Welcome to Wayfinder — my midweek dispatch from the part of me that wanders off emotionally and sends back cryptic little postcards. It’s part compass, part breadcrumb trail, part honest conversation with myself that I decided to have in public. If you’re navigating something — a season of change, a quiet restlessness, or just the general chaos of being a human person — pull up a chair. You’re in the right place.
By the time you read this, I will have successfully completed what can only be described as a two-week whirlwind tour of existing at full volume — and I am home, slightly sunburned in places that raise questions, deeply rested in theory, and absolutely not ready to be a functional adult again.
The vacation was, in a word: everything. In more words: chaotically strategic, beautifully gay, disorienting in the best way, and the kind of trip that puts signposts everywhere you look — if you’re paying attention between the cocktails and the wonder.
And I was paying attention. Mostly. There was a point where I was decidedly not paying attention to anything except a view that made my chest do that thing where it just… opens. You know the feeling. The one where you forget, for a merciful moment, every email you haven’t answered, every post you haven’t written, and even what day it is.
Speaking of which — hi. I missed you. I also very much did not miss my daily have to work work work rituals.
Here’s where the Wayfinder honest truth lands today: I came back from this trip with a full heart, tired feet, and the distinct feeling that my nervous system filed for a two-week extension while I was somewhere floating in the Atlantic. It’s still out there. Floating. Wearing designer sun shades; drinking gin and whatever. I’ll get back to you, it keeps saying. I’m still on vacation.
So consider this your breadcrumb for the week: sometimes the most important directional signal isn’t pointing forward. Sometimes the signpost just says sit down, drink some water (I mean gin does look like water), and give yourself a minute.
Which is exactly what I’m doing. Regular posts resume soon — Wayfinder, Mugwump Ramblings, Thrive, Sexplorer, all of it — once I’ve fully unpacked, done four loads of laundry, and had at least one long conversation with Eli the Zombie-Killing Chihuahua about what I missed.
He actually missed me. I can tell because he hasn’t tried to gnaw off a finger or toe since we got home.
More soon. I promise I have so.many.stories. 😏
— Randy
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