If you are a follower of this website, you may have noticed that it has been inactive for the last two weeks. This is by design. One of the difficulties of posting on a website once a week means I must have finished mulling over one idea or story and completed that reflection in my…
Is there any home that doesn’t have some sort of junk drawer? Or a coffee table with some random fuzz and a nail file in it? Perhaps this hopeless, lost desire for the perfect home possessed us all at the same time. But this isn’t a piece to blame social media. It’s a piece in…
There is a particular, three hour hike on the coast of Italy that I did during a backpacking trip, right after I quit my job at 28. It was the beginning of the road to understanding chronic illness, the human body, and acceptance.
My husband woke up with an unshakable feeling that he needed to climb a mountain in Oaxaca. He asked me if I wanted to go, but it was his feeling, his task. If you wake up one morning feeling like you need to climb a mountain, you definitely should.
It was uncanny how my landlady and the lady in the market told me the same thing. “We hold them in our hearts.” On that day, I held my grandma in my heart, and stared into her photo. I was suddenly gripped with the distinct feeling that her eyes were looking directly at me.
It has been three years since the passing of Ustadh Usama Canon. It is strange, this thing we call “time,” that supposedly heals all and yet is nothing but a human construct. Ustadh Usama’s legacy still permeates my everyday life. In his final act, he taught me how to die.
Vulnerability is usually seen as weakness. It’s a state of being exposed, and not something we usually want. Recently, I experienced vulnerability, and it taught me the necessity and beauty of embracing the shadow in everything. Like a beautiful a yin yang.