A poem on leaving home — This piece was inspired by the song, I’ll Go, by Murder by Death. Its tempo is to the rhythm of the song. I’ll soon be off to face the world, I’ll face my heart in a land unknown, I’ll face the challenge of being alone, but I’m not anxious, nor…

The top of the mountain isn’t worth reaching if you don’t savor each step to get there. — When I travel, I always find a unique bookstore and pick up a book that vibes with where I am. A book is more than just a souvenir; it becomes a companion whose ideas, like a friend’s, coalesce with my own and inspire me while on the move. Zen and…

She faces the mountain of her soul — In the silence of the early morning, the traveler hears nothing but her breathing. …

The stars will notice as you reach for them — Last night, I drove down to the beach around sunset to do some reading and go for a walk. I felt invigorated by the air moving through my body and burst into a run; the rays of the sun warmed my skin and at this moment — life, nature, existence…

I’m here to write. Nothing’s changed as far as I’m concerned. — Changes are taking place at Medium. What’s new? Will a new CEO be the saving grace that will make writing worth it again? Or does it even matter what the platform gives, as long as we can share? As long as we can think? As long as we can put…

Reflections from my hometown on what home truly means — My heart is here in Malibu; more so, my heart emanates from Malibu. My hometown is a part of me. No matter where I’ve been, when I return home I feel this sense of gratitude, nostalgia and love for the world. Over the years, I’ve come down to the beach…

A letter to the man in the mirror — I love you body, and I will do whatever it takes to help you live. In doing so my soul can see; in doing so, this thing called life can beat from the red volcanic heart within my chest; in doing so, love may emanate from the core of my…

Does nothing but hold us back. A lesson from a Los Angeles dancefloor — Soft red light filtered through the door of the dimly lit warehouse party. I was in downtown Los Angeles with two of my best friends; it was late, and we were here to groove. Green lights beamed from the disco ball at the front of the room and yellow candles…

Much of life we must go at alone. But I’d be nothing without my people. — There’s a sense of familiarity to every experience, regardless of where we are. Who we are remains — our body, our spirit, whether we choose to embrace it, is home. Yet with every passing day, with the ebb and flow of seasons, we change. Future experiences which once allured us…