Traveler's Notebook

What does drawing skeletons have to do with love? More than you think.

Hard to start journaling? Pick up a pencil. Not a pen. Not an app. A pencil. It’s the most forgiving tool you’ll ever hold. It lets you say the wrong thing first, then gently take it back. No shame. No permanence. Just the quiet invitation to try again.

A friend finished a three-month meditation retreat and told me about it. I’ve wanted to go for years but couldn’t. Now I’m meditating at home, struggling with noise, thoughts, and emotions I can’t calm. Jung said solitude is a fount of healing—I’m seeking that silence, at least inside my own mind. Two distant friends reached out unexpectedly and gave me refuge. So I’m returning to pen and paper, journaling again, writing my way back to stillness.

My job started simple: bring cool stationery products to Hong Kong and make sales. That’s what was on paper. To be honest, chasing numbers and running transactions never satisfied me. I wanted more than moving boxes from Point A to Point B.

Sometimes the most personal Traveler’s Notebook doesn’t come from a store—it starts with your own brush, a splash of paint, and a little nerve. You’re not just tattooing the cover; you’re giving it bold face paint that tells your story every time you pick it up.

Tattooing your Traveler’s Notebook with StazOn ink? That’s a whole different story. No undo. No Ctrl+Z.

If you’ve ever met me or followed my Traveler’s Notebook journey, you know I’m a little obsessed with making things personal. My...