Ted Lasso and This Season

“It may not work out how you think it will or how you hope it does. But believe me, it will all work out.”-Ted Lasso

This past week, one of my childhood friends visited me in Malaga.  Although we did many of the touristy things one does in Costa del Sol to include the sea, tapas, shopping, and Tinto de Verano, we also binged on two television shows.  Both were products of SNL alumni: Girls 5 Eva by Tina Fey and Ted Lasso with Jason Sudekis.  Generally it can take me quite a long time to watch television shows or films, as I want to savor them as I do my lattes.  But binging on them gives a different perspective.

One can see the clues writers leave to tease viewers from one show to the other.  Foreshadowing of what’s to come.  But also writers may trick us to believing we know what is next, only to take us through twists and turns as the story unravels.  We can embrace the vicissitudes of the hero’s journey, the human journey, through television.  Dramedies like Ted Lasso, pull at my heart as one can laugh and weep at all that is offered to you in short segments, episode to episode.  

I couldn’t help but think of this as I watched the season (or even series) finale of Ted Lasso yesterday.  It was poignant because it was within one day I finished listening to an audiobook and reading a tangible book.  Endings were the theme yesterday in all media I was consuming, and I thought how timely this was because I am in a transitional period in my life right now. An ending from one period of life before embarking on another. 

Finales of television shows give us a sense of resolve.  We feel a sense of closure as reflections are made of how characters and groups have transformed through this time together.  The characters are flawed, like all of us are as humans.  People trigger and then push each other to grow.  Respect is earned through showing up repeatedly for others, dreams are realized, celebrations are embraced collectively, egos are swallowed as one asks for forgiveness.    Love shows up in countless ways, that exist beyond romantic relationships. There is a sense of satisfaction when storylines circle around and are completed, and the crescendo has slowed down to a place where one can simply enjoy the vastness of it all.  

Finishing Ted Lasso yesterday reminded me of conversations I had with one particular creative client.  She came to view different periods of her life when we worked together through the lens of seasons of a television show.  They were not marked by years, but experiences.   She labeled each season with a theme, noted the lessons learned, characters involved, growth made, and what point would be the end.  There was a small sense of admiration for the evolution that occurred and a tiny bit of sadness, but she was more excited of what would be in store for herself next as the main character, who would be in her life, what would be the style of clothing worn, color scheme used, and what metaphorical journey was she about to undertake next. 

With clients who you work with for a limited period of time, this is evident.  You get glimpses into the moments of their lives, and they give you the backdrop of what has led them there.  But the same is true with others.  Recently, as I have conversations with friends I haven’t seen for years or caught up with family members, and noticed the same in their stories.  I can see the threads and themes in their lives, and how it’s progressed.  I witness how they struggled and triumphed and caught glimpses of where they are headed.  But sometimes with ourselves, we are so immersed in our own stories and in the head of the character we are playing (ourselves), that we do not see the larger arc. At times we need to step back and see not this one episode we are having difficulty with, but how each episode has been linked to each other.  We need to see our lives as the writers of television shows do, and act from that perspective.

I thought back to that one client I worked with and her way of framing the world, as I pondered on my time here in Malaga, or last year in Paris, or all the years in the UK.  I’ve had ten seasons of living overseas, and the show at this time is not up for renewal.  It’s a series finale.  There is sadness there as I reflect on all the players, storylines, and story arcs.  And as I sit in this liminal place, I am curious what the next series is that I will embark on as I return to America.  How do I want this next part of my life to be? 

Where are you in your series of life? What is the theme of this season? Who are the characters? What type of show is this?  Where do you want this season to go? 

We are both the actor and the writer of our own stories. How do we want it to go.  But it’s important to know, there are co-writers that exist on this television show.  Yes it’s the other characters in our lives who co-write with us but also a larger entity, whether you call this writer Universe, Divine Light, God, or Mother Earth. We are in constant collaboration, we have free will, endings can always change.  You are not a victim of your story, you are a co-writer.  Live up to that credit. Maybe even co-write a life that’s worthy of 20 Emmy nominations each season, just like Ted Lasso.  You deserve it. 

“Schopenhauer suggests that just as your dreams are composed by an aspect of yourself of which your consciousness is unaware, so, too, your whole life is composed by the will within you. And just as people whom you will have met apparently by mere chance became leading agents in the structuring of your life, so, too, will you have served unknowingly as an agent, giving meaning to the lives of others, The whole thing gears together like one big symphony, with everything unconsciously structuring everything else. And Schopenhauer concludes that it is as though our lives were the features of the one great dream of a single dreamer in which all the dream characters dream, too; so that everything links to everything else, moved by the one will to life which is the universal will in nature.”

– Joseph Campbell

Life School

The past several months I have debated getting another degree.  Although I already received my doctorate nearly 20 years ago in clinical psychology, I have always been engaged in ongoing education in some capacity.  I was exploring getting an additional degree in Mythology, and preparing my life to be inclusive of this.  This was until I realized the costs of tuition.  I had believed the annual cost would be $10,000.  This was reasonable and achievable, but I realized I was wrong.  That is the cost per quarter, not year.  I had wrongfully calculated this, and it would be $34,000 per year for four years.  At this juncture in life, I realize that I value my financial freedom more than this program.  

I began exploring, what if I could create my own type of mythology program.  In this, I would still take classes in the realm of Carl Jung and Depth Psychology, but also begin reading other books that had to do with goddesses, the Dark Sacred Feminine, and world religions.   In my journal last night, I brainstormed a list of individuals I would want to learn from, some of whom I had already met int the past.  This list is below.

As I began, going to some of their individual websites, I stumbled upon some live events I could attend, or at the bare minimum live webinars.  Yet, I came upon googling Sally Kempton, renowned teacher of Hindu philosophy particularly goddesses.  I discovered something horrible.  She died two months ago! She was 80 years old.  And this is a regret I have, I never studied with her when I got the chance.  I was lucky to meet and see Louise Hay, Debbie Ford, and Wayne Dyer before they died.  But Sally Kempton, I put off, then the pandemic put on hold all live events for an extend period.  And it never happened.  After I saw that this morning, I am vowing to not let that happen again.  

And therefore, I may not be attending graduate school again, but I am vowing to enter the School of Life.  I am making a commitment to study and meet experts in the fields that I am fascinated in, before it’s too late.   This could be in the realm of psychology, spirituality, anthropology, mythology, goddess philosophy, or anything that I fancy at the moment. I will follow my curiosity and see where it leads me in this school of life.  It may not lead to a terminal degree, but it will lead to a fuller life. 

Hollywood is Real

Everyone thinks all that exists in Hollywood is fake.  This is the actors, the people, the stories, sets, mindsets, and everything in between.  Yet, it was in Hollywood that I have met some of my longest standing friendships, and for most of them, they have been on Hollywood sets.

Years ago, I was an extra on television shows, movies, and music videos.  This was a flexible part time job that was complimentary to my full time life as a graduate student.  Generally I worked 1-2 times per week on anything from shows like E.R., Felicity, or Friends to an Olsen twins movie or a Steven Spielberg film.  I never made the Screen Actors Guild Union, and therefore was non-union and paid minimum wage.  At that time, I believe it equated to $50 for 8 hours of work.  Anything beyond that was over time, double time or triple time.  But I didn’t do this for the money, or any type of exposure.  I wasn’t planning to go into film or any aspect of this realm.  I did this for the experience.  Yes, part of what pulled me to this was the intrigue of working side by side by those I admired.  We were ”background”, this is what we were called background performers and were literally moving background pieces of a scene.  Yet, I also did extra work to meet other people.  I was new to the city, and wanted a chance to connect with others.  This was before the age of social media and smart phones, we met people the old fashioned way IRL, in real life. 

Although we didn’t get paid well, there were benefits to doing extra work.  This included generally getting free meals and snacks, but also loads of free time.  I used this strategically as opportunities to read and study for graduate school classes, nap, and also get to know other people who were my age.  The most fascinating thing is some of these people I met during those days are still in my life today.  It’s been over 20 years from the time I met them and we are still friends.  Some of the people who have remained in my life have been met through the friends I connected with as an extra.  

It’s interesting to create bonds over fantasy world.  For example, one of my closest friends Isabella, we met on the set of a short lived show called Freakylinks, starring Ethan Embry.  The Assistant Director told us to be best friends, we had bookbags on and were in the scenes of a school hallway.  Little did he know we would stay friends for years after and travel the world together. 

That period of time was fascinating, it was a surreal double or triple life I led.  I was a graduate student, an extra for Hollywood films, and an intern at various sites.  These included a female correctional facility, working with foster children in Compton, or a female private catholic college.  I guess we all live multiple lives, we play different roles.  We are all  background actors in numerous people’s lives, play supportive cast in others, and hopefully take the lead role in our own lives. 

 What type of roles are you playing now?  What does the set look like? Who are the cast of characters that fill your life?  What genre is your life replicating and do you like it?  If not, what genre would it be if you could change it? 

Tiny Rewards

            I have to admit cleaning is not my favorite activity.  I’ve dreaded this over the years, and it stemmed from parents who also hated cleaning.  But it’s a necessity of life, and I have learned to pair it with something I enjoy.  Lattes! Oftentimes, I will reward myself for doing mundane duties with a large caramel machiatto from Starbucks.  I definitely appreciate the local cafes, and lounging in cafes for hours as I write.  This happens often during the week, as I meet with acquaintances or friends.  But I admit, Starbucks lattes in my take-away cups are quite large and take me a long time  to drink.  Therefore, the pleasure can last for even more hours as I take it home and engage in such tasks as laundry, dusting, and scrubbing.  

            When I lived in Paris last year, I had to go to the laundromat to deal with my dirty clothes on a bi-weekly basis.  I carried my laundry one block in a rollie bag and large laundry sack.  As I waited for these clothes to wash. Starbucks time.  And as I write this: one friend has left my home after visiting for 10 days and it’s my time to clean the sheets and the house before the next one visits for 10 days… Well it’s Starbucks time.  

This act is more than a reward, it’s a form of self-compassion and kindness. It’s as if I am giving myself a gold star for doing my homework and can redeem several stars for one treat.  I am the student and the teacher in this scenario.  I do the hard work but also give out the reward.  It’s served me well the past several years.  It may seem ridiculous, but it’s worked.

            Bella sits on my lap as we lounge upstairs overlooking the fountain in Plaza de Constitution in Malaga.  The breeze comes in, music plays, tourist pop in and out. And I know these moments of tranquil writing time and caffeine will feed the hours of cleaning that will proceed this afternoon and evening.  

            How do you reward yourself for the tiny chores that you do in your daily life? 

Muses, Strangers, and Artist Dates

Years ago I yearned to be a muse for artists, perhaps this is why I fell for artistic individuals.  It didn’t matter if they were painters, writers, or musicians, if they had artistic ability, I was interested.  I then began to learn to deepen my own creativity and explore the beauty that existed within.  

Numerous paths to art entered my world, such as various forms of dance, writing, collage art, and even the way I chose to dress.  With time, I even became a creativity coach to help bring this out in others.  I embraced the phrase Frida Kahlo used as an anthem “I am my own muse.”  I even got the word “muse” tattooed on my body, as a reminder that I can be my own muse.

            And this past week, unknowingly I was one.

            After eating lunch at a restaurant in Granada, a woman waved me over.  I had noted she had a sketch pad earlier in the hour, but I didn’t think anything of it.  She proceeded to show me the drawings she created of me, as I was talking with my friend.  I snapped these two photos to capture the moment, and was honored. 

She was a fellow tourist, from the UK, exploring Andalucia with her husband.  For a moment, she chose to have an artist date, and offered to show me what she completed.  We shared brief life bios, and went on about our days.  It was a brief but heart warming exchange.  

These sometimes serve as the most fascinating parts of travel, happenstance occurrences with strangers.  We could impact each other through philosophical conversations, travel tip assistance, or physically helping another with their luggage.  Energy is mutually exchanged.  Who knows, you may even sometimes serve as another’s muse.  

Lessons In The Market

            One thing I have appreciated about living in Europe is going to local markets, particularly when the crowds are quiet and the selections are abundant.  Yet this week, I went on Saturday midday.  On Saturdays, Atarazana market in Malaga is filled with of tourists and family members buying produce for the week.  As usual, my favorite stall was full, but I quietly waited my turn in line.  When my turn arose, an elder Spanish lady began saying she was before me “Soy proxima.”  “I am next,” she said.  But both stall workers and me knew this wasn’t the truth.  I acted like I didn’t understand what she was saying.  I didn’t want to get an attitude or did not have the energy to correct her in Spanish.   She complained about me to the other people in line.  She continued to complain to the stall owner, repeating his name and saying in Spanish how he is wrong and she was next.

   There were many ways he could have reacted.  He could have caved to her, as she was probably a more frequent customer than me.  She had probably been buying him for years, versus months.  He could have argued back with her, using anger against anger.  Instead he chose an unthinkable action.  He laughed it off, he showed he could win this argument with his jolly nature versus unkind words.  He chose to smile instead of sneer.

            As I left the scene of the crime, I realized I too had a choice in this moment.  I could carry the hostility she threw my way.  I could react with frustration at the next person I interacted with.  I could ruminate on the frustration of being right, but the fact she still continued to complain about me.  I could have exacerbated this issue and generalized how she acted towards me was how all Spanish people behaved.  I could have allowed this moment to turn towards enlivening hatred at the experience of being a foreigner living in Spain.  

But I chose to live in the way of that jolly food stall owner.  I shrugged it off.  I admit it wasn’t with enough levity as he did.  But if he could let it go, so could I.  We are often given examples of negative ways in how to act, negativity is contagious.  But so is kindness.  This is the reason I created this blog years ago.  It only takes a smile, kindness can be just as contagious as negative vibes.  I want to emphasize it’s important to witness and catch the moments we go against these tendencies, and shift towards the opportunity of reframe.  Teachable opportunities are available for us, if we are willing to humble ourselves, reframe, and learn, even from the local market stall owner.  Gracias 

Luxury in Time

            I feel so grateful, as I write this, I am sitting in the ballroom of the House of the Blackheads in Riga Latvia.  I am in the ballroom nearly alone, with my laptop, classical music playing, and drinking a cappuccino.  The adult entrance fee for this museum was 7 euros, but for one extra euro, you could get a hot drink.  There was no café to drink it in, the museum attendant said “bring it to the ballroom, sit on the furniture.”   This is the opposite of what one is generally told in a historical museum.  I felt as if I was being a rebel, but she encouraged me to live life like a queen.  Now this is luxury.

            As I sit here, I am close to tears.  There is nothing sad, but tears of appreciation for moments like this. Quiet unexpected moments, where you feel as if you are royalty.  To sit in an expansive ballroom, surrounded by chandeliers, paintings, classical music, wooden floors, and loads of history.  I was being asked to slow down, indulge, and enjoy life. 

            My friend noted the other day how money affords expansiveness of time.  We were discussing inflation in Lithuania (and the rest of the world).  Years ago when things were cheaper, time was slower.  He didn’t have to hurry, hustle, and work. Money stretched and so did time.  And for me, this time affluence is a luxury.  Each time I have it, I am so grateful. 

            Sitting here in Riga Latvia, after I checked out of my hotel, waiting for an evening flight, I have no plans and nothing but hours of time.  Perhaps this is why I want to cry, out of a surprising moment of joy, where staff encouraged me to fully appreciate the abundance of time in a beautiful setting with a cappuccino.  There is nothing better.

            As I age, I realize tears arise more easily.  Sometimes it’s sadness, struggle, anger, but often it’s moments of gratitude, appreciation, awareness of synchronicity, love, joy, serendipity, beauty, the bittersweet nature of life.  Isn’t this what the fullness of life is about?  We are to drink it all in.  And I feel that is what I am doing with this cappuccino right now.  

“The most precious resource we all have is time.” — Steve Jobs

Seeing Kindness in Struggle

Sometimes trips just aren’t what you have planned. This was the case this past week.  Without getting into the details, I was left stranded in a country which I didn’t speak the language, 40 minutes from the city center by train, with a heavy bicycle, on a date that went bad who wanted me to go cycling in the sand.  It’s been 8 years since I bicycled, and he thought bicycling in the sand would be a good idea.  He left our trip together, and I was stranded to fend for myself navigating back to Riga on these trains from the Soviet Times. I had to lift a bicycle up and down these massive steps with doors that were difficult to open.  Luckily strangers helped me in this moment bring the bike in before the train doors closed.  When the train worker came by so I could pay for my ticket, I said “Riga.”  She said No!  She didn’t speak English, and a passenger said in broken English.  “Wrong way, how did you do this?”  I didn’t know.  It was a moment I wanted to break down and cry.  I had to get off at the next stop, and do this all over again for the next train on the opposite track.  I was stuck carrying this heavy bicycle in a land where I didn’t know the language and I physically had to have strangers help me.  My date left me stranded, but I was so kind that in broken English people could help me.  It was definitely a rom com go bad moment, where things must shift and get better.  

I am so grateful in moments like this for humans that are willing to help.  Although they didn’t know how much it meant to me at those times, when I felt alone and hurt, their physical presence in assisting me meant the world.  I know I will pay it forward in the future, as the saying says “we are all just walking each other home.” 

“Kindness is the golden chain by which society is bound together.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

Travel Guides and Kindness

I pilgrimaged to the Black Madonna in Einsiedeln today.  I originally was travelling to Zurich in order to visit the small country of Lichtenstein.  Then, I realized, there was a Black Madonna here that Carl Jung previously visited and wrote about.  It was the Black Madonna that was closest in distance to him, and therefore he wrote about Her. Upon hearing this, I knew where my next pilgrimage would be to.  But the journey actually began the week prior.    

I had just returned home from a group pilgrimage to the Black Madonna in Italy.  I had messaged to confirm with someone I hired from an online app in regards to my dog’s upcoming stay with her.  But she cancelled last minute. I struggled to find a new sitter during the height of summer, searching both online and in person.  I made numerous requests, including to a friend that lived in Paris who I offered to fly out to Spain.  Eventually, prayers were answered.   Someone who attended my sound healing class, Manuella, offered to watch Bella.  Hearing this meant the world to me.  

In this moment, I noted this is where I need to invest in community.  I realize being somewhat nomadic, I develop loads of acquaintances but minimal friends.  What I truly need at times like these are friends, and having someone offer was so heartfelt.  Manuella had come to multiple  sound baths, and felt various forms of healing that occurred from then.  Although she didn’t state this, I felt she actually was paying back the favor in watching Bella.  She was just driving back from France, her home country, the same day I dropped off Bella. Words couldn’t describe how precious and impactful this was.  I realized this dog sitting component and numerous other factors all lined up for this to happen.  The ease of the train ride, having an entire row to myself on the plane, waking up to my lipstick on my hand in the shape of a heart, having free wifi (since my mobile network isn’t functioning), and the ability to feel safe in a foreign land like Switzerland.  

My pilgrimage to Einsiedeln may have been one day long but included walks, a plane ride, and train rides (one that had three transfers).  I got minimal sleep due to an early flight, late dog drop off the night prior, and a bit of travel stress that prevented me from falling asleep promptly.  On an extended train layover, I opted to get a pretzel baguette filled with curry falafel.  The concept of this meal didn’t make sense, numerous cultures hodgepodged together in one sandwich.  I hopped on the train and ate this delicious cultural mystery.  It was so tasty, and now I had the souvenir of the curry smell all over me.  

As I arrived in Einsiedeln, I wasn’t exactly sure how to get to the Abbey.  I stepped off the train, walked into the quaint picturesque Swiss town and stumbled into a hiking clothing store.  The worker greeted me in German, and I showed her a screenshot I took of the Einsiedeln Abbey.  “How do I get here?” I asked.  I spoke no German, she walked outside with me to show me where to go so I wouldn’t be confused.  I was curious how far would this be.  She pointed left and she said, “It’s easy, easy, easy.  You walk 1 ½ minutes and you are right there.” I laughed.   It wasn’t what I expected.  Why step out of the store to show me the directions of where to walk for a 1 minute journey? But I deeply appreciated it.  It was as if she was a guide who magically appeared reminding me, “You are almost there” or “It’s only as hard as you make it out to be.” 

 I finally arrived at the Abbey.  The smell of flowers in a mini casita that surrounded her was poignant.  The excess of flowers and Her gorgeous sparkly blue gown must have been from the Assumption only one week before.  It  was apparent that I must have really smelled like curry, which was juxtaposed to the heavenly floral scent.  I kneeled in front of the Black Madonna, felt welcomed curry and all, and I cried.  I internally heard her say to me, “It’s okay.  You can relax now.”   

I don’t know if this “relax” statement was in regards to the numerous modes of transportation I endured for the day, the struggle of finding a sitter for Bella, or for receiving word that I had gotten a new dream job the week prior, the culmination of seeing 7 Black Madonnas the preceeding weeks.  The smells of the flowers brought back reminders of the floral scents in wakes and funeral of loved ones I have lost.  This Black Madonna was different than others.  She had round cheeks, felt sweet, regal, and was inclusive of the knowledge and wisdom that both my Ninang and Lola had, and one day my grandmother, mother, and maybe me.   I cried and felt held.  

The Black Madonna looked as if she was the Queen of the Sea and the Night, in her flashy blue sparkly dress.  Her attire changes dependent on what the staff members choose to dress her in for the occasion.  I felt lucky that I was visiting in what seemed to be a celebratory occasion.  Time passed as I observed Her, and I felt a tiny tension headache arising.  I heard Her say to me, “Take care of yourself and come back.  Don’t be greedy, let other people have time with me.” These are words mothers would say, the truth laced with sweet kindness and unconditional love.  Take care of my needs, which included drinking water and taking bathroom break, buy some souvenirs and come back.  This is what I did.  

I am learning to have a different experience with Her this past month.  It’s different than the past, of just thinking of problems or things I want when I visit a new church or see another Black Madonna.  It’s as if I was putting an order in the universe.  Now as I sat in front of her, I tried to listen to my body.  How did my body feel in Her presence?  What was being said?  What images or intuitive hits am I receiving?  I generally ensure I sit as close to her as possible, and take time to journal in front of her to note all that is arising.  

If I really listened, I began to discern how each Black Madonna has a different feeling.  Her facial expressions are different and what She stands for is different.  The energy She commands and the people that are devotees of her are all different.  But it’s taken solitude and inquiry to explore what is truly arising in this moment.  

As I left the church, a little Indian boy grabbed my hand, as I walked past a café.  His parents laughed and apologized for him.  I am not sure what he saw in me.  The gold I wore that was shiny and flashy, something playful in my youthful walk, someone brown in a sea of whiteness therefore I looked familiar.  I too laughed it off, but was curious what did he know, what did he see? Maybe he was someone who simply wanted to share his joy for that moment, with a stranger. 

I write this now in a café, accessing some free wifi, and another stranger is kind enough to let me use her charger (as I brought the wrong kind).  She was Albanian, living in Italy, and staying with her family in Zurich. She offered this, when she saw me struggling trying one usb charger after another on the whole floor of this coffee shop.  She said, “we all need to charge our devices.”  It was another reminder that we are here to support each other on this journey of life, whether it’s a passing stranger offering a usb, a young boy giving a gentle nudge of the hand, store worker going out of her way to give directions, or an acquaintance offering to watch your dog. Oftentimes we see how we give to the world, but how often do we see how the world gives back to us? 

If I continue to have a soft gaze as I interact with the world today, I will notice the grace that arises in my interactions with all that I meet.  I will see the connection all of us have, and the longing for something more.  There’s a sense of gratitude as I engage with the world, knowing I am supported by the Black Madonna, all travel guides, angels, and the kindness of strangers. 

Part of Transformation

            On my return flight of my 2 ½ week trip to Italy, I lost my leather bound journal.  Actually, I left it on the plane.  I didn’t realize this until hours later, when I was at home.  And my first thoughts were, I hope the person who finds the journal will be excited and use it.  

            I had this journal for two years, and recently found it in storage when I was in the states.  It was given to me as a birthday gift from my mother, and had an inscription from mother to mother on the front.  But the extra special meaning was I took it on my pilgrimage to various Black Madonnas in Italy.  Inside the brown leather cover were images of the Black Madonna I collected throughout the week, postcards from various churches.  In some ways, it had a dual purpose meaning.  It was my biological mother who gave it to me, but the ultimate mother was also gifting it to me.  

As I realized I lost it, I wished that whoever finds the journal would find peace and the Black Madonna will watch over them.  Maybe this “losing the journal” was a serendipitous event that will bring the finder comfort or joy.  Not just in the beauty of the journal, but the images inside.

            There were no steamy or juicy secrets written in there.  All that was written were reflections and insights gained, potential plans for the future.  The rest of the journal had empty pages, futures  unwritten.  I hope the person who finds it writes in the journal, continues to reflect on their hopes and dreams, and chooses to lean on the Black Madonna for support and guidance.

            As I prepare for this next part of my life, I realize I must let go of attachments to things, journals, ideas, and goals.  In order for transformations to be made, we must let go and shed old versions of ourselves.  In losing this, I am letting go of the old me’s hopes, dreams, and allowing space for the new to enter.  

I took the photo above the day before I lost my journal in front of the Black Madonna in Bologna.  I spent an hour sitting in front of her, free writing, journaling, and crying.  Crowds of people would come in and out, but I remained seated in front of her.  In between crying, a stranger looked at me and said “thank you for everything.”  We didn’t talk before this or exchange glances.  Maybe he just appreciated my energy and devotion. He was dressed in pink and maroon, and thought he was an image or reminder of the divine masculine. And after he said this to me and left the sanctuary, I cried even more. It was a beautiful chance encounter with a stranger that lasted minutes.  Therefore, I hope the tears of comfort and realizations blessed in this journal will bring whoever finds it inspiration, joy, and protection.

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