The Beginning.
January 2020 was a masterclass in professional heartbreak. I walked out of the Delta interview knowing I was perfect for the job, yet I failed to convince them. I decided right there on the pavement: I would never let a lack of effort stop me again. The solution? I signed up for flight school. I was ready to chart a new, serious course.
Then, one month later, the world closed.
I went to flight school anyway. That ambition was quickly grounded when my own eyes confirmed the career was not possible for me. It was a funny kind of disappointment—my next step was clear, but my body said, “Negative, Ghost Rider.”
The journey of change became extremely quiet. As a flight attendant during that period, my life became a cycle of isolated travel: months in empty airports, empty hotels, empty cities, only to return to my own empty apartment. With my mom stuck in St. Martin due to airport closures, I was truly isolated. I had nothing but time to confront the huge questions: Who am I? What do I actually want? What is my philosophy of life?
The Wisdom of the White Mountains
It was a hard time. I was alone, but I realized I could use the solitude. I took advantage of the $10 car rentals, and treated New England like my own private theme park. I explored Cape Cod, found the best clam chowder, went to Nantucket, and caught a sunset cruise in Boston. I also visited O’ahi (Looking back, I should have just launched a content creation side hustle right then.)
For my 30th birthday, I rented a lake house in the New Hampshire White Mountains. It was serenity. In that quiet, I finally found myself. I found God. The vision became clear: I needed purpose. I didn’t just want to waste my life; I wanted to give more than I was receiving.
The Real Lesson in Control
The deeper lesson came when I started spending time with my best friend. His mom was battling ALS. Watching someone suffer as their own body attacks itself truly shows you the ultimate joke of life: we love the idea that we have control. I watched this perfectly healthy woman go from walking on her own to needing assistance with everything.
This was the second time I’d witnessed a loved one deal with this kind of devastating paralysis. My favorite cousin, Jayson, died of Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS) back in 2014. I was young then, and I regret not spending more time with him during his battle. Once he passed, it became my biggest regret.
Watching my best friend’s mom confirmed it: I had to live a life of purpose and minimum regret. My past regret with Jayson fueled me to be a better friend now. My present experience fueled the need to do something lasting.
2020 was a year of retrospect. It was a year of learning who I was and who I desired to be.
The Silver Lining Is Always Underneath
If you are reading this and you feel that itch for change—emotionally, spiritually, financially—I get it. Life will serve you setbacks, but it will also give you $10 car rentals and moments of profound clarity. It will show you the things you can’tcontrol, so you can focus all your energy on the things you can: your effort, your empathy, and your legacy.
You have to keep pushing. You have to keep showing up. Find the clarity in the stillness. Because even when the world feels broken, the silver lining is always there, waiting for you to plant something meaningful.
Instagram memory. Hiking in O’ahu
Divine Mahogany 
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