The Nico who traveled the world to party, get drunk, connect with women and find an elusive sense of meaning in the process.

I’d always been very good with words so I convinced myself that it was all about freedom, romance and exploration.

I thought of myself as a modern version of Don Juan and felt that there was a seductive poetry in those encounters..

short lived yes, but intense.

And in all truth, there was some of that..

Yet the BIGGER truth is that it was avoidance.

My life was void of direction, meaningful responsibility or virtue.

So the biggest, most accessible form of dopamine was found in the shape of sexual conquest..

And the most “responsibility-free” type of conquest was that of foreign lands..

After all if my days in a city were counted the question of “what are we?” or “Where is this going?” was just not on the table.

And this made for a few beautiful, passionate and heartfelt encounters..

But mostly drunken connections and lust-driven hookups.

I’d feel like The Man, drunk at night, as I earned the validation of random women..

And the next morning I’d felt empty once again..

and the chase would start all over again.

So as I get ready to board my flight I realize that the way I travel shifted these last 4 years…

Now there’s depth and spiritual significance.

The Nico that leaves is rarely the same that comes back.

Before I’d travel to run away from myself,

Now I do so to embrace deeper parts of myself.

To face my self.

To sit in solitude.

To fast.

To be in silence..

Way past what’s comfortable.

To turn all of my attention within until the pressure starts to bubble up all the undigested emotions, energies and patterns that I still carry.

So that I may cry, scream, sweat and release all that is no longer serving me.

So as I get ready to travel, I send love to that version of me consumed by pain and addiction.

If he only knew how beautiful life could get he’d shake his head in disbelief..

I used to shame him a lot.

Recently I started to honor him.

I got you my man.

For how could I love the fruits of a tree..

if I judge the roots that made them be.