Experimenting (or, F*** Around and Find Out)

 Alt Text: A jagged coast of lava rock cliffs drops into the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Kona, Hawai'i.

I didn’t know it while I was in it, but these last two months have been a real-life experiment in how messy, disorienting, and deeply human it can be to try to chase alignment in real time.

 

This one is long. If you’re not here for that, here’s the TL;DR: I spent months f***ing around and finding out, and learned that liberation lives in choosing, unchoosing, and choosing again.

 

I left Belize on September 16th. For eight and a half weeks, I was in transit, with five separate week+ stays in five separate cities. I unpacked my bag fully once, and that was purely to repack it. 

 

In July, when I first felt the pull to visit Hawai’i, I planned to stay in Kaua’i, and I kept my plans very loose to allow myself to see what felt right. I learned about the island population, the areas, and tried to feel my way into the decision the same way I have with other recent decisions. I identified the area I wanted to be in, and a list of variables I hoped could all be included in that decision (walkable, yoga studio, coffee shop, reasonable price, etc.). 

 

But once I started traveling in September, the clarity I thought I’d find stayed just out of reach.

 

On November 12th, the day before I was supposed to fly to Kaua’i, I cancelled my flight. Six weeks of reaching out about housing had yielded nothing, and two times I was almost scammed. I was sitting in LA with a one-way onward ticket, and no internal “yes.” 

 

So, I spiraled. I checked flights to Baja Mexico, Costa Rica, Tulum, Belize, prices for a Southwest US road trip… and SO MANY MORE. I cried, froze, and finally booked a flight to the Big Island.

 

Flights back to the midwest at this point were more expensive than continuing on, and housing options were far more affordable and available on the Big Island than Kaua’i. More than anything, I was exhausted. I needed at least a week alone to reset.

 

I arrived on the island, and let me tell you, it’s gorgeous. The plants are huge, the lava rocks are fascinating, the topography is ever-changing, and the water is so fierce.

 

I spent a week sleeping and walking and literally staring at waves, and, at the same time, I felt quickly that it wasn’t in alignment with my values to stay. From the initial pull toward Hawai’i, I had this conflict. Hawai’i is a beautiful place, and the US is firmly occupying it. It’s a beautiful place, and deserves to continue to be a beautiful place, which will require it to be cared for by the people who know how to do that well, and less tourism/mainlanders relocating. 

 

This friction between what had felt like a true pull, my knowing that it did not align with my personal values, and the reality that it simply wasn’t working, was an opportunity to pause and notice and get curious. I was so exhausted, though, that I pushed right past.

 

I also knew my internal resources were not replenished enough to make an embodied decision, something I’ve committed to over the last two years. A few days ago, I texted a close friend and asked for support. I said out loud that I wanted to leave, and I felt a lightness in my body that I now know, after a year plus of practice, signals a true “yes.” 

 

So, in the next few days, I’ll find my way back to the midwest.

 

All of this is simply to say: growth is painful, conflicting, messy, emotional, and somehow, even in the middle of the whole mess, still so fully worth it. 

 

Coming back into our bodies after disconnection, burnout, or long-term survival mode isn’t a clean process. It takes experimenting to figure out what an embodied “yes” and “no” feel like for each of us.  I could sit here and say “I made a series of significant and costly (energetic, alignment, financial) mistakes.” But, instead, I am reminding myself that it is deeply human to f*** around and find out. Sometimes, the most embodied thing we can do is make a whole string of choices that teach us exactly what we don’t want for ourselves. Getting out of a choice that feels like a “no” is a valuable skill to practice.

 

Today, returning to Kansas for the holidays to reconnect with people I love, and choosing to do so remembering to build in stillness and support, feels like a “yes” in a way it definitely did not three weeks ago. And I am so grateful for the experiment that helped me arrive here.

 

When you land in one of these deeply human seasons of uncertainty, I hope you can name the experiment you’re in and extend gentleness toward the part of you learning as you go.

 

I’m filled with gratitude to be here with you, and for you coming along on my own messy journey.

 

End of 2026 Letter

This month I’m sharing one of my favorite traditions for the quiet space at the end of the year. It’s an exercise from one of my favorite coaches, Elena Aguilar. In the stillness of late December, I encourage you to sit down and write a letter to yourself from December 2026. Share everything you experienced in 2026 as if it has already happened and in as much detail as possible, like a personal year-in-review.

 

This might include changes implemented, experiences enjoyed, goals met, or it may be a description of moments leaning into an emotion you want to cultivate more of this year. If you want to go even deeper, describe the process and the steps of how you arrived at each of these moments. 

 

For example, if you want to feel more internally connected in 2026, describe both how it feels at the end of the year to be deeply connected, and what it looked like day by day (journaling, meditation, reflection practices, etc.). This letter is for your eyes only, so be as honest as possible about your authentic desires for the year ahead. 

 

When you’re finished, seal the letter and tuck it somewhere safe. I like to set a calendar reminder in my phone with the location of the letter (tip from a wise friend!) so that future me knows when and where to return to it, and also has a gentle cue to write the next one.

 

If you wrote a letter last year at this time, this is a great time to go look for it!

 

I hope this practice offers you some grounding as you pause in the space between one year closing and the next beginning. Whatever this season holds for you, I hope you can find a small moment of quiet to end the year being held by yourself.

 

If you’re looking for support as you experiment with the season you’re in, I’d be honored to walk with you in the messy middle, and support you as you feel into your next steps.  You’re welcome to book a free 30-minute discovery call to explore how coaching could support you on your journey. 

 

With so much love,  

 

Hannah Podschun 

 

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