My unfiltered,
no-BS musings.

I used to think that grief was something that you have purely as a result of losing love. While that is certainly true, now I see that it is also present as we open to receiving love. I think this has many dimensions in the context of romantic love:

The other day I was playing with my nephew who is 14 months old. I watched as he went from playing with building blocks to little farm animals to anything and everything. Construction. Destruction. Repeat. It was really magnificent to try to see the world through his eyes, and even more interesting, to observe what

I know people loathe things like “New year, new you” and all the things about the New Year. But to be honest, I love this time of year. I love opportunities to reflect. Whether it’s with the seasons changing that remind us of the cycles of life, or years turning over, there is such transformational

With every year that passes I like to write a reflective post about what has transpired and what I’ve learned. Perhaps through reading this you will find some reflections of your own, and I would love to hear in the comments — what have been your greatest lessons and learnings in the past year?

Recently I had the honour of interviewing the author Martha Beck, and I was struck by how full of life and joy she is. This woman has a past and a story (that continues to unfold) that would inspire anyone to change and transform their life. I encourage you to check out the episode and subscribe to the podcast as we

I was consuming, or rather, consumed by, Mary Oliver’s work recently via the On Being podcast, and I wanted to elaborate on what her words brought forward for me. There is a saying that one does not have to understand the words they read to infuse them into their being — as the words are written in a

“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical

I’ve been surfing a lot this week, and it’s given me some really invaluable time to reflect. I have always loved surf culture, surf clothing. I love the ocean, I love beaches, sand and coffee and beach fires and ALL THE THINGS. And I LOVE vintage cars. I’m not sure what that has to do

When I was twenty-seven I was in a five-year long relationship. The woman was (is) beautiful, kind, smart, athletic… she was basically perfect. But yet, despite what I tell you, there was just something in me that was screaming and gnawing at my soul that I wasn’t where I needed to be. This is about

“I had no idea things were that bad. When she left it was such a shock.” Was it really? Because I’m sure there were signs lonnnnnng before the bags were packed and a trail of smoke led out your front door. This is a common feeling for men; that we didn’t know she was going

When I was nineteen I was so in love. And like it seems to always happen with great relationships at that age, she went away to college. When she was leaving we had that standard conversation about what the relationship was going to look like, but at that point in our lives it almost seemed

When I was younger the setting of most of my teenage make-outs was far from ideal. I mean, there was a roof over my head, and food in the fridge, but in the basement of our family home, nestled in the back corner, was our “study”. The temperature of our basement was sometimes close to

Slut is an extremely powerful word, isn’t it? In four letters we have managed to encapsulate all of the shaming we, as humans, connect with female sexuality. Of course the shaming of sexuality and sexual freedom is not reserved for just women. Society and culture have tried to control and dictate how we wish to

I spend a lot of time in coffee shops. Maybe it’s an addiction thing. I don’t mean just to coffee. I mean to people. There’s no better place to watch the comings and goings of random strangers. To listen to consistently similar discussions despite the constant rotation of different asses in each seat. Different people, same subject. I was