A One-Way Ticket

Nov 7: Realized it was time for strong change.

Nov 8: Enrolled in a 21-day Hridaya Yoga Module.

Nov 9: Boarded flight to Mexico.

Nov 10: Hridaya Yoga Module 2 began.

November 7 was the pivot point. If I were to map the inner dynamic that led me to that day, it would resemble a gradual descent starting late September. By "gradual descent," I mean a slow contraction in my ability to connect with others, my motivation to accomplish daily tasks, my inspiration to create, and the effectiveness of well-being and spiritual practices. Internally, tiredness gave way to emotional numbness, waves of turbulent self-doubt, and paralyzing weight of depression.

I was watching the descent unfold – and so were my loved ones. I was aware it was happening, aware that I was sinking into a familiar place in my life-spiral: this black hole in the pattern. Even with a strong support system and a toolkit of practices for emotional regulation and energetic healing, there was no horizon in sight.

So, when my mom asked me, "what do you need to create flow again?" The answer surprised me and came immediately with clarity: Hridaya.

And like that, chaos gave way to harmony. I checked online, and there it was: a retreat starting in three days, with one spot left. My mom helped me organize my bedroom, knowing I might be gone for a while and would want to sublet the space. The night I left, my housemate’s best friend moved in. When I boarded the flight, I was unexpectedly upgraded to business class. On the plane, I felt a surge of creativity welling up—a sense of coherence between my heart, mind, and body.

The Pattern

I’ve always been emotionally hungry. I understand it as part of my personality. Before my Saturn Return at 28—when the true adventure began—I directed that hunger unconsciously, often through emotional manipulation. When I felt intense emotion, like my insides were on fire, my inclination was to externalize the chaos and blow it outward, onto anyone and anything around me. My way of seeking intimacy and depth was to recreate externally the chaos I felt internally.

This pattern persisted until one day, a partner held up a mirror and challenged me to see that I was the one creating my suffering.

That mirror shattered something in me. I was annoyed because of something trivial—probably dirty dishes in the sink—and the Alexa speaker misheard me, blasting bad music at full volume. The music amplified my frustration. It was only a month into dating this very compassionate, provocative German man. I was standing, he was sitting on the couch. He grinned, looked up at me, and said, "Alexa, turn the volume all the way up."

Appalled, I froze. His grin held steady, almost mocking, spoke words that would alter my life: "How do your feet feel?"

It was a glitch in my matrix—a crack in my mental framework. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t even process why he’d asked. Yet somehow, his audacious calmness pierced through my frustration, forcing me to pause. In his capacity to witness me without reacting, I found the ground to witness myself. And in that stillness, I saw it: the dead-end of my reactivity and victimhood that had shaped so much of my life experience.

What followed were leap after leap into the unknown, unraveling threads of my personality—sometimes softly, but more often dramatically. The emotional disruption of embracing change was immense, but what amazes me is that it was never about effort or seeking.

Everything unfolded. The places, the people, the healing, the teachers—they all appeared in their own time. My role in this magnetic equation was simply to recognize the opportunities and act on them. It wasn’t about why or how my life was changing—it was about what. I followed the force of curiosity, releasing layers of expectations, looking honestly within, and allowing life to reveal itself. As my environment and interactions changed quite profoundly, I had no option but to evolve along with it. It's epigenetic-a process of adapting to my environment and rewiring my attitude and the way I respond to the world. I didn’t know who I was or where I was headed, but I was captivated by the newness and possibilities unfolding around me. In this interplay, I gained a foundational level of trust in the transformation process.

Here, Now.

I see my emotional hunger in a higher octave. I've learned (and have a long way to continue learning) how to channel it. But it's much less of a destructive force and much more of a soul-level yearning for aspiration and adventure. It’s a calling for gradual refinement and expansion in perception, awareness, and expression. Though it often manifests outwardly as adventure, the real journey is inward.

I could choose the academic route, following a structured curriculum, or I could co-create my own curriculum here, in Earth School. The latter path feels infinitely more alive in me.

So currently I’m in Mexico via (yet another) one-way ticket into the unknown. In my experience, a one-way ticket isn’t just a mode of travel—it’s a commitment to surrender and a portal to transformation. It’s a conscious step away from control and toward curiosity, leaving space for life to unfold in ways I can’t predict and to meet myself in new dimensions. It’s a wormhole, requiring me to release old patterns and trust that what lies ahead will strip away what no longer fits, bringing me closer to authenticity in body, mind, spirit, emotions, and relationships—and, this time, I’m optimistic, my work in the world as well.

What began in 2020 as a thread is now a substantial, unyielding rope. I’m being guided by something greater than me (me as my ego-mind). My work is to trust and practice inner discipline—staying soft in my body, clear in my mind, and open in my heart.

What's Next

I’m deep in spiritual immersion, continuing to cultivate non-dual awareness through Hatha yoga, meditation, tantric teachings, heart-centered practices, and self-inquiry. Saturating myself in this compassionate and slow environment is a profound opportunity to deepen my connection to the stillness within and to listen more vividly to the guidance shaping my path.

I'm about to step into 20 days of silence - two back to back 10-day retreats. By January, I’ll emerge—and I’m curious to meet the version of myself who steps forward then.