How to Pack Your Existential Navigation Bundle

(For sensitive souls and fellow sailors in the sea of everyday entropy)

If I had to keep just one lesson from recent years, it would be this: travel light.

It’s taken me years—and a few existential crises—to sift through the countless things I’m passionate about.
After much sorting, discarding, restarting, and the occasional dramatic sigh, I’ve finally managed to distill the essentials into a small bundle I carry with me wherever I go.

So here it is: my personal kit for navigating existence.
It’s only mine, of course. But I hope it might inspire you to assemble your own, filled with ingredients only you can choose.

To help you pack yours, I suggest three magical questions (no wand required):

• Does it nourish me… or drain me?
• Could I live without it for more than a week?
• Does it give me a sense of wholeness (or at least that feeling you get when you find a matching pair of socks on a Monday morning)?

A Tale of Shakuhachi (bless you)

Everyone talks about the importance of breath.
Very few think to pick up a flute and find out how it actually works.

I play the shakuhachi, a Japanese bamboo flute once used by Zen monks in pursuit of spiritual awakening.
Well, I’m still stuck somewhere between “snooze” and “slow awakening,” but one thing’s certain:
I’ve never found a better way to check the weather inside myself without triggering a full-blown storm.

Playing the shakuhachi means getting acquainted with your breath. Not the one you wish you had, but the one that’s actually there, in the moment.
It’s like a martial art of self-kindness.

It might sound lofty… but breath rises from deep within us, so why wouldn’t it carry a few truths along the way?

I often struggle to identify what I am really feeling, buried underneath all the “shoulds” and expectations. The shakuhachi changed that. I even started a YouTube channel to talk about it. Imagine that.

A Deck of Cards

So here’s the thing.
Don’t burn me at the stake, but my method for seing through myself involves… a Tarot de Marseille.

Yes, I know.
And no, I don’t tell the future. I read the present and believe me, that’s already enough of an adventure.

I always carry a mini tarot deck in my pocket.
It’s like a personal translator when I’m lost in the static of daily life.
It whispers things like, “You’re feeling anger, not guilt, you know.” And I go,“Ah, I see. Thanks.”

If you ever struggle to tell the difference between what you think you want and what you actually need given the moment, the tarot can be a surprisingly grounded way to tune in… without losing your mind. It gives the unconscious a chance to speak its favorite language: images.

A Pencil for Spontaneous Expression

A pencil might seem like a humble thing.
But it taught me something essential:
when you love doing something, do it for yourself.

• Not so it will be “well done”.
• Not for validation.
• Just because it lights up your heart.

A shout-out here to Max, Serge, and Jérôme, each of whom, in their own way, helped me recognise the beauty of raw, unfiltered aliveness.

Silence at the Bottom of Your Pockets

If you’re anything like me, your pockets probably hold a stone, a shell, or a scrap of bark picked up on a walk.
Maybe even a book, if your pockets are particularly ambitious.

These samll objects have a quiet but powerful gift: they bring us back to ourselves through touch.

Over time, my bundle has evolved into a kind of anchoring toolkit.
These days, I never leave home without my survival kit:

• noise-cancelling headphones
• tinted glasses
• a scarf
• and a beanie or hat

Simple gear to soften sensory overload and build a little cocoon, even in the middle of chaos.

At first, it was a semi-conscious defence mechanism.
But eventually, I realised how much these objects helped me…and how vulnerable I felt without them.

Maybe you’ve got a few of your own, without even realising it.
Come to think of it… have you ever asked yourself?

If these thoughts resonated with you, you might enjoy wandering through the blog. That’s where I share what the flute is teaching me, the epiphanies I find in images, and the quiet art of living simply, like a hermit listening for true sound.

No mysteries, no grand conclusions. Just notes from the path.

Feel free to explore - take what speaks to you.