My Sinuses vs. Mexico City: A Telenovela
Our trip to Mexico City started with walking tours, tacos, and ambition. It ended with a cold, a curtain, and a surprising lesson in letting go.
The Fire of Flamenco
When I showed up for a flamenco dinner in Seville, I wasn’t expecting a life-altering moment. I was just trying not to cry into my tapas. But then she appeared—in the corner of a tiny bar, under twinkle lights and a “no moving during the show” rule—and reminded me, with every stomp and sweep of her arm, that I still had a body. And a choice.
The Cats Who Ignored Me in Spain
A solo trip to Spain wasn’t the plan. But when my travel partner disappeared into work and I found myself wandering the Alhambra with only sun, stone, and disinterested cats for company, I learned something surprising about presence, perspective—and how a well-timed feline blink can feel like emotional support.
A Real Human Life
Sometimes I think we overcomplicate what it means to be human. We chase meaning, dig for purpose, try to transcend. But maybe the sacred isn’t buried. Maybe it’s already here.
The Puppet Who Lived Downstairs
I live in a high-rise soap opera with a rotating cast of eccentrics—and somehow, I’ve become the neighborhood’s unofficial archivist. Not with spreadsheets, but with felt.
Saint Teresa of San Francisco: A Tale of a Demon Driver and the Woman Whose Compassion Saved Us
Stranded on a dark San Francisco street, Mike slumped onto a stoop, looking less like a guy with motion sickness and more like someone who had lost a fight with a bottle of tequila. People crossed the street to avoid us. That’s when I realized: we weren’t just stuck—we were being judged.
My Run-In with Benjamin Bratt
Cartagena is hot. Not ‘Oh, let me grab my sunhat’ hot. More like ‘I am melting into the pavement and will soon become one with the earth’ hot. By midday, I had transformed from carefree traveler to overheated swamp creature. So, when we walked into a fancy restaurant without even changing clothes, I was already feeling like a sweaty disaster. But I was not prepared for what happened next: a full-body collision with Benjamin Bratt’s bare chest.
Drinking from a Saucer
I had spent four years being told what things are—cups are for drinking, saucers are for holding cups. But here was Grandma, breaking the rules in the quietest, most matter-of-fact way.
Not the Second Coming—But Maybe Something Else
Maybe I wasn’t Jesus. Maybe no one is. Or maybe we all are—not as saviors, but as hands and feet, as hearts capable of kindness, as people who, in whatever small ways we can, bring light into the world.
Talk to the Stars, Listen to the Trees
Stand outside at dusk and watch Venus rise. If you sit long enough, you might feel it—the Earth rolling away from the Sun, the vast plane of the solar system stretching around you. Teilhard glimpsed this grand unfolding. Indigenous wisdom has always known it. This is an invitation to step into it.