Can you pinpoint a moment you fell for life?
The moment you really started living?
I’m currently reading a lovely book called The Night I Fell for Life, written by a beautiful human I met on my journey in India, and it got me wondering—have I had such a moment? And if so, can I put it into words?
I mean, I fall in love with my life all over again every time I’m blown away by another transformative inner or outer journey. Or when I get lost in deep, endless conversations with strangers and loved ones alike. Or simply when I take the time to consciously notice all the little things that make my existence feel so peculiar and worth living for.
But what about life itself?
I think I do have such a moment.
Let’s take a trip down memory lane—destination: my first-ever hike in the Rockies, not long after I moved out west with no plan and no idea when I’d be back. I just knew there had to be more to life than finishing university and jumping straight into a 9–5 job at an NGO with a noble mission but one that was draining my energy and barely letting me make ends meet.
Back to the hike.
Me and my friend, my partner in crime, Chanel, eager to explore our new backyard. It was shoulder season, so the mountains were quiet and serene. Even the most popular trails were empty. We were in for about 12 km that day. Our first stop was Lake Agnes—one that would later become a familiar spot—took our breath away. We sat there in silence, the tea house closed for the season, snow dusting the peaks around us.
On the way to our next stop, Victoria Glacier (that’s the one in the background of all the iconic Lake Louise photos), we walked in a comfortable silence. Lost in the moment. A speck of dust in the universe, a tiny being in this mostly untouched wilderness. That’s when something shifted. I didn’t realize it then, but it was a turning point.
A quiet voice inside whispered:
It’s all going to be okay—and it’s all going to be different from here. You can let your guard down. Life can be whatever you want it to be. You’re in the right place, at the right time.
And just like that, life was never quite the same.
Looking back, 33-year-old me sees how emotionally lost 23-year-old me was. I thought I was happy—collecting drunken nights out and flirty encounters with strangers in bars—but the truth is, even though I was having fun and this was probably a necessary passage, I had no idea who I was or what I really wanted. I was convinced that men were inherently untrustworthy. I didn’t believe in being nurtured, cared for, let alone loved.
But after that walk, something cracked open. I was ready to trust the Universe—and men.
Within a few days, I met someone. A special person who is still a dear friend today. He didn’t do anything crazy—just showed up with a kind presence, a loving touch, and a quiet, steady respect. And somehow, that was enough to make me start believing that maybe things could be different. That maybe I didn’t have to brace myself all the time.
Later that same year, I met someone else—my partner in crime for five wild, beautiful years. Together we rode the waves of daring to live fully, fearlessly, and with heart. Even though I’m on my own again now, the journey continues, and the faith remains.
And so, that magical walk in the majestic Canadian Rockies became the day I truly started living—and the day I fell for life itself.
