Driving through Mexico, I’ve crossed a lot of small bridges. Each bridge or “puente” has a sign with its name. Puente Santa Maria. Puente de Oro. Puente Lo Que Sea. 

And then there was: “Puente Sin Nombre.” Bridge Without a Name. 

First of all, hilarious. Why? What was it about this bridge that made them decide, no, we’re not even going to try. But also…calling it “no name” is a name.

Aaanyway. It also hit something deeper.

My whole life right now feels like a bridge without a name. I am on the road, moving my entire life from LA to Mexico. Building a bridge between two distinct chapters. A bridge between who I was and who I will be. A bridge between the past and the future. A bridge between what I know and what I don’t. 

We are ALL, ALWAYS in transition. We’re ALL, ALWAYS between where we’ve been and where we’re going. 

We are all always moving into the unknown.

This particular transition has tested me down to the rawest nub of bone and taken everything I have.

But on faith, I am crossing this bridge with no name. I am driving 5 hours a day at 130 kilometers per hour toward whatever is on the other side. And trusting the destination. 

We don’t know what’s on the other side of the bridges we cross, the thresholds we pass through, and the decisions we make. We never really know what the bridge should be called until we fully understand where it brought us.

Puente sin nombre,

bridge with no name,

I am trusting you with all my weight,

to carry me somewhere 

I’ve never been.

Puente sin nombre,

bridge with no name,

I got on on one side

but can’t be sure what’s around the bend.

I know what’s already been under my feet.

I know the person I’ve been.

I thought I was taking her with me,

but every mile strips another layer.

Underneath,

is someone I’ve never met.

Puente sin nombre,

bridge with no name,

take me.

Take me where I cannot know,

I cannot plan, 

I cannot predict.

You’re the only one that knows the truth.

I won’t know until I get where I’m going.

I won’t know until I look back

and you’re nowhere to be seen.

I have really high expectations for myself. Bordering on impossible.

It’s sort of an unavoidable byproduct of believing I can do anything. 

That’s my platform. I believe it for myself and I believe it for you. (We are all magic. That is a fact.)

I believe it because I’ve done things I never could have imagined. I’ve seen myself do supernatural shit beyond my wildest dreams. (Literally sitting in my own brain, watching my body do something and thinking, how am I doing this?)

Any prior concept I had of what my life could look like has been completely blown apart. And I expect it to be blown apart again and again. Because that’s been the pattern. (And patterns are science.)

I am unlimited. 

BUT, I am also limited.  

I am unlimited and limited. (I DON’T GET IT. Me either.)

I have superpowers that transcend time and space. 

AND, I am a human being.

It makes no sense. It’s infuriating. It’s weird. And it’s…humbling.

I think we all feel the struggle of toggling between different levels of functioning.

Some weeks, this very blog pours out of me like Niagara Falls. Other weeks, I’m wringing out a dry towel.

I can use insane wizardry locked in my body from a past life to locate and clear a past life wound in someone else’s body…but I can’t cook rice?

Sometimes I’m on fire, and other times, life is burning me to a crisp.

How can I be so good at some things, and so embarrassingly bad at others? Why do I regress to an angsty teen sometimes? Why can’t I just be at my best all the time?

Because our capacity for greatness doesn’t rescue us from our human-ness. And being a human means progressing, then falling back. It means certain people and situations bring out parts of us we don’t like. It means…sometimes, there is no answer. 

We can’t transcend being human. We can have transcendent experiences, but at the end of the day, we all still poop out of our butts, ya know? 

If I expect myself to be 24/7 god-level, I’m going to be disappointed in myself for just existing. And I’m going to miss the jewels hidden in the weird, gross, normal stuff. 

Having a body means we get to do amazing things. Having a body also means we have to do mundane things to take care of it and get through life.

If we don’t accept our humanness and our limitations, we overburden ourselves with perfectionism, frustration and disappointment.

But if we don’t believe more is possible, we miss our unimaginable potential. We don’t express our divinity. We feel isolated, lonely and depressed because we don’t realize we are all a part of this crazy, contradictory magic.

This time last week, I was struggling. 

Writing to you now, I am on the other side of the breakthrough I couldn’t see, but trusted was coming.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been traveling around the East coast, where I lived before I was ALIVE. For most of my life, I had no faith, no self-trust and no will to live. I thought I was broken with no chance of repair. I hadn’t tasted true intimacy or unconditional love. I didn’t know my soul. I hadn’t discovered how powerful, how deep, how sensitive, and how worthy of love she was. 

I’m currently visiting New York City, where I lived from 2012-2018. I was miserable when I left. Suicidal, working in a field I had just gotten a masters in, but no longer had the mental or emotional capacity for. I had already been on antidepressants and in therapy for years, self-medicating with drugs and alcohol, keeping myself alive on obligation to others and the imagined peace of being dead. 

In 2018, I moved to Los Angeles as a last-ditch effort to see if happiness was possible. I didn’t have faith, but there was nothing to lose. 

Fast forward to 2023. 

My five years in LA gave me exactly what I needed. Happiness, healing, spiritual connectedness and purpose in a deep, unshakable way.

But this trip to the East coast resurfaced the depression I worked so hard to heal.

On Monday, I went on a walk through one of my old neighborhoods and stopped in a spiritual store. I love them. I can’t get enough of them. Let me touch all of the crystals. Anyway. I decided to get a tarot reading.

It was a much needed affirmation of what I already knew. I was doing the right thing. I was on my path. And the emotions I’m feeling are guiding me. They’re telling me what supports my aliveness and what does not.

My soul knows that my next chapter is in Mexico, but I’ve been trying to hold onto the partnership I built in LA.

Unlike leaving New York in 2018, there’s a lot to lose this time. So I’ve been keeping one foot in as I poke the other out, doing everything I can to see if it’s possible to have both.

I still don’t have the answer to that question. But I needed to be clear about one thing.

My soul knows what it needs to be alive, and I’m not willing to sacrifice that.

I had a difficult conversation with myself. And I had a difficult conversation with my partner. Setting that boundary freed me to lean into the uncertainty of the present moment. To weather the emotions. Trust myself to listen. And enjoy the ride.