I’m at my best when I’m just me

Not long ago, I found myself sitting across from a friend, sipping coffee and setting up a backdrop for a travel video. It was for Project Pride — a reminder that visibility, purpose, and connection still matter in a world that sometimes forgets.

She made me coffee. We sat down and just talked. Not about logistics or work, but about life — how we’d been, what had changed, and the things that still ground us. That conversation reminded me how much I’d missed real connection — the kind that doesn’t need Wi-Fi or an agenda.

I’ve traveled a lot — all over the U.S. and far beyond — and one thing never stops surprising me: how much variety, richness, and beauty there is in people, even just a mile apart. It’s different when you’ve spent time outside the country, looking in. You start to see the cracks and the kindnesses with new eyes. The space between us — whether physical or emotional — starts to feel like something that deserves healing.

That’s what the past few years gave me: perspective. The kind you earn by standing still long enough to listen, but also by going far enough to see with fresh eyes.

Somewhere between that warm cup of coffee and that honest exchange sat something sacred: connection. And when we lose that, we change. We harden. We isolate. Sure, maybe we do it to stay safe. But there’s a cost to that safety, and it shows up in the ways we forget how to touch, hug, laugh, or lean on each other.

I’ve thought a lot about what that kind of connection means — not just in my personal life, but in my work. Because this isn’t just a business to me. My XO Adventures is my way of saying you’re not alone. That your story matters. That we can still share something magical on a dusty trail in the Badlands, or watching bison move through golden light on the prairie.

Years ago, I stood outside a cruise ship with a “Free Hugs” sign. Hundreds of strangers walked by. Many smiled. A lot stopped. We hugged. Think about that — actual, arms-wrapped-around-each-other, I-don’t-know-you-but-I-see-you hugs. Would you do that today? Would you give me a hug? Maybe not right now. But maybe someday. I’ll be ready when you are.

What I’ve realized — more than ever — is that travel isn’t a luxury. It’s not just an industry. It’s human instinct. It’s in our bones to move, to explore, to meet people who aren’t like us and find out that they actually are. It’s part of how we heal.

These days, I’m based in South Dakota. I run a little company that offers private tours through the Black Hills and Badlands. I help people connect — not just with a landscape, but with each other and themselves. Every trail, every picnic, every stargazing moment is a chance to remember that we’re alive and lucky to be here.

But this isn’t the end of the journey for me. Maybe next year I’ll write to you from Alaska. Or Patagonia. Or the back of a pickup near Glacier National Park. Who knows?

What I do know is this: when the time is right for you to travel — I’ll be here. Or there. Or somewhere in between, holding out a hand and saying, “Let’s go.”

Because it’s not just about where we go.
It’s about who we become when we get there.