I want to ask you something.

And I want you to feel the answer in your body, not just think it:

Have you found your home yet?

Not the address on your driver’s license. Not the place where your mail gets delivered.

I’m talking about the place—the feeling—where your whole system exhales and says: Yes. Here. This.

Your paradise.
Your recharge point.
The place where your dragon rests.

Home Isn’t Always a Fixed Point on a Map

Sometimes it’s a coastline you return to without understanding why.

Sometimes it’s a specific quality of light at dawn. A scent that stops you mid-step. A rhythm of life that feels like it was composed just for you.

Sometimes it’s a place you’ve known since childhood—a grandmother’s kitchen that still smells like safety, a forest trail your feet could walk blindfolded.

And sometimes?

Sometimes it’s a place you haven’t met yet. But you know it’s out there, calling.

The Part of You That Carries Fire

We all have a dragon inside us.

That part that holds the fire. The vision. The curiosity that refuses to be small. The restlessness that knows—knows—there’s more.

Dragons don’t recharge in confinement.

They can’t restore themselves in spaces that feel like cages, no matter how pretty the bars.

They need room to unfurl their wings.

They recharge in:

Wild landscapes that remind them of their own untamed strength.
Slow mornings that bring them back to their breath.
Corners of the world where they can fly without being told to behave, to dim, to be reasonable.

What If Your Paradise Isn’t What You Expected?

Maybe it’s a mountain trail where the air is so thin you remember what it means to be fully alive.

Maybe it’s a tucked-away café in a foreign city where no one knows your name and you can be anyone—or no one—for an afternoon.

Maybe it’s simpler than you thought. A spot by the window. A bench under a specific tree. The exact moment the sky turns gold.

Maybe it’s not a place at all.

Maybe it’s a feeling inside your own chest—that quiet hum that says I am home in myself.

Keep Following the Pull

Wherever it is for you, whatever form it takes—

May you keep following that pull.

The one that tugs at your ribs when you see certain images. The one that makes you stop scrolling and think: That. I need that.

May you trust the places that feel like expansion instead of contraction.

May you honor the landscapes—inner and outer—where you can breathe all the way down.

And when you finally find that spot where your dragon lands, where your whole being settles and sighs—

May you recognize it as home.

May you let yourself rest there. Recharge there. Remember who you are there.

Because your dragon needs this.
Your soul needs this.
You need this.

Ready to discover the places—and practices—that bring you back to yourself? Come recharge your soul in my happy places around the world. I’m sharing the landscapes, rituals, and slow secrets that restore what the world depletes.

👉 Start your journey here and find out what becomes possible when you finally give your dragon room to fly.