Loved Ones,

I write this to you from Narita International Airport in Tokyo, Japan, where I have a ten hour lay over on my way to LAX. After nearly eight months in South East Asia – two months with two of my best girlfriends and half a year alone – I’m closing a life-changing chapter and switching gears to family, friends and pumpkin spice everything until 2016. It’s an amazing feeling to want this, to be ready to turn the page, to have my arms wide open greeting the light and love and laughter and waves that I know await. It’s a gift to ally with change y’all.

I’ve been writing to you in my head for weeks now. My keyboard charger broke over a month ago and I’ve saved whatever is left of the battery for a moment like this that I thought may present itself. Its breaking was a blessing in disguise, allowing me the grace to step away from typing by circumstance rather than choice, guiding me back to the pen and the page, to the heart of the matter, to slowing down; I’ve filled an entire notebook since and it’s felt amazing.

Since the day I bought my ticket to the US I’ve had conversations with all of you attempting to answer questions you have yet to even ask. What was my favorite part? What was my favorite country? What was the craziest thing I ate? Saw? Did? What did I learn? I’m expecting to be lovingly bombarded by these enquires. Rightfully so! I’d be craving to hear the same.

This last one though – “What did you learn?” – has been that person who taps you on the shoulder and then hides when you turn around. I keep trying to catch it, but find my hands fumbling to grasp and contain something more immense than I’ve been able to consolidate to words. I’ve jotted notes. I’ve made lists. I’ve created a mountain of beautiful, glorious moments and reflections and lessons – lessons I’ve learned for the first time, and many more that I’ve learned for the second / third / twentieth time. But the more I try to solidify driving points home, the more unsure I become of where to even begin, what to prioritize, how much to expand – ya know, the same issues I’ve expressed in, oh, nearly every other blog post.

I’ve learned perfectionism kills. That space, time and privacy is truly a luxury. That tiger balm is the shit and is my heaven-sent aid for itchy bug bites. I’ve learned that I love motorbikes, and that my need to be alone isn’t just a want, it’s a need. I’ve learned about the war here. The irreparable damage my country has done. The generations after generations living with the repercussions and the powerful resilience of the people. I’ve learned clouds know how to travel, too, and that being so alone with myself can, at times, amplify my demons ten-fold; that darkness is not geographically contained. I’ve learned I love pho, and surprising myself in the reflections of strangers, and that I’m really just at the tip of the iceberg with all of this; I’ve never felt so young. I’ve learned that I really like to live by my own rules, and that when all else fails, close your eyes / meditate / rest / just stop / let it be. I’ve learned that I’m pretty horrible at learning asian languages. I’ve learned I am not my labels. That nothing in it’s isolated form defines me. That I am more than my emotions and thoughts, and that they do not have to confine, control or compartmentalize me. That I am a whole of many parts, each necessary in their own right and fucking beautiful. I’ve learned that I’d rather know than wonder. Ask than assume. Focus on what feeds my balance rather than playing on the skewed scale of what’s “good” and “bad”. I’ve learned I must do the work myself. There is no one outside of me that can take me where I need to go. That my will to get there can drive me when my want is lacking motivational winds. That there is no way I could get to where I’ve been and am going without the help of all the angels in my life (like you.) I’ve learned that I can and will sing, full on, on stage. That it’s all about freeing, shifting and raising our attention – choosing wisely what to focus on, what to feed, where we look. I’ve learned I’m a pretty great chameleon, and that everything I’ve stated above is almost always easier said than done. I’ve learned that I can still, somehow, be late, no matter where I am or where I’m going, and that I actually can in fact make decisions by myself with ease. I’ve spent days (years) making peace with my body and living by the wisdom “Act as if you already are.” I’ve spent days (years) writing and see clearly now my dream to publish my words in a book. I’ve spend days (years) thinking and thinking and thinking but knowing that in the end it’s what I DO that will shape things.

It’s been a wild ride you guys. An amazing and crazy and hard and joyous and confusing and compelling ride. I’m still riding the roller coaster with my hands up. I’m still saying YES. MORE. I’m still beckoning on the beauty of the break down, rooting in Trust, reaching in Faith, Knowing deeply that it’s all in motion of rising UP and that in the end I control how high I let myself go.

Multiple people have commented in delightful surprise at what a traveler I’ve grown to be. I think it surprises them every time to learn I never expected it either. For the majority of my life I struggled with change, I held onto the illusions of security and safety and assurance. I, too, am shocked to find myself not only back out on the map traveling, exploring, teaching, learning, but to be thriving in doing so, to really be touching into the capacity of my capability and potential. Part of me wants to say I know it won’t always be this juicy, but honestly, I believe it can be. I believe I create my response to this life, and I want to be that 40 year old, 60 year old, 80 year still doing yoga and completely stoked on being on this earth.

The plane’s about to take off, and who knows when this keyboard is going to die. I could hold off on posting this to edit and re-edit and edit again, or I can choose done over perfect, and be here, Now, with you, in all of it.

The posts will keep coming. The journey will continue. Though I’m returning to familiar land, I am walking forward into it with new eyes. To say “thank you” for sharing this journey with me thus far would be an underwhelming sentiment of my gratitude; there are no words to describe how thankful I am for you, my tribe, for the support, love and life you give me.

“Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.” – Winston Churchill

May we courageously journey forth, together.

Arms Wide Open,
Yours Always –
Angelica