Rooted in the light of the present. 

April 2nd, 2023

Hello stars. 

A while back I made a promise to myself that I would move towards the light. In order to know the light, sometimes you also have to know darkness.

I got a new nurse job in order to find a little bit more lightness. Still, I'm working to shine a little bit of light on what I already found--but more on that later. For now, I'd like to share something I wrote the night before I started this new chapter.  

March 26, 2023:

I used to feel trapped. 

But sitting on the beach at Will Rogers, I thought about how there really isn't any good or bad. 

And seldom a right thing to do, 

just what is most right to express the fullness of you with as much information that you happen to have at the time. 

And we were all trying to do something... 

even if something felt like nothing, 

to do the best of our ability all the same. 

The ocean didn't notice anything, 


Except for maybe a gentle recognition of the way we seemed to cycle between ease and unease


so routinely. 

Striking a balance in pure moments of being, I believe we let those moments without ease stretch too far in between. 

A blushing sky rippled with sun streaked delight, 

inching up to blue and a sliver of a moon, 

strung up like a diminished spotlight, 

on the routine play of people nestled in a web of existing in all kinds of ways. 

I remember the notion of playful exploration that drew me here to LA,  

unknowingly entering a sphere to re-explore the keys to my own creativity. 

To move through grief, again, seeing that I belonged all the time, 

but I had to leave to believe it and to see that magic happens on all kinds of canvases. 

Being here is one place to be and it's been amazing, 

even in the loneliness of wondering 

how to love 

and be and 

let go of the grief of living in a city teeming with art yet teeming with suffering

and everything in between. 

As much as I do miss the trees, 

the wonder of stars and streets and sand captivated me. 

So now I do feel free.