p o s t // 4
n e v e r s t o p b e i n g c u r i o u s.
It’s Thursday, May 15th, 2025.
Like most Thursdays, I got up, made my morning coffee, and started driving Uber. Early mornings and afternoons are the best times to be on the road. Today, though, I felt blah—like I was wading through emotional molasses. But I’m working toward something. A goal. And nothing—absolutely nothing—is going to get in the way of reaching it. I’m 80% there, with two months to go until this dream of mine becomes real—even if just for a little while.
It’s been about eight months since I left LA… and him.
The relationship was shrinking me, silencing me, making me question my sanity for wanting the bare minimum: presence, respect, love. Leaving wasn’t clean, and it definitely wasn’t mutual. Other people inserted themselves, siding with him, making me feel like I had to be the one to go. And so I did. In pieces. Broken but brave.
Today I was driving around St. Louis, feeling off. Honestly, all I wanted was to go home, curl up with Autobiography of a Yogi, which I started yesterday and can’t seem to put down. I also felt the tug to write, to post, to show up for the new Instagram page I’m slowly building—Big Breath Energy. I still don’t fully know what it is yet, but I know it’s supposed to bring people to me for breathwork, and maybe bring me to them, too.
I read something yesterday that stuck with me:
"People can’t find you if you don’t make yourself visible."
It hit me hard. That’s why I feel this pull to show up online, even though I don’t fully know what I’m doing. I just know I need to try. I’m hell-bent on not going back to corporate. If I have to, I will—but first, I have to give my way a real shot.
Somewhere mid-feelings, I picked up a woman and her daughter. The little one, maybe three years old, climbed into her car seat waving and smiling. Pure sunshine. We drove to her daycare, which, to my surprise, was tucked behind a Hindu temple in Bridgeton, Missouri. If you know STL, it’s not the most diverse place—but there are sacred spaces hidden everywhere, if you look.
The temple caught my eye immediately.
"Wow, what is that place?" I asked.
The mom lit up. "It’s a Hindu temple, I think. I don’t really know, but I feel a pull to go inside."
We laughed about maybe checking it out after she dropped off her daughter. And then fate showed up.
While she was inside, I looked up the temple—turns out there's a celebration happening this Sunday for Yogi Jayanti. When she came back to the car, I showed her the book I’m reading (Autobiography of a Yogi) and her jaw dropped. We both sat there in awe. It felt divine.
Just 20 minutes before, I was spiraling—terrified of the unknown future I’ve chosen. But it’s a softer kind of fear. The kind that coexists with peace. I may not know what’s next, but I know I get to be me now. I don’t have to ask permission. I don’t have to walk on eggshells. And sure, I wasn’t perfect in the relationship. I was anxious. I’d bring up issues when things felt good—but only because that was when it felt safe to speak.
Looking back, I see now:
That is not a sustainable way to live.
There is a relationship out there where I won’t be punished for having needs. If you’re in one like that, I feel you. I wasyou. And I promise, it takes time—but the fog does lift. Healing comes.
Our drive continued. I took her to work, about 25 minutes away, and we talked the whole ride. It was one of those effortless, soulful connections. She’s a mother. I’m not. She’s Black. I’m white. We come from different parts of town and probably very different upbringings. But our stories? They mirrored each other.
We had both survived emotional abuse.
We had both walked through grief and loss.
We were both seeking something bigger than ourselves.
And somehow, we were both drawn to Ganesha.
By the end of the ride, I felt like the universe had orchestrated it all.
And maybe it did.
What I’m Really Trying to Say
We are never truly alone.
Someone out there shares your pain, your dreams, your questions, your light.
We miss these connections all the time—too afraid to speak first, too afraid of being judged. But what if we approached life with more curiosity, less fear? What if we believed that spirit can guide us, even through strangers, even during Uber rides in Bridgeton, Missouri?
I don’t know exactly where this path is leading me.
I don’t know what Big Breath Energy will become.
But I do know this: I’m in the right conversations. I’m finding my people.
And the little moments—like today—are the real rewards.
Never stop being curious.
Never stop listening to that quiet nudge inside.
The one that says: "Go now. Turn left. Speak up. Share this."
That’s how the divine moves.
The more we soften into the mystery,
the sweeter life becomes.
xxoo
C
Ganesha is the Hindu deity known as the remover of obstacles, the god of beginnings, wisdom, and new ventures. With the head of an elephant and a round, grounded form, Ganesha is often invoked at the start of journeys or transformations to bring clarity, protection, and guidance along the path. His energy reminds us that what feels blocked can shift with grace when we trust, listen, and keep moving forward.