Enough of this emotional stuff, let’s talk about food!

I’ve decided to spend this weeks allotted writing time to reflect on my time in Mexico. I haven’t written too much about my day to day experience and thought it might be fun to do so! Most of you know I love food. I have a hard time turning down a taste of pretty much anything. In my early 20’s I stayed at an all inclusive in Puerto Vallarta and, despite venturing out into the world several times, my overall experience of the food was not noteworthy or enticing.

This time I have been constantly surprised by the rich flavors and unexpected combinations. I dined like a queen in Cabo and have stumbled upon some exceptional street food in Puerto Vallarta. I’ve taken plenty of shots of various establishments and plates and thought I’d take today to share some of them with you!

Taco stand around the corner from the apartment I’m inhabiting come March.

This photo was taken around the time that we realized this taco restaurant we had been eating at didn’t have a kitchen. The food was being cooked on a hot plate in the parking lot and the ‘counter’ was the tailgate of a truck. This was the first stop I made after arriving from the airport my first trip into Puerto Vallarta. I saw ‘7’ beside the pastor taco and assumed, after being in Cabo, that this was a $7 US taco. Big city, more expensive, right? Well, no. It’s 7 pesos, folks, which barely qualifies as money really. Needless to say, multiple trips were had and they are still the best tacos I’ve had to date.

Fresh fried curros! She does home parties, just in case you want to stuff your face with friends in the comfort of your home.

Most nights, about a meter away from the meat sizzling on the hot plate, resides this woman. She fries up and sugars fresh curros and sells them for 6 pesos a piece, or 60 pesos a coil. That’s about the equivalent of 37 cents and $4, respectively. They are delicious. We were never quite sure what her hours were, so sometimes we stocked up before dinner. I’d like to say we waited to eat them, but dessert first may have been the reality.

Hamburguesa!

We found this gem shortly after. The ambience leaves something to be desired though. It’s on a relatively busy street corner, on something sort of resembling a sidewalk, I guess. The Mexican symphony of honking, rumbling cars was our entertainment and when we arrived one of the waitresses was plucking the cooks eyebrows. Needless to say, I didn’t have high hopes. However, it was one of the best burgers I’ve had in Mexico so far, and it too is a short walk from “home.”

I’m currently staying at a friends place while I land back in Puerto Vallarta. Around the corner is a big market that sells a variety of wares and fresh foods. Sort of the Mexican version of Granville Island, except it’s a regular thing, not a novelty.

Whatever you desire, they will mix it up for you! Plus, they’ll teach you the Spanish words for the fruits and veg. Or, at least try to…

This guy is in the far corner. He sells medium sized fresh juices or smoothies for 25 pesos. The bustle of the room always leaves me feeling like I’m trying to make a bid for service in a busy deli in New York. Next door, there is a shop with breads and cheeses where we have often grabbed snacks on the way to the major bus station that takes you to Sayulita and Bucerias. There is also a sweet little shop that sells natural health products and things like incense and essential oils. Delightful!

There is a decent taco stand around the corner from here too and the wait staff is so friendly they even held my friend when she was crying at the table. (Travel isn’t all fun and games, folks.) Despite this hospitability, you can only eat so many tacos. One night, in desperate longing for something other than, we roamed and stumbled upon this place.

Pork sandwiches and fresh juices sold in bags!

Imagine incredibly uncomfortable grated metal bar stools, a tarp that rests against your back to provide shade, and service that consists of a hand reaching out, seemingly from nowhere, holding a plastic plate with your hot sandwich on it. Another 60 peso gem.

The finished product.

When you are craving something sweet after, simply turn around and visit my favorite lady in town. I’ve sat down to eat my sandwich disappointed she’s nowhere in sight and then turned to see she’s silently arrived with her case. I’m not sure how she does it, but I suspect she’s lowered from heaven on a fluffy cloud.

Wonderful selection of sweet treats. I’ve tried 3 so far and 2 of them were top notch. Best part, they’re only 10 pesos a pop!

I opted to write this before breakfast and I’m now starving. I’m going to head out into the world to see what I can find. I wish you happy snacking and will write to you again soon!

Bittersweet

I’m sad today. I woke up at about 3am with my head spinning, followed shortly after with flowing tears. 

This trip has been unlike any in my past. Generally, I move about a lot, am mostly alone, and converse almost exclusively with my journal. I don’t need to work and life is entirely devoid of routine. During my time in Mexico, I have landed in one place for months, have developed some wonderfully meaningful relationships, and have been working almost full time remotely. I haven’t had much, or taken much time to explore and I have prioritized getting to know and spend time with my new tribe.

Last night, we said farewell to a lovely human from Portland. He was the one who brought me electrolit and saltines when I was holed up in the hotel with Montezuma’s revenge, he was the one I taught yoga too mid Christmas day, and one of the four that I spent New Years Eve watching fireworks with on Medano Beach. We signed a shirt for him and when he opened it up to see our signatures,  he choked up and shed tears. I’m so grateful to have crossed paths with this man, and to have shared some fairly substantial moments with him over the past few months.

It’s a weird thing when I travel. Every person I meet, I approach with the understanding that our connection is finite. The old adage, people are meant to come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I assume these connections will be fleeting, that they will fall either into a reason, a season, or some combination of each.

However, I’ve also never spent 3 months deepening my connections with fellow travellers or folks who live in other places. I’ve never made another place home. even temporarily. Hell, I often dont even unpack my suitcase. Here, I’ve dove into some deep inner work with people. I’ve gone through the holidays the first time without my folks. I’ve navigated my anger, sadness and grief with their helping hands and I’ve leaned on them for spiritual guidance. I’ve opened my heart and, as I lay awake in the middle of the night with some unexpected grief around my ex, I realized I’m not ready to grieve more losses. 

Days ago, while writing one of the billion goodbyes I’ve never had the gumption to send, I wrote that I hoped he might someday love someone the way I love him. As painful as it has been, I’m grateful that I have it in me to devote myself, commit, learn and grow to accommodate another person like I did him. I’m also grateful that the hurt didn’t shut my heart down completely. (Though it looked a bit gloomy for a bit there…) 

Ive been blessed to experience such beautiful connection, but that often comes with such deep sadness. I felt as though I was approaching these new bonds with a level of understanding, a level of separation, a level of grace that I’ve had letting go of deep travel connections I’ve had in the past. But, I think I’m wrong. 

As i approach my departure, i will attempt to internalize the words of Leonard.
“Your eyes are soft with sorrow. Hey. Thats no way to say goodbye.”

Be Kind.

This post might seem a little out of left field but it’s topic is actually very close to my heart. Perhaps some of those who read this don’t know, I was in the restaurant industry for many years. My first job was a restaurant that was going out of business. They hired me almost instantly despite my lack of experience and put me in charge of serving half of a high occupancy diner. Not only was I serving, but I was bussing, hostessing, and dishwashing!

Anyways, when this places inevitably closed it’s doors (I showed up to work to a sign announcing it’s closure) I went on to take two more jobs at restaurants. One a family owned Mediterranean restaurant and another a chain breakfast place.  I veered off the path for a few years and then ended up moving to Nanaimo to help my brother open a business that hosted a few nights of 10 course meals per month and later transitioned to a full service restaurant.  Soon after, I also served in his second space.

I’ve had the privilege of working under some amazing talent and the honour of serving some amazing dishes prepared with produce farmed by friends.  I’ve been blessed to witness a level of skill and passion that, it seems, is only recognized and appreciated the way it should be across Europe.  I’ve seen blood, sweat and tears poured into an art that revolutionized the relationship I have with food and the industry.  I used to say I didn’t like things, like beets and brussel sprouts, but I now know the right person can make anything delicious.

Anyways, this post is not meant to be about my experience necessarily.  I just wanted to inform you that I’ve been around this for years and have some insight into both the front and back of house experience in the food service world.  I’m called to speak to this, maybe because I recently read a book titled “Waiter Rant” in which the author describes his experience working tirelessly for little pay, stability or appreciation.  Or maybe because I stumbled across the post on Facebook that featured the image that I’ve used to caption this post.  Or maybe, it’s just because I lived it and it seems appropriate as we come into a time of year where we’re sharing meals with friends and coworkers, booking out entire restaurants for private parties, and generally using these establishments with a little more fervour.

The image shared here, of two men in chefs whites eating on a rolling kitchen accessory, tugged my heart strings.  I can almost feel it.  The post was shared by a person I don’t know named Simon Aldridge, and captioned with “Owners, Managers and Guests take heed: Every time you go to a restaurant or bar for your Xmas festivities, take a look and remember this picture, they do everything to make you good food, and they sometimes only have 5 minutes to eat themselves. Be kind to chefs, bartenders and waiters guys and girls. It doesn’t cost anything.”

I’d wager this shot was taken late into the night, once the kitchen has closed and the last customers are drinking too much and chatting too loudly in the dining room.  The food is likely cold and leftover from their mise en place.  They’ve probably sweat through their coats working in intense heat at a crazy pace to bring carefully orchestrated food to many people over the past 4 hours.  4 hours might not seem like much, but the reality is, service may have run from 5-9, but the prep required to pull it off started at some point in the morning. 

The wait staff have been run off their feet and inarguably met with an onslaught of requests and complaints.  Always navigating the requests of customers and the respect of the chefs.  Having to be careful to allow space for the chefs to focus on fulfilling their execution while also attempting to please the person who didn’t read the menu right and is disappointed with their perfectly prepared dish. 

My intention is to paint a bit of a picture of the reality of a situation.  So that maybe when you’re next in a restaurant feeling the need to complain about the length it takes for your food to reach you, or about the server taking a little while to refill your coke, or whatever else you could find to hold against the establishment or justify a mediocre tip, you consider that these people are working their asses off.  They’re doing the best they can.  They’re offering you something special and sometimes, things that are out of their control, get in the way of the expectations of the diner.  Compassion and understanding could reshape the whole experience for everyone involved.  As Simon Aldridge says, “be kind.  It doesn’t cost anything.”  And of course, that applies to everything, not just those chefs eating kitchen scraps in the middle of the night or the server who forgot your coke.

By the Reins

My gosh! I slipped away for my intentional time on hiatus and still haven’t landed back into any sort of semblance of routine. My life has been a bit… unsettled might be the best word. My mind has been full of decisions, my body often overwhelmed and my emotional world, inconsistent. I wanted to take a few moments to check in today, though I’m not sure what to say or how coherently it’ll come out in text. Bare with me.

I went from writing, practicing French and reading every morning. I was running three times per week and managing a consistent work/life balance. I felt fairly grounded a lot of the time. I was opening up and meeting some new, amazing people and making space for them in my life. I even found a education direction that felt right and put in motion all the steps to get me enrolled and paid up.

Just before retreat, my partner of 5 years and I split up. Not a lack of love, but a lack of time. Long distance, strenuous (for me) and with a few issues we had no space to work out. I think I grieved a lot of the aspects of our relationship in the time we no longer lived together, but now it’s letting go of the future we’d started to develop together and getting used to things like an upcoming Christmas season apart.

The retreat was amazing. I worked predominantly with a practice to open the heart and my experience was entirely different than it’s been in the past. I felt more generous with my time and energy, I was given an amazing opportunity to create for my fellow practitioners which I did with a full heart, and I even lingered after to connect with some of the beautiful people I’d spent the 10 days with. (Often the experience for me is quite lethargic, and I come in and leave with out much of a peep to those around me. I suppose I approach with a hunger for the silence and peace that life normally doesn’t provide so effortlessly.)

Anyways, I had a beautiful experience and came home, had a hard conversation with a friend, and lost our relationship as well. I lost my grip a bit between the two shifting connections and, while I didn’t fall into a depression, I did reach to other things to soothe my heart than writing and meditating. More talking with friends, binge watching shows, staying busy.

I’ve also recently gone completely off anti depressants/anti anxiety medication, I’ve reconnected with some folks who’ve rattled my cage (in a good way) and have been in the process of trying to plan for my first weekend of training in Victoria and my next leap of faith into a month long meditation retreat. My emotional experience is vast and overwhelming. I feel like my mind is almost blank with overwhelm and if I’m not quick to grab the shooting stars of thought and get them on paper, I’ll likely forget all I need to do.

I’ve entitled this post “by the reins” because I feel as though the difference between my life before my most recent retreat and now is that I’ve lost the hold of the reins. I know, ultimately, we always hold the reins. We might have a series of external circumstances that unsettle us, but essentially our reaction is within our grasp, within our control. However, I felt grounded, clear and intentional before retreat. I felt like I had some discipline, some direction and some clarity. Now I reside in a state I can’t explain, but I can’t quite seem to find the piece of me that had such strength and resolve.

My only intention at this moment is to get where I’ve set myself out to be. I start training next weekend. I’ve booked the afternoon off work to make it in time, I’ve booked myself a beautiful place to stay, and I’ve got time allotted to delve into the preparatory information. Beyond that, I’m starting to think and plan to be away on retreat for the month of October. Short scattered packing lists, email chains with various teachers and supporters, and some details for weekends of practice within my direct lineage before and after.

I’m going to stop here. I hope that there’s something in here of value. I hope that if you’re feeling like you’ve lost the reins too, that perhaps there’s some glimmer of strings to grasp and use to pull your forward. I also hope that we might find the compassion for ourselves if our inner life doesn’t look quite as stable as we may hope.

The Art of NYC

Hey all. I’m back in the “real world,” so to speak. I arrived back home late Monday night and have taken the week to catch up with some friends, get back into the work groove, and most importantly, to rest. I often come back from travelling in need of a vacation! I’m not the pool side, lounger that some folks are. I want to experience everything and it’s the one area of my life where I tend to push myself beyond what I know might be best for me. I walk until my feet are bloody (metaphorically, mostly…) and sacrifice sleep for an adventure. I eat like it’s Christmas dinner at every meal, and tend to leave my frugality at home. Alas, I arrive home quite tired and between the jetlag and the general exhaustion, it takes me some days. I digress, I’m home, I’m mostly mended, and I still have so much to share!

So, as a lover of the arts, and the partner of an artist, I feel like I would be doing a disservice if I didn’t acknowledge the breadth of the art experience in NYC. I mentioned a little in my first NYC post, just about the artist we stayed with, Bryans work there, and some of the galleries we visited briefly on the first trip into Manhattan. However, throughout the rest of our stay in the Bronx, we saw so much everyday. Between street art, public sculpture, subway décor, more of the Chelsea district and a couple mostly disappointing trips to the MOMA and it’s affiliate PS1, we saw a lot!

So, where to start… Maybe we the easy to sum up. The MOMA was mediocre for me. I didn’t see much that drew me in, and the stuff I felt obligated to explore a bit didn’t hold a lot of weight. I did however see some classics that are always kind of neat to share space with, including Van Gogh’s starry night, Monet’s Water lilies, Klimpt, and a collection of Jackson Pollock’s.

Vincent Van Gogh
Claude Monet
Jackson Pollock
Gustav Klimt

The best thing between the MOMA and it’s smaller affiliate PS1, BY FAR, was the work of Zheng Guogu. He played with conventional Thanka paintings (traditionally used as meditation aids) and created a mesmerizing, bold, and captivating collection of large works that Bryan and I both fell in love with. Unfortunately no books or other swag were available to take home, but I did get some decent shots. Oh, just looking at these! My heart!

I personally love stumbling upon the street art, whether it be murals, graffiti, public sculpture, or the artists featured at all the subway stops. There is no shortage in NYC. I’ll just share a couple of my faves, some tiled florals, and some, fun, tiny bronz people that were cleverly hidden all around the station above and below ground.

Nancy Blum
Nancy Blum
Tom Otterness

We also made the trek to the 9/11 memorial. I wasn’t expecting to be impacted like I was. I’m not sure why considering, like most people, I can still remember the day it happened. It was pretty surreal. Big fountains into seemingly bottomless pits with thousands of names carved into the edges. The flowers are placed on the names on the days that would have been their birthdays. My emotions were high, and we stepped into the subway to a powerhouse lady wailing on her violin and it was all too much. I wept.

I think I best be leaving it there. Forgive the length of this post! I’ve barely touched the scope of what we saw, but I’ve gone on long enough. Perhaps this will end up a two parter, or perhaps I’ll leave the rest to my scrapbook. I hope you enjoyed it! Until next week.

On Fiction

I’ve decided that this week I’m going to give a little hodge podge of information culminating in a raving author review. Partly because it’s most authentic to me at this moment, but also partly because it is the state of my focus as I’ve either been fighting a cold, or living with allergies this whole past week.

SO, first on the docket. This past Monday my sweet little fur baby succumbed to pats. I thought I felt, or heard, the slightest resemblance of a purr as I gave him tentative pats while feeding him. Turned out I was right and he started head butting me for more. It quickly turned into a cuddle session with what seemed like an entirely different cat. He rolled around, snuggled up on me and nestled into my arms. Since that moment, we have had daily snuggles, his purrs have gotten stronger and louder, and his startle response is some what subdued. He still sometimes hisses, and runs away if I try to pat him any time outside of hand feeding, but the progress is undeniable and exciting.

Sweet Yuri’s little paws!

Second, I’d like to acknowledge my upcoming departure for New York City. I leave at 4am on Thursday and arrive in NYC around 4pm. My wonderful beau and his colleague are going to pick me up and wisk me away to Peekskill, a town about an hour north of Manhattan. Our time is already jam packed with adventures and I know it’ll be an exciting time. I don’t tend to get very excited until I land wherever I’m going, but I AM excited to see Bryan. It’s been about a month since he stopped through Nanaimo, and I miss his sweetness!

I am used to being a solo traveller so I’m both excited and nervous to have a companion. I know I’ll struggle a bit with control, as I have such a short time in such a overwhelming place, and I want to make sure I enjoy it fully and see what I wish to see. But I’m also excited to be safe, to have someone to share it with, and to have built in connections in the area when I land. And the more we discuss things, the more I see we’re on the same page so I expect that all will be well, and plan to share all about it on here over the next two weekends! Stay tuned!

Last, I just want to share with you an author who has consumed my reading life over the last couple months. It was recommended by one of my mentors that I read The Lonely Hearts Hotel by Heather O’Neill. I devoured it and shortly after found 2 of her other novels, The Girl Who Was Saturday Night, and Lullabies for Little Criminals. I have since read all three and I can’t get enough of this author. (She’s Canadian to boot!) I warn you, she is very dark and twisty. The subject matter is not light. However, her characters are so unique and loveable. Her use of simile and metaphor is playful and childlike. Her use of language is fantastical and startling. I never tire of her style and am easily absorbed. I do require a break from the intensity of subject matter though, especially after reading all three with only a bit of interference from some equally heavy non fiction, but if you’re looking for great works, I recommend whole heartedly checking out Heather O’Neill.

That’s it for this week, folks. I hope to have a more interesting series of photos and reflections to share next week once the pre trip frenzy settles and I’m into exploring the big Apple! ’til then.

*(Links are to help with easy purchase!)*

Celebrating Beltane

In my hometown when I was young, there was always a May celebration.  There would be a big parade, a carnaval, and a stage. It was called May Days, but I never really knew what it was about.  I’d go with the family and then, as I got older, with friends. I liked when it was warm enough that the people in the parade would spray the crowd with water guns and have also always enjoyed people throwing tasty treats and buttons at me.  After the parade was done, we’d head over to the stage to watch a bunch of preteens dressed in beautiful white gowns dance with ribbons around a tall pole and one of them would be chosen to wear the sash of honour, having been deemed the May Queen.  I don’t recall ever participating in it, or ever really learning about it, and as I got to be a teen and then young adult, I only really frequented the beer gardens.

Flowers we later used to create crowns.
Flowers we later turned into crowns.

Over the last couple years I’ve blessed with a teacher named Natalie Rousseau.  I went to an event of hers in Victoria and then, shortly after went into a week long Vinyasa Teacher Training with her.  I struggled a lot in the training, but I walked away connected to this woman. Her story tellings and her wide breadth of knowledge continue to leave me in wonder.  I’ve since joined her for several online courses and live events exploring a variety of information about working with astrology, plant medicine, ayurveda, asana, ritual and both celtic and hindu mythology.  

Last year, in her 13 moons online program, I was introduced to Beltane.  By which, of course, I mean I was introduced to the name and the history of this event I’d been watching my whole youth.  I purchased the Llewellyn’s book on Beltane and continued to delve a little deeper into it. Then, this year, I was lucky enough to make it to one day (of a 3 day event) to celebrate in community.


Beltane is one of the 6 points on the celtic wheel of the year.  It marks the mid way point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice.  It is a celebration of embodiment and sensuality. Natalie described it so beautifully yesterday as being akin to young love.  The early stages of excitement and electricity. When we’re hopeful and things have so much potential. Everything is coming to life, being awakened by the longer, warmer days, hinting at boons and abundance.  A lot of the traditional practices were to protect and nourish the land so that potential turned towards promise. I read of a practice of walking the property line with incense to protect and ward off negativity.  While my beau was here, he humoured me in an intentional walk around my family home.

Beltane Alter

Yesterday, in the Taurus new moon, I ventured over to Saltspring island to spend a day with a bunch of wonderful women, and one man!  We practiced conscious movement, connected with the earth and gave thanks to it’s bounty before creating beautiful flower crowns and sharing a meal.  

The beautiful space where the magic happened. Golden Tree Farm, Saltspring Island.

I feel so blessed to have people around me that can remind me how to connect with nature. How to honour and acknowledge and actively participate in it’s creations.  I have forgotten, over the last couple years, how to be still in nature. I have never known how to honour it as it deserves, and I haven’t been so present as its powerful shifts take place.  This past week of sunny days spent laying the grass, listening to waves, and working with flowers has left me rejuvenated and hopeful. We were left to consider what it is that’s blossoming inside us right now, and while I can’t answer it fully, I do know that hope is amongst the things that reside here.

Beltane Blessings


It is in the face of challenge that we grow.

I have spent the last hour of my morning reflecting on the last week grasping for something fantastic or even just relevant for a wide audience and haven’t had a lot of luck.  I thought I could reach back further, reflect on a trip I’ve taken, several of which have been showing up in my memories on Facebook. I thought about taking from one of the reflections I’ve typed up and deemed not worthy to use in the past.  But, as i sat and thought about the millions of directions I could go that I wasn’t really connected to, I opted to write what is in my heart.

So, the last week I’ve felt sort of… uninspired.  I wager it’s been going on longer than a week. I even recall moments in Nepal last fall where I felt uninspired.  I’ve felt lonely or deflated or wildly angry while travelling before, but never uninspired. So I’ve been asking myself why this is.  I’ve been journaling about it every morning, curious about this lack of spark. My conclusion so far is simply that I don’t do enough that’s outside of my comfort zone.  When I was in University I would take a class (outside of the university) every semester. One time adult ballet to reconnect to my youthful dancing days. One time I took a watercolour painting class.  Just something on top of my school courses that allowed me some creativity, some challenge that wasn’t purely academic.

I listened to Sean Achor, a positive psychologist with a ted talk I took to heart.  He talks about how humans are programmed to do what’s easiest. So I put my T.V. under a blanket and put the remote in the other room and left out books and my guitar.  I learned to play Delilah and I spent some time every day using my voice.

I started going out alone, and often.  I’d go out for dinner, on little trips to surroundings islands and towns, and to spiritual or creative events.  I went to strangers homes to try meditation groups and met new people all the time. It was all amazing. Challenging and life affirming.  It was so beneficial I became confident in a variety of things I never thought I’d be able to do. I valued my relationship with myself and my surroundings, and I never lacked inspiration.

I’m really grateful for all of these experiences.  And you know what? Since doing all these things, I am now comfortable to do most anything alone.  I don’t flinch to go sit in a coffee shop, or attend an event, or be off in Nepal for a month. I’ve gained some unique strength.  But I also don’t feel like I’m challenged by much anymore. I’m not sure what to do to push my boundaries. I realized at some point that I hadn’t had a long term relationship where I needed to communicate and work with someone without just giving up and moving on, so I worked on that and am in a nearly 5 year long relationship.  I recognized I wasn’t as good of a friend or family member as I would have liked and that relationships are the most important to me, so I’ve worked on showing up and connecting with those who share my values. (This is still, and may always be a work in progress.) I decided I’d write and now I write every morning and post for the world every Sunday.  

Maybe this is the point where I sit in my comfortable life and enjoy it?  I have obvious areas that need work. Like my job for instance. I am working several jobs, none of which make my heart soar or pay me enough to stay with them long term.  But it’s hard to make shifts when my future holds travel and a significant move to be near my partner. I do continue to write and I’m pushing myself to try a workshop rather than weekly yoga classes.  I am still growing, trying new things, reading and learning. But something is missing. I think I’ve found the things I connect to and have stayed comfortable in expanding those instead of trying new.

So my goal for the summer is to try new things.  Real new things. Maybe places I haven’t been, or things I think I may not enjoy.  Maybe I’ll spend time in unfamiliar coffee shops writing and see if I meet some new faces.  I will find a class or group I don’t know anything about and see what fruits it offers me. And the fun thing about commiting to a weekly post, is that I have a spot to record it.  A spot to share and reflect and learn from others. I invite you to message me and share your experience, I would in fact love it if you did.