What do you do when the life you’ve built stops feeling like yours?
Not in a dramatic, overnight way. In a slow, subtle, almost undetectable way.
Maybe you’ve checked all the boxes. Perhaps you’ve even grown a lot along the way. But something underneath starts whispering: This isn’t it anymore.
That question—what now?—has been a companion of mine for years.
The First Major Shift: Japan
My first major foray into a life-altering shift came with a move to Japan.
Initially, I thought I was pretty open-minded. But I still had a lot of black-and-white thinking running beneath the surface—about how things should be done and what is considered logical, efficient, and appropriate.
Japan blew that up.
In some areas, the cultural rigidity made my head spin. In others, it was like trying to grab mist—nuance layered over nuance.
In the beginning, I hated it. And I loved it. It tore me up. And it opened me up.
A Culture That Broke Me Open
Over time, what felt like constant confusion started to feel like expansion.
I began to see things I’d missed for years, especially after learning the language. I started to catch what wasn’t said. The energy around words. The rhythm beneath the structure.
It couldn’t have been more different from the direct, sometimes confrontational communication style I grew up with in New Jersey. Here, when upset, you say it: loud, clear, and assertively.
There was something disorienting about Japan’s approach, but something elegant too—less emotional clutter.
What cracked open in Japan wasn’t just cultural—it was spiritual.
I’d studied yoga before I arrived, but it was in Japan that I discovered something I hadn’t yet understood: a way of living where nothing was separate from the sacred.
Making tea.
Tying an obi sash.
Preparing a meal.
Everything was done with care. With reverence. With presence. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud. But it was Yoga, long before I had language for it.
One of my teachers often says, “If your yoga practice doesn’t change your life, it isn’t Yoga.”
And for Japan, I’d revise that to say: If making tea doesn’t change your life, you’re missing the point – big time!
Maybe you’ve had a moment like this, where a new environment doesn’t just challenge your habits, but your worldview. Where the shift isn’t loud, but it’s unmistakable.
Have you ever stepped into something different—not just new, but foreign—and found it changed you in ways you couldn’t fully explain?
The Return: Re-Entry Shock and Clarity
When I returned to the U.S. after spending years in Japan, I felt like a foreigner all over again.
Conversations felt shallow. People were arguing about things that didn’t seem to matter.
I’d spent years in a culture where emotional restraint was valued, and suddenly I was back in a place where everyone seemed to have something to prove. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere.
And maybe that was the gift. Because I stopped chasing belonging. I started following what felt real.
That was the real re-entry shock. Not just culture—it was a matter of consciousness.
Sometimes, returning home reveals just how much we’ve changed.
You start noticing the habits you once participated in unconsciously—social norms, conversations, expectations—that no longer make sense. They just don’t fit anymore.
COVID sharpened all of that. Like many people, I started questioning what I was holding onto—and why.
Letting Go—Again
When I left Japan, I didn’t just pack light—I sold or gave away 95% of what I owned. I walked away from a life I’d built over 20 years. Work, friendships, language, and daily rhythms.
My life there was complicated. At times, the stress was overwhelming—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Leaving wasn’t easy, but it felt necessary. Like a lifeline.
And in the process, I rediscovered something I hadn’t even realized I’d lost: the relief of living simply.
I carried that simplicity back with me. But over time, it started to fade.
Without even noticing, I found myself accumulating again. Things. Obligations. Noise.
I’d slowly slipped back into a way of living I thought I was done with.
The slow creep of re-domestication.
Then COVID hit. And for me, it wasn’t just a collective wake-up—it was personal. A sharp reminder of the freedom I’d once touched.
Not theoretical freedom—real-deal freedom. The kind that comes from owning almost nothing, moving lightly, and staying close to what matters.
Eventually, I made the decision to return to basics. Back to simplicity.
It was the same choice I’d made after leaving Japan—one that changed my life then, and one I knew I needed to make again.
Right about then, I became intrigued with the concept of being a digital nomad.
Since I work virtually, it was a real possibility. But it also meant letting go of almost everything—again. Selling or giving away what no longer felt essential, and keeping only what would fit in my car.
Have you ever made real, positive changes in your life, only to slip back into old patterns over time?
What woke you up again?
And when you felt that pull, what did you choose?
The Digital Nomad Life (Sort Of)
My first move was to Sedona—a place I had dreamed of living for years. But it didn’t take long to realize that for me, Sedona is a place to visit, not to live.
That was a humbling moment.
Maybe you’ve had a version of that too: finally reaching the thing you thought would be it, only to discover it wasn’t what you imagined.
It’s disorienting. And clarifying.
The Sedona Lesson
That first leg of the journey taught me a lot. And as I pack up to move again, I’m more clear-eyed about what I actually need in my environment. What supports me. What drains me. What matters.
All of this Is Really Just an Experiment
This isn’t a freewheeling road trip.
It’s an experiment—a different way to live.
I don’t know how it’ll turn out. Maybe I’ll find the right place and stay. Perhaps I’ll keep going.
But this way of living—minimally, intentionally—has given me the space to focus on what matters most.
- My work.
- My practice.
- And the deeper questions that often go unanswered when life is too full.
It’s helped me examine the change process itself—what it actually takes to navigate fear, conditioning, and uncertainty without shutting down or trying to “solve” them.
And it’s given me time to dive deep into practices that are reshaping how I live—and how I work with others.
Questions Worth Sitting With:
So I’ll leave you with a few questions to ponder:
• What parts of your life feel like they no longer fit—even if they once did?
• Have you ever found yourself accumulating things—habits, roles, identities—that subtly pull you off course?
• What would more simplicity make possible—not as an aesthetic, but as a way of being?
• What are you ready to let go of, not out of rebellion, but out of alignment?
The Practice That Holds It All
When these kinds of questions start to show up, it helps to have a practice that can hold them.
For me, that practice is spiritual, but not abstract. It lives in the body. Subtle energy work. Kundalini. Movement. Rest.
But the one practice I return to daily—without fail—is Yoga Nidra.
Yoga Nidra is where I plant the seed.
It’s the ritual that keeps this intention alive:
To live simply.
To live clearly.
To keep listening.
Not because I have the answers—But because I’ve committed to staying close to what’s real.
If this post resonates—
if you’re navigating change, craving simplicity, or ready to live more intentionally—start with the practice that keeps you grounded no matter where you are
Download a free full-length Yoga Nidra meditation—designed to help you release mental noise, reconnect with what matters, and plant the seed of actual change.
It’s not just rest. It’s realignment.
Please feel free to comment below. I read all comments and would love to hear your opinions, reflections, stories, and questions.
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