i wonder what it would look like if i was more intentional about celebrating. i’m not referring to the birthdays and engagements and babies type of celebrating (although they are all wonderful in their own right). i’m talking more about the everyday celebrations, the moments that might come across to the onlooker as mundane, but are in fact intimate victories worthy of observance.

this topic has been on my mind lately, in the wake of friends losing loved ones to aging or illness. it’s not lost on me that grief is inevitable or that our lives are so very fragile. in fact, it’s the reason why i even consider celebrating the little things. we are not immune from life running its uncertain course, so why not honor those daily instances that alleviate the anxiety? why not walk away from the day with a sense of triumph?

what follows are a few of the things i celebrated this week:

the spring bounty at the farmer’s market, prepped for the week.

stretching after running.

making a now-favorite vinaigrette for all those greens.

knowing my limits in social gatherings (i.e. an early exit because of work the next morning)

a couple more gray hairs, signs of another day lived earthside.

time with friends. time with my husband.

breakfasts eaten outside in the quiet of morning.

to celebrate. it’s a concept i hope to turn into a regular practice. being mindful of the impact the everyday victories have on my spirit and consciousness. because what a gift it is to take another breath, to live another day.




on being

what does it look like to just be yourself?

it’s a question i’ve been thinking about since i listened to an episode on oprah’s super soul converstaion, in which she described her  best piece of advice was to just be herself. in this day and age of social media and its lure to create perfect life displays, i find it’s increasingly distracting us from being our true honest selves.

when i consider what it looks like to be myself, i think about what it is that ignites a light within me, what it is that brings purpose to my life and in so doing, makes me want to share it with the world. it’s greater than the voice in my head that doubts or wants me to believe that i am less than. when i consider what it looks like to be myself, it’s someone who follows her heart and does so without fear of judgment or failure. it’s someone who lives in the security of knowing she is meant to be here, in this limited time, for a wholly beautiful purpose.

i have yet to unearth the entirety of my being because, to be honest, i’m not sure i’ve given it much thought until now. what does it mean to just be myself. it’s interesting that as the season is transitioning from one of reflection to one of growth, i too am experiencing a growth of my own – learning how to rediscover myself with more intention and surrendering the things that don’t serve me in this life on earth.

here’s to the journey in letting go and being me. 


s u n

it’s not lost on me that i am a tried-and-true california baby. a product of citrus and waves, temperate seasons and sun.

but mostly, sun.

truth is, i didn’t realize how much i am dependent on that powerful energy source until fairly recently. while i appreciate this unusually wet winter (so long, drought!), i’m finding myself a little out of sorts without the consistency of our beloved sun. into this new year, we have experienced more rain in weeks than california has experienced in years, which when calculated, amounts to even fewer days of winter sun and its unique warmth.

in years past, i woke up to cold morning runs, ending with a shower and basking in the sun’s gentle heat. breakfast was eaten outside, a blanket wrapped around for warmth. we had beach days, albeit chilly, for the thrilling joy of crashing waves and crowd-empty shores. hikes were routine, as the mild winter sun allowed for a steady journey without heat fatigue or dehydration. and of course, my garden, filled with drought-friendly succulents, all fed off the universe’s nourishing light.


in the absence of those moments, i have to look inward and find a new sense of myself – a self that can’t be so reliant on the sun. it’s a process, and i’m making way. this passage by Willa Cather from My Antonia certainly helps:

“it was as if Winter was

saying to us:

‘This is reality, whether you

like it or not.

All those frivolities of


the light and shadow, the

living mask of green that

trembled over everything,

they were lies.

This is what is underneath,

this is the truth.'”

if anything, i am discovering how grateful i am for the sun – what it does, how it feels, the energy it brings. before now, i don’t think i ever gave it that kind of respect. its presence was always expected. even at 32, i’m still growing, and sometimes i think even more so now – what fills me, what depletes me, what ultimately sets my soul on fire.

i don’t know how much longer these wet days will continue, but one thing this child of the sun can guarantee is that it’s going to be one lush spring ahead.



things i’ve been reminded of this week, through looking inward and also engaging with this wide, wide world:

a smile goes a long way.

sleeping in is a form of recovery.

the heart was meant for beating, so make it pump (see The Class).

time with your parents is priceless. and necessary.

go to the market early if you want fully stocked shelves.

hand-writing a letter is ceremonial (if you want it to be).

rain gives way to the most incredible wild blooms.

money doesn’t guarantee happiness. or love.

we are living our legacies. no need to worry about that later.

keep garden clippers in the car. you might have a wildflower-foraging opportunity.

quiet. stillness. these feed me.

sit in the sun, wherever it is.




walking as religion


from elizabeth mccracken’s bowlaway, via austin kleon:

“in the mornings he would walk…at the start of the walk, alone or moving, the sun at his back or cold rain down his collar, he was more himself than under any other circumstance, until he had walked so far he was not himself, not a self, but joined to the world. invisibly joined. had a religion been founded on this, purely this, he would have converted…proof of God? proof was in the world, and the way you visited the world was on foot…your walking was a devotion.”

a beautiful reminder to be present while walking, for we are one with our surroundings, we are one in this life on earth.


about today

things i want to remember about today:

sleeping in (a rainstorm just outside).

a farmer’s market pommelo (the size of the sun).

a pilates class (and the strength i felt afterward).

dusting shelves (music played in the background).

reading (There There).

a grounding bowl (of sweet potato, romanesco, kale, and salmon).

a heat pad (for warming the legs).

wildflowers (bedside and ever so endearing).


3 2

today is my 32nd trip around the sun. thirty-two. it’s interesting to view myself at this age, an age that seemed so far away, nearly impossible to reach when i was a child. and now here i am, living it, feeling wholly grateful for every year i’ve had the opportunity to experience.

i can’t say this is where i expected to be in my life at this age. to be honest, i never really put too much thought into it. married? yes. and that’s about it. my present self is relieved that my past self didn’t have too many expectations for her future self. the freedom has allowed me to evolve naturally, to discover things as i go, without any pretensions. and for that, i feel like i’ve become me.


in honor of the first day of this new year, i celebrate everything it was and continues to be for the next few hours:

waking to my own rhythm, in the mountains, next to g.

solo breakfast, reading.

long walk on the trail along the Merced river with g and the pup.

an outdoor snack under a canopy of trees.

sitting by the fireplace, warm.

reading, again.

and later, dinner and champagne. bubbles, always.

a frigid walk to the cabin, down comforter prepared.

a good night’s sleep, rested and heart-filled.


here’s to what’s to come, whatever that is, wherever it may be. here’s to even more becoming.

with abandon

“what do you love? now, love it fiercely and do not ever apologize.”

i came across this quote by Liam Ryan recently. it was one of those surreal moments, when the exact words i needed to read were placed in front of me at the exact time i needed them most.

i sometimes fall into this trap of hesitating to display my love for something. an internal monologue of questioning evolves: do i share too much? how can i love/enjoy something so much when there are others who are seemingly indifferent? should i just keep it to myself? it’s not until i recognize the weight of this doubt that i realize how none of that matters. my life is my life is my life, is my heart.


flowers and gardens. loose leaf tea. dinner parties and candlelight and ambience. quiet. these are just a few of the things that characterize me. who would i be to deny such brilliance in the beautiful things that fill my soul? i’m tired of hesitating and asking the questions. i wear my heart on my sleeve and if that means loving fiercely, then i will do so with abandon.

…because in the end, what are we doing in this world anyway?



the first week into 2019, and i love the thought behind setting intentions for more of and less of in the new year. resolutions were never a priority of mine because they always seemed to set us up for fail. too much rigidity. too concrete.

this more/less mentality instead gives us grace – increasing the things that fill us and limiting the things that do otherwise. i see it as a complementary element to how i choose to live anyway: with intention, embracing imperfection in the every day, focusing on things that bring wholeness, simplifying as we go. i liken it to a wabi-sabi way of life.

here is my more/less list for 2019, ever flexible as the seasons change:




snail mail

dinner parties

seeking and dwelling on beauty in the everyday

intimacy with gino







screen time





here’s to living well and full!



today is the last day of 2018. it was a wild year of growth and inner exploration, travels and deep love. of course, that is within the scope of my personal life. the world at large, however, experienced pain and destruction, things i am well aware of, but prefer not to reflect on in this space. this wholly imperfect life is one in which i seek beauty and try to incapsulate it with all of my being.

i’ve always felt that before i can meditate on my intentions for a new year, i must reflect on the one that is just finishing. it is, after all, the culmination of the past 365 days that brought me to where i am now, in this current mental, physical, and spiritual space.

last year, i came across a beautifully curated compilation of questions that allowed me to reflect on the days leading up to 2018. i thought these reflections were the perfect way to end the year, and so what follows, are this year’s thoughts…

reflections on 2018:

the single best thing that happened this year: I traveled to Paris with mama

the single most challenging thing that happened: mapping out our future, asking the tough questions of if/when we’ll start a family, what does that look like, where will we be…

an unexpected joy: running while listening to podcasts. in all my years of running, it wasn’t until this year that i started running with earphones.

three words to describe this past year: liberating. exploration. grounding.

three words your partner would use to describe your year: growth. friendships. peace.

the best books i read this year: When Breath Becomes Air. Calypso.

most valuable relationships were with: Gino, Josselyn, Shaddi, Renae

biggest personal change from January to December: following my heart and reducing my percentage at work to allow for more space in my life to do things that excite me.

ways I grew emotionally: celebrating quiet time, listening to my heart

ways i grew spiritually: practiced meditation in its personal forms. spent more time outside, in nature, finding a sense of grounding when i felt unsettled (through trail runs, beach runs, and gardening). coming to acceptance of the unknown ahead.

ways I grew physically: actually responding to my body’s needs. welcoming rest. running more for the spirit and less for the rush.

ways I grew in my relationships with others: making more time. practicing vulnerability.

most enjoyable part of my work: at the hospital, precepting. this is also the year I started working at Fiore as a floral assistant. every aspect of my time there is enjoyable. it is inspiring, beautiful, and calming.

most challenging part of my work: at the hospital, being motivated when i’m not precepting, the days are long and when we are as busy as we’ve been, it takes a lot to recover.

single biggest time waster: social media, scrolling through instagram

best way i used my time: when I decided to go part-time at the hospital, I sought an opportunity to explore my interests. the flower shop has been just that.

the biggest thing i learned this year: follow your heart. take a risk.

a phrase that describes this past year for me: my heart is the internal compass that helps me navigate this uncertain life. listening to it has led me to a better understanding and acceptance of self.

…what an incredibly full year. i am ever grateful for the days that made up 2018 and look forward to starting anew.

onward we go.