A few days ago, I was listening to Andrew Huberman and Joe Rogan talk, and a name kept coming up: Rick Rubin. Of course, I knew the name. Rick Rubin is a legendary music producer. What I didn’t really know was him—or, more accurately, the way he thinks. So I started reading and listening. And down the rabbit hole I went. What fascinated me wasn’t his extraordinary résumé or the famous people he has worked with. It was his openness. He seems genuinely interested in noticing th

I live on the fifth floor, and I sleep with my curtains open. I hadn’t really thought much about that until recently. I simply like them open. I like seeing the last bit of the world before I fall asleep, and I like waking up to whatever light the morning decides to bring. But lately I’ve wondered if there is something more to it. Maybe I like my curtains open because that is how I want to live my life. Not exposed. Not without privacy. There are parts of me that belong only

We have all heard that lightning doesn't strike twice. Except, of course, it does. And perhaps life does, too. I believe people change. They grow. They gain perspective. Sometimes they look back at something they once had and finally understand its value in a way they simply couldn't understand while they were living it. Sometimes the timing was wrong. Sometimes fear won. Sometimes life was complicated. And sometimes two perfectly good people simply weren't ready for the same

Dolly Parton died this week. And somehow, even though I never met her, the news made me stop. Perhaps that is what happens when someone has been woven into the fabric of the world for so long. Their death feels bigger than the loss of one person. Something shifts. Some deaths rock a family. Some rock a community. Some rock a nation. And every once in a while, someone dies, and it feels as though the whole world rocks just a little. But lately I've been wondering if perhaps ev

And when it does, keep living. Today, artificial intelligence is changing our world at a breathtaking pace. Tomorrow it will be something else. But perhaps we give technology too much credit for introducing us to change. Life has been doing that forever. Relationships. Heartbreak. Betrayal. Disappointment. Joy. Illness. Recovery. Birth. Death. Falling in love. Falling out of love. Becoming a parent. Losing a parent. Discovering something about another person that changes ever

There is something almost magical about discovering a new artist. Lately, for me, it has been Sienna Spiro. I especially love We’re Not in Love, Butterfly Effect, CYANIDE, Dream Police, Need Me, and Time, You & Me. Perhaps I’m late to the party. Maybe everyone else has already been listening to her while I’ve been over here just now discovering that voice. But isn’t that one of the joys of music? Somehow, it has a way of finding us exactly when we’re ready for it. It was less

You can’t exhale before you have inhaled. It’s impossible. Perhaps that’s why I’ve come to believe the same is true of living. There is something almost sacred about stepping outside, lifting your face toward the warmth of the sun, and closing your eyes for just a moment. It isn’t simply that the sunshine feels nice. It’s an experience. It’s an emotion. It’s a place. A place that quietly reminds us we belong to something much bigger than ourselves. When I walk outside each ev

Technology has become one of the hardest-working companions in our lives. My phone navigates me across unfamiliar highways, plays my favorite podcasts, tracks my blood sugar, communicates with my insulin pump, reminds me of appointments, keeps me connected to family, captures photographs I treasure, and somehow still finds time to answer texts, emails, and phone calls. Sometimes I think we expect these little devices to be nearly perfect. The truth is, they aren’t. Like us, t

Our parents write the opening chapters. We spend the rest of our lives discovering that we are the author of everything that comes after. I spent the past couple of days with my family. Although I talk to my mother on the phone several times each week, I only see my parents a few times a year because they live more than three hours away. My mother is a remarkably strong and resilient woman. She was 17 when I was born and she went on to graduate from Emory as a registered nurs

There are moments in life when we begin to feel a gentle tug. Not a loud voice. Not some dramatic sign from the universe. Just a quiet whisper that says... There might be more than this. Most of us know exactly what happens next. Fear arrives. It reminds us of everything we could lose. The paycheck. The relationship. The routine. The identity we've carefully built. The certainty of knowing what tomorrow looks like. And because fear is persuasive, we often convince ourselves t

This post isn't really about heartbreak. It's about what happens when someone temporarily steals your peace—and how curiosity, wisdom, and intentional choices help you reclaim it.