I’m writing from a coffee shop in Portland, Maine, after spending the weekend at a best friend’s wedding in Utah.

Life is rolling.

I’m starting a new job at a coffee shop back home in Oakland.

I think it will be good for me—something to keep me busy besides my creative pursuits, an outlet that will hopefully make me more thoughtful and inspired. It’s an Oakland-based brand called Highwire. I really like the vibe and what it represents—cool aesthetics, beautiful design, striking colors, and Oakland roots.

Like working in a restaurant back in San Diego, one day, it will be satisfying to know that I did what millions of people have done through time, working at a coffee shop, pouring espresso, starting someone’s day with a smile and some appreciation.

I’m trying, man. Turning thirty this week! Am I scared? Yes, a little, but I’m also so damn grateful to be exactly where I’m at.

I’m pitching my stories to magazines and publishers in a way I never have. Reaching out to people in travel media to make connections. It feels good.

Having inspiring conversations on my podcast, conversations that help me see no matter where we are, who we are, or how good we seem to have it, there are things we think we’re missing, things we think will make us happy.

I’m turning thirty, old enough to feel like I’m falling behind, young enough to know it’s a blessing to be on this adventure at all.

The wisest thing I’ve discovered in the last ten years is that nobody can give you what you think you need, nobody but you.

The peace you need. The happiness, or attention, or love—it will come when we love ourselves. Peace comes when we’re peaceful inside; joy comes in what we do when we find joy in who we are.

It’s all good.

Healing my body is healing my past, the parts of me with roots down deep.

I’m an adult with a five-year-old inside. It’s the same for every human being, but instead of pushing it away, we may nurture that child. The adult I am is the only one who can give that kid the love he needs.

And I love that kid. He’s the one smiling now—I’m grateful, man, so damn grateful to be on this path. Learning about life, love, relationships, my past.

I’m on a spiritual journey. Playing basketball and finding peace, reading on the porch and working hard, spending more time under trees.

I truly like where I live, love who I’m with, like where things are headed and the dreams that persist. I have friends I can call, friends who have my back, brothers.

It was so awesome this weekend. My friends are everything to me.

No matter what happens in this life, I got them. What an unbelievable blessing.

I’m not giving up on my dreams. I’ll turn thirty on a lake in New Hampshire, where I plan to start my book about Japan. Man, that excites me. It’s scary, too. A new project which will take time—but writing books has given me a deeper sense of satisfaction than anything else.

I want to make things. Use my imagination. Be the kid I’m meant to be and just dig.

Before I left for this trip, I had my first two days of training for Highwire.

The first was with the founder of the brand, and how cool is that? The second was with the trainer, such a good dude. Each day made me more excited about the job. That’s a good sign.

With the trainer, I did a coffee cupping, which is a method to evaluate the flavor, aroma, and quality of coffee. I kept having ideas, insights, and thought ah, I gotta remember this to write down later.

The tasting room had an old world map on the wall. We discussed the origins of coffee and tea, the regions they come from and thrive in, and it just felt so cool to learn more about this topic.

Both the founder and the trainer asked me about some of my earliest coffee memories.

They want to know what coffee means to me.

I think I had my first cup of coffee when I was eleven or twelve.

It was at my grandma and grandpa’s house. There was always coffee brewing, the rich, nutty aroma filling the kitchen. I think they used Folgers, and that’s the beauty of coffee—there’s not a wrong way to do it. It could be a high-end specialty coffee or instant stuff when out camping—it’s all coffee, and of course the quality can be better, but coffee for me is memories, moments, emotions, sensory details. A reason to pause, relax, take a breath and be.

That first cup of joe probably had a lot of sugar. I remember the taste being strong and sweet with sugar and cream. I liked the small porcelain cups at my grandma’s.

As a kid, I remember smells fondly—coffee brewing, the musky scent of my dad’s chair, his cologne.

Throughout high school there was always coffee in the big pot at my dad’s, the smell of vanilla creamer, the sound of it boiling.

Coffee is comfort. Familiarity. The start of a day. And that’s something my dad and I share, a love of the early morning.

I have countless fond coffee memories: diners at 3 am after a night out—white diner mugs on the table, bleary-eyed, slugging down a pot with best friends.

Pulling off at a diner on a road trip, bacon and eggs accompanied by several cups of coffee poured from a sprightly server.

Highwire does tea, too, which has become a big part of my life in the last couple of years since living in Asia.

Vending machine green tea on a hot summer day in Japan—a bottle of bright, clean, crisp, cold and earthy tea.

Creating foundational memories with one of my best friends, Santana, whom I met in Osaka. Our friendship grew deeper through his love of matcha, as he showed me the ways, gifting me his chawan, or matcha bowl, when he left Japan.

Through him and through matcha, I was introduced to Kauru, a woman who runs a matcha shop in Osaka. She became like a mother to both Santana and me.

Then there was a tea ceremony in the mountains of Taiwan with my girlfriend, who sits across from me now at a coffee shop in Maine. It was our one-year anniversary this weekend. What an adventure it’s been already, countless cups of coffee and tea already shared!

In the Taiwan tea ceremony, the two of us learned about loose-leaf tea through beautiful ritual—small dainty cups, the sound of them clinking, the depth of the silence as you sit there and think, enjoying the clear flavors.