The concept of time baffles me. I cannot explain how seven years can feel like seven minutes and how three weeks feels more like three months have passed. I’m currently travelling around Japan by myself, a concept that baffles some people that I meet. The ask “Just you?”, wonder “Where are your friends?”, and want to know “Is your husband joining us?”. I don’t travel alone to make a point out of it. I simply want to have adventures and experiences that I cannot have at home, and at the moment that means doing it solo.

The inevitable highs and low of travel are amplified when you have no one to share them with. When you are travelling alone you get these intense moments of personal pride. Like navigating a complex subway system with no WiFi, and ordering a meal in a foreign language using hand gestures. It’s a chance to celebrate the things you did all on your own.

Is there anything left to say about 2016? Libraries’ worth of articles, tweets and ‘what the fuck’ conversations are trying to understand the year that was. So instead I am going to share how I start and spend each new year with a new word, because your life is not going to magically change at 12:01am (and if it did, please do share).

It all started back in 2015 when I was travelling and couchsurfing across North America. The word ‘grace’ kept showing up everywhere – on street signs, in song lyrics, and in things I was reading. Grace, hey? It was not a new word to me and it initially sounded kind of meek and meh. Certainly not very exciting or adventurous. Until I really thought about the state of grace.

If you eat an abundance bowl but don’t share it online, are you still #blessed?

I’ve been wanting to learn Vedic meditation for quite some time, and recently travelled to Byron Bay for a retreat with The Broad Place at The Atlantic. Initially, I was planning to only go phone-free for the four-day immersion, but then I decided to go offline for the following week to figure out what is real. A sort of ‘detox’ from digital dopamine.

Digital dopamine is a term I like to use to explain the feelings of reward and pleasure from constant online communication, Facebook likes, Instagram hearts and Twitter retweets. It’s that rush of satisfaction and self-worth we all know. But more and more, I/we are using social media to kill time and that is literally what it does – kills it.

Sometimes in life, you have to go backwards in order to move forwards. It’s called ‘closing the loop’. Allow me to explain – it’s like an incomplete romantic relationship and needs to come full circle. Perhaps you have unfinished business with someone whom you once shared affection with. Basically – it’s all the unexplained, unsettled, unfulfilled parts of you that are tied to someone. An intense intimate encounter with no ending. Do you feel me?

There is a high price to pay for keeping the loop open. Like keeping a part of yourself closed to real commitment. The incompleteness with this person is exciting, sure. We fantasise about what could have been and what will be. Because the loop is not closed, we yearn for the road not taken, the one where anything could happen.

A playlist for longing for someone who lives far away. A long distance crush. For what might have been. Songs about an emotionally unavailable love interest. Maybe it’s them, maybe it’s you. For the times when your heart is in it more than theirs. For getting close, but not close enough.

I once heard that ‘true love is matching energies’ and I wrote it down. A holiday fling, instant soul sparks, electric connections – we’ve all had one. Long distance crushes do have their success stories but in reality – they are part ecstatic romance, part the perils of technology and part insanity management. At first you (think) you are falling in love, but then later realise that you are falling into patterns of sustaining whatever this is.

A playlist for anyone with an aching void. A deep sadness. The feeling that something is missing. A hunger in your bones. An urge to cry for no reason (like breaking down in the middle Berkley’s busiest street) – we all feel loneliness from time to time.

You are everything you want. You are trying your hardest. Stop having and getting, and start being and becoming. You’re going to have to save yourself.

If we are lucky, loneliness will break our heart open. It hurts because it matters. You are changing, and being honest with yourself is too beautiful for words.

A playlist for anyone in a constant state of craving – for liberation, for solitude, for fun, for adventure, for nature, for exhilaration, and for wonder.

I have made many attempts to resist, fight and shoosh these cravings. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and the feelings of an unfulfilled life can take over leaving you with the only option you knew you had  – to liberate yourself from the suffocating atmosphere of hesitation and indecision, drop everything and throw yourself into what you were always meant to do.

Whenever I hear the alt-country twang of Ryan Adams, the folksy crooning of Iron & Wine, the introspective lyricism of Sun Kil Moon, the staggering melodies of Sufjan Stevens and the atmospheric symphonies of Bon Iver – I want to quit my job, sell everything I own and go on a road trip across America.

Traveling the US by car feels like the ultimate freedom. I’ve tried to pinpoint my obsession for all things ‘Americana’ but I really can’t say why. I think about the wide open roads, rolling hills, national parks, rugged coastlines, iconic landmarks, familiar neighbourhoods and I feel invigorated. I think about taking a chance on a feeling, following the urge to wander, and finding comfort in uncertainty and I feel alive. I’d wear yoga clothes everyday, visit markets in each state, stay in cabins, eat fries at diners, sleep next to lakes, explore quirky towns, make new friends, marvel at nature, and learn to love the great unknown.

I Am That, I Am is a playlist about travel adventures, spiritual awakenings and soul unravelings.

A soundtrack inspired travels to Ubud, Bali and learning how to love more, be open and let it go.

32 songs about wanderlust, inner knowing, happenstance, morning silence, late night chatter, beautiful strangers, laughing in the rain, trusting the universe, unexpected beauty, saying yes, being present, and breaking open.