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Not a typical vacation blog post. I won't share what I did, where to go and what to do in Bermuda, the only advice I'll ever give anyone is: bring good sandals and sun screen, buy a bus pass and remember that pink posts are for Hamilton and blue are for St. George. This island is special and you'll need to discover that for yourself. Rather, I'll share my thoughts written over a coffee and some cheesecake reflecting on my time there on one of my last days.

Bermuda, a place where time stands still. Not in a traditionalist sense, everything here is modern and forward. All the amenities of home. The food is fantastic and the cocktails are on point. Time stands still here is more about getting lost in the moment. Taking time to enjoy - everyone else calls it island time, I refer to is as time standing still. I have spent two weeks here and it's been the fastest and slowest vacation I have ever had. Where I felt like I haven't done anything but my camera tells me a different story. I get lost here, I get lost in time.

It kind of became one of the running jokes of the trip - time is a construct of man....but really, it is. This trip, we only let the sun dictate our days. When it got dark enough for the moon to guide our path and our bodies telling us to sleep, we did - spending a few nights in defiance to keep the laughter going. During the day, we committed to doing only things that brought us joy. Donning our adventure sandals and letting our feet lead the way, spending time in the ocean water that's so clear you can see everything below you as if you were standing on glass, or hanging by a pool to read a book and order cocktails.

There isn't one defining moment of this trip, the days melt together to create my perfect picture of Bermuda and time spent with a life long friend. We each came into this trip with our own worries, having never spent so much time together in such a small space - both the island and the house. Worries drifting away as each day passed, at the end having never existed. I left the island knowing that rather than the time spent together tearing us apart, it brought us closer together.

The only question left is how do I bring this home? It's not like it's the sand that comes in a bottle. Or a picture taken with a camera, nor a ticket that sits on a self. All could be reminders, but how do I bring home an ability to make time stand still? The new idealism of times is a construct? How does one not get sucked back into the hustle and bustle of this rush lifestyle and create an environment of melting moments? Forever remaining present in the current moment while still living in the past and already in the future. It all sounds like it is rather exhausting, but it's quite the opposite. The ability to just breathe and choosing only joy, rather than choosing things out of guilt or shame or anxiety. Releasing expectations of what ought to be and just be.

I feel this this problem won't be solved by the end of my coffee - it's almost done. The rest of my day will be dedicated to shopping. I promised to bring back some good snacks. For now, it'll be left as a practice to create - these melting moments, continue to commit to only things that bring me joy. Take pause to enjoy another slice of cheesecake for breakfast and watch the world pass by as my coffee gets cold with purpose.


A few of my favourite photos from the trip.



Hi, thanks for stopping by!

I think one of the greatest gifts we can give each other in the world is authenticity and vulnerability.  Something I avoided for a long time. 


So as one of my favourite people in the world, Glennon Doyle, once wrote, "be messy and complicated and not afraid to show up anyway."


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