passport expire. If I have learned anything from this trip, the lesson has been twofold.

One– I miss my home, my tribe, familiar routine, grounded energy. While I am very good at embracing a nomadic lifestyle, enjoy the excitement of grasses greener, at being able to drop in to and help nurture other communities, I deeply value all of the hard work it takes to stay in one place and water my own damn lawn. It’s sincerely gratifying, and I feel sincerely grateful.

Two– No matter how much work I do, the job is never done. Spending these past few weeks in the bright light of trust have brought out some inner shadows that have come and gone over the years. Feelings of uncertainty, inadequacy in relationships, confusion about the steps I need to take along the various paths of my journey. In addition to grey hairs and an increased amount of dry cleaning, admitting theneed to continually better oneself is a hallmark of truly growing up. No matter how successful my efforts become, no matter how much abundance or gratitude blesses the path, I am committed to integrity with compassion and clarity

Translation: I feel very human, complete with doubts, fears, excitement, trust, and grace. It’s a great time to be alive.

I leave for Bali tomorrow. My good friend and trusted hairstylist, Steve Jester, will be meeting Kadri and I there. I’ve been asked to review a 5 star retreat center, which means I get three days in peaceful solitude. That’s pretty great. I’ll also be attending and writing for the Bali Spirit Fest as a featured blogger, so expect some interesting stories to come from that.

There is light, there is love, and there is now. I feel connected to all three.

In flight,

Daniel Scott