We all have our essentials—that curated collection of things that make us feel alive, grounded, and (sometimes) just a little cooler than we actually are. I’ve been thinking about the things I couldn’t live without, the objects and practices that have become my non-negotiables in life and love. Some are nostalgic, some are practical, and some are just downright indulgent. All of them? Absolutely necessary.

Here’s my list of personal essentials and why they matter, complete with a side of humor, a little backstory, and some real talk.

1. Ceremonial Tea and That One Mug I Guard Like It’s a National Treasure

There’s something sacred about my morning tea ritual. I know coffee steals the spotlight in most kitchens, but for me, tea is my daily grounding moment. Specifically, cedar tea—a nod to the sacred medicines I grew up with. Drinking it feels like reconnecting with my younger self, back when my aunties would loop me into stories about life and love while the warm cedar scent made the air feel thicker and softer at the same time.

The mug I drink from? A slightly chipped one I bought at a small art co-op in New Mexico, hand-glazed with purple swirls that remind me of the high desert at dusk. Every sip? A reset button. Every morning? A small ceremony.

Why it matters: Find your rituals. Maybe it’s tea. Maybe it’s applying that very specific lip balm that you’d hoard in an apocalypse. Whatever it is, let it ground you. Bonus points if it smells like serenity.

2. A Kickass Pair of Earrings

If the eyes are windows to the soul, statement earrings are the flags that announce what’s going on behind those windows. When I’m feeling bold? Turquoise dangly ones, handcrafted, and unapologetically loud. When I need a little armor? Silver studs shaped like bears—I call them my protectors.

These earrings are more than accessories; they’re identity markers and conversation starters. One time, sitting across from a first date, my turquoise earrings sparked a 30-minute dialogue about road trips through Arizona. We didn’t work out, but that conversation convinced me to give Bryce Canyon a shot. (Spoiler: Worth it.)

Why it matters: You don’t need to smother yourself in jewelry, but find that one piece that resonates. It’s confidence you can clip on.

3. Books That Feel Like Old Friends

I can’t live without the tattered novels I probably should’ve replaced years ago. Louise Erdrich’s Love Medicine is my top shelf companion. I return to it when life feels heavy and I need a little storytelling balm for the soul. I have pages underlined and margins filled with messy notes from different eras of my life—it’s my journal in disguise.

Books like these remind me of home, of the power of storytelling passed through generations. And, fun bonus, they double as date decor on my coffee table. Honestly, there’s no better “yeah, I’m interesting” flex than casually working Erdrich into a conversation.

Why it matters: Stories build bridges. Make sure your bookshelf reflects the version of you someone might want to step toward.

4. My Beat-Up Leather Journal

There’s something romantic about barely legible handwriting scrawled onto creamy pages, stained with tea (or tears—let’s be real). I carry my leather-bound journal everywhere, even to places where it makes no sense to have it, like the climbing gym or a random grocery run. It’s where I unload everything: future article ideas, snippets of overheard conversations, doodles of animals that look suspiciously like clouds, and intermittent epiphanies about my life and relationships.

I swear this journal has saved my butt more times than I can count. Trying to untangle your feelings about someone new? Write. Mad about something they said? Write. Confused about whether to text them back after an ambiguous “k”? You get the idea.

Why it matters: Keeping a journal makes you pause, process, and—most importantly—listen to yourself. It’s like the friend who lets you rant without interrupting.

5. Hiking Boots That Feel Like Freedom

I grew up surrounded by wide-open spaces, so being in nature isn’t just a hobby for me—it’s a lifeline. My boots are rugged and broken in, with a layer of red dust that stubbornly clings no matter how many times I try to clean them. They’ve carried me through flirtatious first-date hikes, solitary wanderings when I needed to think, and once, embarrassingly, a surprise tumble into a creek (don’t text and climb, people).

When life—and love—feels overwhelming, I lace them up and hit the trails, sometimes talking out loud to myself like some budget Jane Austen protagonist. Hiking gives me perspective; it literally makes my problems look smaller from the ridge.

Why it matters: Nature has a way of reminding you that life is bigger than your latest romantic conundrum. Plus, bonus glutes.

6. Spotify Playlists That Set the Mood (Any Mood)

I don’t know what people did before playlists, and frankly, I don’t want to know. Music has been my constant companion through every phase of my romantic life. First crush? Buffy Sainte-Marie on repeat. Breakup #482? Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours to the rescue. A current date-night mix? Heavy on the indie vibes to make me seem cooler than I am (I see you, Phoebe Bridgers).

Sometimes, I’ll just let my “Go-To Powwow Jams” playlist fill the kitchen while I cook—it’s cathartic and connects me to family and tradition. That’s the beauty of playlists: they shift with your mood and remind you how you got to where you are.

Why it matters: The right music can amplify joy, soften heartbreak, and make you feel understood. Pro tip: Create a personal “hype yourself up” playlist for bad days (or questionable dates).

7. A Cast-Iron Skillet and Cornmeal Magic

Maybe it’s because the kitchen is where family stories unfolded for me. Maybe it’s because nothing tastes better than fresh frybread. Whatever the reason, my cast-iron skillet is my love language. Its perpetual seasoning is a repository of every experimental dish I’ve ever made, and it’s the first thing I pack when I relocate (sorry, sneakers, you come second).

There’s an intimacy in cooking for others, whether it’s that perfectly golden frybread or a throw-together breakfast on a Sunday morning. Food reminds us that love can be simple: warm, filling, and handed over with a smile.

Why it matters: Master one recipe that feels like home for you. You don’t need to be a Top Chef contestant to woo someone through their stomach.

Closing Thoughts

What makes something essential isn’t just its usefulness; it’s the meaning and memory tucked inside it. These “things I can’t live without” aren’t just objects or practices—they’re touchstones for who I am and how I connect with the world.

If nothing else, this list is your permission slip to embrace your quirks, celebrate your traditions, and infuse life with the kind of personal touches that make even the ordinary unforgettable. After all, the best connections begin when you unapologetically bring your whole self to the table (or the trail, or the dance floor, or the breakfast nook).

Your turn: What’s your can’t-live-without list?