When in doubt
When in doubt Go with silence Go inward Go out in the sun Go for a walk Go into nature Go in solitude
On a Mission
When in doubt Go with silence Go inward Go out in the sun Go for a walk Go into nature Go in solitude
In this candid episode, I talked about how the vibe shifted throughout the day. ICE protest. Tension in Los Angeles. A little car accident. Yet, I still felt protected, guided, and ultimately healed by the power of love and music by the end of the night.
Listen to the episode “In the Right Room, Finally” on Spotify and Apple Podcasts.
I believe we, dyslexic people, are creators. The universe intentionally made it difficult for us to learn from existing content so that we can create something new.
Traditional learning is hard for me. A large amount of text is daunting and overwhelming for me to read and process, unless I have a personal association and resonance with the subject.
I rarely watch movies. It takes up too much of my energy.
It’s almost impossible for me to sing along to songs. I didn’t write the words.
I don’t like templates. It’s annoying how I have to create pretty much everything from scratch.
I have a hard time remembering tangible details. This painting of mine is a great example of how I associate people, places, and things with smells, textures, colors, lighting, and feelings.

I express my inner world through creative expressions. I observe, listen, experience, and make mistakes in real life to earn lessons and knowledge. I cross the line to know where it is. I have my own way of seeing and learning.
I wish I could tell my 12-year-old self it’s okay to be unconventional. In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s awesome.
We are awesome.

I am the truth.
It’s not always about the thing we are going after. Instead, let us ask these questions:
This morning, I woke up in tears. I’d already been crying in my dream.
In the dream, I was sitting across from my family at a long table, lined with crisp white linen. Me on one side, them on the other side. It felt like me against them. We were in a dining car on a train. The train was running along the coast. Outside the train was a beautiful, peaceful scene. Inside the train, my family was shouting at me. They were saying harsh, heartless things to me, just as they sometimes used to do in the waking life. They took out hefty cooking knives. One by one, they started throwing them at me. “You are crazy!” I shouted at them as I kept dodging the knives in the air. They continued to throw more knives at me. I begged them to stop, but they weren’t listening. They were too busy throwing knives at me.
When I woke up, I felt just… incredibly sad. I was coming to terms with the hurt I felt all my life. I carried their emotional burden on my shoulders. I tolerated their projected pain and anger. These are the things I kept brushing off growing up because I didn’t want to see my family as villains, and I somehow thought I deserved such treatment.
The other day, I heard someone say that most of us don’t hurt each other on purpose. I felt that. My family didn’t intend to hurt me, I’m sure, or I hope. But the damage was made in me. Words were said to me. The dream forced me to relive and feel all those difficult emotions that I didn’t get to accept and feel when I first experienced them. This time, I knew I wasn’t responsible for their emotions. This time, I wasn’t going to protect their feelings over my own.
I stayed in bed for a while to process the dream. I felt more tears in my eyes. I cried a bit more.
I am in the backseat of a Porsche, inside a large warehouse. The place feels like a corn maze, but made with concrete instead. The car is driving itself and about to make a left turn. I quickly hop in the empty driver’s seat, but the seat is pushed way back, to the point my legs can’t reach the pedals. I panic. We are going to crash. Despite my worries, the car turns perfectly, maneuvering carefully and beautifully in the tight space.
I am sitting in my comfy lounge chair on the balcony. The kind that reclines horizontally. I love that chair. I hear the birds chirping. Jacaranda flowers are blooming. The air is crisp after a brief moment of rain. The sun is high and hot. There’s no single cloud in the blue sky. I hear kids and adults playing soccer on the grass. My sheer curtains are dancing in the gentle breeze. Neighbors’ wind chimes are ringing softly. I’m wearing a white cotton tank, feeling the warm sun and the cool winds on my skin. My bee sting from Wednesday is healing okay. I’d just baked banana bread for me and a friend. She’s on her way. My door is unlocked to let her in. My room is filled with the sweet aroma. I’m just gonna sit in the sun until she arrives. I am journaling about the dream I saw last night. I’ve been having lots of vivid dreams lately. I sip on mint tea and take a deep breath. It smells like the beginning of summer, of something new and extraordinary.
I lost a piece of myself every time you left I had no idea when I would see you next You left me hanging and kept me in the dark The loss, the pain, the void, the yearning It was all too excruciating I couldn’t bear it Nobody had made me feel this way
We were home to each other Then the next moment, we were strangers We never got a chance to get close Our story didn’t even begin Every time we connected, we started all over again
A few years passed I read the lyrics of the song you liked Something clicked inside of me The way you made me feel The loss, the pain, the void, the yearning It was how you felt growing up With those who were supposed to love and care for you
You taught me it was okay to feel You showed me what it was like to miss someone I didn’t know I could miss another person But you are not just another person You are me And I am you