My suitcase is never really unpacked.
Not because I’m always on the move, but because I’ve grown up moving — from Colombia to Aruba, Venezuela, Spain, and now the UK. Each place taught me how to adapt, listen, and carry stories that aren’t always my own.
I’ll be attending a scholarship-supported summer school in the Netherlands hosted by Utrecht University this summer. The Futuring for Sustainability programme explores how our collective dreams shape our actions today and whether those dreams truly support a sustainable future. We’ll examine how imagination, politics, and belonging intersect in a time of environmental backlash and uncertainty. I’ve never felt more ready for this kind of learning.
A few weeks ago, I participated in a Scottish Highlands leadership programme. Nature was everywhere — wild, honest, grounding. Our group, the “Cabin Queens,” wrote a poem together. One verse still echoes in me:
“As the winds arise and the birds do fly, our spirits and minds align.”
That line reminded me that sustainability isn’t just about carbon or climate. It’s about alignment, presence, and how we move through the world, with each other and the earth.
I’ve also recently learned more about myself. Just last year, I was diagnosed with dyslexia. Instead of feeling discouraged, I felt seen. It helped explain my creative way of thinking and my instinct to connect ideas differently. It also gave me a more profound sense of empathy — something I now bring into my studies, conversations, and commitment to sustainability.
As I prepare for my time in Utrecht, I’m thinking carefully about how I travel — not just the carbon I produce but the values I carry. I’m choosing lighter luggage, slower options, and secondhand where possible. But more importantly, I’m choosing to travel with intention.
I want my time abroad to leave something meaningful behind. Not just photos or memories, but awareness — a ripple that extends beyond myself. Whether I bring what I learn into business, education, or leadership, I want to keep asking better questions:
What stories do we carry into the future? Who gets to tell them? And how do we shape sustainable, fair, and shared futures?
I may never leave a perfect footprint. But I want to leave one thoughtful, honest, and rooted in care.
