Keeper of the Dam

     According to my email confirmations, I have a flight coming up that will steal me away from this life I’ve made here in Mexico, and drop me off into the arid, dirty landscape of LA. At least, that's the first thing I think when I wake in the morning and count one day closer to my departure. I suppose I can’t blame anyone else for the ticket that I mindfully purchased. And really, there is no blame to point. I am looking forward to the return to LA, a return to my friends that I have left behind, a return to the amenities I have been without, a return to my sheets and towel and sunhat and yoga mat and bicycle and hot water and chilled nights and favorite restaurants and familiar beaches. I look forward to packing up the bags and jetting away toward another journey. Escaping up the coast of california, spending a spring week in San Francisco, hiking the hills of Big Sur, standing in awe of the golden coast. Perhaps I will even zoom over to New York to stand in my stora...

     Easing into Puerto Escondido has evolved into a sensation of feeling at home. At first, that feeling was warmly accepted, but recently the sensation has flipped. I am now becoming restless, a different version of those churning nights here where I roamed the streets and hopped from bar to bar. This is the same restless sensation that forced me out of NYC, out of LA and the greater California area. The previous two days I left my sweltering room only to grab water and snacks from the closest store, or to watch the sunset before slipping back into the swirling vortex of wind my ceiling fan is constantly creating to stave off the thickening humid air. The biggest routine I am grateful for, yoga, even slipped between my fingers as I slept in too long and dragged my feet in getting ready, resulting in me spending another endless day surfing my phone and binging Netflix. These characteristics are my least favorite part of myself - even though I am slowly learning to love a...