Lessons From a Weekend Peeping Leaves
Estimated Read Time: ~6–7 minutes
Today at a Glance
How letting go of control taught me to trust more deeply
Why simplicity and quiet moments can create the strongest presence
What aspens can teach us about connectedness and community
How gratitude for small luxuries helps you appreciate how far you’ve come
This past weekend, Quinn and I went into the mountains to see the fall colors. It was our first real trip away together, and I wanted it to be perfect.
Normally, I take the lead on trips. I’ll scour every Airbnb, compare hotels, check maps for hikes, make sure we’re hitting peak leaves in the exact region. I can spend days chasing the “perfect” plan.
But this time, Quinn booked the place. She moved quickly… Looked at reviews, saw the location was close enough, fit the budget, and hit “book.” Start to finish, it was maybe five minutes.
In my head I was like, you didn’t even check other sites? You didn’t scroll through every listing? You just said this works?And weirdly, sometimes that’s more than enough.
I’ll be honest: I was skeptical. Not because I didn’t trust her, but because I like to feel in control. But something in me said, “Just let this be.” And I’m glad I did — because it was exactly what we needed.
Trust and Letting Go
When we got there, I realized how much weight I usually put on myself by needing to control everything. I’ve spent so much of my life believing I know best. That if I don’t handle it, it won’t work out.
That need to control has shown up everywhere: in relationships, in work, even in rec sports. I’ve been the guy who wants to lead the decision-making process, always wants the ball, who steps into conversations that don’t really need me, because I’m scared it won’t go “right” if I’m not steering.
But here’s the truth: it almost always does work out. And this time was no different. The place was quiet, beautiful, and felt like it was made for us.
Letting Quinn lead felt freeing but also uncomfortable. It was vulnerable. Part of me worried the outcome wouldn’t be perfect. But deeper than that, I realized I was scared of not being “needed.”
The funny thing is, the moment I gave up control, everything got easier. I didn’t spend days stressing about details or whether she was enjoying herself. I actually had space to enjoy it too.
Trust doesn’t mean you always get your way. It means believing others and the world can hold things too.
Presence and Simplicity
In the past, I felt pressure to fill every moment. Talking if there was silence. Planning activities if there was downtime. Making sure life always felt like a movie.
But this trip reminded me it doesn’t have to be that way. Some of my favorite moments were the simplest: breakfast with the sunrise, standing on the hillside as it set, hiking quietly with nothing but the sound of the river and chipmunks running through the forest.
Quinn helps bring this out in me. She enjoys extravagance, sure, but she doesn’t need it. She’s content with simple things and that makes it easier for me to be too.
We don’t need a plan. We don’t need to fill every silence. Sometimes the best part is doing nothing at all, and letting the space itself be enough.
That simplicity gave me room to be more present with her, and with myself.
Connected Like the Aspens
On the trip I also learned something new: aspens don’t grow as individual trees. They grow in groves, all connected to the same root system underground. What looks separate on the surface is actually one living organism underneath.
That stuck with me. It reminded me of people. On the surface, we look different, different lives, careers, backgrounds, struggles. But underneath, most of us want the same things: to be happy, to love and be loved, to find meaning, to feel like ourselves.
The details may look unique, but the roots are the same.
For me, that realization takes away the pressure to feel like my struggles are mine alone. I’ve learned that whatever I’m facing, someone else has likely faced it too. And talking about it opens the door to connection instead of isolation.
We’re not as separate as we think. And when you see that, it’s easier to trust others, to show up simply, and to let yourself be supported.
Gratitude and Building Something Real
The last lesson was gratitude.
I sat there realizing I’ve built a life where I can rent a car, drive into the mountains, and spend a weekend with someone I care about just to look at leaves. Leaves that were green a few weeks ago and are now yellow and orange — nothing more, nothing less.
If you’d told 13-year-old me that one day I’d spend money to do this, he would’ve laughed — but I think he also would’ve been proud. Maybe a little disappointed in how “old” I’ve become, but also amazed that I created a life with the freedom to do it.
It might not look exactly like I imagined, but that’s the point. Life rarely does. Yet I’ve built something I’m grateful for: freedom, experiences, and the space to share it with someone new.
I also realized I couldn’t have gotten here without the other lessons. I needed trust. I needed presence. I needed to appreciate myself and the life I’ve built before I could be ready to share it.
I’m not saying I’m at the point of love yet, but I can feel the foundation being laid. And that, in itself, is something to be grateful for.
Closing Thoughts
This weekend in the mountains reminded me of three things:
Trust gives you freedom.
Simplicity brings presence.
Gratitude (and connectedness) build the foundation for something real.
I used to think I had to control everything, fill every silence, and keep chasing the next thing. But life is better when you let go a little. When you allow others to lead. When you give yourself space to simply exist. And when you appreciate how far you’ve already come.
These reminders might seem small, but they change the way you show up in relationships, in work, and in life.
Sometimes it just takes a quiet weekend in the mountains to bring them into focus.
