I had a dream last night, and in it both of my grandmas and my dad who have all passed on came to visit me (my mom was there too but to be clear she is very much alive and this just happens to be one photo I could find with all of them together).

If you’re anything like me, you will think you can do it all. You will think that because you are intelligent and because you have made it this far and done pretty well (if you do say so yourself), everything is fine and you can figure out this life on your own.

I remember once reading a line in a book which said something to the effect of, “we [humans] are an endless multi-dimensional universe.”

I’ve been in Italy now for about a week, and my most keen observation is this: far too many of us humans have come to accept a way of living which is in complete and total opposition to what actually supports a deep and well-lived life.

It is the tenth day of my one hundred day writing challenge, and I am beginning to notice something: the less I think, the easier I write.

Perhaps one of the most fantastic tricks I have ever come across to make life better is the ability to find the wonder and joy in every moment.

There are few things more powerful than the spiraling out of a mind fixated on worrying about what could go wrong.

To make progress, we must lay aside the fear of the mind and trust in the ever-lasting reliance and love of the heart.

Today saw the last leisurely morning I will spend in this apartment. It is, as many endings often are, a bittersweet closing to a chapter in the book of my life. 

I never really understood the importance of [emotionally] safe spaces until I found myself in the middle of so many unsafe ones.

What good has ever come of “should?” What scenario has ever been made better, what person has ever been made wiser, what lasting change has ever been introduced that was brought about by a should?

One of the most important skills I have learned to cultivate over time is the ability to slow down the thoughts I have about myself in moments of trial and uncertainty.

There is this experience I have when I think back to parts of my childhood — summers spent at my grandma’s, watching I Love Lucy, eating sourdough toast with mayo and thinly sliced roast beef, going about the day with no particular agenda or schedule other than to spend time in the pool, playing with my hot wheels and splashing water over the edges where it would run into cracks in the ground and all the ants would come rushing out.

It all started that first fateful pandemic summer. The year was 2020, I had just turned 33, and a voice whispered to me in the depths of a sparkling blue pool set amongst the backdrop of the desert mountains while the wind rustled the palm trees, whispering her secrets, as she always does, on the tailwinds of the petals and leaves whooshing through space and seemingly, time.

There is a new paradigm for sensitive humans in which we are more grounded, more powerful, and more whole-hearted than we have ever been before.

When we have allowed parts of ourselves to die, we create space for who we are becoming.

There are moments you will come across in life which push you to the edge of everything you’ve ever known and everything you’ve ever been. When you’ve reached one of these points, you will know it is time.