I love how the concept of home evolves and expands over time. How we can find a sense of true home - A space where we are safe and known - In so many ways As we journey through life.
How it includes meaningful places, yes, But not only your hometown, Also the distant paths where your feet have treaded, And where your heart has found rest Among new communities, Among unique colors and textures, Among customs not previously known to you, But integrated now into who you are Because of how much they have So graciously Taught you.
And does it not also include people? The family, the village that raised you and lifts you up, The kindred friends who run top-speed into authentic, Whole-hearted living with you, Accepting you as you are, And encouraging you on the journey Of becoming who you were made to be. Their faces are home; Their smiles are home; Their voices are home; Their hugs are home. Their presence is - Home.
And is home not an atmosphere, The feeling Of perching with a book On the bench By the riverside where you’ve spent hours of your life, Breeze tickling your skin and toying with your hair, As you reflect on the joys and sorrows Now woven into your story? Of driving down highways so familiar That you can discern your speed without A glance at the meter; But also of marveling at the new horizons That have so shaped your heart In so short of a time? Of the cozy warmth of a coffeehouse Just down the way from your childhood street, Just as well as that which you come upon As you wander the alleys of a far off place That you never imagined visiting before? Of the rhythm and harmony Of ocean waves as they roll along an uncharted shore; The sunrise over the stillness Of your favorite lake; Or the rustling trees that line the Mountainous ridge that Challenges your mind, Heightens your senses, Burns - With both gentleness and power - Its grand beauty into your memory.
I find myself humbled, breathless, exceedingly grateful lately, For the moments and faces and places That feel like home. And for the ways we can carry home with us - Or encounter it along the way - Wherever in the world we go.
Rota. The island that blew me away. Where every place I visited, every person I encountered, every lesson I learned, every view I beheld felt like a hug from heaven.
Called ‘Luta’ in Chamorro, this is the third most populous island in the Northern Mariana archipelago, with somewhere between 2,500 and 3,000 residents as of 2020. Measuring around 32 square miles, it lies just less than 80 miles due southwest of Saipan. It is home to one of the warmest, friendliest, most relaxed communities I have ever encountered; to seemingly infinite beautiful sights, sounds, and scents; to numerous unique birds, some found exclusively in Rota; and to so many more gems, too numerous to list.
Words escape me when I try to describe how memorable this trip was. How full, whole and precious each moment was. What I can say is that it was the kind of retreat that leaves you with greater peace, deeper trust, and sharper clarity of purpose than when you arrived. And it is the sort of space that will gently teach you about yourself and about God’s love as you hike amidst its vast, mysterious mountains and palm tree jungles; enjoy its cool azure waters; or wind along its quiet, rocky roads to the tune of the local radio station.
A few of what feel like infinite highlights:
There is a custom on Rota called the ‘Rota Wave’. Any time you drive past an oncoming car, you lift your fingers from the steering wheel and acknowledge the other driver with a gentle wave.
Three giant orange sea turtles said hello, one while scuba diving, two while riding the waves near shore before submerging.
Scuba diving with a school of hundreds of convict surgeonfish.
Meeting so many kind souls and strangers who treated me like family: Tita Susan at Tiana’s Café, Calvin and friends at Alaguon Point, Officer Jim on Mount Sabana, Dive Masters Rubinsan and Daisukesan, Lynne from my AirBnB.
Scaling a dried waterfall, using tree roots as climbing rope, to a landing where the morning rains left only a small trickling natural cascade.
Watching hundreds of birds, some exclusively found on Rota and nowhere else, return to perch at I’Chenchon Park Bird Sanctuary just before sunset.
Standing stupefied at the summit of Mount Sabana, marveling at the sunset and the horizon.
Winding down on the AirBnB balcony at the end of the night, flamenco and jazz playing, full moon overhead.
As for my favorite moment here by far, it went a little something like this:
My dive master and I each flipped our way backward off the edge of the boat and met at the bow before deflating our vests and submerging to the depth of the underwater cave that we planned to enter. We swam toward the large access point and squinted into the darkened space, noticing the lustrous scales of small schools of fish resting in the recesses by the little light that shone in from the open water behind us. All of a sudden, clouds outside parted, and a pillar of sunshine cut through a small opening in the cave’s rocky roof overhead. This cast a sharp, defined, shimmering stream of light directly downward through the water like a search and rescue beam, which bounced off the floor of the cave and refracted to illuminate the whole space.
It. Was. Stunning.
We took a few moments to marvel at the spectacle from various vantage points within the cave. My dive master then took out his writing tablet and penned ‘TOUCH THE LIGHT’ in all caps, gesturing toward the spotlight. At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. I was still trying to process the magic of this ethereal phenomenon we were seeing! His prompt finally registered, and I slowly approached the pillar, practicing the gliding kick he had shown me earlier in the morning. I extended my arm into the light, studying how it radiated over the contours of my salt-pruned hands. Then, I moved my whole body into the beam, allowing my eyes to follow it upward to the source, the sun glowing through that small orifice and the dancing, faceted water surface above. I reached for it. A million mental pictures and reflections ensued at once.
In that moment, I thought about former seasons in life that were darkened by pain or fear. I thought about how some days, there were only small moments of sunshine to hold onto, to ‘touch’ and lean into and grab hold of. And I thought about how much healing and sweetness God has redeemed from those seasons, how those once-tiny glimpses of light have grown into a sunburst that now seems to illuminate everything I see, filling my heart with gratitude and faith, wonder and delight.
I thought about the hugs and smiles and love of family and friends, the passions and dreams God places within each of us that set our hearts on fire, the prayers already answered and the ones that lie in wait, the way God is so faithful through highlands and heartaches. And I found myself praying:
Help us to live lives in which we seek to ‘touch the light’, To lean into the people and passions and moments and experiences that light us up, To always look for the shining lining in the clouds and caves of life, And to keep hopeful hearts in any season: In those that feel dark and in those that are flooded with sunshine.
I’m grateful, if you please, to share some of the footage of this special island with you. 🤍
History is palpable, accessible on this precious island. Its seasons are commemorated with a thoughtful and well-done museum in downtown Garapan, housed in what once served as a small community hospital during the era of Japan’s reign. The displays here trace the island’s journey from past to present – from pre-contact days through eras of botanical exploration by the French, from Spain’s colonization of the land through Germany’s and Japan’s and, ultimately, the United States.
Overwhelmingly, though, history here is something that you hike to, dive to, walk past, stumble upon as you explore the multitude of open, public spaces where you can tread. Not sterilized behind gates and glass cases, but saturated throughout the island itself. For instance:
Old Japanese Jail: This former jail sits one block from my apartment complex. Overgrown by nature, and surrounded by homes, its crumbling walls and metal grates exude an eerie but compelling air. I walked the halls here and peered into the cells, for which the floor is dug into the ground relative to the raised hallways. Where prisoners once dwelled, large tree trunks now rose overhead, and light peered in through the concrete-framed windows. Legend tells that Amelia Earhart was jailed here at one point during her excursion across the Pacific. Legend also tells that her body is buried on this very block, though no physical evidence has been found to prove this.
Sugar King Park:
A man named Matsue Haruji, originally from Japan, pioneered the sugar processing and export enterprise that was so important to economic growth in the Northern Mariana’s in the early 1900’s. There is a park nestled in the heart of Garapan honoring his success with a statue of his likeness, along with:
– A commemorative tree planted as a friendship exchange between the island of Saipan and the city of Aizu wakamatsu (where Mr. Haruji was from)
– A reconstructed Shinto shrine called Katori Jinja (the original of which was destroyed in World War II)
– A set of delapidating rocky staircase lined with tropical foliage and caves which formerly led to a flag tower used by German administrators in the 1900s to signal visiting ships,
– A hexagonal pagoda that serves as an international house of prayer in Saipan, and
– The famed ‘Bell of Peace and Love’ which, when rung, serves as a vow on the part of the ringer to pursue a life of peace and love, and guarantees that he or she will return to this special place again.
Christo Rai Bell Tower:
Just off the main Beach Road along the western lagoon stands a historic stone tower, constructed in the 1930s and still rising tall to this day. The original church building affiliated with this tower, a Catholic parish called Christo Rai, was destroyed in 1944 during the invasion of Saipan, and a new church has since been erected.
What a humbling and sobering privilege it is to learn about the long and faceted journey that this island and its people have been on for so long. As I continue my time here, I am eager to keep learning and trying to understand both the beauties and the harsh realities that Saipan has faced. More brief historical editions are to come.
Two gorgeous treks unfolded before my feet over the past couple of weeks, and I would love to share them with you:
Forbidden Island: One of the many scenic hikes on the island, Forbidden is an adventurer’s favorite. Starting on the cliffside overlooking the Pacific to the east, you begin by hiking through jungle to breathtaking views of two separate coves. The first is a sheer drop-off where you can see the lush jungle rising up to your left side, the clear turquoise water below crashing on the reef, and a rocky cliff to the right. You then continue through tall and dense foliage to a somewhat gentler slope that you hike down to approach the island itself. From the shore, you can venture northeast along the beach to a junction with gorgeous views of both coves, forward into the channel between Saipan and Forbidden Island, or hike the cliffs and caves to the southeast. This particular day, we braved the channel, swollen with large waves and current as the tide changed, and spent a few minutes exploring the uninhabited, rugged, flat-topped Forbidden Island. Birds sung overhead, and would perch on the large boulders towering all around us. Gorgeous views of Saipan were seen from here. These moments were memorable and magical, even more so given I hiked here on the one year anniversary of my grandfather’s death. It proved to be a special place to heal and sit with the gratitude I feel for my grandfather and for his precious role in my life.
Hidden Beach: I parked my car at the end of a paved roadway, and walked along a palm-lined gravel path to a rugged stairway leading toward the ocean. A sweet sun shower sprinkled down from fluffy clouds above as I walked, refreshing my skin from the heat of the day. The clouds dispersed, and the sun shone on a tiny gem of a stretch of sand ahead. Hidden Beach boasts clear aquamarine waters, a crocodile-shaped rock formation, and a large stony shelf not far off shore where waves crash, causing immense ocean sprays. I came here after a 24-hour call shift, took photos, and marveled for hours at the rolling water, and at how I somehow had this stunning vista all to myself.
Sending love and hugs, smiles and sunshine. 💛 Have a beautiful week!
In this sense, I almost failed my open water scuba certification. This two-day course involved a particularly unfamiliar skill that brought me so much fear, I nearly quit after day one. A lot went well that first day, but this one thing was prohibitively difficult for me – The procedure was to flood and then remove your mask while submerged, breathing only through the mouthpiece connected to your air tank, and then replacing the mask. For some reason, my instinct on flooding and removing the mask was to immediately inhale through my exposed nose – obviously the opposite of what you want to do underwater! So multiple times, I surfaced early during the lesson, sputtering and discouraged and afraid, sinuses stinging with salt water. I left that day not sure I wanted to come back.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned the last few years, it’s that the fears we don’t face become our limits. And while some limits and boundaries are healthy, others keep us from living abundantly and experiencing things that would otherwise build and grow and open new worlds to us.
So in the days following lesson one, I took my mask and snorkel to the local reefs and swam about, intentionally flooding my mask, regulating my breathing, calming my mind, and ultimately clearing the mask like I was taught. I did this over and over again, and slowly was able to swim longer and longer stretches without surfacing. By the time my second scuba diving lesson came about, I felt a lot more comfortable, and was ready to face my fear at depth.
Obyan Beach is where I practiced skills the day after my first scuba lesson. This beautiful, shallow cove – shown in the first six photos here – serves as a fusion of two significant eras in Saipan’s history, as it is home to a pre-contact latte ruins as well as an old, fortified World War II bunker.Pau Pau Beach – seen in the remaining photos above – is the park where I practiced the day before my second lesson.It is a long, peaceful white sand beach and offshore reef lined with jungle and cliffs, perfect for a serene day of snorkeling or gathering with friends.
Lo and behold, and thanks to an awesome instructor, lesson two felt like a breeze. I earned my first ever scuba certification! And we got to see a couple of graceful sea turtles and hundreds of technicolor fish in their element along the way. After months of exploring altitudes above sea level, I am excited to start endeavoring into this whole new world below!
All that to say: if you have a healthy goal on your heart, and fear is trying to paralyze and intimidate you from going after it, think about grabbing your equivalent of a mask and snorkel, starting in the shallows, and slowly – breath by breath – giving it a try. Do it afraid. And unless there’s a darn good reason to wait, do it now. You might end the day befriending turtles 🙂
Four weeks into this season of living and working in Saipan, and I still cannot believe I am here. The sun rises every morning over the hills in my backyard, and sets every night over the lagoon one block from this third floor walk-up. The bright, fresh, emerald foliage blanketing the mountains somehow looks even more viridescent after a rainfall. And as for the fierce shades of blue in the ocean – I cannot find words to describe the spectrum. The pediatric group and staff I get to work with here are kind, creative, caring, diverse, and gracious, as are the people I get to meet day to day in the community. I’m thankful for these colors, this rhythm, this diversity, this incredibly unique experience. I am learning and inspired in just about every moment, every encounter.
April has been a beautiful month here. The adage about April showers rings true, as there have been some impressive downpours, but the stormy sky is a stunning spectacle unto itself, and the sunshine is never far behind. Some highlights from the month – so far, and to come – include:
Saipan’s half-marathon, 10K, and 5K took place two weekends ago and were a smashing success. There is normally a full-marathon as well, but this is not yet back up to speed since COVID.
A lively local farmer’s market takes place seaside every Saturday morning, with local artisan displays and fresh plants and produce harvested by the island’s farmers, all with the backdrop of popular cover music set to a tropical beat.
Holy Week included a Good Friday community pilgrimage on foot to the top of Mount Tapochau, with certain members of the community dragging a large, rugged, wooden cross which was erected at the peak of the mountain. Many early sunrise services, brunches, Easter egg hunts, and other celebrations took place at the various parishes and churches on the island on Resurrection Sunday.
The Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands is gearing up for its special Flame Tree Art Festival which will take place later this month. This is a weekend-long gala celebrating local crafts, dance, food, music, and other forms of art. And it is apparently lit.
Hotel pool parties, shoreline sports activities and grill-outs, and beachside birthday parties are the norm on any given weekend – People in Saipan love to embrace any chance for celebration, time together as a community, and time in the gorgeous outdoors.
As for me, this month has brought the ability to engage to some degree or another in all of the above. There is a remarkable balance between work, rest, community, and adventure here, unlike any I have ever experienced before. Balance is hard to come by in any profession, in life in general, and I know it is something my soul has craved for years – since the early days of my medical training. My heart is overwhelmed with so much gratitude for this chance to live in such an equilibrium, and hopefully find ways to implement it in whatever seasons of life lie ahead.
Some fun happenings from the last week or two:
Flower Crown Making: I went with a small group for a flower crown lesson the Saturday before Easter. We used Santa Anas, plumeria (the state flower of CNMI), Hawaiian ginger, palm seeds, ferns, birds of paradise, bougainvillea, and stars of India (native to Thailand) in our crowns, and enjoyed the challenge of a new craft!We also enjoyed learning about a form of culinary seasoning called ‘hing mui’, a sour plum powder that tastes amazing sprinkled on just about any kind of fruit.
Banzai Cliff to Cowtown: This relatively flat hike was a hot one through dense jungle, with various ruins and rusting military vehicles along the way. I also managed to walk face-first into a spiderweb the size of a watermelon and nearly got pooped on by a seabird while I navigated through the brush.Butin the end, it was all more than worth it! The views were inimitable, and the waves were so powerful they made the earth underneath my feet tremble as they crashed against the shore.
Ladder Beach:This rugged, secluded space was perfect for a post-call morning of ukulele practice, wave-watching, and cave exploration. It is a local favorite, boasting beautiful views of Saipan’s neighbor, Tinian, in the distance, and multiple cavernous nooks and crannies to weave into and out of. Each beach on the island is different from the next, but the peace and serenity they share are universal.
Mariana Lighthouse: This lighthouse is one of the few pre-war structures that has been successfully preserved with time. Initially constructed during a season of Japanese rule in Saipan, it served as a beacon for ships at harbor that needed to transport cargo along the rocky, reef-laden shores and channels. World War II left the building in disrepair, but it has since been repurposed into a bustling cafe, restaurant, and live music space, offering remarkable views of downtown Garapan, the western lagoon, and the horizon beyond.
Sunsets: Sunsets are a community festivity here in Saipan. Every day between 5:30 and 6:00 PM, countless local families, neighbors, and friend groupsflock to the sea for the show. It has been such a treat to enjoy some of these in quiet reflection – journaling, snorkeling, or listening to an audiobook – and some with fun and interesting friends – includingtwo birthday parties this week and one gathering to celebrate finishing my first week on service.
I remain so so so humbled by the support and encouragement coming from afar. For friends and family who do not know, Saipan is fifteen hours ahead of Central time (I come to you from the future 🙂 ), and I now have a local Saipan phone number so can only feasibly keep in touch via WhatsApp (with my US number) and other web-based messaging for text, talk and video. I would love to connect with you; please reach out if you would like, and I am so sorry if I have not returned your texts or calls to my US number!
I’m sitting on secluded Tank Beach, nestled under a rocky overhang that shields me from the hot sun. This bay offers wide-angle views of the flora and fauna along the northern and eastern regions of Saipan – where the more rugged and sparsely-populated terrain is found. It has been a blessed Resurrection Sunday, starting with an early morning rainfall which gave way to a glorious daybreak during the sunrise service at church. Worship was followed by a hearty brunch with new friends – who sweetly treated me like family – and by celebrating a couple as they chose to be baptized in the calm lagoon this precious Easter day.
I rest in reflection now after the exciting morning, and redirect my attention to the masterpiece unfolding before me in this moment. Crashing waves display both thunderous strength and also a smooth, swaying rhythm as they approach the shore. Massive storm clouds roll lazily north along the curving heights of Mount Tapochau. Palm fronds rustle softly, tickled by the breeze. Tiny hermit crabs cautiously approach my beach towel and explore my toes, crawling onto my feet with their softly clicking limbs, hauling homes made of shells that seem far too large for their bodies. Seabirds hop energetically along the tide pools lining the water, tweeting away as they search for lunch. I can’t help but marvel at how all of these aspects of creation seem to direct my soul’s gaze heavenward, toward the One who I believe put it all into motion. A great natural symphony is taking place, and after some time sitting in awe, I eventually join along in voice and in some simple ukulele strums with a song that lives close to my heart every Easter:
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see.
Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come; ’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me, His Word my hope secures; He will my Shield and Portion be, As long as life endures.
I am so thankful today – every day, really – for who Jesus is and what He has done. He has changed my life in ways that bring more joy than I ever knew was possible, and I will never be the same since meeting Him.
Wishing all who read this a sweet, safe, peaceful, joyful, and blessed Easter. And please, friends, let’s not forget to pray for and support our brothers and sisters in hurting parts of the world today who are enduring hardships we cannot fathom, and are doing so with immeasurable strength and hope.
Missing you all deeply, and sending love and enormous hugs from Saipan. 🤍
This is one of several questions that I’ve been reflecting on in my inner journey, especially over the last five or six years. There have been innumerable lessons in that time, born mostly of grief and pain, but ultimately giving way to joy and healing. One lesson in particular – which actually dates back to a wisdom passed on from one of my former middle school teachers – has been on my heart in this season of tropical living on Saipan.
Ms. Byram taught my 8th grade class. She was diagnosed with cancer midway through the school session, and was sadly unable to complete the year as our teacher because of the illness and the treatment it required. During one of her final days in the classroom, she ended the lesson with a message: You guys, I am still learning a lot about life. But one thing I want to try to share with you is that life is less about what happens to you and more about how you respond to it. And I want to encourage you to respond like palm trees and paper clips as you journey through.
She went on to explain:
Palm trees grow deep roots over time. Their roots are tested and deepened with any level of breeze or gust they face. From early on in their growth, this is the case. And though it may be difficult, it is good thatthey are tested, because when the truly high winds inevitably come, they will not stay standing without having learned first to anchor deeply into the ground. Meanwhile, above ground, these and all trees actually learn to bend with and accommodate the wind – also in order to stay upright. Many palm trees in particular have those long, curving stumps as evidence of this accommodation. Firm in the earth, a mature palm trunk is steady and immovable when typhoons rage, shaped by the unseen forces underground and the palpable ones above.
Ms. Byram’s point, in essence, was that life sends little tests and also big ones, most of which we cannot control. And to survive, to eventually thrive, we must choose to learn from each gust, great and small. To live deeply, we anchor down into our foundation – our faith and our loved ones – as the winds blow. And at the same time, we learn and bend with the gales that come above ground as we journey through life. Both this firm foundation and this flexibility are necessary in order to grow tall and strong.
Next, she held up a paper clip, noting how its purpose is to hold paper together. She told us that we each, too, had a purpose, and that life is an exciting adventure of finding that purpose. Taking one end of the paperclip, she folded it to make an S-shape. With this, she took the concept of flexibility one step further. When an external force is applied to a paper clip, if the clip is too rigid and does not have the capacity to adapt, it will snap and no longer be of any use in its purpose. Similarly, she encouraged us to stay true to who we were made to be, while also being adaptable and open to growing and evolving with the seasons, people, perspectives, and lessonsthat life would bring. To stay rigid and unchanging along the way, we would be liable to snap under the changes and pressures that inevitably come.
Saipan had a strong storm last night, with loud winds, heavy rains, and power outages. As I drove about the island today, I noted the palm trees standing tall – both along the road and as I set course into the jungle – and I smiled as Ms. Byram and her encouraging presence and message came to mind.
I now issue Ms. Byram’s challenge to you, friends, even as I continue working on it myself:
This Week in Brief: The gracious and supportive pediatrics department at Commonwealth Health Center helped me get up and running in clinic these past several days and get ready for my first week on the hospital service, which is upcoming. Outside of work, my time was largely spent hiking and further exploring the natural wonder of the island. From cliffs to beaches, from caves to jungle, from slot canyons to estuaries, from mountain peaks to tide pools, Saipan holds an immense diversity of wilderness for its relatively small size (approximately 12 miles or 19 kilometers long by 5.5 miles or 9 kilometers wide). So many of the sights and sites here speak not just to the radiance but to the history and bravery of this island which, over the years, has seen everything from flooding and flattening due to typhoons and tropical storms to destruction and devastation from war and expansionism. And still, it stands strong and tall and simply beautiful. May we all learn a thing or two or twenty from the island and its people – steadfast, resilient, and defiantly joyful – no matter what trials life brings.
Come saunter through Saipan with me:
A boulder and rope course through the eastern jungle leads upward to expansive views of the rugged coast of Saipan and downward to a clear, refreshing tide pool – an area known as Dragon Tail and the Infinity Pool. While the west side of the island harbors a peaceful lagoon lined by an offshore coral reef, this east side showcases the mighty, powerful Pacific in all its fury and glory.Sunday afternoon meant a sweet hike with new friends to the Old Man by the Sea. It is customary to greet the Old Man with a kiss when you are newly visiting the island.Fiesta Mall was a chic, popular community gathering and shopping space in the 1990s. Now, it is in eerie disrepair – overgrown with mud and lime and vines – an abandoned hiking milieu with roaming, dilapidated halls; extensive wall paintings; and wide views of Saipan’s dense jungle and Pacific coastline.Mount Tapochau, the highest elevation on Saipan at 474 meters, is accessible by dirt road or by foot. (I opted for the latter, and wow was it a glute workout! But I digress.) It was of strategic significance in World War II, giving whichever military occupied it a vantage point of the hills, troop movements, and airfield below. The entire island and its neighbor, Tinian, are visible from these heights, and placards are in place along the trail that tell the story of the infamous Battle of Saipan in 1944. The peak is of religious consequence as well, home to a beloved sculpture of Jesus installed in the 1970s and a simple wooden cross where people come to pray.Santa Lourdes Shrine is composed of a short path leading to a beautiful grotto and altar that resemble the prayer grotto in Lourdes, France. This is a place of worship, contemplation, and peace.Jeffrey’s Beach is a unique, fragile ecosystem with a calm estuary giving way to the raging sea. Small tide pools, star fish, and tiny invertebrates can be found here, as can old, rusted machinery from the war.A jungle hike up to the foot of Suicide Cliff, and a stony climb along its northwestern face, leads to a narrow slot canyon and wind tunnel – called The Crack – that cuts straight through the cliff to the other side (with some shimmying along the way). Suicide Cliff is the tragic site where hundreds of Japanese troops and local civilians jumped to their deaths fearing that they would be held hostage and mistreated once the US achieved their victory during the infamous Battle of Saipan. There are thoughtful memorials along this and Bonzai Cliff commemorating the lives lost in these battles – regardless of nationality – and warning of the futility of war. I will share those photos after personally reflecting further on this history and on its reminiscence to the warfare in Ukraine.El Toro is a Pacific overlook composed of jagged, sharp stone that gives way to a massive system of caves. It receives its name from one particular cave at sea level, from which the blowhole exiting upward creates the sound of a raging bull whenever the waves rush in.Thank you so greatly for following along! Have a wonderful weekend, and keep adding light to the world!
Captivated Me 