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“What I am really saying is that you don’t need to do anything, because if you see yourself in the correct way, you are all as much extraordinary phenomenon of nature as trees, clouds, the patterns in running water, the flickering of fire, the arrangement of the stars, and the form of a galaxy. You are all just like that, and there is nothing wrong with you at all.”

— Alan Watts

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Bali summers

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Honesty needs kindness to be a virtue 🙏

Don’t let people throw vitriol at you and try to get away with it by calling themselves “truth-tellers”. Honesty needs kindness to be a virtue.

~ Elizabeth Gilbert

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I woke up this morning feeling so refreshed from finally getting some sleep, and immediately went on Instagram and started feeling those pants of longing and comparison. Longing to be living or traveling somewhere warm, and longing for all the freedom that entails. Longing to look like the women who live in those places. Longing to love myself more, to be further on my spiritual path. To be more of this and more of that.

On the one hand, I like seeing what's possible for me and what I have the potential to experience and become. On the other hand, I want to appreciate and be present with where I am right now, to love myself as I am right now.

I want to balance inspiration for the future with fierce love and acceptance for myself and my life right now.

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My life-long dream is to travel the world

Long term, and out of a carry-on backpack. 

My goal is to take off with $7,000 // not including my flight out, and not including a little fund for when I get home. 

Or maybe, I don’t even need this fund. Maybe I suck it up, embrace the unknown, and be okay sleeping on my mom’s couch for a while. 

C U R R E N T   S A V I N G S: $1234

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The Pressure of Purpose - A Manifesto

As I sit down to write, I let my mind carry me back to memories of childhood when I would write for hours on end; where words and inspiration would flow through my fingers and onto paper. Fantasy, fanfiction, songs, poetry, novels. Some finished, some unfinished. It wasn’t something I even had to really think about. I just knew that I loved to write and that if I could just sit down and do it, it would literally just flow out of me. Time would stand still. My mind, heart, and soul would all be in agreement. 

As time passed and I entered a new phase of life after highschool, I stopped writing. I would dabble in poetry here and there, I’d read over old novels I had started, edit them a bit, and muse about what a good story line I still thought it was, but those long, flowing hours of writing seemed to be behind me as my perspective changed, and as I began focusing on what I was doing with my life, what my purpose was, and how I was going to make money to follow my deepest desire of traveling the world and living out of a backpack.

I always think of these two particular days when I think about how much I loved to write as a child. The first was a quiet summer day, upstairs in my childhood bedroom with the window open, warm breeze and the chirping of birds coming in. I sat on my bed with my laptop on my thighs and wrote for hours. I had been watching an Australian teen show called Blue Water High and was very invested in the romantic couplings that were popping up; invested, but not satisfied with how they played out, and so I wrote my own. Start to finish in the course of the afternoon, I rewrote a story line in twenty something pages and felt incredibly fulfilled. 

The other day was in tenth grade when I was going through a long phase (obsession, really) of Arthurian Legend and the fantasy Middle-Ages and thought up an idea for my own personal retelling of the legend. That same day, with the two hour free period that I had, I went to the library computer lab and let that story began to pour out of me. Even today, I am still deeply enamoured with that story and dream of finishing it one day. I worked on it for six years straight just about, and am thinking that I might go back and start reading it again today.

I loved to write so much back then. And what’s more is, I never for a second questioned my ability or skill as a writer. It just felt so naturally to me. I loved the way I could tell stories. I loved my relationship with words. I loved the characters I created and the worlds I could dream up inside of my head. It was the ultimate escape from all in my life that dissatisfied and stifled me. It was a creation of the worlds that I wanted to live in for myself, and of the people who I wanted to grow to be. 

I often think about how I love to write, but these days I think about it more from the perspective of what I can do with it to make it into a career, into something that makes me money and funds my travels and lifestyle. 

No wonder I can barely get my words out these days; I’ve put so much pressure on it to be something that it might not ever be. I’ve convinced myself that there’s no point to do the things I once loved for enjoyment anymore. My mind plays a loop of thoughts telling me that if it’s not furthering my career or financial freedom, it’s not worth it. 

And yet nothing in my life seems to be furthering either of those, except my shitty food service job that I don’t enjoy but puts money in my pocket. 

What if I let myself connect to that child-self of mine again, and began to write again just because it brings me sheer joy and satisfaction? With no other expectation than to just create something with words and ideas and my own hands typing on a keyboard? What if I let myself paint and make art for that same reason? Write and play music? Hike and explore nature? I have been stifling myself by thinking that I need to have more figured out than I do right now; that I have to be further than I am right now. I’ve stripped my life of my creative energy and light in the name of chasing greatness and success. 

What I’ve always undoubtedly wanted in this lifetime is to travel and see the world, have incredible adventures, and share myself with the world through my art, writing, music, photography, and stories. That is it. That has always been my one desire. To see and to be seen. To learn from the wisdom of the Earth and its people, and to translate it for others through my eyes. 

Why does anything else need to matter? 

Why do I get so fixated on the numbers in my bank account or the words on my resume or the way I am portrayed on my Instagram profile? 

Why can’t greatness be of my own definition and understanding?

And why, more than anything else, can’t I put my faith in the Universe to take care of me as I do travel and learn and tell stories with art? If that’s what I want and what I’m here to do, which sure as hell is not a conventional way of living this day in age, which means there is no conventional method of getting there, why can’t I trust the Universe to help and support me in unconventional ways? Even if it involves being a little uncomfortable here and there. Or working in food service for a little longer than I am happy with. Or needing time to save save save my money, or making a career for myself a little later in life than others? If it’s all in the service of my dreams and my dharma, which in turn is of service to the world and myself, who am I to tell myself what the right way of getting there is?

I just want to co-create with life through passion, enjoyment, engagement, and adventure. I am so sick of the self-inflicted pressure to be anything but who and what I am, and to want anything more than what I want.

 I don’t care anymore.I surrender to my childhood gifts and passions.

 I surrender to my creative and adventurous curiosity.

I am solely in your hands, Universe.

I am at your mercy, little wide eyed inner child.

This one precious life must be filled with the art I came here to create and the experiences I came here to have. 

I am not in control of the way it all plays out. I am just going to follow those creative and adventurous whispering and give up my misguided agenda for success and greatness in traditional forms. 

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Therapy // a poem

Fragments

Of thoughts, emotions, ideas, even past selves

And shadows that I can’t quite grasp; ones that have been punching me in the gut.

I gather them up in my knapsack

Odds and ends that don’t quite match

And carry them, heavily. 

And when the time comes to unpack them,

I lay them out at her feet. 

“I just want to love myself,” I whimper.

Immediately, she fits two of the pieces together 

In a way that I could not see. 

It is then that the spool begins to unravel

And the yarn of my experiences unwinds through my mouth

I keep waiting to see judgement in her eyes,

Like the judgement in my mind even as I let these words free 

But she simply smiles and ponders what I’ve said

She gathers the yarn that I have spit 

And slowly feeds it back to me

This time with logic and love

Do those things even go together?

But they do - the fiber of this yarn feels stronger and smoother. 

We recoil the yarn back on its spool,

And repack my knapsack with fresh perspective and tools,

And when the jagged edges of the fragments begin to prick again

I reflect on what was said -

And with love and logic, buff away their edges again. 

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A poem for Mamma Kauai

When I let her pull me out to sea,

She grounded me, gave roots to me.

And in my mind’s eye, she helps me see

All that is meant for me.

I listen as she says “Go slow -

Ride this wave, be in the flow.

There is no wrong choice, or place to go,

All I teach, you already know.”

I sit beside her sun-kissed waves,

And let her waters take the weight.

She lifts my burdens and sets me free,

And brings old wounds to light for me.

The growing pains she plants in me,

Can flower like the plumeria tree.

All can bloom when brought to light -

As I learn to embrace this inner night.

She sings sweet songs in Hanalei,

Heals me in her mystical bay,

Chants mantras in her forest woods,

Challenges me to do what I never thought I could.

All this from a little island lost at sea;

She’ll call to your heart

Saying, “Come home to me.”

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I don’t always know what to do with myself or the best way to spend my time. I’ve been feeling a bit lonely this afternoon. But this island is teaching me that I am always where I need to be. Every moment is purposeful. Every moment is sacred. It reminds me of a line from a Hafiz poem, “Where you are right now, God circled on a map for you.”

I am supposed to be here. I am supposed to be experiencing this. This whole moment and experience is a teacher. It is through the grace of god that I am here to begin with experiencing this. It’s sacred. Its all a lesson for me to get closer to consciousness within this lifetime.

I found my way to the beach tonight, wine in a water bottle, a sense of acceptance and relaxation filling my heart, interrupted here and there by thoughts of homesickness and planning for my flight outta here. There’s a little voice that wants me to throw in the towel and head back to Portland sooner rather than later.

But I couldn’t do that to myself. I am here to be here. God circled this place and this time and this experience on a map for me. And these pangs of loneliness are here for me to heal; to be okay hanging out with myself; to grow confident and comfortable in navigating my day to day, with myself.

The waves are crashing, the silhouetted palm trees are swaying, the sky is gray with highlights of pink. This moment is beautiful. I surrender to it.

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Nothing prepared me for this humidity, I think to myself as I wake before sunrise to the roosters trumpeting. From my hostel dorm top bunk, I can see straight to the ocean.

I keep asking others if they’ve been swimming hoping to get an answer I’m satisfied with. People say the currents here are strong. The water might be rocky. The high and low tide can be tricky. The water is cold. I just want to jump right in.

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Today, I wandered to the tippity top of Portland’s Saint Johns Penninsula to Kelly Point, a river beach park where the Willamette and Columbia rivers meet, and where one can gaze over the water to Washington state.

I felt the call to bring some crystals along to wash in the water, as the confluence of two rivers is a holy point on earth, as is learned in the Hindu tradition.

I brought along my shivalinga stone; a stone that is found in the Ganges River of India and is symbolic of the god shiva, and of the balancing of masculine and feminine energies. It was surreal to return it to its source for a moment; to wet it with the water of two rivers, just like its home.

And it got me thinking that this confluence of rivers is just as holy as those in India. The water is the same. All rivers are one. All water flows into itself and circumnavigates the globe by whichever method is its path. They all meet in the end.

Can’t the same be said for mountains? Skies? People? I don’t quite have the most eloquent way of saying it to help one understand based on this example alone; I’m still learning to understand this oneness of which we are all apart; to embody the truth that everything is one. I’m still trying to understand.

But these precious rocks in my pocket and this holy confluence of rivers have given me a bit more clarity. Everything returns to its source, everything is one.

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I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t break down about it anymore. The urge and pull towards my dreams is too strong. I can’t lose my footing in helpless sadness anymore. I needed to go through that phase of feeling helpless, directionless, useless...that heart pounding, palpable longing for my dreams. The only sadness left has manifested itself into a clench in my stomach when someone else shares this dream with me and is seemingly about to reach it more quickly than me. That far too familiar clench. But then, I have to remind myself that comparing my path to someone else’s does us both a big injustice. Everyone’s journey is unique, important, and purposeful. My journey is not supposed to look like exactly like anyone else’s, and vice versa. We’ll all get where we’re going in the end, I believe. I trust enough in myself and in my life to know that I will.

And what I want is to travel the world. Long term. Out of a backpack. To fully immerse myself in it. To hike new terrains and gaze upon new horizons. To dine in new cities and work the soil in new towns. To camp under new skies, to observe new creatures, to meet new humans. To have spiritual experiences in temples and mountains alike; with monks and children and just people watching in a crowded city cafe. To document, with words, photos, music, and ink on skin, this wonderful, adventure in which I become  a woman of the world, create a global family, satiate my wanderlust, and find my purpose and place within all of it. 

I want this so badly that at times I’ve forgotten how badly I want it, simply because it has hurt too terribly to want it so badly. Does that make sense? I tucked it away, deep into my heart, knowing that it would have to rest there for awhile until I was more emotionally stable to feel it again. I’ve spent the last few months untucking it, slowly but surely. I feel it rising up within me again. Almost involuntarily. It needs to be felt because it needs to be chased because it needs to be done. It is the strongest calling of my soul, and though I confuse myself wit the minutiae of life and the fears and the perceived limitations, I always hear its call and go running back. 

Today, Alyssa told me she was feeling stagnant. She shares the same dreams of world travel and adventure. She asked me how I have dealt with the feeling of being stuck and stagnant. I told her that I don’t deal with it; that I break down, lose it, every month. I get depressed, hopeless, and tuck it back into my heart, but that eventually, I just get through it and keep taking small actions towards it.

After she left, I reflected for a moment and realized that I hadn’t had my monthly breakdowns since...December, maybe? And that there is a hint of a strength within me that had been dormant before, keeping me calm and stable and reaching for faith when this dream began to sting. That after years of hard work, intense emotion and longing, feeling directionless and disconnected...I feel ready to rise up again. I see where the hard work is paying off. I see the light through the trees. I simply must pause, take it in, appreciate it. Make a plan, set goals, and work towards those goals everyday. I will get there. I can taste it. 

Let me declare this, now. I am in the process of doing it. I am working towards traveling the world long term. I choose to believe that it is all happening, and that all these little right actions; finishing school, saving money, getting my TEFL certification, going vegetarian, meditating...all of these big and little things are getting me there. I choose to stay in action, I choose to make a plan, and I choose to believe in myself, the universe, and the unfolding of this adventurous life I have been living, that it is coming. It’s possible, it’s meant for me, it’s happening. This moment I’m in right now is a part of it too. I believe in it. I believe in me. 

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On remembering love.

Lately, I’ve been practicing trying to perceive the world around me with love, and trying to understand the concept that I myself am love; we all are. I used to feel very connected to this and have an easy time practicing it. Throughout the years of my spiritual practice, however, I have forgotten it somehow. New life experiences have triggered old ego patterns and clouded me with fear. Slowly, I am lifting the veil of fear’s illusion and trying to remember...the words resonate with me but they’re not enough to fully understand the concepts...That fear is an illusion. That only love is real. That I am love. That every human being, at their core, is the same thing. Love. Energy. Atoms. 

Not only is this concept hard to understand, but it’s hard to explain. I got into a cycle this year of trying to explain my spiritual beliefs to the people in my life; those who had not yet opened their hearts to spirituality and had no foundation on which to understand what I wanted to teach them. I had no hard facts to prove it, no evidence to give, no logical explanation to back it up with. That’s because it can’t be done! But I tried, and failed. It hurt a lot, to try to share the teachings and spiritual outlook that changed and healed me in so many ways, and have them “debunked” or ignored. I think it shattered my faith a bit...I began to lose faith in myself and in my spiritual path and knowledge because I felt pressure to be a spiritual teacher and try to save the world with these teachings I had adopted into my life. I couldn’t stop thinking that I was “woke”  and needed to help others be “woke” too. Though definitely tainted by ego, I know I was coming from a good place at my core. Spirituality, meditation, and shifting my perception from fear to love absolutely changed my life and made me a better person. It has helped me understand life, purpose, humans, and the world more clearly. It made me more peaceful, more loving, less defensive, lost, and combative, and I truly think that meditation has the power to change us all for the better.

But who am I to push that on those who don’t want to hear it? 

And why would I risk my own inner peace and spiritual love to try to rationalize, logic-ify and defend this spiritual path I am on to get others to see what I see? 

Through much trial and error, I learned that everyone is on their own path. As long as one’s way does not intentionally harm another being or themselves, there is no right or wrong way. Everyone has or will have their own relationship with their hearts, minds, and the universe. Everyone will walk through life differently. My job is not to teach what I’ve learned, but simply to embody it. To live my truth by living in alignment with inner peace, love, and spirituality, and to be a source of light for those who are meant to come closer to it. I think this is a trap many spiritual people have fallen into. We come upon something we think is wonderful and life changing and simply want to share it and help others heal and be happy too. But...you can’t explain it. You just come off preachy and a bit crazy. People will hide from you as if you were a Jehova’s Witness knocking on their door. People will think you’re religious, dogmatic; a Jesus lover. (To clarify, I’m not judging or knocking any of these things, just noting the stipulations of these things in society. Most people don’t like religion and don’t want to talk about it and have some very harsh opinions and conceptions about it...understandably so). 

If someone is interested in spirituality, mindfulness, or self improvement, they have to do the heavy lifting. They have to be willing to see things differently; they have to be willing to learn. Life will then provide them with the tools they need to start. Maybe I’ll be a tool or resource for someone, someday. Maybe life will put us together simply to have a conversation about the universe, about unconditional love, about meditation techniques. They’ll be a tool in my spiritual path and growth too. And that’s how it works! As Ram Dass says, “We’re all just walking each other home”. I think that’s so true.

The ego can be so tricky. Sometimes we forget that we are all equal, and we are all one. Any separation; any superiority or inferiority is ego. It’s separation and fear, not love. I thought that being spiritual and having “insights” about the world and how people should live made me superior and that it was my “duty” to share these teachings with people. 

I’m grateful for that humbling experience, because I learned that while I feel like I know a lot, I really don’t know anything! This universe is vast and intricate and expands miles every second and we don’t even access most of our brains. I don’t know much, I just know what is true for me. 

What is true for me might resonate with you! If so, wonderful! If not, no worries! The great thing about this human experience is that we have individuality. It can be an ego trap, but it is also a wonderful way for source to express itself and understand this crazy existence through billions possible options, billion possible people. 

Now, to wrap this up...

I felt as though I had forgotten this love for a long time. I kept searching for it outside myself. I could never find it. And then, something clicked. I remembered a quote from Gabrielle Bernstein, a beautiful and wise spiritual teacher, who said, “It’s about releasing the blocks to the presence of love within us.” I had heard her say this a thousand times, and on the surface, I understood it, but it never clicked. But now it does. That love I am searching to remember isn’t outside of me. It is already inside of me. I don’t need to search for it or seek it in anything else, except within myself. All I need to do is to release the blocks to it’s presence. We block our loving nature with fear, with insecurity, with illusion, with feelings of not being good enough, with trauma from the past. These wounds are our blocks, and they are beautiful and sacred, and serve us to the extent that they are leading us back to love, back to ourselves. But when we carry them too long, when we believe in them, they simply keep us small and hold us back from all that we are capable of being. 

To be more loving, go within and love your wounds. Love your dark thoughts. Love yourself just a little more. Set the intention of releasing your blocks, of opening your heart to the love that exists inside of you; that is you. Practice seeing others with the same love. What I know for sure is that this process of remembering your loving nature takes time, and you’re never really done. You’ll heal things from the past and feel good and free and loving, and then life will provide you with experiences that will trigger your old reactions and coping mechanisms and you’ll develop new wounds and blocks. Be patient and loving with yourself. It’s all a part of the process. Eventually we’ll be so mindful, self aware, and compassionate, that we won’t get as triggered. That we’ll recognize when we’re putting up a block. 

I’m not interested in making anyone believe what I believe anymore. I just want to cultivate my own inner peace, inner visions, and give myself to this spiritual path I am on. Those who are meant to be by my side will be, those whom I am meant to follow, I will. I want to cultivate and nurture myself into the best version of myself so that I can do what my soul came here to do, whatever that may be.