No one warns you that effort can become a hiding place — that discipline is sometimes just a rhythm your body trusts more than questions.

Back on the loop. It seems the sheriff has calmed down with stickering vehicles up in town. From what I’ve heard, it usually only happens one to two times a year. Some out of town individual(s) take advantage

Source There are days when the body feels heavy, the mind gets foggy, and the heart seems to be carrying a backpack full of stones. It happens to all of us. Sometimes it is a loved one's move to another

Hola, familia de Holos&Lotus. Vengo con un tema que llevo mascando hace rato. Me paso muchas horas en redes, demasiadas quizás, y hay algo que siempre me ha resultado interesante y a la vez me ha molestado

Seventy-five days sober. Seventy-five days living on the road. Seventy-five days of just saying fuck it and seeing where life takes me. Seventy-five days of eating cheese and hummus by headlight and searching

How difficult it is to open one’s heart Photo of My propiety Hello, friends of Reflections . As usual, I’m sharing a reflective piece on the processes we often go through when we decide to heal. Because

My husband would roll his eyes at this, but fuck this has been a strong moon. @haveyoumetellie called my attention to it the other day - like many of us on Hive, the last few weeks have been a bit rough.

Un entrenamiento bueno no siempre es el que te gusta, hoy el entrenamiento fue mixto. Sin nada planeado sali a correr con mi amigo Wilson, la ruta habitual una vez que llegamos al parque donde llevabamos

L. llega hoy a consulta con algo que no esperaba traer: ganas. Ganas de abrirse a conocer gente de nuevo, después de tres años en una relación que le dejó inseguridades que reconoce a simple vista y otras

I don't write anymore. I don't take pictures anymore. I don't read anymore. I don't curate anymore. I'm stuck and I don't know how to get out. I cry. I meditate. I work. I interact. I help. I'm supported.