Spent last night tucked away in a small redwood cabin near the vineyards of Sonoma County, CA. The cabin clings to the edge of a valley with an overlook, surrounded by forest and towering evergreens. I am sitting outside, a warm cup of coffee next to me - calm, rejuvenated, soaking up the gentle vibes of the cool morning. I am so consumed with thoughts about my own tree houses, with my own stake in the West Coast. The ability to create here astounds me; the beauty and the depth unlocks some very wholesome and eager version of my heart. Mythical, magical, the land has a complexity and sovereignty to it. The redwoods, the rugged coast, the swell of the mountains, the combination mirrors my own experience of self so well. I feel intimately connected here, I feel the room to spread wide every fiber of myself. Whatever I have inside, whatever I can envision and articulate. All of those things are possible here. Some of us are built to handle so much - we are made of much. I feel the "incompleteness" that haunts us at times is simply the inability of our surroundings (our culture) to see itself with the same eagerness, alchemy, and unencumbered insight. The West Coast, is where I was born to thrive.