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Yes, I'm 37 and I live with my BFF

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If you don’t love the Golden Girls, then that’s your problem. But if you do, then you know the value of living with girlfriends—the Dorothys, the Roses, the Blanches and Sophias. Dorothy with her sarcasm. Rose with her St. Olaf anecdotes. Blanche with her libido. And Sophia with her straight up savageness. Each personality was quite different, and yet, they formed a bond that television viewers admired and identified with; sometimes our best friends are those who don’t claim to be like us. Instead, they compliment us. Since we were 14, my best friend, Erica, and I used to joke that we, too, would retire together in Florida much like the Golden Girls. Someday we’d live together in Florida with amazing tans, palm fronds waved over us by handsome, oiled men in Speedos, drinks in hand and big sunglasses hiding our fair faces while we laughed and drank in the golden brilliance of the coastal, Florida sun. This is a dream that we’ve believed in for a long time—through broken relationships
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Lessons From Pain: the permanence of impermanence

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I feel guided to write about a theme that has been coming up in my life a lot lately, and it’s the idea of permanence and impermanence. Fear of change is such a pervasive concept, that I’m not even sure we understand, fully, how it manifests in our lives. I was talking to my friend Angela (not her real name to protect her privacy) regarding the impermanence of things and how we become so attached to ideas of permanence that we forget how much of a blessing change is, can be, and how easy it is to change. Angela’s dilemma stems from the heart, as the person whom she loves recently purchased a home a significant distance away from where she lives at the moment. She asked me, “Does this mean he’s planning a life without me in it?” “Of course not!” I say. “He’s simply establishing himself somewhere.” We further discuss the fact that this guy is in the midst of a job transition and has a lot of things that are up in the air. The ‘permanence’ of having a home may be the o
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Something Worth Running For

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I sit here on my deck this morning, flowers in planters, the sun shining, my dogs taking lazy dog naps by my side. I think back on the last, six months in wonder and awe. Not long ago, I was talking to my friend Michelle, both of us wondering how in the hell we were going to change our lives for the better. How were we going to manifest this life we wanted where we were happy? Just happy. Not much more. Just happy. And fulfilled. I sit here today with so much joy in my heart. I have been infinitely blessed to take such a journey across oceans and beyond. What I’m about to tell you is just a tiny piece of the greater, more brilliant picture: Two months ago, I set out on a journey to find myself. Well, we say “find myself” when we’re not really sure what it is we’re seeking—or what, exactly, we’ll find. And I did find myself. I found myself and so much more. You see, when you travel alone, the mere thought is somewhat daunting. You think: how can I keep myself entertained?
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London Calling

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Holy shit, you guys. I’m in London! From the charming, brick and cobblestone sidewalks to the hidden alleyways and corner pubs, I can say that this city is where it’s at. If I could describe it to my friends, I’d say that it is like a hybrid of Washington, D.C., Boston and New York City all in one, but still with its own unique flair that cannot be matched by US cities. London reminds me of Washington, D.C. in the way the streets meet at the strangest of angles and the mingling of stately, white buildings against modern building facades. It’s like Boston with its cuteness and quaintness that hearkens back to its rich (architectural) history. And it’s like New York City where you’ll see all kinds of restaurants, colors of hair, hear every language and see how cities really are places where “everything goes.” Where I’m staying—a neighborhood in the city known for the intersection of office professionals and hipsters referred to as “Brick Lane”—lots of British stereotypes become
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Transition Anxiety: It's a real thing

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When the final countdown begins and the end is in sight, change is a hard thing to grasp. I'm nervous, you guys. I'm a little bit scared and probably could use all the hugs. My world is completely changing, and I'm the one who's changed it. Again. It's not something that I find helpful to complain about, mind you. Rather, it's just...surreal. Am I ready? Am I really doing this? Now what do I do?  I have unlimited options. I have a blank canvas. I have zero attachments. So now what? My heart is a little heavy, if I'm being honest. There are things I will say "goodbye" to that I love--like the people whom I work with, for example. Like people in my life who, while I may not see them every day, I take comfort in knowing they're out there, somewhere, close enough to see in a moment's notice. There are parts about my identity that I will have to let go of as well. There are things I like about myself that are exercised or put to use thro
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Love in All Forms: Aya Part II

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Since I've been back, I've been surprised by how open I've been about talking about my experiences with ayahuasca. It's hard, I think, to integrate the lessons you learn from such a profoundly spiritual adventure into your daily life. You begin to question the importance of trivial things in your life, how you don't need to stress about each and every "little thing," and consider this an opportunity to freshly liberate yourself from your past. Yet, at the same time, it's been important for me to be easy on myself and take each moment, each day, as they come; transitioning into a vegetarian lifestyle or being mindful of your ability to facilitate inner peace are not the simplest of tasks. Last night, I was thinking about what I would say about the rest of my ayahuasca journey, as it is quite personal and self-revealing. Indeed, I don't have to say anything about it if I do not wish to do so, but what service to others would I be neglecting if I ke
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