From my desk at the Vail Marriott, the snow keeps pace in a heavy flurry, and I find myself overwhelmingly thankful for the view as I struggle to tease out a page of my thesis. It’s been awhile, to say the least. As of lately, self-reflection has been in short supply. Not because it doesn’t happen, but because there is too much going on to give space to it. I recently told someone, “I’m in a weird space:” a space that consists of overhaul and change and questioning and striving for things I want but am not yet capable of, a slow slugging through the mud of maturation.