There’s a version of this story that goes back to work – years spent helping people through changes they hadn’t chosen, learning to read a room when the ground was shifting under it. I was good at it. I still am.

But somewhere along the way, I noticed I’d stopped paying much attention to myself — in leading others at work, in tending to family at home. Something was missing, and I couldn’t yet say what. What I loved had never really changed – travel, a camera, the specific quality of light at certain hours, mountains. What I was good at, I already knew. What this could become, professionally, I still don’t know. And for the first time, that not-knowing doesn’t feel like a problem to solve.

That’s where this grew from. Not a business plan. A way of paying attention, written down, while the rest sorts itself out. Or doesn’t.

The Enso Way began with a realization that the things that ground me – travel, photography, inner growth, and the small rituals that hold an ordinary day together – are not separate at all. They are all pulling toward the same center.

The name The Enso Way is inspired by the Japanese ensō – a hand-drawn circle that symbolizes the beauty of imperfection, the fullness of the present moment, and the quiet strength of things left unfinished. It’s a reminder that life doesn’t need to be flawless to be meaningful.

Travel is where these threads first met. I love the clarity and comfort of a well-thought-out itinerary. Yet what stays with me most are the unplanned moments – the detours, delays, and unexpected conversations. On the road, my inner perfectionist softens. I become more present, more open, more willing to follow intuition than a checklist. Travel becomes a way to return – to reconnect to myself, and to the world, with clearer eyes and a softer heart.