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.