2025 Moments That Linger: How We Spend Our Time is How We Spend Our Lives
MO/AD Family,
I hope this finds you well, and in the warmth and spirit of the holiday season, in whatever way feels right for you.
As we close out 2025, I’ve been reflecting on the moments that shaped this year.
Some made us laugh. Some stopped us mid-step. Some cracked us open in ways we didn’t expect. But all of them reminded us what it means to be present in the joy, in the beauty, and, as importantly, in the hard things that clarify what actually matters.
The moments we choose to invest in become the texture of a life well-lived. And the best ones often happen when we’re away from our routines, open to what unfolds, paying attention to what’s right in front of us.
Here are a few that stayed with me.
When a home disappears
Earlier this year, some of our dearest friends lost their home, and everything in it, in the L.A. fire.
I watched from a distance, helpless. Watched the way loss strips everything down to what actually matters.
What stayed with me wasn’t the devastation. It was what came after. The grace of holding tragedy while still making room for gratitude. Because sometimes, painfully, you realize you’re the fortunate one.
A home is never the structure. It’s the beating hearts inside it. The rituals you don’t realize you’re building until they’re gone.
Only weeks after the destruction, they came to stay with us, and to be able to wrap our arms around them was a gift.
Mexico City, and the joy of rediscovery
After over a year away, I returned to my place of birth. Mexico City. And it felt like coming home and meeting somewhere new at the same time.
Walking streets that knew me before I knew myself. Eating tacos at a corner stand where I have stood at very different stages of my life, and yet still received with the same smiles and salsas. Listening to a beautiful language and tone that lives in my body, even when I don’t speak it daily.
There’s something about returning to a place with history; you’re not just seeing it, you’re meeting yourself at different ages all at once. I’m more Mexican now than I was at 30. And less sure about what that even means. Both things are true.
The gift is in the return itself. To a place. To a relationship. To yourself.
The joy of letting go
One of my favorite things about group travel is how little control you actually need.
You show up. All the details are handled. And suddenly you’re free to notice the light on the water, the way someone tells a story over dinner, and the moment when a stranger becomes a friend.
This year reminded me that the best experiences often come from asking “What wants to happen?” instead of “What’s the plan?”
Say yes to the unexpected invitation. Take the long way. Trust that the serendipity of who shows up, people you didn’t know two days ago, will become part of your story.
There’s something about shared experience that amplifies everything. You witness each other witnessing the world. And somehow, that mirroring makes the whole thing richer than you could have orchestrated alone.
The body as teacher (and the bike as therapy)
One of the great joys of my year has been cycling.
Not just the riding itself, but the community. The group of men I get to ride with in the Oregon hills—rain, cold, it doesn’t matter, we’re out there. And I’m deeply grateful for it. Thankful for the body that can do this. For the support, time, and resources that make it possible. For friends who show up, push each other, and somewhere around hour two, when the legs are burning, have the kinds of conversations that only seem to happen in motion.
This year, we trained for the Swiss Epic, a five-day mountain bike stage race in Switzerland. I showed up with a broken clavicle in the recent rearview and skills best described as “enthusiastic.” But I finished. Two-man team. Sharing the experience with a dear friend was as much a highlight as the race itself.
What I took from it wasn’t the accomplishment. It was the reminder that showing up, even when you’re not ready, has its own quiet dignity. And that doing hard things is paradoxically one of life’s great pleasures.
This year, we also launched Modern Adventure Pro Cycling with an extraordinary group of humans. I’m a co-founder, and Modern Adventure is the title sponsor. We start racing in 2026 and are on a march to the Tour de France over the next seven years. Just writing that sentence seems surreal. Vamos!
At 50, I’m less interested in what’s safe and more devoted to what’s alive. And this, building something with people I respect, taking a risk, creating something new, this feels alive.
Family and partnership
My twins are 14 now. My son is 12. And I’m learning that parenting at this age isn’t about control, it’s about presence and letting go in equal measure.
They’re becoming who they are, not who I imagined. And my work is to witness that, to hold space for it, without trying to shape it into something familiar.
This year, my partner Jo, my wife of 25 years and co-founder of Modern Adventure, returned to the business.
We built this company together years ago, and now we’re building it again, but from a different place. More grounded. More honest about what we each bring, what we each need, and how we want to show up—both in the work and in our life together.
There’s something about returning to a shared project with someone you know this deeply. You’re not starting from scratch. You’re building on everything you’ve already learned, together and apart. It’s energizing in a way I didn’t anticipate.
Looking ahead
As we step into 2026, I’m thinking about what becomes possible when we say yes to the experiences that call to us.
This year, we’re focusing our energy on private travel, designing journeys that are entirely yours. Maybe it’s the family trip you’ve been imagining. A milestone celebration. An adventure with your closest friends. Or simply the desire to experience a place on your own terms, at your own pace, with the people who matter most.
We bring the same care, access, and attention to detail you know from our work, the insider connections, the unexpected moments, and the experiences you couldn’t orchestrate on your own. But instead of joining a group, you’re creating something entirely personal. Something that reflects who you are and how you want to move through the world.
If that resonates, I’d love to hear what you’re dreaming about. Our private travel team is here to help you turn that vision into reality.
We’re also continuing our Tastemaker journeys in 2026: small groups, thoughtfully crafted, with the kind of access and understanding that transforms how you see a place. If you’re drawn to the energy of traveling with others, to the serendipity of shared experience, we’d love to have you join us.
Whether private or group, the invitation is the same: to moments that matter, experiences that remind you what it feels like to be fully alive.
An invitation
So here’s what I’ll leave you with.
Close your eyes for a moment. Picture yourself a year from now, looking back at 2026.
What did you say yes to? Where did you go? Who were you with?
What landscape appears when you think about the moments that mattered most—the ones that made you laugh, that changed something in you, or that reminded you why getting out into the world is worth it?
Now open your eyes.
That feeling? That pull toward something real, something alive? That’s worth your time. Worth your resources. Worth saying yes to.
How we spend our time is how we spend our lives.
With gratitude,
– Luis Vargas, Founder & CEO
