Month 4: April Intersections
Finding Your Intersections
After clearing the clutter, I sit with what is left = space, stillness, and knowing the intersections of me. I do not yet know the next step, but I do know this: the simplicity I created is now making space for reflection, and that is where the next version of me begins to take shape.
“Sometimes to survive, we must become more than we were programmed to be…”
— Roz from The Wild Robot
Confidence I Can Avoid Consuming This Month:
100%
With our land offer now out there, (a decision I may not have reached so clearly without doing the lesser consumption journey), I feel more aligned than ever after filling my space with things that truly matter. The only item I brought in this month was a gift, and that felt just right. Adding it to my Google sheet, of course. Everything I add to my belongings, a piece of a reflection of me, is in that sheet. It feels empowering to choose what you love, to give energy only to what reflects and supports you, and to know your space is filled with things that represent who you are becoming.
When a Seed Finally Sprouts
For those that know me well, you know I’ve been a prolific journal-er since middle school. So many Lisa Frank notebooks and gel pens fill my shelves, you’d never guess I’ve spent the last year simplifying my space, despite what this blog might suggest. They document everything from what I ate to my movie watching habits, or small thoughts I didn’t want to lose. There’s certainly no legacy in these books full of thoughts. They’re just for me, like little breadcrumbs that help process life as it happens. And honestly? When I’m gone, the only purpose I hope these journals serve is a big, beautiful bonfire to bring light and warmth to the people still around. A little celebration of what it means to pay attention to each moment.
A recent journal entry came from movie The Wild Robot.
“Sometimes to survive, we must become more than we were programmed to be.” It struck a nerve. So, just this once, I’m bringing one of my journal entries out into the light.
Over the last ten years, I’ve worked across industries and organizations, from public lands and nonprofits to cafés and startups. I’ve held roles with the Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management, and National Park Service. I’ve worked in tech. I’ve poured coffee and learned humility behind a counter. I’ve navigated change and chased opportunity. And through all of it, I’ve been shaped by the people I’ve met. Women like my best friend from high school showed me what it looks like to belong in the outdoors and represent in science. Women like my boss in Olympic National Park who drove for emotional leadership and a kindness first tone, and self aware of marginalized communities. Women in traditionally non-woman dominated spaces. People like them became foundational. And I went on to be one of those women, myself, in non-women led spaces. They lit the spark for professional drive.
But something even deeper began in 2018.
During a family gathering on the North Shore of Minnesota, a quiet dream was planted. My mother-in-law and I were falling in love with Duluth at the same time. We imagined a shared piece of land where all our skills, values, and stories could coexist. A collective space. A haven. A beginning.
That seed needed time to germinate. It was a dream outside our connected-to-capitalism selves.
My partner and I returned to San Francisco to chase the opportunities we’d worked hard for. We had no idea how to bring our dream jobs and our dream life together. But we were honest with ourselves and our friends about it. We wanted both. We didn’t know how. But we were going to try.
Then the pandemic shifted everything.
Suddenly, work looked different. Place mattered more. What we wanted became clearer. And by 2021, we found ourselves living in Duluth, ten years sooner than we expected.
The dream still wasn’t linear. We paused. We doubted. We tried other directions. I lost a job I loved. I applied for new ones. I accepted three roles and left all three. I was grieving the loss of a chapter that had ended too soon, and I was trying to find my way forward.
Through all that movement, a few things kept me honest. The practices in these blogs and the reminders of what has made me me, thus far. I was reminded that the intersections of everything that has impacted or inspired me are how I find my way home again. And this is how I realized why I’ve fallen in love with Duluth. The outdoors, the culture of people, the Midwestern roots, yet own subtle twist. The wild western tone in people who care about activism. It’s a place that is old and new. It’s a place that meets the intersections of me.
Tidying became one of these intersections. I became more than I was programmed to be here. Not just cleaning or organizing, but consciously creating space. Consciously choosing this place to call home. It gave me clarity and calm when everything else felt messy. It became something important in my life that hadn’t been me. In it, I had become a new person. I not only committed to 16 weeks of deep, intentional tidying. That process led to a major turning point. It gave me the mental space to think clearly. It made way for reflection. It allowed me to be one of the woman I admire, not in the professional space, but in the driver seat of my life. And it quietly led to the purchase of the land my family and I had been dreaming of for six years.
That land once was a seed. And after this hard physical worked turned mental reflection, it is ready to bloom.
This brings me to my next chapter.
This season, in this month of April and Lesser Consumption, has brought to life a seed that was planted many years ago. It’s time to be more grounded. To be here. And to bring all the layers of my experience into something I can touch and tend to.
You can follow the story of our land project at The Sandlotz Collective TikTok page (soon to be shared), where we’ll document the messy, beautiful, ongoing journey of building something together. Because our dream is about the intersections of people.
The seed has taken root. It is beginning to grow. And I am ready.
Lighten your space. Be free to find.
