We are so in love.

There are times when all I can hear is my words echoing from years gone by and finally making their way to today. To no periods and more run on sentences with “I love you” and “You mean the world” and “This is meant to be” scattered between every other breath.

I watch you turn more and more into a version of yourself you are infatuated with. A version with me interlaced with kisses from your forehead down to your toes. I am yours and you are mine.

We talk about how insignificant other souls are in comparison to each other’s. We laugh about the seemingly most inconsequential of things.

And yet, they mean more than the eternal milkiness of this galaxy.


Water Energy

Sunday consisted of balmy breezes and scattered clouds hoisted above the hot earth.

The day was spent journaling, meditating, writing, and peering into the intricacies of spirituality through the spoken stories of my fellow earthlings. A weekend spent mostly in solitude warranted a long run along the bluffs with dark shadows trailing far behind.

The meteorologist forecasts thunderstorms at precisely 3 pm. So, naturally, I don my running gear and lock the door to our apartment. Not more than a moment after stepping foot onto the asphalt, a crack of thunder sends radiating chills down my arms.

I peer up towards the gray mass as raindrops begin to form and penetrate the ground, my skin, and anything else in its path. Individual drops transform into an excruciating assemblage of water streaming from the sky, like a tidal wave of tears shed by Pachamama for the loss of all things pure.

I stand in the doorway and watch the rain come down so damn heavy. I watch the torrential downpour form little ponds in the parking lot. Like a flash flood, the water loudly caresses the curves of the universe as the thunder roars above me. I watch this earth be cleansed by rain for 30 minutes, clutching my heart with one hand all the time. The power and beauty of the water melt my soul into a thousand drops of dew.

The clouds pass without fuss and the sky turns a radiant shade of blue. I can’t fathom how fitting this rush of energy has come, bringing destruction yet carrying life along its many forms. A man with caramel skin and wild hair approaches me with dazzled eyes. I tell him I’ve been standing here this whole time. Watching.

I end up going on that run to the beach. Like a child exploring uncharted territory, every component of the world feels new to me. The fragrance of plants and earth after a heavy rain is so distinct, I laugh as I slide through the muddy grass and stop to look over the cliffs at the sea. The sulfuric stench of the ocean has subsided and the bugs and birds begin to creep out of their dwelling. The colors of the world are muted but intense.

I run to a spot on the beach where no one is and dip my toes into the frigid waters. I can see where the storm is heading down the coast while sunlight gushes through the breakages in the clouds. Thunderstorms are just like that in the end.

Sunday was nothing short of magic. In those moments, I felt so small but also like an elemental cog in the persistence of water. Each time I tell this story it conjures up new memories and insights. Like magic, like love, like endless time and souls sewn back together. But in reality, I have no other words to describe how any of this feels.


Journal Entry | Sep. 3, 2017

i’m happiest when I’m pantsless, barefooted

in the sand, munching away on vegetables, and thinking about how much I have. living in pure abundance. harvesting that energy.

sharing my love and light with others and basking in that interchange. looking someone in the eyes and saying “i love you” and “i see you”. and no amount of hatred or greed or jealousy in this world can puncture the heart of a pure soul.

as i sit here listening to stories of fellow earthlings, i feel a surge of inspiration radiating through my body: to revisit the vegan way of life, to reconnect with the earth and sun and moon in a way that cannot be so easily forgotten, to realign my path in a way that serves everyone in the best way possible.

here i sit: on the brink of something new.

i’ve just finished schooling (for now) and I have this flashy degree, but what I crave lies so far beyond that threshold.

i want to change the world.

i want to feed into a system of love and abundance.

i am love and i have everything i need within me.


I Waited All Day

I wake up to the usual procession of two immaculately timed alarms. Blinking hard, I rotate the knob on my pink Himalayan sea salt lamp to counteract the already-dawning dose of S.A.D. or seasonal affective disorder (self-diagnosed, of course). The curtains open at my command and bring streams of light tumbling into the otherwise shaded and stale room. Reaching for my phone, I brace myself for the several dozens of notifications and reminders silenced during my slumber.

“Okay, Facebook (nothing but a few odd event invitations), Twitter (only necessary to get that red notification button off my screen), Emails (deal with them later), Instagram…,” I scroll, tap, stare, and sigh. Like most mornings, I find myself double-tapping images of size 0 swimsuit models with perky tits and huge asses. I often play the game “fake or real” to determine just how much envy I should be devoting to a particular individual, or even how hard I have to push myself that day. Knife-edge abs, golden complexion, pursed lips, tiny physiques, I dig deeper into the pit of misery and self-loathing.

After what seems like the entire morning, I chuck my phone to the side and roll clumsily out of bed. I have a plan for the day, and you can bet that getting a workout in is a top priority.

“Yoga isn’t until 6:30 tonight, so I should probably hit the gym now to get some cardio in.” I calculate.

While a research paper for graduate school is threatening the course of my day, I decide to put that on the back burner until I can come to terms with staring at my computer screen for hours on end. The day goes on with lackluster: breakfast as fuel, read those emails I postponed, then drive up to the club gym.

You see, I’m expecting this revolutionary workout that completely alters the course of my fitness career and catapults me into insta-worthy stardom. But that’s not the case, far from it. I’m tired: my shoulders shift hesitantly under my weight, my ankles wobble to and fro, and my energy level is between “just one more rep” and “why am I even here?” I realize that I’ve been on, on, on for the past month and really haven’t allowed my body to rest and just be.

Yanking my earbuds from their homes, I glance at myself in the mirror.

“What the fuck am I doing?” I question, brows furrowed.

Just the other day I was chatting with a friend about the imperceptible effects of social media on our actions, our motivations, and our thoughts, especially concerning our own self-worth. While I’ve never been one to necessarily act upon the candid ruminations of others, it dawned on me that I’ve been my own worst enemy the whole time. That little devil sitting on my shoulder mocking me and taunting my sanity was in fact, myself. I immerse myself in the image of “perfection” through continuously scrolling pages until my eyes blur and I can’t even make out my own reflection.

This has to end.

Unless there’s a legitimate aesthetic I’m interested in or an individual that instills a mantra of pervasive love and self-acceptance, I begin by unfollowing any account that does not follow these guidelines. I make it my personal vendetta to uphold the yogic way of life that I often overlook, to care for my soul and to be kind to this borrowed body. I immediately feel a shift in energy.

I’m not too sure if I’ve ever been confident enough to say, “I love my body!” but I’m working hard to get there. Yes, some people are born a size 0 with perky tits and huge asses, but the vast majority are not. I know that beauty comes in all shapes, sizes, races, colors, heights, and proportions. And that it is in these differences that pure beauty endures. It has never and will never be contained within a handbook or a diet plan or even in a mobile application.

I conclude the day with an hour and a half long yoga session with integrated meditation. I choose “release” as my intention as I begin to shed this skin I’ve outgrown for far too long. I fly through the asanas and vinyasas, and class concludes in what feels like just one breath cycle. My palms meet at the heart as I bow my head reverentially.

I respect and honor the divine light within myself and in all beings, the matter of the universe with which I am comprised of, and I bow my head in gratitude for this body I call home.

I wish you all peace in whatever journey you’re currently embarking in and an unwavering spirit toward self-love.

Thank You, I Love You

The essence of life is learning when to hold on and when to let go.

I typed this quote furiously into my notes the other day as I began planning my journey home to the Bay Area, dashing across the room in a sudden haze. When your life is a constant state of limbo that’s neither here nor there, believe me when I say, there is always a heavy nagging pull from all directions.

Ever seen the movie Chocolat? Well if you haven’t, here’s a brief rundown of how the main character and her daughter live their lives: cursed by the will of the wind, they uproot their chocolate shoppe in search of the next unsuspecting village. I’m just now starting to think that perhaps the plot line of my life runs congruent to this heartwarming movie. From the moment I left home for college in Boston, I’ve been plagued with five-hour plane rides that made for three-hour time differences which meant my fair share of miscommunication and “I can’t deal with the distance”. And I despised my parents for this: brooding over the implications of the duality of my reality.

As the end of my undergraduate career crept near, I, the unsuspecting victim, bathed in the perils of a scattered heart. A heart divided, sprinkled, carved, and etched. A heart willingly offered to and shared amongst the most earnest people and places.

Since May of this year, I’ve left friends back east to return to my western roots. And in doing so, continued on my journey to the southern-most end of California, San Diego. For the duration of this month long escapade, I’ve trained hard to become a certified yoga instructor, met a few more soul sisters, eaten enough Mexican food to hold me off for a little while (who am I kidding, I’ll never be satisfied), and sprained my ankle (badly) at Woogie Weekend. Although I would have liked to have spent this last week scaling the cliffs of Black’s Beach or just doing a few sun salutations, I’m taking this as a blessing in disguise: a time to heal and reflect.

My heart is heavy but filled with love. The moon is full and bright, just as it was upon my arrival nearly a month ago. I feel a tug at my soul: an uncontrollable urge to start crying and to tell my parents that I’m never coming “home”, that this place of beauty and majesty has somehow felt more “home” to me than four years in a snow-drenched suburb. But as with the wind in Chocolat, the ebb and flow of the tides, the seasons of plenty and the seasons of want, and even the phases of the moon, I too, must learn when to hold on and when to let go.

To my new friends here in San Diego and to the unfathomable amount of thunderous laughter shared between us, thank you. Thank you for showing me that life cannot be lived without passion nor the inexplicable drive for growth and love. Thank you for becoming new branches of an ever-changing tree, seamlessly intertwined within my heart and soul. And as for the future, I know that distance makes such a trivial difference when faced with such a resilient bond. Thank you, I love you, but I must go, just for now.