Shipwrecked.

Welcome, my friends, to Los Angeles.

The past few months have felt like being on a ship in increasingly stormy seas. The past month like being overtaken by a cyclone - frantically rushing to do all that can be done; knowing that ultimately, I was at the mercy of the wind and rain and walls of water.

A flight - just 12 hours - across the Pacific.

And now I find myself here, shipwrecked.

Scattered around me are the few things I'd hoped to keep. Behind me, in the foam and fray and far-off horizon are many more people, places, and things that I still love dearly. The sun is shining. The shadows tell me which way is North.

But as I look around, I see no familiar landmarks. Nothing to tell me, "this is where you are. This is where you are going."

My marriage and life in New Zealand were all-consuming, and I have no idea what to make of the vast tracts of time and space I'm left with. Not yet sure how to navigate an idea of autonomy that only has to include me.

I know, in time, that I'll figure all of this out. Rebuild as I've done so often in my constantly moving life.

But today - is not that day.

Today, I sit with the sand and the waves. Let them wash over the bruises of travel. Write this note, put in a bottle, throw it out into the sea.

See where it washes up.

I hope you've been well these past months, through life and all that's happened in the world.

Thank you so much for being a part of my journey, and letting me be a small part of yours.

-Steven

p.s. I don't have a best thing this week, but they'll be back, eventually. Hang in there. :)