Life’s been moving too fast, yet dragging all at once. In the chaos of “figuring it out,” I realized what I needed wasn’t more plans—but more presence. So we escaped to the mountains. Fishing poles, paddle boards, and mountain air reminded me what it feels like to really smile again.

Life’s Been Moving Fast (and Weirdly Slow)

Isn’t it strange how life can feel like it’s flying by, but at the same time dragging its feet? That’s exactly where I’ve been lately—stuck in the middle of fast-forward and slow motion.

It’s like every day is full of this pressure to figure things out. Figure out my career. Figure out my purpose. Figure out family stuff. Figure out the grief of losing my dad. I’ve been caught in this cycle where I keep telling myself that once I figure it all out, I’ll be okay.

But somewhere between all the lists and internal pep talks, I forgot to live in the moments I already had.

And that’s when I realized—I wasn’t smiling anymore.

The Mountains Always Know What to Do

My husband Jacob and I decided it was time for a reset. We needed to get away. Not in the “get away for a night and answer emails anyway” way. I mean truly step outside of the usual rhythm and reconnect with what makes us feel like ourselves again.

So we went to one of our favorite places tucked into the Colorado mountains. This time, instead of camping, we treated ourselves to an Airbnb. As much as I love sleeping in a tent with the smell of campfire in my hair, I was in desperate need of comfort. Something warm, peaceful, and easy.

And let me tell you, it was the best decision we could have made.

Relearning What it Feels Like to Be Present

Our trip had no real plan beyond:

• Fish until dark
• Eat well
• Rest deeply
• And do things that make us feel alive

We went fishing together, the kind of quiet, slow fishing that gives you time to just be without needing to talk too much. The sun dipped below the horizon as we cast our lines, and I remember thinking, I can breathe here.

“Just one more cast.”

We paddle boarded on a calm, glassy lake. It was my first time ever. I was nervous, but also excited—and after a few wobbly moments and an accidental splash, I found my rhythm. I loved it. I can’t wait to go again.

There was also a free concert, totally unplanned, that we stumbled upon in a little mountain town. We danced barefoot in the grass. We went to the hot springs and let the warmth soak into our bones.

It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t Instagram-perfect. But it was real.

And most importantly—it was happy.

The Smile I Didn’t Know I’d Lost

There were so many little moments I caught myself just smiling—genuinely smiling—not for a photo, not for anyone else, just because I felt content.

It hit me hard when Jacob looked over at me while we were sitting outside watching the stars and said,

“You look really happy.”

That’s when it sunk in. I hadn’t looked or felt happy in a long time. Not in the deep, warm, soul-filled way that bubbles up when you aren’t trying.

Between grief and constant internal pressure, it had been a long while since I just existed without expectations.

And it turns out, I needed the mountains to remind me how.

Why “Figuring It Out” Isn’t Always the Answer

So often we chase this imaginary finish line where we’ll finally “have it all figured out.” But I’m starting to believe that’s not the point.

Maybe life isn’t about figuring everything out.

Maybe it’s about feeling it out—experiencing the seasons as they come, even the hard ones.

Grief taught me that. My dad passing has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. And I know I’m still in it, still navigating the waves. But in the mountains, I didn’t feel the need to have all the answers. I felt peace in simply being.

The Kind of Nature You Don’t Just See—You Feel

That trip reminded me why I started In Need of Nature in the first place. It’s not just about pretty views or hikes or mountain towns—it’s about what nature does to your insides.

It slows you down. It opens you up. It fills the cracks with sunlight and space to heal.

Nature doesn’t rush you. It doesn’t expect anything from you. It just offers itself, over and over, with every sunset, every breeze, every quiet forest.

And Then Came Milo

As if the universe knew our hearts were softening and opening back up, we met a tiny new addition on the way home.

A 2.2-pound ball of fluff. Our newest family member. A kitten named Milo.

We didn’t exactly plan on coming home with a kitten, but just like everything else that weekend—it felt right. He curled up on Jacob’s lap like he’d been ours forever.

In a weird, beautiful way, Milo has felt like this gentle little symbol of new beginnings. He’s feisty and sweet and chaotic and tiny—and he reminds me every day to stay present, because moments pass so quickly. (Also because he meows for food at 4 a.m., but that’s a different story.)

The Importance of Prioritizing Your In Need of Nature Time

If you’re reading this and realizing you haven’t smiled in a while, or that you’ve been stuck in the same “figure it out” loop—I hope this inspires you to create space for your own version of In Need of Nature time.

Maybe it’s not a trip to the mountains. Maybe it’s a long walk. A solo morning coffee on your porch. A weekend with your phone turned off. Whatever reconnects you with yourself—do that.

Let it be imperfect. Let it be yours.

A Few Things I’m Reminding Myself Now:

You don’t have to earn rest. Healing doesn’t always look dramatic—it can look like laughing at dinner and petting a kitten. Slowing down isn’t wasting time. You don’t have to figure it all out today. Sometimes the best medicine is fresh air, a fishing pole, and a paddle board.

What’s Next

I’m not saying I’ve got everything sorted out now. That trip didn’t give me a life roadmap or solve all my problems. But it gave me something more important—perspective.

It reminded me that joy still exists, even in grief. That peace is still possible, even in uncertainty. And that being in nature isn’t just something I love—it’s something I need.

So here’s to making more time for it. Here’s to choosing presence over pressure. And here’s to letting ourselves smile again—even if it takes fishing until dark and a hot spring soak to get there.

Have you had a moment like this recently?

Drop a comment or send a message—I’d love to hear about your In Need of Nature time. Or if you haven’t had one in a while, maybe this is your sign to plan it. Treat yourself. Let nature hold you for a while.