Sitting on a stoop in New York City like they used to do.

It’s just a pleasant afternoon in the cold air with the blue sky and the people walking with the gym bags, working hard and working out because that what you’re supposed to do on a Saturday.

It’s just a pleasant afternoon for a man in red shoes walking past, then turning around and walking past, then turning around and by this time he’s unsure about his direction, but he won’t ask for help because this is New York City and you’re never lost here.

It’s just a pleasant afternoon in a bakery where a group of girls in their teens who really should be in their 30’s celebrate a birthday and yell and cheer and stuff their faces with donuts and postulate about time slowly moving them forward.

It’s just a pleasant afternoon for the woman looking at my coffee sitting on the stoop next to me in the middle of New York City and when she is about to say “that looks good” she stops herself and looks up to the blue sky and wonders why it can’t just be a pleasant afternoon.



note to self.

In the beginning, there is the chance for a new opportunity, an open landscape of unlimited possibility. In the end, it is the collection of choices made that solidify the outcome. In the middle, there are billions of blinks and twitches and one ways and two ways to navigate. This is where we are now. And now. And now.

I refuse to settle in the pedantic. I will make the bold decisions that obstruct the easy answers and shed complacency. I promise to be whole, even if that includes flaws and mistakes. And when I am whole and bold, in the middle, in the navigation, buried in my struggle and unique in my actions, there you will be.


that bit of you that makes the forward motion.

Strength in numbers, so they say.

Strength in the push against burdens. In the wrecklessness and the silent patience.

Strength around fortified principles built
with the understanding that life happens. Strength despite the weakness surrounding it, despite the present scars and lingering aftermath. In self preservation and self discovery. In the waves of doubt. When the shine is dulled and the only light is the one you know.

There it sits, waiting for destruction. Only then can it be fully utilized, because it is best seen in the destruction and the numbers.


Exhaustion has finally reached the center of my bones, rendering me comatose and hungry. I’ve pushed out every last bit of energy I once possessed from nights of good sleep and food grown in the ground. My reserve has been spent. My back up generators now sit in silence. I am exhausted.

I’ve lost my sense of sense. I can only think in music lyrics and inspirational quotes spoken by inspiring people. I can only dream in fractured bits of other people’s memories. I can only say what has been said to me and for me. But if I mix the words and memories and sayings with the garbage and beauty and strange life I know, they become my own. And that is when I’ll begin to rise.



Today it begins. The next chapter, the new era, when the past finally becomes a hollow shell unrecognizable to the present.
It is a remembrance of what was. When the city was bright and new and strange. When worth was a game of dollar signs and business suits. When internal understanding came from external gratification.
It is a summation of acquired skills. To be brave. To be strong. To be unique. To be true and real. To be kind. To be thankful for lessons learned and the people who provided them.

It is a forceful push into a new place, a beautiful, violent light transfixed on possiblities.


Year 2

About two years ago, give or take a few days or weeks, I carried two suitcases and a duffle bag on a one way trip to this beautiful new life in a city known for pursuit and purpose. Two years ago I made a choice to forget everything I knew to know something different–to remove myself from any comforts and step out to the other side of my little world with no expectations other than to live with my eyes wide. To put into sussinct, blog-shaped words the story of how the person with those suitcases no longer exists would take a lifetime. And at the moment I have no time at all.

All I can say in brevity is this: I have lived here. I have been ripped to shreds here. I have gotten lost here. And I have found my way here. I have fought here. I have loved here. And I will continue to break and lose and gain and fight and love here because I am not done yet.


In the midst of yoga.

“Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.” – Oliver Sacks

You know every once in a while you have one of those weeks that just makes sense. Everything about it forces you to shift perspective for one reason or another until the person you were the week before is gone.

I sat up straight on my yoga mat with the invisible string coming out of my head, as the yogi instructed. He said to clear my mind of all thoughts, blank canvas. This never really works, since forcing my mind to be clear usually invites thoughts to creep in, especially the ones that have been suppressed for very good reason. Those thoughts usually come to the forefront in bright color and high definition.

I tried shaking the nagging, suppressed thoughts in my head, especially one in particular, for nearly the entire session. The thought is inconsequential now, but the feeling of being held hostage by the thought was not.

The instructor had us do the kneel-down-arms-raised-to-a-point-head-back-pose. You know the one. And staring at the window in the ceiling for that brief minute, all I could see was the suppressed thought nagging me out of my focus. It was all consuming. I wanted to start over. I was wasting my time with my eyes searching out the window, feeling nothing. No peace. No zen. Just nagging.

Nine hours later on the train ride home, my brain was finally cleared and the answer finally hit me. The nagging, annoying thought came at me at that exact moment on the yoga mat for a reason. My brain was finally ready to feel it and process it. I was finally ready to let go, to see what is ahead with a clear insight and hope. I held myself back, settled for the ordinary and easy. I got lazy. I suppressed my thoughts and got lazy. Sitting on the train, I refused to be lazy. I made a conscious choice to look ahead with clarity.

My best friend/yoga instructor called it a “yoga breakthrough”. Whatever it was, it opened me up to what was and what could be. And better yet, it made what could be feel so much more achievable.

What could be SHOULD BE on the forefront, not a nagging afterthought in the middle of a yoga pose.

Get out of your way.