The Road


Montana Mooney Sunset
Montana Mooney Sunset

There are moments in meditation when I visualize a road that represents my journey. A long, slender path proceeds forward into an abyss, and a heavy sigh comes over me. Wow. That’s a long way to go, I think to myself.

But an inner voice chimes in and asks, without judgment, “Would you turn around?”

Probably not. Everything I have done up to this point is built from the path behind me. And I have the chance to build the path in front of me— whether it darts to the right, curves to the left, or weaves its way forward. The straight and narrow path is merely a mirage that I have created for myself; an expectation that has yet to be realized.

Brick by brick, stone by stone, clearing the way for a steady stroll.

Deep Up There

Mission Mountains


This is mostly a letter to myself, a reflection I scribbled down: it is now yours.

Saturday, I attended a rugby tournament— a dear friend of mine plays on a local team, and I love cheering them on with her girlfriend.

But a quiet moment revealed itself to me as I looked into the sun and spread my arms. This was the first time I had spent a long time outside since the winter released its grasp on us.

I lay down in the grass, peering deeply into the blue sky, scattered with wispy, high-level clouds— it came to me our size in the scheme of the universe. I imagined for a moment that gravity wasn’t keeping me down to earth, but preventing me from falling into the color changing abyss.

We fabricate every instance of our lives. Our perceptions are our realities; our realities are our truths. Whatever we choose to be our truths through experience become our present moment. In simplistic terms, then, it would seem that destiny could be guided by our thought.

And if that were the case, we’d all have smiles and fancy cars. The only hurdle is our ego, which is massive blob of insecurities under the guise of confidence. We think of ourselves as big creatures, but the irony is that any number of things could smite us. Rather than futilely preparing for the unknown, recycle that wasted energy!

When you free yourself of this vanity, which you have built up on your own and with the help of others, you can laugh and look your ego in the eyes. Hold his hand, smile at him, and fall away from the earth.

Mame and "?"

The New Year means nothing to me than an aggravation to write the previous year mistakenly on every dated document. Resolutions are useless to me, because it’s another expectation, which I strive to meet. Losing weight, being more organized, and writing more have always been tasks that I want to accomplish, but why would I assign a specific date to resolve them? 

I don’t claim to be an artist.
Two things inspire me about this new year. When I am asked what my resolutions are, for the sake of appeasing the masses, I conjure up something. In my mind, however, I draw a blank and ruminate. But that is exactly it— a huge question mark. They’re everywhere! Aside from the interrogative meaning, I like the symbol by itself. It evokes the unknown and invites the imagination to wander and create anything.

The second thing to inspire me is a quote my uncle says to me all the time, and I finally watched it in Mame. The eccentric aunt says to the homely and conservative nurse, “Life is a banquet— and most poor sons of bitches are starving to death!” I’m not advocating for gluttony, but do stuff yourself full of experiences. What are we to do but live
Cherish the unknown, the unexpected, and embrace each moment as a surprise! If you don’t like surprises, then you aren’t living and are waiting for an outcome— fine and dandy, but a life well lived is a life not wasted. 

This hangs in my room.
Our intuition is usually right, though we have selective hearing to it because it often disagrees with our expected outcome. And the more you fight it, the bigger the struggle becomes. The bigger the struggle, the more resistance to accept your own truth increases. When you observe and notice yourself right now, then and only then will change occur. 

For example, working out. In my brief passings with gym rats with sculpted, aesthetically pleasing bodies, their exercises are quick, forceful and harsh with grunting and squeals of pain. There is no secret that this burns calories and produces results, but what is lost is the mindset of enduring one moment of intensity. The quicker they can get over that pain, the better. I feel humble when I practice yoga, and buff people (especially men) look around in disbelief that I’m gracefully poised and deeply rooted in a pose. Although I cannot comment on their thoughts, for it is of their own, I can imagine that with some entitlement they feel that they should be able to do these poses as “well” as I can. The reason I quoted “well” is because it is relative and moot; my pose is different from theirs, not better, not worse. Bottom line: they have too much ego involved. 

The most hipster thing I’ve ever created.
Most of this knowledge I have learned on the yoga mat with the wisdom of my instructor— and it has been more than helpful and grounding with this last month of a breakup, academic woes, and a downright slump in life. The moment I stopped wishing for “things to get better” and said, “Well. I have no boyfriend, my grades are in shambles, and I am not respecting myself.” was the moment small changes occurred. 

My advice for resolutions: scrap them. Take a huge step back, breathe, and fill up a plate with several servings of life.