Bhutan's tourism industry is different than many other countries in the world. You're required to obtain a visa for each day of the trip, and you must have a local guide and a driver. The trip took a lot of planning to get all of the details squared away, meaning before even stepping on the plane, we had spent two years preparing.

Despite so much time and energy invested in this trip, right before we were set to leave, I felt immense dread. 2025 was one of the toughest years for my business, one filled with so many tough decisions and heavy lifting, and I barely had time to breathe before closing that chapter and embarking on more than 35 hours of travel to arrive in the mountains on the other side of the world. I didn't know how much I would need what I came to find.

We saw this display of enough in a woman we met on a short hike. The trail had a few farms along the way, and we were there on the off season, when not many tourists wandered through. A woman approached us, walking down the path from the farm where she was staying. She invited us over to see how they processed the rice they grew. 

On the farm, there were kids—pre-teens and teenagers, mostly—a house, and lots of tents in the front yard. The owner of the house was an older woman who was using a machine to process rice. She said the machine changed her life because she used to process the rice by hand.

We then stepped inside the tent of the woman who invited us to the farm. We couldn't exactly speak to one another, because of the language barrier, but we could connect through gestures, through our guide as a translator, and through the shared experience of being together in that space at that time. She made us tea. She undid the hair from her bun to reveal how similar it was to mine, long and dark. She asked how old I was, and it turns out we were the same age. She said I didn't have wrinkles, and she joked it's because I don't have kids, which made us laugh, and she responded that every wrinkle is for her children: 5 of her own, plus the others in her family and community she cares for.

It turns out this woman was from a community of nomads who live higher up in the mountains and come down during the winter to sell what they grow and make in town. The woman who owns the farm allows them to camp out in these tents through the season.

Despite the simplicity of the tents, these nomads are actually quite wealthy because they are the only ones permitted to harvest a rare mushroom that is necessary for a popular medicinal tea. In fact, we had noticed helicopters buzzing around on our hike, and we learned that the nomads charter these helicopters to move up and down the mountain.

But in Bhutan, there isn't a need for more. A tent and a cup of tea to share. A machine to process rice, or the hands to do it, if that's all there is. A place to invite a guest to sit during a hike. What more could you possibly need?

I feel conditioned to view time, like so many resources, as a thing to be spent and rationed and hoarded. There never seems to be enough of it.

Our plan was not to take a break and join this woman for tea. We had an itinerary, a lunch planned, and afternoon scheduled. It was hard to break out of the structure of the day, to meander off the trail and sit for awhile, postponing the next thing. 

I feel conditioned to view time, like so many resources, as a thing to be spent and rationed and hoarded. There never seems to be enough of it, so I cling to every pre-planned second without leaving room to stray. But in Bhutan, the time you have is time enough. And even with the excursion, the rest of the day worked out as planned. There's value in pausing, in deviating, in lingering in the time we're lucky to have rather than rushing through it.

So much of the culture deeply resonated with me and the parallels I saw in the budding new direction of my business as a place to move slowly and dwell in what the present moment offers.

On the last day of the trip, we hiked a difficult trek up to the Tiger's Nest, the most sacred place in Bhutan. The hike involves 4,000 feet of elevation gained and lost, taking quite the toll on the body. Along the way, our guide quizzed us about what we had learned about our trip.

Maybe it was because of his methods of teaching and explaining Bhutan's history. Maybe it was because of the careful attention I was able to give in the slow-paced environment. Maybe it was because so much of the culture deeply resonated with me and the parallels I saw in the budding new direction of my business as a place to move slowly and dwell in what the present moment offers. Whatever it was, even as someone not particularly good at remembering history, I aced his quiz.

I am deeply grateful for the genuine welcome we felt in Bhutan, and the generosity of everyone we met along the way. To be able to share in a slower, more deliberate way of life meant so much as a person and a business owner. Getting off the plane in New York City I felt panicked as I was inundated with the hustle and rush of “home.” I learned the joys that a slower pace can bring. I hope to not only look for my own opportunities to slow down, but to create those opportunities for others. To welcome you to indulge in everything you have, and to know it is enough.

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