(Trigger Warning: I am still very much recovering from body image issues and disordered eating. My language is not perfect. The thoughts I express are not entirely sensitive. It's still difficult for me to love myself unconditionally. This was really hard to write and took an inordinate amount of time, but I hope you get the idea.)

I admire the fuck out of this girl.

She had been holding pieces of a broken heart for years, and just started loosening her grasp. She took the risk of seeing the world in a way everyone else said was irresponsible. She had navigated airports, buses, and longtail boats that dropped her in the shallows of a bay at low tide with her backpack. She'd just come from a life changing month in Sri Lanka after being robbed in India. She was questioning her purpose and thirsting to discover what else life had in store for her.

Obviously, that girl was, and always will be, a version of me. Yet when I look back on this series of photos as some of my favorites of all time, I have to admit I constantly struggle with seeing this version of me. Since then, I've expanded in more ways than one.

It was the day before my 28th birthday and I was at least 15lbs lighter. Body image issues die really hard, ya'll. I'm as threatened by this girl as I am by every other girl in her 20s as I compare our bodies. I wish I could stand here and say that I know it doesn't matter what I look like, but that would be dishonest.

However, when it comes down to it, I admire this current version of myself even more when I can look at where I came from. I am a woman now, living in a woman's body that comes complete with curves, stretch marks, and a fair share of aches and limitations. I am the product of the expansion and growth I'd been setting myself up for. I'm confident now in ways that have nothing to do with my body.

I've expanded my inquiry of "what is Love?" to actually include allowing love into my world. I've learned to make home wherever I land and thrive with what I've got. I've learned to lead by example and inspire by living my own truth. I've worn sexy clothing not because I need validation, but because it feels awesome to be adorn my shape. I've proven that living a life I love isn't fatally irresponsible.

You know what? Even in my bigger presence, no one comments on my bigger size.

I am everything I was and so, so much more.

Have you ever caught yourself saying, "I'm confused. I just don't know what to do" when you in fact know exactly what you want to do?

Often it's not clarity that we are seeking, but rather commitment. We are trying to find the place in our hearts and minds that feels settled when we fully take action in one direction. The "confusion" is the byproduct of our soul wanting to move forward when we keep yanking it back to agitated stillness.

We tell ourselves stories about how we are unsure, but what we really feel is more like fear.

You are already clear. It's been inside you since the first moment that you felt the excitement of butterflies in your stomach and the jumping of your heart. Now it's time to commit and take action towards the path you have been shying away from. Trust that you know what you want, then go get it!

(This is an example of a Love Note. Want to read something like this once a week? Sign up to receive Love Notes in your e-mail and you can cancel anytime if you get sick of my perspective, inspiration, or tips.)

Surfing is a bit of a self-induced exposure therapy for me. The power of the ocean terrifies me, so I put myself in it just to prove that I won't die.

This morning, paddling back to shore from Jungle Beach's ocean break was an emotional experience. I was proud of myself for sitting so far out, watching a big, glassy left and right break on either side of me. The fact that I didn't even attempt to paddle into a wave was not a problem. I'd been hanging out in the deep water where the face of a wave would come barreling in from the sea and then melt down just before it reached me. My attempts to sit on the board without it flipping out from underneath me were laughable.

Despite being constantly reminded that I need to sit up on the board and face the waves to see what's coming, I wasn't doing it. It seemed fine. Then a big set came, one that broke across the whole face of the wave instead of fizzling out, and I wasn't ready, not that I ever really say I am. I was a bit too far left to avoid it and too caught off guard to catch it, so it pummeled me. I gave in, one hand holding my nose (because I can't hold my breath) covering my head like I'd been taught. The second wave was coming fast, so I pulled the board closer to avoid smashing into the fins as I accepted the next blow. By the third wave, I had it pretty figured out and dove into the whitewall.

Surviving was enough. Every wave that doesn't kill me proves that I'm not going to be instantaneously murdered by the ocean. In fact, I wasn't even phased by being unable to sit up on the board without toppling over, not catching a single wave, or the knowledge of the terrifying vastness of the blue world I was hovering over. Getting back to shore was the real test.

I paddled and paddled and paddled and paddled... and got nowhere. Just to my left I could see the ticket in. She was a long, fast, but gentle ride toward the shore where I could paddle along the current instead of perpetually being pushed back into it. But I saw the massive rock face that I'd realistically never hit, and I turned away from the wave. I saw the frothy whitewater seething with power, and I turned further from its helpful push.

My arms were utterly exhausted, more flailing than paddling. My friend in the water could paddle toward me and then 10 meters ahead in the time it took for me to gain 1 meter. My hands were cupped, chest lifted, forearms pushing water, but I couldn't get any closer to the beach. The board wobbled and I spent my energy trying not to fall off the board as I willed it forward, all the while checking over my shoulder for another surprise wave. Salvation and the sweetness of a long, deep breath felt days away. Desperately looking to the shore, I felt the breakdown coming on and wondered how long I'd survive if I gave up and let the current pull me out to sea. I'd live there.

It took forever and I'd completely exhausted my courage, determination, patience, and arms by the time I finally collapsed onto the sand. I can't express how long it took - probably nearly 20 minutes - but it felt like a hopeless eternity. Stuck, out of control, trapped - all my worst enemies.

Anyway, there's a lesson in this, obviously. I thought it would be about learning how to gracefully fall, face fears, adjust...but it was harder. More challenging because I didn't expect it. This time it was actually a new, difficult, unanticipated challenge. In fact, I haven't quite sussed it out entirely - the lesson is still percolating.

Real growth doesn't necessarily happen on our own terms. Like being robbed, raped, or ill, we are at the mercy of the Universe's greater plan. In the moment, we are struggling to survive - and we must - but the process of that struggle and our Soul's determination to continue is where the expansion happens. The pain of the comfortable edges being stretched. Muscles tearing in order to be rebuilt bigger and stronger. Truth is, there will be pain, or at least discomfort. Struggle, confusion, denial, and even a moment where you give up and resign yourself to being permanently lost at sea.

You must persevere. You must trust this process. You must breathe - even if you first cry, scream, panic and shut down before you muster enough faith to release a deep exhalation. Your inhalation will come. Your torn muscles, broken heart, and crumbled walls will rebuild and heal. The path to your growth is not yours to choose, but you can direct how you react to it.

Keep paddling, G. You aren't destined to die at sea.

Have you ever started something - a BIG, scary thing that took a lot of courage to begin - and then midway through, you panic and self-sabotage to make your fears come true?

Let me give you an oddly specific, but rather comical example (we need to keep Mondays light-hearted!)

There's this abandoned harbor near Twin Fin Surf Camp where you can jump off the wall and into deep, clear water. I'm a fire sign, through and through, so getting into water has never felt natural to me. It takes courage for me to cross a river, let alone jump into the ocean from 6 meters up.

Determined to jump, I climbed over the ledge and attempted to steady my nervous legs as friends looked up from below and encouraged me. "You'll be fine! Just jump out!".

Right.

Mustering all the courage I had, I let go and let this big thing happen.

Here's the sabotage piece.

I'd already done the hard work, the brave part. I'd already allowed myself permission to act boldly. I'd already committed and set the course in motion. Truly, there was only one outcome - land in the water - and all I had to do was not fight my way there.

I wish I could report that I learned to levitate, but I didn't. Somewhere between my release and the water, I panicked and started running in the air. Flailing my legs and left arm (my right hand was holding my nose), some irrational part of my brain tried to control the simple act of falling into gravity.

"Are you alright?" When I resurfaced to see the shock on my friends' faces, I knew I'd done it wrong. Then I felt the stinging pain on the back of my right leg and my left shin. Instead of landing feet first like a dagger piercing the ocean, I'd configured myself into an awful, floppy shape and hit the water hard. My moment of panic and fighting had sabotaged the letting go I had committed to.
 
I’m fine. There’s a 9-inch bruise on the back of my leg, but I’m fine. Even trying to defy gravity and sabotaging a simple jump didn’t destroy me. Plus, there’s a hilarious video of my clumsy mishap.
 
There are many lessons here, but today I invite you to be curious about what big leaps of faith you’ve taken in your life. Where have you acted boldly and with courage to move towards something that could be natural if you let it?
 
Can you predict where you may sabotage the good things that are happening? Can you identify the places where fear may call for you to reach out towards the edges and fight against the course you’ve set in motion?
 
Can you stay true to your course, try not to panic, and allow yourself to land gracefully at your destination?

My senior year of high school, I printed out the poem Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman. At that point of my life I was both making plans for my suicide and creating dreams of traveling the world. I’ve always had commitment issues, fortunately. That poem held hope within its lines, words that painted a meaningful existence I couldn’t resist falling in love with.

After college, I started working a 9-5 office job and still had the printed poem. Day by day, I felt my soul being sucked away through the computer screen or screams on the other end of the telephone line. I imagined the triumphant day I would leave, walking away from security, the status quo, and the way things were. On that day, I told myself, I would post on my Facebook the first lines of that poem that served as a beacon of hope for all those years:

               Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
               Healthy, free, the world before me,
               The long brown path before me, leading wherever I chose.

The same copy of the poem came with me when I finally quit my job and traveled for 5 months.

Each time I leave to travel, I read Song of the Open Road again, new lines jumping off the page to guide me. Because every journey off the beaten path brings a new lesson, a new challenge, a new perspective. What excites me most about my travels are the things I’m not expecting, aside from knowing that I will be surprised by the twists and gifts of Grace as I walk this open road.

I’d like to share with you the entirety of Walt Whitman’s ode to the traveler, so that you may be sung to by the message that your heart most needs to hear.

Song of the Open Road

Over a year ago I wrote a note in my phone called "I Don't Want to Forget". It had one liners from various small details of the epic five month adventure Orion and I had taken.

"I don't want to forget the moments on the side of Salkantay wondering if I might freeze and die... the smoothie at Prasada in Cusco that I had to hold with two hands... the happy cow that drank for hours from the spout in Rishikesh... crying and huddling against a closed storefront on Diwali as kids threw fireworks in the street... hearing my mom's voice as I called from the US Embassy to tell her I'd been robbed... the saxophone solo at the Esplanade concert." You get the point.

What if we did this kind of stuff more often? Could you pause at the end of each week and write down the small details, the ones that might slip away between the threads of time? These small instances hold such a richness to them. They are the moments where we truly pause - not because of some big, spectacular event - but simply to appreciate the overlooked details we take for granted.

In this way, the small things become more special.

My invitation today is to slow down enough to notice these small details. As summer winds down and we get swept up by airy Autumn, ground yourself in the sweetness of the present moment.

Maybe you'll even create an I Don't Want To Forget note on your phone.

PS - This is a Love Note. Can I e-mail you stuff like this weekly?

It's been a year since I met my Grapefruit.

I first felt her as I was laying in the field of Valley Forge Park under the eerie dim sky of the solar eclipse. Everything had fallen silent in the confusion, the unveiling, as though a portal had been opened to our dazed eyes. The pain grew for days. Orion and I retreated to the cabin and dove behind the veil. I was lost where I couldn't hide. A wasp stung the sole of my foot as I looked at a withering mushroom, and the radiating fury of its poison was a welcome reprieve from the dizzying discomfort in my stomach. My insides shook me to tears with every step I stumbled. By the time we came home, I was doubled over holding the hurt. He drove me to work and I taught a class from the floor distracted by thoughts of dying the way my Grandmother had.

When I walked through the hospital doors, uninsured, I never expected it to cost $12,000, but it didn't matter. It was a pain I couldn't bare backed by fear that pulsed venom through my blood and sent me pleading for help and answers.

Six hours in the ER, an MRI, and 2 ultrasounds later, I had been introduced to my Grapefruit.

My uterine fibroid, a benign tumor mass that grew between my uterus and ovary, had been pressing its frustrations against my diaphragm, stomach and low back. I know now that the intensity of the pain was partially exacerbated by  GERD. I had been so ignorant to my body's messages that it needed to attack from multiple angles before I'd pay attention.

Having an ultrasound brought me to tears. Women having babies get ultraounds, but I was there in pain getting measurements of the muscle my uterus built around itself. If had been pregnant, the fibroid would have allowed no space for a baby to grow.

A year later and my Grapefruit is still there, still twice the size of my uterus. I used acupuncture, Chinese herbs, diet changes, DIM supplement and a whole lotta self-love to manage it and I don't feel pain anymore, but I still feel it's presence. I'm okay. We are managing well.

A friend said to me the other day (and I'm paraphrasing immensely), "I think you love it too much. You've let it become part of you and you don't really want it to leave." He's right. My Grapefruit, she was born out of my hatred for everything that made me Woman, then she taught me how to love being a Woman. She made me aware of my gifts, my ability to create. I learned to love her and kindly say thank you. My Grapefruit would never allow space for a baby, but it was okay because I didn't want it. I didn't hate it.

It's a tough one for me to make sense of, and I still haven't quite wrapped my head around the depth of this lesson. My Grapefruit. I love it for they way it taught me to listen, to love, to care for myself, to appreciate my natural gifts. I love it because I feel shame for having created it out of my hatred. The way I felt my community rise up to support and comfort me. I love it because it is uniquely female, and mine.

But, as all things I love, I must be willing to let her go. Decay, shrivel, and die. A martyr, a memorial, a memory. I must be willing to let my uterus release its anti-baby muscle so I can empower myself with that decision, even if that means letting the space stay empty.

I loved my Grapefruit for this past year, but I'm ready for her to go.

In attempt to make sense of it all…

How quickly my attention, passion, drive shifts from one thing to the next (with social media distractions along the way to slow myself down). I’ve got SO MUCH TO SAY, to teach, to share. Sure, I want to monetize it (but not because I value richness of money, but to have money means less time invested in survival means more time sharing/teaching), but really I want people around me to feel rich and fulfilled.

I don’t want any more “woe is me” monologues. I want to be surrounded by empowered people using their gifts and skills to pursue an aligned and meaningful life. I want those people to be YOU, no exceptions. I want every person on this planet to be uplifted by every other person so, together, we can achieve [happiness]. I want the activists to stand on the tallest mountain of a soapbox with a crowd around them listening and activating. I want inventors to create their Thing. Writers and artists and musicians to share their art and soul without starving. I want people to get out of their bubbles, to experience the world and her cultures, and UNDERSTAND how interconnected we are, we must be. To travel, to interact, the greatest warriors against our blissful ignorance. To look eachother deeply in the eyes and see our commonalities and embrace the uniqueness of our differences.

I want you to excite over the contractions of fear and insecurity because you know the brilliant expansion that follows. I want people who are shooting for the stars to not give up when the air gets thin. Support systems, communities that uplift. A network of motivators, instigators, and creators rising up in a floodgate crushing wave of people getting OUT THERE, doing what they love.

Sure, in many moments I may look scatterbrained. There may be too many commas to make sense of the sentence. But inside, beyond the anxiety of getting it all done, I am a giddy little girl, OVERJOYED. Literally, it’s pouring out of my shaking hands and exploding chest. I LOVE YOU ALL SO DAMN MUCH. I’m overflowing with all the Love I never knew how to direct, how to show. I want to pour it over you and wrap you in it. I want you to feel it and spread it like a vine that covers all the hopeless and dead things and colors them vibrantly alive. I LOVE YOU and I want you to feel ease, abundance, joy, passion, hope, meaning. These are not just words. They are yours. You can have them and I am willing to work tirelessly to show you how. Watch my example, listen when I teach through stories, TRY IT when I challenge you. Step out, step up, and believe in yourself in the ways I believe in you. Strangers, you too. You don’t know my Love and I don’t have your story, but I believe in you because I am 100% certain that success is there waiting for you. I am beyond the blindfolds and shackles of ignorance and I know this is the Truth. This LOVE I have inside, spilling out, it’s in you.

May the tides of my own moondrawn sea pull your own a bit closer to shore so we may touch it, taste it, and be washed over in the KNOWING of your magnificence.

No part of me wants to stand alone in my Joy. No part of me says “this is only mine”. I can’t walk on water, nor would I, unless you were there with me. A sea of empowered individuals. This peace is no satisfaction if I’m in it alone. Join me on these shores. Dip your toes into water at the edge of the terrifyingly abysmal unknown. Look out at the potential, possibility and know that it belongs to you. Let me hold your fear while you navigate those waves. Let your Brothers and Sisters pick you up and wipe the sand from you, just as you will do for them.
 
I digress… I’m doing this because I believe with every fiber of my being that you deserve it. I’ll figure it out because I want it to make sense for you, so you believe it.  My topics may seem wide or disconnected (travel, yoga, career), but they all boil down to this: This one, precious life is yours. You deserve, and you can, without a doubt, live a life you are absolutely in LOVE with. You are capable of, and you will, turn potential into practice, dreams into reality. You are all this and so much more.

If you believe you have no one in your corner, please look up to see me here. Look up and feel the presence of a Universe that loves you unconditionally and wants you to succeed. Unconditionally. Please stand up, because someone is watching YOU and you will inspire someone else. Please lead the life you WANT, not the life you’ve limited yourself to. Start the wildfire that will consume doubt, smallness, and wasted potential. Transform yourself into the Phoenix you’ve been hiding. Rise from your own ashes, and as you soar beyond, let the power of your wings clear space and create light for all those behind you, waiting to transform themselves.
 
I’m doing this because, as a Human, as a creature of this Earth and a being of this dimension, I KNOW we are more. But we must all wake up. You need to create your art. You need to speak your truth. You need to guide your people.

All this in the name of that ultimate LOVE.

Indulgent and delicious.
Frozen bananas are the base to many vegan treats. They replace ice cubes, blend to a creamy consistency, and don't taste anything like bananas.

Yield: about 4 servings (but I don't really measure anything)

4 frozen ripe bananas (without peels)
2 Tbs cacao powder
shake of cinnamon
1 Tbs shredded coconut
1 cup milk alternative
2 shots Kahlua or Baileys (*optional*)

Blend in a Vitamix or other super strong blender. It should end up rather thick, not liquid like a smoothie. Adjust the amount of milk or bananas accordingly. Freeze 2-3 hours. Indulge.