Awareness, in its strange and spiraling ways, tends to creep in between sips of thought and bites of habit, asking curious questions like, “Who are you now?” or “Have you noticed you’re awake?”

There’s something else hanging heavy in the air, something older—something deeper. It’s not the familiar comfort of a spring thunderstorm, with its distant rumbles and the heavy earthy scent of rain. No, this is different. This feels ancient, like a pulse drumming…

There’s a question that lingers in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, between unsent messages and words that dissolve on the tongue before they ever see daylight: If we cry out into the void…

However you may feel about this day, no matter if you cherish it, tolerate it, or roll your eyes at the spectacle—love, in its many forms, remains at the heart of the human experience.

That societal pendulum keeps swinging, from one extreme to another, carving an ever-deepening divide in our communities. The gap stretches wider, not just in our beliefs but in our willingness to truly listen..

Where’s the line? I’ve been searching for it, the fine thread between passion projects, adulthood, hustle culture, performance, and the endless need to post it all on social media. Somewhere along the way, we’re expected to juggle it all…

What started as a seemingly uneventful year turned into a volatile wooden roller coaster of Chaucer, stoicism, totalitarianism, mental breakdowns, and an attempt at career progression—all while my relationship and the U.S. teetered on the verge of collapse. Oh, and aliens

In the hustle and bustle of life, amid the challenges and triumphs, there exists a profound journey— the journey of self-compassion. It's not just a buzzword..

Every decision you make and every belief you have, is guided by the thought patterns you may or may not have had a hand in creating yourself.

The American Revolution, often celebrated as a noble struggle for liberty, was not simply just a quest for independence but may have been a strategic maneuver influenced by the British Empire's own interests..

There is something about moss that I just love, starting with the way it smells of damp earth. After many failed attempts at making a terrarium, I finally figured it out—

Here we are again, stuck choosing between being bitten by a venomous snake or drinking the Kool-Aid. Except we don’t know when..