I’ve always been open to adventure. Life has taken me to places I never imagined, introduced me to people I never expected to meet, and given me experiences that once felt far beyond my comfort zone.
What surprised me about May wasn’t a new found willingness to try something different. It was how openness showed up in quieter ways.
Unlike previous months, I didn’t begin May with a specific challenge in mind. Looking back, though, I can see a theme woven throughout the month. It became a month of being open—open to conversations, invitations, friendships, and the unexpected moments that often arrive when we slow down enough to notice them.
I tend to move through the world quietly. While I enjoy people, I’m not usually the person who strikes up conversations with strangers. Yet somehow this month felt different. I found myself more willing to engage, more curious about the people around me, and more open to the connections that can happen in ordinary places.
I lingered over conversations with people I might normally have greeted and moved on from. At one gift shop, I chatted with a woman who had recently gone through a divorce and was returning to college as she figured out her next chapter. In another, the conversation centered around the unique aspen branches the owner had cut, dried, and used to display her merchandise. These weren’t life-changing conversations, but they added richness to my day and reminded me that everyone has a story.
As the conversations continued, I began to receive—and accept—invitations. One morning, three local regulars at a coffee shop invited me to join them. Normally, I would have politely declined. Instead, I pulled up a chair and spent the next hour talking with them about everything from local history to life in Colorado. They seemed to know everyone who walked through the door, and by the time I left, I felt less like a visitor and more like part of the community.
Not long after that, I met another nomad who happened to be pet sitting next door. Since then, we’ve shared meals, walked our pets together, and explored the area. One evening she invited me over for Thai food, which turned out to be a surprise celebration for my upcoming birthday.
Being open wasn’t just about people. It also showed up in my willingness to try new experiences. A temporary membership at a luxury gym gave me access to a recovery lounge filled with therapies and equipment. Some, like red light therapy and hydromassage, were already favorites. Others were completely new to me. The cryo chamber was a little intimidating at first, but it quickly became one of my favorite parts of the experience. The sensory deprivation float pod also felt a bit outside my comfort zone, yet it turned out to be surprisingly relaxing. The cold plunge, however, still has me negotiating with myself.
That same openness also influenced the way I explored Colorado. Instead of filling my calendar or planning every detail, I found myself following curiosity. A drive to Red Rocks, a morning in Golden, a walk around a new neighborhood, or a spontaneous stop somewhere that looked interesting often became the highlight of the day. I even drove up to Cripple Creek to see the Thomas Dambo troll. Because of my fear of heights and unfamiliar mountain roads, I had been hesitant to venture too far from the main highways. One day, though, I decided to go for it. Some of my favorite moments this month weren’t planned at all.
Looking back, I don’t think being open meant doing more. In many ways, it meant doing less.
This season of slow travel has given me the gift of time—time to linger over conversations, explore a town without an agenda, develop new friendships, and try experiences I might otherwise have rushed past.
Perhaps that is what surprised me most about May. By slowing down and being more present, I began to notice opportunities I might have otherwise missed—conversations, friendships, invitations, and experiences that arrived unexpectedly. None of these moments were extraordinary on their own, yet together they became the story of my month.
May reminded me that sometimes the richest experiences aren’t found by doing more. They are found by being fully present for what is already right in front of us.