Settling In(n)

A Place for the Wanderers

A playlist curated for this article can be found here.

Navigating the In-between

The world is a busy place, or at least I remember it being so when I was living in it. Work, school, friends, dating, exercising, cooking, cleaning, scrolling, gaming, writing, creating, driving, reading, sleeping, calling, texting, walking—I could go on. My time was spent doing things. While this is not necessarily a negative, I am keenly aware of my natural ability of filling time with things. At least, it used to be natural. 

About nine months ago, I chose to leave my job and return home to help my family take care of my brother. So, I packed everything up and left the Bay Area to move home to Montana. Since being home, I have found that my ability to fill time with things has become something I must consciously choose to use. Don’t get me wrong—I still find myself locked in a doom scroll at 2am having intended to go to bed hours prior. But during my waking hours, if I am not careful, my day will float by without me having done one thing. 

Sounds like a dream, right? It absolutely was when I first got here. No deadlines, no student crises, no social scene to worry about. Just me and my family taking care of my brother one day at a time (which, admittedly, is a significant task in itself).

However, this season has started to feel like I’m a book paused mid-chapter, waiting for the next page to turn. Perhaps that’s a bit of a literary stretch. A more fitting analogy might be that it feels like I’m in the airport between flights and my next flight keeps getting delayed. I’m suspended in these in-between moments—these liminal spaces—I’m neither here nor there, caught between where I’ve been and where I’m going. 

Neither Here nor There

I should mention that I love airports and layovers (within reason). I am also on a very long streak of bad luck when it comes to flights and often find myself stuck in Salt Lake or Denver for an offensive amount of time so I’ve had a lot of space to think. 

Even before my recent misadventures though, I loved time in airports. I am one of those people who arrives far too early so I can get a cup of coffee, find my gate, and people watch. There’s something captivating about the spaces between where we’ve been and where we’re headed. Something about the liminal space feels liberating and it is interesting to watch how people choose to use this freedom.

I remember vividly one morning in the Phoenix airport, searching for a place to wait for my flight. I ended up sitting next to a businesswoman eating a full pepperoni pizza with two glasses of wine…at 8 a.m. I watched her finish both without batting an eye. No shade to this woman, I was impressed by her authenticity. It was a perfect example of the lawless nature of airport layovers, where people’s choices reveal something unique about who they are.

Whether it’s an airport, a bus stop, a car between home and work, the hour between meetings, a waiting room, or a hotel bar—these in-between spaces are some of the few remaining places where we simply wait. I believe how we navigate these moments reveals much about ourselves.

Adjusting Our Eyes

You know that feeling when you wake up in the middle of the night and need to leave your bed for something—a snack, a drink, the restroom? I never turn on the light on the trip from the bedroom. I navigate my home expertly and make it to my destination where I then have to turn on the light. Then, when I’ve completed my task, I turn off the light and I suddenly forget where anything is in the home I’ve lived in for years. It’s pitch black and I either have to stand there, completely vulnerable, and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark or charge boldly ahead risking life and limb to make it back to my bed while I still have the sleep in my eyes. Its a coin toss every time as to what I choose. 

I have come to see that liminal spaces offer us a similar choice. We can either let our eyes adjust to the stillness, or we can stumble forward, filling the time with things just to keep moving. But in rushing, we often lose sight of the opportunities waiting in the quiet. Sometimes, it's only when we pause that we truly begin to see. Both options have their merit and I won’t argue that one is better than the other. However, I think that in the busy nature of filling time with things our eyes may have a hard time of picking out the opportunities to engage in the waiting. For those who find themselves caught in the in-between, seeking refuge from the unrelenting need to move forward, we all need places where we can be still—without agenda or expectation. I want Innkeeper to be that place. A sanctuary for the wanderers, the overburdened, and the restless. A space that recognizes the deep desire to pause without guilt or pressure.

Whether you’re physically traveling through airports or wandering through a season of transition in life, Innkeeper is a place to set your bags down, if only for a moment. A place where you can ask questions without the pressure of immediate answers, where stillness is valued over productivity or progress. Wanderers often find themselves blinded by the constant need to move, to act, to fill the silence. Innkeeper is here to help them adjust—to sit long enough for their eyes to recalibrate and to allow the quiet wisdom of stillness to emerge.

Innkeeper is for those who would consider themselves to be wanderers. I believe in the importance of rhythm, generosity, and invitation as guiding principles in life. Just as every journey has its natural pauses and transitions, so too does life, and in these moments, we’re invited to reflect, recalibrate, and grow. This is a space to pause, not with guilt, but with the generosity of time and the invitation to simply be present. In every journey, there comes a point where we become wanderers—lost in transition, searching for something that often feels just out of reach. We long for a space to catch our breath, to rest our weary feet, and to reflect on the road behind and ahead. For those who find themselves between destinations, Innkeeper is here for you. Whether you’ve been traveling the world, navigating the complexities of daily life, or journeying through your own inner landscape, I want this space to feel like a homecoming. A place to find warmth and conversation, free from judgment or the pressure to keep moving.

Here, you can let your guard down, take off your coat, and sit by the fire for a while. The world can wait. Your journey will continue soon enough. For now, let’s settle into the stillness, reflecting on where you are and where you might be headed. In doing so, you may find the direction you’ve been searching for all along. Because sometimes, the most important step in any journey is to simply stop, breathe, and let the next step reveal itself. This is the heart behind this publication. I want to host you in the space between where you are coming from and where you are going. 

So, come on in, set your bags down, grab a cup of coffee, and take a seat by the fire. Let’s talk about this lovely world.

-Charlie