A Little On Me & Why This Blog

I should have been a dancer. But my mind wanted to spin even more than my body did. Maybe a basketball player. But too short, too nice. I’m really not even a “professional writer” at this point. At least not in the way you probably think of one. I do write professionally. I have a career that requires me to write a lot. And I used to write articles for a small newspaper and marketing content for a tourism program.

But all of it always felt like only brushing up against the thing I was supposed to be doing. The jobs have all been “shadow careers,” as Pressfield would say.


My heart has sincerely belonged to just a few notions over the years. Writing emerged as the real and lasting one. My true love.

There’s a lot I want to do. Teach more yoga. Travel to more countries. Dance the tango like a pro. Dance the salsa. Buy property in Bali. Learn Spanish again, learn Bahasa Indonesia. Take an invention to production. Become a nutritionist. Become an ayurvedic practitioner.

But, still, nothing feels truer or moves me more than writing.

Once I’ve written something — sometimes even as minor as a single [self-proclaimed “good”] line — I become invincible. The day — the entire world — cracks wide open like a fault line when the plates shift just so, the depths of which I could perpetually fall into without a thought about the bottom.

Falling Freely as an Art Form.

At age seven, an episode from ThunderCats, my favorite cartoon then, made such an impression on my young mind, it’s still up here. It was about the four-day drop, a phenomenon true to its moniker.

Imagine falling for what feels like forever…

Having something to grab hold of on the way down — or even a bottom to reach quickly — alludes to having control. Free falling for even a few seconds sounds terrifying. Nothing to latch onto — to know and to take comfort in — in that moment. What a life.

This is the life I want to practice living. Between times and phases. Between moments. To be okay with the elusive unknown.

Leap of faith

In Sanskrit, the word is kumbhaka. The deliberate retention, or pause, between breaths. As my late yoga master used to say: “That’s where the magic happens.”

When inhales represent now and exhales then…

The Startling Present.

I named this blog as such to commemorate the ever-changing right now. To remember to reel myself back in to this precise moment, whenever the cord tied around my ankle becomes abruptly taut and I’m elsewhere again — worrying, wondering, assuming.

I am here. It is startling, isn’t it? The sudden awareness of your predicament, condition, your environment… your behavior.

But better to be startled by your own liberation, the ability to begin again, than by your imminent ending — the regret of choices made by default, of the unraveling fabric of neglected dreams, of pertinent words unmouthed.

Nothing is permanent. If I’ve learned anything, this nestles comfortably near the top of the list.

Life is continually blossoming for the first time.


I invite you to join me in this exploration of the present moment and to consider, with me, the lessons it delivers by hand with always comical timing

                                   … That precious, quiet conversation.

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