4 minutes later a man in a beige hoodie walked by dragging a black suitcase. I watched the wheels of his bag hit the wet pavement and wondered where he was going and where he had been.

Where was I going?

-------------------------------

On January 27th, I had a meltdown over diamond earrings. Convulsive tears that fell on the pages of my coloring book and lightened the orange ears of an elephant. I ordered fried rice with shrimp, miso soup with tofu, a Tom Kha soup. Purple mashed potato.

They must have forgotten the purple and I forgot about the diamond earrings.

--------------------------------

On Dec. 7th, the sun set in Miami at 5:08 p.m. I have no proof, but I was there with the cicadas and breeze. The palm trees joined us. They brought a statue of a royal blue and yellow walrus.

A man in a white shirt and blue pants - the same hue as the patio furniture - walked by slowly. Two women in pink shirts followed. Another man appeared on the patio with a box of pizza.

---------------------------------

On a Tuesday in Paris, I watched a couple devour one another in an open foodmarket. It reminded me of a French man who did the same to my face whenever we hung out. “Who cares about these people,” he would say.

Under a wine colored awning. I drank the same color.

--------------------------------

There was that one week in February. On a Thursday, after working a 12-hour day, my Wi-Fi went out (God, are you there? It’s me, Vanessa). I binged Oreos until I felt sick and the insides of my teeth were covered in black and the cream stuck to the crevices.

What made me stop? What makes you stop?

The hum of the refrigerator.

I stared at a bottle of Advil PM, knowing morning grogginess would be the debt to pay. I crawled into bed to read a book about a young woman’s time in a mental institution. I circled a quote: “None of us survive.”

Did I cry that night?

-------------------------------

The day before I received a package from my mother. Inside were 5 bags of coffee. Why?

“It’s five dollars. Now, with this damn war, everything’s going to go up, and it doesn’t spoil in storage.”

Read: I love you.

----------------------------------

That same Wednesday, I hired a man on TaskRabbit to change my living room curtains.

“You’ll tell stories of the easiest money you have ever made,” I said.

Closing the ladder, he laughed. His thick Russian accent reverberated in my ears when he said, “This is exactly what I’m thinking I will tell my friends.”

He arrived at 4 p.m. He left at 4:05 p.m.

-----------------------------------

Later that month in San Francisco, many women wore dark denim. This surprised me. I have a complicated relationship with dark denim.

On Geary Street, a table of attractive men with dark features, perfectly groomed beards, and really tight shirts gathered to smoke hookah at a lounge. I watched them greet each other and make room for the two who just walked in. I made a mental note about San Francisco and then I googled “burgers near me.”

I thought about crisp hotel sheets and a freshly serviced room. I imagined unbuttoning my pants and letting my bloated belly hang.

--------------------------------

On March 1st, American Airlines Flight 2391 with service to Miami was delayed because the incoming aircraft was late. Groups 5-9 were required to check their bags.

“I will not leave my bag,” she yelled. “Ma’am, please step to the side,” he responded.

For some people, traveling is very difficult.

On my way to seat 25F, I made eye contact with a woman who had pale skin and bright green eyes.

“You are so beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Can I have your number? I did not say.

On this same flight, a woman I know intimately wrote in her journal about a flight leaving San Francisco.

I was much further out than you thought and not waving but drowning - Stevie Smith

Reading/Entertainment

1. Comfort watch / listen was Amy Poehler’s Good Hang podcast on YouTube. I love watching comedians in conversation.

2. Best book: This is a tie. Both of these books had unforgettable characters and legit had me in tears because life.

   1. I See You Called In Dead is about an obituary writer Bud Stanley who is about to be fired for accidentally publishing his own obituary after a drunken night and his life begins to unravel. Funny and sad.

   2. The Correspondent. Sybil Van Antwerp writes letters to everyone and anyone friends, neighbors, authors. The entire book is told through her letters. You get to know her life, her secrets and her regrets. A unique reading experience.

3. Favorite long form reads:

   1. The Road to Self Renewal. This is a speech John Gardner delivered in 1990 to McKinsey & Company. I returned to this multiple times - so many good nuggets. “Life is an endless unfolding, and if we wish it to be, an endless process of self-discovery, an endless and unpredictable dialogue between our own potentialities and the life situations in which we find ourselves.”

   2. An Existential Guide to Making Friends. This was a funny, interesting angle on a topic where the typical advice has started to feel repetitive to me. It made me appreciate the friends who have made these efforts with me. “You will text first, often. Later they will. Then you again. If you keep a ledger, you are an auditor, not a friend. The universe does not balance; the kindness must.”

4. Best New Artist Audrey McGraw - Faith Hill and Tim McGraw’s daughter. I love Thunder and Gone Away.

Shopping

1. Best jeans (defined as more than 1 purchase) - Levi’s Baggy Dad

2. Best activewear: Old Navy Studio Smooth Wide-Leg Pants. Butter smooth, high wasted, wide leg, great ass.

Wellness

1. Learning That Became a Regular Practice: The 6 Qigong Healing Sounds, a traditional Chinese medicine technique that uses breath, sound, and vibration to release tension and undesirable emotions. Each sound is linked to an organ. Here is a 10 minute meditation to guide you. I feel noticeably calmer and settled when I do this before bed.

2. Most frequented prayer meditation - Prayer of Surrender. Some of my favorite lines: “Free me from any need to manipulate and control outcomes. Trusting that I will attract the right experiences in alignment with your highest good. May all living beings on our beloved planet be blessed and gently showered with droplets of your divine light.”

3. Best gift / experience - Natal Chart Reading with Micaela Anaya (Thank you Les!) Such a clear, cohesive picture of why I am the way I am. Highly recommend. So memorable.

4. Best Investment - Working with a Nutrionist who I found on a Reddit rabbit hole. I lost several pounds of inflammation (photos to prove). Highly recommend if you’ve been thinking about partnering with someone.

40 Questions for the end of the year

1. What did you do this year that you’d never done before?

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions?

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

4. Did anyone close to you die?

5. What cities/states/countries did you visit?

6. What would you like to have next year that you lacked this year?

7. What date(s) from this year will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

9. What was your biggest failure?

10. What other hardships did you face?

11. Did you suffer illness or injury?

12. What was the best thing you bought?

13. Whose behavior merited celebration?

14. Whose behavior made you appalled?

15. Where did most of your money go?

16. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

17. What song will always remind you of this year?

18. Compared to this time last year, are you: happier or sadder? Richer or poorer? Healthier or unhealthier?

19. What do you wish you’d done more of?

20. What do you wish you’d done less of?

21. How are you spending the holidays?

22. Did you fall in love this year?

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

24. What was your favorite show?

25. What was the best book you read?

26. What was your greatest musical discovery of the year?

27. What was your favorite film?

28. What was your favorite meal?

29. What did you want and get?

30. What did you want and not get?

31. What did you do on your birthday?

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

33. How would you describe your personal fashion this year?

34. What kept you sane?

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you admire the most?

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

37. Who did you miss?

38. Who was the best new person you met?

39. What valuable life lesson did you learn this year?

40. What is a quote that sums up your year?

“The version of yourself that will be able to handle every situation that might arise in your life will be born in the precise moment that situation comes to be”

This quote climbed into my psyche last year and has found it’s way into so many different pockets of thoughts.

I was deep down a future-thinking spiral. Planning for an imaginary outcome. Ruminating. Rehearsing stress. When this quote drifted up once again to say hello.

“The version of yourself that will be able to handle every situation that might arise in your life will be born in the precise moment that situation comes to be”

I should be thinking about her. And her. And her.

All the versions of me that have gotten me here and all the versions that will show up.

The responsible one.

The intelligent one.

The disciplined one.

The curious one.

The faithful one.

I don’t thank her enough.

Her grace.

Her judgment.

Her restraint.

The incredible decisions that quietly built this life.

In trying to make sure it doesn’t fall apart, I’m failing to recognize the person who is keeping it together.

She’s always there, carving out paths, checking doorways and running plays

so that when I arrive, it can be easy,

so that when I arrive, I can be prepared,

so that when I arrive, I can be myself,

so that when I arrive, it’s taken care of - beautifully - for my enjoyment.

That’s what she’s been doing for me since I had the reasoning to figure it out on my own.

And look at her results.

So lately I’ve been saying thank you.

Thank you for always appearing.

Thank you for preparing me.

Thank you for guiding me.

Thank you for aligning me to the people, places, opportunities and experiences which are aligned to my highest, bravest, most abundant, most creative self.

A white light running through my blood

I was everything at once

child

water

tree

red

light

ball

river

head to toe

tingly sensations

and then

the drop…

"are you having enough fun?"

There it was.

I've been meditating for over 10 years now and I'm still amazed at the clarity in which messages come through and the varying depths of the meditative experience. This one really stuck with me. It led me to other questions:

Are you creating enough?

Are you risking enough?

Are you venturing enough?

Are you adventuring enough?

Are you in the game or are you on the sidelines?

What would it look like if it you took up more space?

What if you dreamt a bigger dream?

What does fun look like for me now?

Which parts of my week aren’t built out of social responsibility, but purely for my play - for my enjoyment?

What are things that I do solely for my satisfaction?

What does expansion actually look like and why does it feel uncomfortable?

I often think about this one conversation with a girl named Priscilla in high school. Union Square, New York City, we’re working on a group project. I turned to the window and told her I wanted to leave class and ride around the city in a limo drinking champagne. She looked at me perplexed. I come back to this moment because some days I feel like I’ve lost touch with that version of me and I want to spend more time with her. By her I mean playful, imaginative, seeker.

If we really exist in multiple parallels, where is that version of me now and how do I reach her? Am I doing enough of things to break up the monotony?

I’m reminded of a depressive episode where an ex boyfriend woke me up and surprised me with champagne and a random trip to the aquarium to break out of the funk. It was fun, spontaneous and helped shift the energy.

All of this reflecting has forced me to recognize that this isn't a rehearsal. We’re really in it and we’re responsible for making this an adventure. There is a version of you that's questioning if you're having enough fun and there's the version that's having said fun. Choose a more interesting story. Choose to play with life.

So for weeks now I have been intentionally choosing paths that tug at one of these questions, inching me slowly towards more expansion.

• I bought a new sketchpad and busted out my markers, doodled for hours to reconnect with my creativity.

• I walked into the nail shop and told my nail tech we needed to switch it up. Her excitement was palpable. We shared a good laugh, the way women do over things like nail paint.

• I approached a group of women working out in the park and agreed to join them.

• I booked a trip to London and Paris.

• I bought a tub my favorite ice cream. Twice.

• I went on a few dates just to witness myself in that energy, to see me again.

After one of those dates, I felt rather unsatisfied and instead of heading home to dwell on that, I asked myself - what could fun look like for me today?

I walked into a bookstore and sat there for hours letting words take me to different scenes and conversations. Skimming through books, drinking coffee. No where to go, nothing else to do, no one else to be. A tingly joy radiated through me.

I signed up for a Friday night neighborhood party to expose my social anxiety to a new environment (not fun for me) but I wanted to experiment and see which version of me would pop up. How could I overcome the full body panic that wants to run? What memory would come out of this night?

I was holding a drink, forcing myself breathe through the discomfort, when a man with a perfectly shaped afro, a small purple purse and black bellbottomed jeans nudged me to join him on the dance floor. We two-stepped in silence, letting movement and smiles do the talking. Feeling delighted, I headed home.

There I was, in my bed, just finished masturbating. I’m eating butternut scotch cookies with Oreos ice cream, thinking to myself "this is for me."

_______

What I’ve gotten from these micro decisions, (while they’re not all champagne in a limo) is that I’m actively choosing to create moments for myself and stopping to intentionally label them as for me, for fun, for play. My goal is to feel more engaged with my day to day so the next time she asks me if I’m having enough fun, it’s a fuck yes.

On Wednesday, I was running water for a bath. Feeling unusually calm. I lit a cigarette and poured a glass of wine. You shouldn't be smoking, you haven't recovered from that cold. I know, I say, putting it out.

I think about suicide. I am not suicidal. I think about suicide. I check on the water. I think of Whitney. Do you? Do you think of Whitney when you soak in a bath and the water reaches your neck? Oh.

I long for potato chips the way I think some women long to be touched by a man. The moans inside a crunch. The salt sitting on my wet tongue. More. Olive oil and salt, please. Have you tried these? Oh.

It's late. A car screeches just outside the window. A plane descending. Where from? Somewhere east. Shhh, listen, listen. After the plane passes, you can hear the palm trees swaying.

The water is ready, says no one.

I run my fingers through it to check for warmth.

A robe falls.

Reading:

People who demand nothing of you (or, notes on charismatic people)

Are You Overreacting? How to survive when provocations are a natural—and inescapable—part of life

Watching:

Diary of a CEO featuring Vanessa Van Edwards - as someone who carries a level of social anxiety and introverted tendencies, this is one of my favorites. The Founder of ‘Science of People’, gives people science-backed skills to improve communication and leadership. Topics include: the scientific formula to be more charismatic, body language and connection, improving dating, conversing with strangers. Send me Diary of a CEO recommendations, please.

The Infiltrator - A canny federal agent navigates a deadly world where one mistake could get him killed: the criminal underworld of Colombia ruled by Pablo Escobar.

The Menu - horror, odd comedy. A couple travels to a remote restaurant for a dinner hosted by a renowned chef whose menu turns out to be a fusion of dark spectacle and raw terror.

Silence is the vehicle that will get you across any roads no matter how twisted they may seem from afar. When you pull up to it, the answers will come to you. They always do. It always works out in the end and if it doesn't, it's not the end.

Apparently I wrote that in February 2020. Couldn't tell you what was happening to me then but I can tell you what's happening to me now and why this message feels so aligned.

Earlier this week, the financial stability I had known it for the last 6 years was stripped from me. I was laid off, unexpectedly, completely blindsided.

Since then, I've been waiting for this tsunami of anxiety to drag me into never-ending tears, shortness of breathe, someone stepping on my chest. I'm waiting for my legs to tingle and the floor to open beneath me, the quicksand to swallow me up but I haven't had that experience.

I have felt the smallest waves of fear, a quick "what the fuckkk?" runs through my bones like a sudden breeze but it settles so quickly. Instead, this voice keeps coming in whispering words of confidence, positivity, guidance and protection. The wave passes and my focus shifts to my breathe and I remember that it's an 80 degree day, the sun is beaming on my balcony, the palm trees are doing their dance, the water is glistening.

I shared this with a friend recently and she said to me "it could also be your subconscious has a knowing your mind hasn’t caught up with yet."

Is that inner knowing what we call wisdom?

Wisdom is something I think about often. To me, it’s a combination of knowledge, strength, skills that you gain with time, age, with experience that then shifts how you show up moving forward. Maybe the stillness that I feel is the wisdom of 10 years of meditation, intentional prayer, daily alignment, yoga, therapy. I feel more curious than I do fearful. Curious about how this will unfold, how I will show up, how my beliefs and practices can sustain me. Curious about how I can make this fun.

But I also feel hesitancy in accepting this curiosity over the insurmountable fear I expected to show up first. There is a part of me that feels I need to prepare for the storm that is The Anxious Woman that lives in me. My therapist urges me to allow feelings to show up when they do. She reminds me that anticipating anxiety is a form of anxiety. It happens to be that right now I feel closer to the The Wise Woman in me. That I am being held by some inner wisdom and that’s the only woman I need to make room for right now.

So while I wait for whoever, whatever, whenever, I’m turning to one of my favorite prayers. The Trust Frequency prayer by Paulette Pipe (linked on Insight Timer). I found this prayer in 2022 and it’s become a daily practice. I add to it depending on what I'm needing that day. I share this with you in hopes that if you're also needing to trust whatever version of yourself is with you right now, you can find comfort in these words.

I affirm in the stillness of this moment. 

I am remembering who I am. 

I recall the times I have overcome, pushed through or manifested a timely miracle. I am renewing my trust in Divine Source as I remember there is always sufficient for the day. 

So I choose to trust

I trust that I am enough

I trust that I am worthy of this sacred journey to wholeness

I trust in the process of life

I trust in the healing powers of love

I trust in all that is good and true in my world

I trust in Divine Guidance, Divine Protection, Divine Realignment

I trust that everything is unfolding in Divine timing

I trust in my friends and family

I trust that I am aligned to the people, places, opportunities and experiences that are in alignment with highest, grandest self

I am grateful for the opportunity to reset and reframe my attitude and mindset as necessary. I give and receive from this elevated awareness

And I love that by Divine Grace just when I find myself at a point of doubt I am bestowed and an unexpected and immeasurable gift. 

And so it is.

Good Reads: You’re Allowed to Have Dark Moods, a Time magazine essay written by Mariana Alessandri. “the potential payoff of sharing dark moods with confidantes is huge: genuine connection, co-feeling, compassion, and a real sense that we are not the only one forging a path in this beautiful and terrifying world.”

I would tell you that I feel so disconnected from my creative self. That I avoid pen and paper, that there is a force keeping away from expressing myself. That I am consumed with and drained by my daily obligations. That all I want to do is disappear with no consequences. I wish I could tell you that rest, or alcohol or substances seem to help, but no. There is no amount of gluttonous consumption that helps me feel lighter. I would do anything for a moment of temporary delusion but I am permanently aware of the balancing act. I would tell you that there is daily judgement around how wholly tiring I find Adulting as a single person - with no partner to compromise with, no children to raise. My responsibilities seem so minimal compared to others, my situation seems so manageable. I would ask you to help me understand why this feel so challenging.

I would show you where it's concentrated, right here above my belly button. I would grab your hand and ask you to press it against my chest and breathe with me. My tears would probably break right then and I'd cover my face the way we do when we don't want others to witness our despair.

If I had to tell you anything right now, I'd tell you that this feels really hard but I'm trying my best. That's what I would like you to remember.

Then, I would ask you to tell me a story.

What does it look like where you are right now? What are you feeling right this second?

Allow me a moment…

There I am sitting next to two complete strangers on either side of me. I'm mostly thinking of the significant investment we made to be here but also how neither of us could have predicted what the person next to you would look like, their background, or the history that brought them to see Adele. The forces of the universe with no involvement from us, other than purchasing a ticket, put us here in this section of a theater in Las Vegas on the same night.

The stage is set and I'm bracing myself for the emotional whiplash Adele is about to drag me through. She even acknowledges it before she begins. The sadness in her lyrics is palpable but more profound is the drama of her performance. She's a vivid storyteller, using her voice to surface so many emotions. You're on this emotive ride with her from the moment she steps on stage but you're blind to where she's taking you.

As the set progresses, the excitement builds around the difference stage setups, the opening notes us giving us clues to the next song. People around you reacting to those first few keys…finally the song they’ve been waiting for. There was so much anticipation and eagerness. Each performance more grandiose than the next. I found myself literally at the edge of my seat during transitions. The theatrics flooding you simultaneously combined with the heightened expressions of emotions around you. Tears, hugs, laughter, awe. A whirlwind.

There was a very quiet proposal a few rows behind me during her performance of One and Only. Save for the people around them shining their cameras, I wouldn’t have known. She couldn’t stop crying, he couldn’t stop smiling. I thought, how perfect is this monumental memory for them. Everywhere you looked, there were little pockets of humans emoting from glee to those visibly consumed by melancholy.

The concert felt symbolic of life's largest contradictions. It was an encapsulation of opposing feelings - excitement, joy and thrill while singing along to lyrics of deep grief, change and heartbreak. I remember looking around and being so aware of the drama of life. Here I was sitting in pure happiness and awe while the songwriter performs a story about one of the most devastating moments in her life decked in glitter and pearls. In a way, we can experience this beautiful art because she suffered through it.

To add to it, I was in Vegas celebrating a beautiful person, a friend, amongst friends. I was around so much sisterhood, history, partnership and love. It all felt so grand and expansive. I've have had this reoccurring thought since then that the amount of beautiful people you grow with is equal to the measure in which you will experience loss. The degree in which you live through so much adventure, beauty and love is equal to the degree of how much is at risk to cause you grief.

The awareness of that shortens my breathe because one my mental challenges is anticipatory grief (surprise - you’re reading about it now). I think a lot about when and how I will navigate certain losses. There is no running from the various emotions of the human experience. There is no way way to protect yourself from the lows without also cutting yourself off from experiencing the highs.

Life is just a series of corners and you’re completely blind to what's next. Much like waiting on the opening notes of the next song at a concert. Maybe that's the wisdom in creating memories - staying present and trying to encapsulate the feelings because you know they end.

Relaxing for me this year is more like laying on my couch with a notepad near by. A task comes to mind, I lean over, grab the pen and write it down. I can't get through 15 minutes of any “relaxing” activity or time that I carve out to just “be” without the nudge that I can use this time more “productively." I put those in quotes because what the fck does that even mean?

I feel hyperaware of this concept of adulting - the practice of behaving in a way characteristic of a responsible adult, especially the accomplishment of mundane but necessary tasks, as the dictionary puts it.

I’ve been thinking about adults who are raising children. The unimaginable energy and time management required to upkeep a home and a LIFE for more than 1 person. I think about their endless to-do lists that are triple the length of mine.

I, as a party of 1, find adulting to be so incredibly demanding mentally and physically, all consuming and never ending. But there’s another level to this that I’m challenged by. It’s not just the mundane tasks. It’s the additional internalized beliefs and practices that I’ve picked up along the way. I'm affected by the persistent suggestions and calls to be your best self and to excel in all areas. Suggestions which I believe women are subjected to 100x more than men are.

Allow me…

1. Keep a clean, organized, decorated home. Keep up with the seasons darling.

2. Make time for socializing (avoid the loneliness epidemic)

3. Find and stick to hobbies

4. Show up for your aging parents as needed

5. Show up for friends

6. Respond to messages in a considerable timeline

7. Lift weights to fight bone density

8. Walk 10K steps a day

9. Prioritize “self-care”

10. Combat signs of aging (gua-sha, massages, facials, retinol, bedtime serums)

11. Drain your lymphatic system (yup)

12. Eat a magical amount of protein for muscle growth (See bone density above)

13. Book trips, travel!

14. Yoga for hip mobility (see aging above)

15. Make time for creativity

16. More fruits and vegetables

17. Meditate for your mental health

18. Listen to your body (doctors, follow ups, therapists)

19. Find opportunities to grow your career

20. Whiten your teeth!

21. Always be learning (Artificial Intelligence is coming for your job)

22. And please be present, be grateful

Where does this come from? When does it stop? How much of this is driven by social media images of other women seemingly conquering their days and their homes. The endless tips and tricks for better, faster, cleaner, hotter ways to be. Where does my pressure to adopt these practices stem from? Who are you when you're not constantly producing, optimizing, and finding ways to make yourself better?

I've been craving a day of nothing. No phones. No commitments. No plans. But the truth is that I can very easily make that a reality. All my time is exclusively MY time. I have no responsibilities other than my self. And somehow, this self, is more than I can carry on a given day. I can't turn off the robotic, productive, all-star achiever voices. All I can think about are the endless tabs I have open, all the things I didn't check off that day and how I'm going to find time to get to it tomorrow. What I’m craving is deeper than “no plans.” I’m craving a disconnect from these beliefs and daily practices that consume me.

Give yourself grace, they say. Grace. So elusive, so overused.

And you know what? Any advice given on this topic is just going to add to my to do list.

Anyways. Toodles, I’m off to yoga.

GOOD READS

Athleisure, barre and kale: the tyranny of the ideal woman - “It’s very easy, under conditions of artificial but continually escalating obligation, to find yourself organizing your life around practices you find ridiculous and possibly indefensible. Women have known this intimately for a long time.”

I laughed because it felt like he plucked that sentence right from my brain.

“Why am blowing up my perfectly easy, comfortable, abundant life in Chicago for the unknown of a new city?” That’s where I’ve been lately. Ruminating on that question.

I've been trying to visualize my life 365 days from now. Wondering if I'll be happy or regretful. If this is the right decision, if I rushed this, if I'm going to miss this. If I’m fucking up a really good thing.

I'm drowning in those two letters. I.F.

My neighbors have been treated to random, loud outbursts. "WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?!" Those brief moments of panic and confusion running through my body. Moments where I collapse onto my knees and just cry. “Why, why, why am I doing this?”

But in truth, there are also moments where I feel brave. Moments where my tears aren't of fear or confusion but tears of accomplishment. Past the feelings exhaustion there is a place full of feelings of achievement and excitement. In that place, I am alone dancing. In that place, I am at the finish line on my knees, beaming.

Lately, what I mostly feel is intimately enveloped with life. I'm experiencing something so overwhelming, so personal, so challenging, so lonely that it forces you into a wakefulness, a deep awareness of every moment.

Reminiscing on the twists and turns of my journey, I see a pattern of stages. Stages where I wanted to feel life push up against me, where I wanted to feel the rawness of it. Stages when I'm yearning to feel wide eyed and curious again. Stages when I want to add to the plot. New chapters, new characters. Stages where I want to recreate and meet a new version of myself. Stages where I feel open and brave and I just do shit to do shit. And then there’s a story to tell. And that's the best part.

Don’t forget, you’re writing a story. Do it for the plot.

“Using a chapter for major plot points increases tension, expands character development, and raises stakes as the story progresses. Each major plot point in your novel is essential for building a story that avoids episodic repetition.”

----

My therapist was recently away for over a month. During that time I started a piece, Thoughts for My Therapist. I wrote all the complicated, fragmented thoughts, and heavy feelings that came to me. In her absence, writing as if we were still in conversation allowed me to continue to feel some level of grounding.

I was nervous to see her again but so ready to release and expose the messiness. I was eager to welcome her soothing tone into the parts of my brain that I reserve for therapy.

So 5 minutes before our session, I was surprised to find myself thinking that we should stop working together. I convinced myself in a matter of minutes that we should end this. I thought to myself, I don’t need therapy, I don’t have anything to talk about. And that's how I started our session. "I was thinking we should stop working together."

She stared at me, letting silence breathe between us. "Why is that?" she asked me with a smirk.

"I don't need this. There is someone else who needs this time much more than I do. I don't have any real trauma. I'm sure there is something better you can be doing with your time."

She laughed and politely asked me to let her worry about how she uses her time. 

We spent the next hour analyzing. She guided me to realize that this desire to close the door on her is part of the relational template I’m accustomed to. We journeyed into the root of that —> emotional neglect and how it's manifested in my day-to-day life —> hyper-independence. It's that thing that makes me go dark on friends when I'm struggling with something, the thing that pushes romantic connection away. It’s the root of why leaning into a community is challenging for me.

She reminded me that wanting to end therapy is an example of why I am in therapy. I’m here to learn how to accept that I am worthy of emoting just as much as the people I support in their times of need. To learn how to acknowledge feelings and share them. To practice depending on someone without fear of abandonment, neglect, or judgment. “I’m here for you, V.”

And then...60 minutes on the clock. Our session was over.

"Ok then. Let’s wrap for today," she said.

There it was. That subtle reminder that this corner of the universe that feels so supportive, this relationship that seems so genuine is really just a transaction. The deepest emotional intimacy I allow in my life is a service I pay for. 

Good Reads

Sweet, Soft, Plenty Rhythm: A Novel. I know I’ve found a good book when I find myself thinking about the characters as I go through my day. A soulful and gripping story of passion and risk, fathers and daughters, wives and single women, and finally hope and reconciliation, in answer to the age-old question: how do we find belonging when love is unrequited?"

A forty-year-old Boston-based trumpet player and old-school ladies man, lives for his music, and refuses to be tied down. Before a gig in Miami, he learns that the woman who is secretly closest to his heart, the free-spirited drummer Maggie, is pregnant by him. He flees instead of facing the necessary conversation, setting off a chain of interlocking revelations from the various women in his life. Most notable among them is his teenage daughter Koko, who idolizes him; she's awakening to her own sexuality even as her mentally fragile mother struggles to overcome her long failed marriage and rejection by Circus.

The exception is around Christmas when we talk about gifts he wants. Every year, his asks are predictable --- money, the Blue Jeans Versace cologne, black socks. But this year he had a surprisingly specific request --- size 11, black and white Nikes with a clear sole. In my excitement that he had such specificity this year, I was hell-bent on getting it right. My Googles led to many, many variations of the same description. I had to call him back.

"Do you want the high-rise or low-rise, black shoe, with the white check? And do you mean a yellow, rubbered sole or a translucent sole? Or do you want the white shoe with the black check and the yellow, rubber sole?"

After a long, silent pause, I knew I overwhelmed him. I wanted to start over but his shaky voice emerged and he responded. "Say what you have to say, Vanessa." I quickly muted the phone to let out my laughter.

Got it, too many options.

----

I thought about those words when I found myself stuttering in conversation with someone I've known for over 13 years. It was almost sunrise and the mixture of exhaustion and a long night of alcohol created the perfect amount of courage. The waves crashing in the background made me so aware of the present moment. This fleeting experience. We were slowly entering vulnerable, emotional territory. My words started to slow down. My heart rate sped up. My body checked in to make sure I was ready to say what was inching closer to the tip of my tongue. Heat rising.

"Say what you have to say" I heard in my brother's voice.

"I…have…three things I want to tell you. Things I've never told you," I said.

"Wait, hold on," they said, quickly grabbing my arm. "I'm not ready." We laughed that nervous laugh adults use to buy themselves time. An audible deep breath. "Ok, go."

As I inched each sentence out it seemed like time stopped just for me. A window of time gifted for me to express myself, to release. Still, I wanted to back out after each word. Voices telling me that we'll have another opportunity. That these things don't matter. This doesn't have to happen now. Stop. speaking.

Through the knots in my throat and the daze of vulnerability, I managed to push through. My emotional courage paved a path for the conversation to blossom into spaces we've never allowed ourselves to step into, another gift.

I've replayed that scene the way adults replay memories. I've replayed the lightness I felt. I replay the energy of vulnerability and the closeness of that fleeting moment.

----

When I think about that closeness and the beauty in expressing long-held feelings, I think about my brother. The way his blunt responses have encouraged simplicity in communication and unexpected laughter for those who've been on the receiving end of them. How no one has ever said that to him.

I think about all the things I haven't said to him. All the things I fear he wouldn't understand. The walls I've created to avoid discomfort. I think about the feelings he's carrying that no one makes room for, the questions we don't ask him. I think about all he has to say that no one invites.

We all carry feelings we've longed wanted to express and we don't even realize the weight they place on our physical and emotional energy until we release them. We move through the world like we have time left. Foolishly, like we're in control of how many moments you'll get to experience with someone. Pushing off admiration, appreciation, and love. Afraid to share those thoughts of gratitude that play in your mind when you think of someone.

…Say what you have to say.

Good Reads

“Feeling Unsatisfied? Blame Romantic Consumerism” - A Q&A with relationship therapist Esther Perel on fulfillment, dating, and marriage.

The Case for Being Touched - “As a single, 27-year-old Muslim woman, I had never experienced physical intimacy, not even a kiss. And as a television writer, I needed more experiences to draw from.”

Streaming

Stolen Youth - On Hulu. The documented footage really turns this one up. A group of bright Sarah Lawrence College students fall under the dark influence of a friend’s father, Larry Ray. With unprecedented access and documentary footage from their time living with Ray, the film follows the cult from its origins through its still-unfolding aftermath.

Murdaugh Murders: A Southern Scandal - On Netflix. Privilege. Power. Money and Murders. Plus it’s actively on trial. Shocking tragedies shatter a tight-knit South Carolina community and expose the horrifying secrets of its most powerful family.

This summer, I came across the below poem, Reasons to Survive the Apocalypse by Nikita Gill. She shared "I wrote this on one of the darkest days of my life. I hope you can find a bit of peace in it too". 

Sunrises. People you have still to meet and laugh with. Songs about love, peace, anger, and revolution. Walks in the woods. The smile you exchange with a stranger when you experience beauty accidentally together. Butterflies. Seeing your grandparents again. The moon in all her forms, whether half or full. Dogs. Birthdays and half-birthdays. That feeling of floating in love. Watching birds eat from bird feeders. The waves of happiness that follow the end of sadness. Brown eyes. Watching a boat cross an empty sea. Sunsets. Dipping your feet in the river. Balconies. Cake. The wind in your face when you roll the car window down on an open highway. Falling asleep to the sound of a steady heartbeat. Warm cups of tea on cold days. Hugs. Night skies. Art museums. Books filled with everything you do not yet know. Long conversations. Long-lost friends. Poetry.

-Nikita Gill

Nikita’s poem inspired me to write some of my reasons to survive. I’ve continued to tweake, edit and add to this for almost 6 months now. Send me yours?

May we all find reasons to keep going, to survive.

Streaming

Where the Crawdads Sing - On Netflix. I judged this book by it’s cover and didn’t read it when it was the book to read. I gave the movie a chance and…wow. Surprisingly good writing, good pace, twists and an unexpected ending. Highly recommend.

The Worst Person in The World - On Hulu. Norwegian film, nominated for 2 Oscars. I love a good story about regular life. Chronicling four years in the life of Julie, this modern story about the quest for love and meaning explores a young woman’s navigation of the troubled waters of her love life and career path.

Reading

What My Mom Taught Me About Sex: Growing up, my mother prioritized being with men above all else. Today, I’m still reckoning with what that meant.

A Super Strange Love Story: My Disappearing Fiancé: After years of avoiding love, I found a match that seemed almost too perfect. We were practically walking down the aisle before I realized it really was too good to be true.

I never got that hug.

It's a feeling of rejection that is so deeply coded in my being. It’s my deepest childhood wound.

-----

Lately, I've been feeling the heaviness of the protective armor, the impenetrable shield I've built around myself. I've been so keenly aware of how closed off I am and the various ways in which that manifests in my life. In relationships and friendships - how difficult it is for me to accept love. To trust. How uncomfortable it is for me to accept a compliment or a kind gesture. To lean into support and ease. In my creativity - how much I have to push through to feel worthy of sharing and taking up space. To see myself as a creator. With this protective shield, I carry a deep avoidance of truly being seen.

And so, I’ve been digging around. Noticing.

What is so unsettled in me that I don't want exposed?

What is it that I don't want you to see?

What am I hiding?

What am I afraid of?

I find myself, time and time again, back at that moment - with that child and that hug. Vulnerability peeking through my suit of protection. Softness lurking behind my shield, wanting to melt into steady, supportive hands.

Wants.

Needs.

Comfort.

Softness.

Support.

Ease.

I've suppressed these parts of myself for so long that it’s easier to run and hide when they come up. It’s safer to go back in my room and avoid those needs than it is to expose any of that and relive that rejection. It’s easier to pull my chin up and walk steadily past all of that. Shield in hand. That’s what I’ve known as a safer space.

I was recently reminded that growth is not always about new actions or new choices. There is tremendous growth in just noticing the patterns. Notice when you want to close up. Notice when you are protecting by avoiding. Notice your desire to experience people and experiences more openly, more freely, with less fear and how you pull back. Notice that there is so much worthy of being seen. Trusting that whatever comes up when you drop the armour, you can handle.

It’s a simple but powerful prayer - Help me to remain open.

Reading:

The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself. I believe that books find you exactly when you need them. This brought me a level of awarness I know I needed for the next phases of my life. It begins by walking you through your relationship with your thoughts and emotions, helping you uncover the source and fluctuations of your inner energy. It then delves into what you can do to free yourself from the habitual thoughts, emotions, and energy patterns that limit your consciousness.

Streaming

How to Build a Sex Room very few times have I felt that my sex life is too “vanilla” but this show definitely makes me want to explore kink more. Well…and wealth. Who paid for these rooms?

Indian Matchmaking: “Sima from Mumbai” has my heart. Firstly, because she introduces herself as “Sima from Mumbai” in every meeting, in every episode and I find it hilarious and endearing. There is something about watching the arranged marriage process within this generation that is so fascinating and entertaining to me. I love the interviews with older couples that were arranged and have been together for decades. Heartwarming.

Virtual Reality Hell: The Amanda Rabb Story: 2 part story on YouTube about a young homeless, drug addict who was used as a test case for exposure therapy in virtual reality. This is the story of the potential scam and tragedy that ensued. Wow.

21yo. I'm in a journalism graduate program. I’m one of 40 students selected. The assignments are pass/fail. What do you mean I merely passed? (Clutches chest). Am I doing better than anyone? There must be something else you can tell me, some letter you can assign to me. There are no grades, there is no praise, no constant validation. The deadlines are endless and the feedback is limited. It's excruciating. For months, I compare myself to every student who submits before the deadline. I watch others as they type so quickly, so confidently. I’m paralyzed. Imposter Syndrome eats at me for months until I'm shaking uncontrollably in my parent’s bedroom. I am not capable. I drop out.

28yo. I'm in a burlesque class. It’s my first time taking a dance class. Because, obviously, at the tender age of 28 I'm destined to be a seductive dancer. Opening night for our first group show is just a week away. We practice and practice. 5,6,7,8. We dip. We twirl. We remove silky black gloves in one swoop. The show is a few days out. Line-up selections begin and I'm not selected front row. My vision blurs and the floor feels distant from me. I am not perfect. I drop out.

30yo. I’m in therapy. “Vanessa, you have what we call generalized anxiety. You are so worried about getting it right. Your critical voice is constant like a small drop of water from a leaky faucet.”

—

I've lived many years of my short life aiming for perfection and needing the subsequent validation that was drilled into me during my formative years. I live in search of an idyllic feeling, wanting to “win” so badly that I often choose not to try. I dream of elusive moments of success by accomplishment. The final destination where I followed all the right steps, dodged all the challenges, and mastered every stage. I aced this.

When a child is compared to their peers based on how they learn, when they are constantly praised for excellent grades and perfectionism, it bleeds into the internalized message about their identity. It creates a false badge of honor and uniqueness that the real world will slowly rip apart. When you enter the workforce your self-worth is rocked. You compare yourself to others because you’re seeking the thing that made you so different and special. You find yourself questioning where that really smart, gifted and talented, perfectly behaved little girl went. You start to realize that there are other ways to be intelligent and skilled. That there are all different types of gifted and talented people, and that we all learn at different paces. Suddenly, the foundation that formed your sense of self feels unstable and untrustworthy. You spend your energy figuring out how to be “on top” again, how to be perfect at everything. You spend your time finding ways to soothe yourself without external validation. You feel burnt out and left behind because the world doesn’t revolve around praise for performance.

—

From the other side. Listen up, Kid. There are no blueprints. There are no grades. There are no diplomas. Your course is different from hers and his. No two paths are the same so please do not look over your shoulder. There are no teachers, friends, or lovers who can teach you exactly how to navigate this. Some parts are going to be hard and you will feel like you are failing. Uncomfortable feelings are part of the course. Like the change of weather, you'll get used to them. All you have to do is show up… every day. We'll let you know when it ends. Be easy on yourself.

Streaming

How to Change Your Mind - a Netflix docuseries exploring the history and uses of psychedelics, including LSD, psilocybin, MDMA and mescaline. I’m in search of psychedelic assisted therapy so hit me if you can help.

The Girl In The Picture - A documentary of a twisted, terrible young life. A woman found dying by a road leaves behind a son, a man claiming to be her husband — and a mystery that unfolds like a nightmare.

Reading

Scenes from an Open Marriage - *not the same as the show* A first person account from a women whose husband asks for an open marriage 6-months after their daughter is born. Finally I asked my husband, “Which scenario endangers us more: you sleeping with other women, or you not sleeping with other women?” I told him to think about it, assess, and render a verdict; I would do whatever gave us the best chance. Humorous and oddly relatable.

There I Almost Am - on envy and twinship. In America, “How are you different?” and “How are you special?” are the same question. We must all be equal, but also different and special…Sometimes a new acquaintance (usually a man) will stand there looking back and forth between us, and then say, “Yes, I see the difference.” And because I’m vain and frightened I always want to ask, “What is it? What is the difference?”

I've been struggling with self-expression because the release I need is foreign to me. I’ve been struggling to write because writing is not screaming.

I have such few words and so much unpredictability in my energy. So on the days I can barely muster a response, I pretend. I give answers they can handle. I push through as a shell of myself and when I’m alone I remove it. That is part of managing my depression.

“Unlike winter, when I can blame everything on the elements, summer inverts those conditions, leaving me with nobody to blame but myself. The enemy comes indoors.” - Haley Nahman

Summertime sadness leaves you feeling depleted with nothing but bed rest on your mind and not because you’ve been outside soaking up the sun. Not because your legs are giving out from adventuring. Not because your body is tired from hours of belly laughter.

You feel depleted because you carry this invisible weight in every room and in every conversation no matter how sunny it is outside. When the world is energized, vibrant, and spontaneous, you feel the opposite and there is no room for it.

You swallow tears in the elevator

at the doctor's office

in the grocery store

at the hair salon

And swallowing is exhausting.

You feel fatigued because pretending is part of managing it and pretending is exhausting.

My battle with depression is 10 years old this summer. I've known it long enough to finally notice the patterns. To name an episode when I’m in one. To finally accept that the physical ailments are also part of the package and not some cancer I need to Google. I'm versed enough to know this feeling ends and experienced enough to know that it returns just like Summer does.

GOOD READS

Season of Envy - On “the eagerness to make the most of a sunny day that also feels a little bit like fear.”

Epiphany in the baby food aisle - Motherhood is terrifying to me and this read encapsulates a lot of what I imagine it to be. “No one wants to believe that in the moments you felt the most peaceful, the woman cradling you so softly was shielding you from a sword that she herself was holding. Every mother you know is in this fight with herself. The sword that hangs over her is a sword of exhaustion, of frustration, of patience run dry, a sword of indignation at how little she feels like a human when she so often has to look and behave like an animal.”

STREAMING

Yellowstone - Family drama featuring Kevin Costner (forever daddy). IMDB rated this 8.7/10. This show has everything you want to see in a drama. Amid shifting alliances, unsolved murders, open wounds, and hard-earned respect, a family of ranchers in Montana is in constant conflict with those it borders -- an expanding town, an Indian reservation, and America's first national park.

That internal nudge to switch shit up starts moving through your body as the days go on. Your comfort zone starts to feel stifling and the pull for something new, something different grows slowly in your body day by day. If you ignore it long enough, you’re flooded with irritability and sadness.

It hit me recently on my way back from a trip. Suddenly, I didn't want to go home to my cozy bed, my perfect-for-me apartment, or the comfortable life I'd created for myself. I pictured my days and I felt nauseous.

"It's time" 

I've learned that Change often knocks following a period of Discomfort or Stagnation. I think these two are indicators of the last pages of your current chapter. The winding down period before you get flooded with this deep need for newness. New feelings, a new home, new faces, new experiences.

Change offers you an opportunity to explore the rest of your story - vast, open territory. Blank pages. The Unknown. And the best part of the Unknown is your evolution.

It's the active experience of getting to know more about yourself as you take on a new journey. A journey where you are the only constant. When I use that as my motivating force I find comfort, excitement, and momentum. I'm able to keep Fear and Doubt at bay by tapping into Curiosity. This is an adventure with the subject I know best. I enjoy her, I trust her, and I get to meet new layers of her.

What do I look like on the other side of this open territory?

In what ways will I expand if I lean into this?

What new interests will I find myself exploring?

How will I feel in my skin?

How will my smile be different?

Who am I in the next chapter?

In times like this, I often come back to this quote:

“do not choose the lesser life. choose the life that is yours. the life that is seducing your lungs. that is dripping down your chin.” 

There's a vision that's dripping down my chin and a fascinating woman on the other side of it. "Just jump and a net will appear," she whispers.

Interesting Reads

A Broken Heart Put Syd in a Better Place - Syd is back with a new album following a failed relationship but what stood out from this interview is her perspective on dealing with the heartbreak.

Everything Was Fake but Her Wealth - The story of Ida Wood, an American socialite turned recluse in a New York City hotel.

The invention of 'Jaywalking' - In the 1920s, people hated cars. The auto industry changed that with language.

Rent a Stranger - Japan's "do-nothing guy" makes a living showing up and doing nothing for strangers. After being told that he wasn't doing enough at several jobs, he decided to make it a business. He now sees 2 clients a day.

Binging

The Ultimatum: Marry or Move On. Relationship dramas - always a strong yes. Six couples put their love to the test while moving in with other potential matches. I think the participants are too young to be hyper-fixated on marriage but I'm fascinated by this experiment. The final episode airs next week.

As you grow older life doesn’t offer up as many pretty packaged spaces or opportunities for new adventures as your school years did. That flow of connection and discovery in adulthood is not as easily served up to you. As you age, if you turn away from your curious spirit, if you don’t actively seek out changes in your routines, it’s easy to remain stagnant.

It goes without saying that given our recent circumstances it’s been challenging to find those moments of opportunities for change and new adventures. Much of what we have collectively felt is stagnation.

We shouldn’t diminish the effects of losing two years of consistent interactions. There is a certain self-development and self-awareness that we lost. In my solitude, I’ve come to see the importance of human interactions as a mirror, as a reflection of yourself. When you lose consistent interactions, your reflection starts to fade, and the disconnect to self kicks in. 

But that loss isn’t our forever. We’re now in the process of reentering a consistent, collective exchange of energy. (Let’s ignore the potential for World War 3 for a moment).

Trend forecasters (yes, an actual occupation) are calling this new wave a “vibe shift.” It’s hard to know exactly what that shift will be across fashion, music, or social media because we don’t know exactly know who we are as a society after all this. To me, this phase is ushering in the rediscovery of ourselves and our own vibe through social interactions. 

With each exchange you get the opportunity to notice, reflect and edit your mental scripts. You’re reminded that your presence in the presence of another is an experience.

I had a taste of this rediscovery on a recent trip. My intention was to remain curious and aware of myself in the presence of strangers. I had forgotten how I show up in a room, how it feels to be in my body in the presence of other people. I set out to see my reflection and observe what I remember about myself. To reconnect and rediscover. 

A few thoughts that came to me: 

1. You are an experience and no one can offer the energy you hold.

2. The person next to you has a lesson that will influence the algorithm of life. If you can break that initial wall, you will both undoubtedly blossom in some way. The blossoming doesn’t always come from what they say or what they do, it’s more about how you feel, how you shift throughout the exchange. Notice. 

3. Make notes of the things people say about you and compare that to your mental chatter. One is often more complimentary than the other. Believe in the positive. Revisit often. 

4. Usually what we like most about people is not so much who they are but how they make us feel. That feeling is in you, it belongs to you, it’s just dormant.

5. Most things are not black and white. It’s not always “either/or.” If you allow yourself to feel “both/and” about yourself, others, and about your experiences you allow spaciousness, ease, and patience. It opens up more possibilities and more adventure. This is an ongoing effort of expansion in thought.

6. The vibe shift starts with you. 

   ---

Good Reads:

I Gave Myself Three Months to Change My Personality “After two brutal years, people may be wondering if surviving a pandemic has at least improved their personality, making them kinder and less likely to sweat the small stuff. It may be impossible to know how the pandemic will change us on average, because there is no “average.”

Inside 3 Platonic Relationships Three platonic life couples talk about how they went from friends to life partners, the misconceptions they face within those partnerships, and what happens when a PLP ends. “The progression from acquaintances into best friends and then more was very natural. We had a lot of conversations that best friends have, like, if by the time we’re 30 and we aren’t married, we should just live together and have a life together. Every time I dated someone, I realized I was comparing them to Krystle.”

Winter hibernation has led me to contemplate some big questions and based on recent conversations, it seems like I’m not alone.

Summer gives you the luxury of sunny days and plenty of distractions. Winter offers plenty (maybe too many?) moments of stillness, and spaciousness to notice what’s working, what’s not, where you are, and where you want to be.

I've been using the beginning of lockdown as a marker of time. I'm dancing in this grey space where I don't quite feel like the person I was two years ago but I can't really identify with my current self. It’s not yet clear to me what she's seeking or how to get there. It's easier for me to recognize who I'm not (how I've changed) versus who I am. This disconnect from "self" certainly comes with a sense of loss and a heavy dose of discomfort. For instance, a loss of interests or people that don't move you anymore. There's also the loss of feelings that came with them. Euphoria, energy, motivation, thrill, and the loss of the person you were as a result of them.

As you age, there's a constant rediscovery of who you are, how you value your time, and where you want to spend your energy. Phone calls that once excited you are now an easy pass. An invitation to a night out quickly turns into a question of whether you can afford to be hungover all day tomorrow. And these are just minor examples.

This rediscovery and evolution of you comes with a slew of heavier questions.

How do you rediscover yourself after two years in this fog?

What do I need more of?

What do I want to change?

Where do I keep fumbling?

How much longer do I want to live in this home or stay in this city?

Is it time for a dog?…real shit.

One of the interesting things about getting older is being a witness to the lives of those closest to you, observing and learning from the various ways in which your loved ones navigate big questions and big changes. We're all dealing with a slew of emotions stemming from the new desires and new realizations growth comes with — excitement, fear, doubt, motivation, even stagnation for some. I’ll go ahead and claim confusion and discomfort boldly.

But with or without your contemplation and active participation, you are experiencing a metamorphosis. It may take you more time to figure out the next right step or how exactly to bring yourself out of the soil and into your blossoming. Be gentle where you can. Ask more questions of yourself and others. It opens up pathways to commonalities and opportunities to share wisdom.

I can tell you this…sometimes, on a random grey day, with the radiator humming in the background, I get a little hope, a little guidance, a little light that reminds me that life teaches you how to live it the more you live it. Stay curious. Stay patient. It’s all unfolding in Divine timing, under Divine guidance. And maybe hold off on the dog for a bit, kid.

Tell me, what big questions are you coming up for you lately?

Good Reads

Letters to a Young Poet - I loved this one. A great read for anyone living a deeply contemplative life. "I ask you, dear sir, to have patience with all that is unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like closed rooms, like books written in a foreign language.

Streaming

Euphoria - on HBO. The best show on TV. Talking about change...these kids are going through it.  "As the classmates struggle to make sense of their futures, the series tackles the teenage landscape of substance-enhanced parties and anxiety-ridden day-to-day life with empathy and candor."

Stay Close - on Netflix. A thriller with a surprising twist. "The lives of a photojournalist, a soccer mom, and a homicide detective are disturbed by a terrible event from the past."

The Lost Daughter  - on Netflix. Raises questions about sacrifice, regret, and motherhood. “I’m not a natural mother.” That painful disconnect—between what Leda wants and what she feels she should want—animates the film. Is anyone a “natural mother”? How much does society expect women to sacrifice for their children?