Right now, everything smells like smoke after a much needed smudging of the apartment. 

(If you’ve never burned sage to clear the vibes and don’t know what I’m talking about, hit me up and I will share this magic with you.)

Traveling for 44 days, I was without my toolkit for so long, I’d forgotten what a difference it makes. 

A room that felt heavy and sad five minutes ago (and a me that matched) now feels light and bright.

When I go back to Mexico in a couple days, I will not forget my essentials. Tarot cards, something to burn, a crystal or two, and my new Laughing Buddha.

I bought this little statue in Philadelphia Chinatown. He is shiny, warm gold, with the trim on his robe and his lips painted red. He has a big smile, a big round belly, and is carrying an overflowing basket of treasures.

When I saw him, I knew this was an energy I was missing.

I consider myself a minimalist (and a recovering control freak). I truly believe less is more, and that a simpler, less cluttered life, is a freer, more alive one. The more you have, the more you have to spend time, money and energy caring for. For example, I just cut all my hair off. I am no longer pouring my energy into it, worrying about how it looks, maintaining it and feeling the weight of it on my head.

I love living this way. There’s room for the people and things I really care about.

But this energy, too, can be out of balance. I’ve leaned a little too far in this direction. Pouring too much energy into stripping away and letting go.

Minimalism alone doesn’t force you to focus on what matters. You also have to let yourself enjoy the fruits. That’s what MAGNETIZES you to juicy, abundant deliciousness.

Being depressed for most of my life, growing up with money I didn’t earn, I didn’t feel like I deserved joy or richness. I was desperate to evict myself from entitlement, and ended up with deep unworthiness.

I was so afraid to be the excessiveness around me, I made myself excessively small.

But my Laughing Buddha isn’t worried about being too much, or having too much, or…anything. He’s just full. He radiates joy and abundance, and shares it generously.

That’s what I want. To be so full as to be effortlessly generous. Not to be empty because I’m afraid.

Thank you, little Buddha, for reminding me to be GOLD. Now, get in my backpack, we’re going to Mexico.

Well, I’m finally home from this trip…home…

It’s been a long stretch of not really knowing where to call “home.” 

In spirit, I moved to Mexico last year. 

In practice, I’ve been back and forth and all over. I miss Mexico every day I’m not there, but something else is happening.

3 weeks before my first trip to Mexico, after boldly declaring that my chapter in Los Angeles was complete, I met Ike.

We kept in touch, got to know each other deeply and built a connection that has humbled me to my core.

We communicate seamlessly, we do crazy, tantric energy work that catapults us into our highest selves, and, oh, we’re one soul split into two bodies somehow. (Not soulmates, twin flames. Look it up, it’s wild stuff.)

After my most recent trip to Mexico, I moved out of my apartment and into his…in LA. 

You may be thinking, “I thought you were done with LA.” Yeah. Me too. 

But also, moving in with him felt right. It was easy. We fit together.

Ike feels like home. And Mexico feels like home. 

I’ve been grappling with that for a year now. Trying to figure out what to say when people ask, “where do you live?” Well, I live in Mexico, and the person containing the other half of my soul lives in Los Angeles.

It’s not simple or conclusive. It doesn’t fit into a tidy box when I’m asked these questions at cocktail parties.

But maybe, that’s not how life works. We don’t really know what the fuck is going on. We just get out there and do it. Get dirty. Forge a new path where there wasn’t one because your soul demands it. 

The last year has brought the most aliveness I’ve ever felt.

I’m about to go back to Mexico. I will miss Ike. It hurts to pull apart. I’m also excited. To swim in the ocean every day. To sweat in the oppressive heat. To soak up the spirit. To grow my friendships. To keep embracing the wilderness of the unknown.

Home is where my heart is alive.

It won’t always make sense. But I FEEL IT. And that’s what matters.