Do you believe in what you see

All I needed for Libra season was a trip to Storm King (and other stories)

Chat!!! 2025, the spiral and never the line. Happy MLK day. Happy Monday.

As someone who both thrives and cries in every season, I have grown to thoroughly enjoy the cocoon of winter. It’s a lot of coming and going. Holiday parties and bed rotting. Riding the tides and deeply potent knowing - not showing. Hot cocoa. Resting and working…. connecting to oneself in our purest and most innocent forms. Since our last diary entry, I was the seed that sprouted. I pursued the sun with admiration and desire. It lured me in as it always does, and I gorged myself with the nectar of summer, although this one in particular was different than every one that came before her. I filled myself. I chewed, digested, and processed. I started to consider how holistically beneficial my past, present, and future connections are. I love a strong hiatus!!!!!! Pardon the start stagger and stop if you’re new here…. I’m an air sign.

In my brain:

How and why does how I identify with my surroundings separate me from making good contact with myself?

How can I live a path of truth and authenticity without giving the world ammunition?

How can I be truthful without being angry?

How can I be truthful without being afraid?

How much of the personal is too personal?

How much of ourselves are we willing to give away for connection?

Is every relationship a transaction? (The answer is yes)

How many of my relationships are superficial?

How many of my relationships are subterranean?

How many of my relationships are both?

Am I the problem?

In summation, re: 2024: everyone is cancelled - including me. Two things are always true. Let’s consider.

With the insurrection of political and societal whatever this is my worries have told me to be silent, and accepting. I tell myself that if I get too close to truth I will lose my support, and surface level stability. I am disappointed, irritated, and irritable due to the web of consumerism, obsession, and pure inescapable fear that this world is prefaced on. Many will read this sentence and assume, sure, aren’t we all? For some of us, the answer is simply just clear. At the most elementary level, all is understood. On a more surface level, there is no all. There is us and them. Too deep for the intro? This story is probably not for you.

Your first nature is your unconscious. It is not the anchor, it’s the ocean. In some somatic practices the action of being leads to seeing, so that we are not continuously pushed by habit, or entrenched… otherwise known as stuck. For those of you here for the general topic but not the discourse, in sum: I’m not sure what my purpose is on this platform or on the internet in general but what I do know is that I am a human and teacher. I am someone that feels called to constantly work towards healing myself with the hope (I tell myself that it is not expectation, but hope) that through that connection to self I can make a connection to other, someone/something outside of me, which will ultimately inspire others to do the same. I’ve decided to make it my life’s work.. searching for truth. Although this sense of autonomy should be available to all, it is not often completely processed. This stage prefaces letting go and surrendering.

Oxford Languages defines the word ‘ego’ as a person’s self-esteem or self-importance.

From a yoga philosophy perspective, this sense of inner knowing (think manipura) the jewel within the vessel, separate from and yet still apart of can create and manifest a rhythm of uniqueness, radiance, and connection to spirit. I feel very privileged to have grasped this connection through study and practice.

Privilege is defined as a special advantage, right, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group. I’ll begin first by acknowledging my own privilege. While I’m fully aware that I don’t need to explain myself or findings (whatsoever), I want to be clear that none of us need the internet, and yet here we are.

This summer I traveled the world. A stint in Paris, Greece, a five minutes that felt like five years in a Cairo airport smoking lounge, upstate New York, Barcelona, Sicily, and back to New York. Well, in my case, New Jersey. This is what I always wanted! The opportunity and privilege to travel and see the world. Everything sucked and yet everything was also amazing. Cue Kanye, ‘How you gon be mad on vacation?!’

Follow me for the cliff notes of a summer that turned to fall. The story of a girl. Wanting getting what you want, expecting a miracle… and coming home.

24 HOURS IN PARIS

I waited for my flight by taking the adult route at Newark airport which means eating a burger, drinking a glass of red, and people watching. The intoxicating allure of everything you can’t avoid even if you tried. An assortment of bodies, both very rich and very poor, all congregated in one arena. For me people watching has always been a full time sport. My eyes take in my surroundings. Every second is new. The restaurant is playing Cherchez la Femme (the Ghostface version).

I was convinced that I had found God in Paris, from the beginning. As I waited for my car I watch a man juggle a cigarette in one hand and a stack of books on top of a suitcase. His Miniature Pinscher (yes, I know) patiently waiting beside him as he tethered himself together after landing. I take this as a good sign. My drive towards Le Marais paints many landscapes. I notice a beautifully blended family playing hand clapping games in a park. I watch a woman cross the street wearing shoes that are 3 sizes too small. She walks as if no one is watching. There is radical pride in her stride. There is no fear.

Me in Paris

I preoccupy myself during my drive with trace minerals, layers of moisture, and one chapter of whatever I’m reading. I think of my grandfather who used to tell me that he always wanted go to Paris. I think of a past relationship and our plans to be in Paris. I begin to reflect on every moment up until this moment. My brain and my body dance. The spiral begins. I’m not in Paris. I’m in my brain.

I eventually settle in, I drink the wine and eat the cheese. I forget about my sadness and connect with a friend. I connect my feelings to my measure. She shows me a foreign world.

I return to my body

GREECE

You know when you want to have a good time but you’re having a really bad time? Think ‘I’m a celebrity get me out of here’ but make it yoga? Learned about the power of love. Learned that the healing powers of nature are all that we can guarantee to be real and true. I Genuinely recommend continuously blowing your life up!! I will remember being in my body and calling my mom at 5 am from Koufonisia to show her the sunrise. I ask myself what it would be like to live in a world that I would most want to live in. I seek and seek and seek. This time not for external validation, but for truth.

Being Greek

When I got home from Greece I decided to I start a 1:1 Sadhana practice with Tony Lupinacci. I admire his steadfastness and commitment to practice. I learn so much and am really in such gratitude. We meet every 40 days and discuss life and philosphy. He gives me a set series of daily practice that include mantra, kriya, and Vedic meditation. I have noticed a significant change in my ability to bounce back after absorbing transactions with the world. I notice my patterns, and I address them (most of the time).

Being spiritual… in Greece

5 HOURS IN EGYPT

I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I hideout in the smoking lounge and learn the Prayers of Salah. I eat salted string beans. I am foreign. My heart becomes an envelope of only truth. I feel like I am being swallowed by the sea.

EDUCATION INTERLUDE

If you are a yogic practitioner, you are aware of the system. Chakra means ‘wheel’. Chakras are spinning energy disks that reside along the central channel, effecting emotional and physical well-being. The heart chakra, also known as Anahata Chakra is located in the center of the chest, near the heart and in the dorsal region of the spine. Anahata translates to unhurt, or as I have been taught, means unstruck sound. It is said to be the door to the inner temple of giving and receiving love, and belonging. Hridaya is a Sanskrit word that can be interpreted as ‘spiritual heart’, that which is quite literally the Supreme Self, or essence of the heart. Just in the way that the physical heart gives and receives through blood flow and communication with the body, Hridaya does so without any physical dimension. It is unbroken, non-dual, and broad in the sense that it is not just a spark of God, but God itself. It is you, yourself.

THE REST OF THE SUMMER…

I start to encounter (in excess) situations that kinda make me go hmmmmmmmm. Saturn is returning. I feel robust with fatigue. I realize that all of my time spent out is now forcing me to go in. I start to despise my once familiar surroundings. I do maintain a strong yoga practice and somehow remain creatively inspired when I’m in the body.

DATING APPS

Complete waste of time although hilarious so not all is wasted? Everyone seems to be hot but no one is interesting. Comprehensive skills are at an all time low. I don’t enjoy dating pseudo celebs as much as me at 16 thought I would. Am I the drama?

CONTINUED STORIES FROM THE CRYPT

in no particular order

I teach a for a few high profile events. A sign outside reads, ‘Please no photos.’ The room is filled with models ranging from 17-21. I meet a girl who has skin the color of magma. I tell her she is beautiful. She responds, “Says you.” We stare blankly at each other. I know what she’s saying although she says nothing at all.

I’m sitting at Cafe Cluny on a Friday afternoon reading a book and eating a burger and fries (a habit and pattern). I approach the table in the corner and a woman sitting next to me starts to move her things. I offer to sit on the opposite side. She replies, ‘Aw.’ I realize that another woman at the table frequents my yoga class. She does not say hello. The matriarch of the table occasionally glances at me with not much interest but somehow our eyes meet at least several times. The waiter asks if I’m sure about the sparkling water I’ve ordered… I’m back in my head.

I run into my Art History teacher from freshman year at the farmer’s market. She tells me I’m doing great.

BARCELONA

10/10. I accomplish what I set out to achieve. I familiarize myself with sensations of pleasure. I come alive.

SICILY

God. I find myself. I learn myself. I witness potential. I am a merch mule. It is the worst and best thing to happen to me. Everything falls apart and I put it back together with glue. I stay afloat, sand slips through my fingers. My mom stops being able to use her phone. I can’t reach her for the sunrise.

30

I tell everyone I’m 30 because I’m not sad about it and because I’ve kind of always wanted to be 30. I spend my birthday teaching and crying at the museum. My mom doesn’t call me on my birthday. Being seen starts to exhaust me. Seeing is not believing.

STEVIE INTERLUDE

Why do people always assume that Stevie is named after a white woman? Worse, she’s named after a white man.

FALL

Pretty spectacular for many reasons. Why pamper life’s complexity when the leather rubs smooth on the passenger’s seat? I decided that I didn’t want to allow life to continuously make me feel like a victim, so after a few knocks on my chin, I started taking care of myself.

I lose out on a new apartment. I feel relief.

I study and study and study. Sound and Soma. I learn new techniques.

I begin to scale back, in all directions. I experience disappointment, isolation, and grief like never before, because it’s only ever been before. I contract.

I watch many movies. I read many books. I paint and read. I stay inside.

I sauna, rinse, and repeat. I visit my mom to escape my current reality. Reality gets louder and more menacing. She says, ‘mental illness is a serious drug.’ She gives me a set of bracelets worn by an ancestor. My mom tells me about the best day of her life, the day that my ancestor predicted my birth. She remembers everyone telling her that it was “just dementia.” Nine months later a star was born. My childhood town smells like salt. I walk past the home I grew up in and remember terracotta and seashells. I sob outside of the assisted living facility. A girl I haven’t seen in 15 years yells out to me from across the street. She is dressed as a Toros cheerleader; it’s Halloween. She is pregnant. It’s my worst nightmare. I have middle school dreams of screaming with no sound leaving. I remember this feeling. I dream about food stamps and teacher trainings.

I bounce back. I focus on myself. I mother myself. I repeat Aham Prema 108 times. I sit at my altar for 45 mins. I open my eyes. I open my dating app.

MY SURROUNDINGS

I’m at the electronics store in my neighborhood chatting with a Palestinian man about phone chargers. I know that he is Palestinian because I ask, and he tells me. We share twenty minutes of connection through conversation, about phone chargers. As the occasional waft of silence and eye contact lands, we smile.

I watch the worlds around me as if they are a black and white film. I feel like I’ve injected The Substance into my blood stream. My senses become more heightened. Here is what’s trending in my America:

Lack of awareness

Lack

Lack

Lack

Capitalism

Assimilation

Influencing

Toxic Masculinity

Having an identity

Sameness

Having an edge (not to be confused with edging)

Having an advantage

Elevator small talk

Pacification

Dissociation

Fragility

Internalized racism

Self-absorption

IN MY NEW BODY, ARIZONA

I decide to be the boss. I sit next to a half brother and sister duo on the plane. They discuss their stepmothers. The younger brother stares at his sister in awe. The father is in front of us drinking, heavily. I find new patterns and routines for my future self, although I make sure to stop at IN and OUT for a burger and fries. I spend Christmas in Arizona with my best friend. The streets are lined with cactus and bougainvillea. Briana reads Giovanni’s Room. We lay on the Red Rocks. We dream. My nervous system regulates with the most limited contact to stimulus I’ve had all year. I let go. I shed for everyone that has come before me. I conversate with nature. She is unconditional. It is completely quiet.

MY DREAM BODY, LOS ANGELES

I call my dad before my flight. I tell him I went to go see Babygirl on Christmas Day. We keep it surface. There is some laughter. We don’t explore guilt or shame but it is there. He tells me that I’m doing what someone my age should be. He acknowledges my innocence and strength. He tells me that I am capable, and that can go anywhere and everywhere, but I can never leave. As I land in a city of fog, everything becomes crystal clear. Prana transcends body and brain. I am a sphere.

December in California

LA feels like a secret that only me and the universe know. It feels like a kiss on the forehead. It feels like knowing. I move slowly. Life feels less like a bumper car game and more like cards, or scrabble. I connect. I meditate everyday. I plan and then I leave room for no plan. I study Dharma. I teach yoga. I take myself to the spa. I sense the rhythm. I consider the agency and power in knowing that although no one is silent, many are not heard. I vow to work to change this. I masticate on the potential of a candle and of possibility. I strike a match.

HOME

The grind. I stop seeking. Completely. I start saying no. I do not use productivity as a coping tool. I give and receive, with discernment and self-respect. I refuse to suppress. I remember everything that I’ve forgotten. I yearn for courage. I tire at social gatherings. I stare at my closet of merch. I go on a date with a guy who tells me that it’s New York or nowhere and that he can’t believe I’m not wearing black like a real east coast girl. He’s from the middle of nowhere.

I shuffle in between classes; uptown, downtown, Brooklyn. I question why I’m doing any of this. I offer techniques to soothe and heal. I watch healing occur. First nature, second nature, third. A brown woman with three children under ten sits next to me. She asks where I got my boots. I tell her. She stares blankly at me and smiles. She whispers, “Good for you.” Five minutes later there is a stabbing on my train. The world is on fire.

I acknowledge that a year ago I was not where I am now. A year from now none of this will actually matter at all (thank God) but I’ll use this to remember.

Shit I loved 2024

Sheepskin hot water bottle

Castor oil packs

Acupuncture

Fear

Shadow work

Reparenting

Being gentle

Gentle parenting

Edging

Forgiving

Forgetting

Remembering

Too many products to name…... If ur really interested we can explore another entry.

SHIT I LOVE 2025:

Bud Bunny

Unfollowing

Acupuncture

Having a plan

SHIT I HAVE ALWAYS AND WILL ALWAYS LOVE

Sound

Bodies

Healing

Oneness

‘fun and games’

Laughing

Crying

Feeling

Collective power and liberation

Calling my sister

Bone broth

AGE OF AQUARIUS

Final Questionnaire:

How can we radically consider the futures we want to create?

Have you ever cried on an airplane?

Are wellness facilitators the new car salesmen?

What is really happening?

Stay in the body… engage the senses… I’ll see you in another eight months

:-)