la vita quotidiana: the magic of everydays

As I reflect more on my return to “normal” life after traveling, I am fixated on this sense of loss we tend to feel after a vacation. Like that come down feeling after an amazing concert, or returning back to school after holiday break.

I am anxious for work, but more nervous for my own self. Will I fall back into old habits? Will my sense of wonder vanish? How can I keep that child-like sense of awe that travel brings, even during these everydays? Most of all: will I still be in love with life just as it is? or will I forget its miracle of simply existing?

However, as I write this, I realize that that is silly. To say that I am the one who has control of the presence of the awe gives me far too much credit. It is only me who chooses to look for it, — it is always there regardless. If I allow myself the eyes of a traveler, perhaps I can see the wonder in the everydays, “La vita quotidiana”. I first learned of this concept in Italian class years ago. It struck me even back then — originally as weird that we spent a whole lesson talking about the concept — but as the years pass I have come to realize why.

It is actually pretty serendipitous that I write this today; Exactly two years ago today I visited Austin, Texas (my current home city) for the first time ever. My eyes got big when I saw the skyline seamlessly blend into the blues and greens of hill country. Can you believe I was excited when I first felt the moisture of the humid air on my skin?

And yet, as with most things, time wears down the shiny newness. But when I choose to look, I can still feel it; The chirp of birdsong in the morning, the fog that creeps over the lake after the rain, the hot beams of sun that embrace my skin, the stardust that somehow makes up every coffeeshop, every bookstore, every bar in this city. A city whose heartbeat is calm, comforting, even in the chaotic hum of adventure that exists within it. Whose nervous system would be at peace, aligned, even with all of its different truths co-existing. A city who has mastered work and play. A city who never asks anything of you, except for you to just be.

Perhaps none of this life is normal? Or all of it is. Even the weird break from routine is, in a sense, normal. Routine wouldn’t exist as a concept without its opposite.

Regardless, there is always special to be found in the normal, mundane hum of life. It is simply up to us to choose to see it.

on the fly: TWA hotel

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Coming back from vacation is always a bit rough… and returning to real life from an amazing 10-day vacation to Greece with my entire family and boyfriend was, well very tough, to say the least. Now, this wasn’t just hard on my body because of the 10-hour plane ride, or the jet lag.

I had mixed emotions about returning alone to Austin (all of my family & boyfriend lives near NYC), coming back to work and routine, and most of all, facing the tug of war in my mind between constant improvement and allowing myself rest.

Vacation often forces us to rest. Even if its an adventurous one — our minds and bodies often slip into a state of easy alignment, allowing ourselves to just enjoy. I often give myself excuses not to slow down during my normal work week; to squeeze out productivity or tightly pack my schedule with things I label as “self improvement”; Constantly moving forward, forward, forward… never letting myself just be. While this has lead me to achieve and experience some amazing things in life, anything in excess eventually becomes detrimental. My vacation forced me to slow down - something inherently difficult for me.

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hotel gym

food

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Naturally, returning from a long trip brought in some anxiety… not only because of my to-do list, but because my type-A, structured, productivity-centered mindset kicked into high gear - and was not happy that I hadn’t fed it in a week. The plane ride back is really when I started feeling the floodgates open; Thinking I should have been checking my emails, scolding myself for taking rest. But, I noticed these feelings. I was able to label them as thoughts, and recognize that despite the feelings they came with, they are simply distorted versions of reality born out of a transition period.

I’ve found that when actions are fueled by acceptance of what you need in the current moment,

balancing act: how i juggled yoga teacher training, a full time job, and travel

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beyond the asanas: my transformative yoga experience in Grenada

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changing cities, changing perspectives: letting go of external validation

Austin, TX

There’s something about moving cities that naturally invites a reset; of routines, of relationships, and even of self-identity. I’ve lived in Connecticut, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut again, and now Austin. Each time I’ve packed up and started again somewhere new, it’s felt like holding a mirror up to myself and asking, Who am I? Where will I fit into this city? What will I accomplish? How will I change?

After moving 1,800 miles away, my farthest move yet, I thought I would really change. Picture the vision in mind: take long walks on the trail, be on a boat every weekend, get in amazing shape, teach yoga at the best studio in the city, and basically be all sunshine and rainbows, all the time.

Well, not to spoil the ending, but, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

And to be real, going into it, I did know it would be hard. I was willing to go through the difficult, the lonely, the overwhelming moments that would come with such a big transition. And they came. And It was hard. It was lonely. It was overwhelming… But it was worth it. I knew it would be.

What surprised me most wasn’t the new person I’ve become (yes, I’ve changed — but really, I’m still just the same old me). What caught me off guard was what I missed the most. Not my favorite coffee shop (shoutout Kneads), not the ocean, not even my people.

What’s left the biggest hole is the feedback loop. The knowing glances, the compliments, the reassuring nods that once told me:

You’re impressive.

You’re enough.

You’re loved.

Your success is measurable. It’s quantitative.

You’re doing it right.

It’s startling how much I relied on those things, subtle or loud, to calibrate my sense of self. A certain accomplishment. A job title. A well-delivered yoga class. Even just walking into a room where people knew me. All those little cues told me I mattered. That I was seen. That I was “good.”

And now, in a new place with fewer familiar mirrors, I’ve been forced to look inward. I’ve started to realize how often I’ve measured myself by the reflections of others, and not by my own values.

I’ve realized that this move wasn’t just about seeking something new. Yes, I had a burning desire to clear my own path, to take a leap while I had the chance. But perhaps just as much so, it was about escaping something old.

I’ve asked myself a lot: was I running away or running toward? The truth is, probably both.

I wanted more space, more sun, more freedom. But, I also wanted distance from the pressure, the pace, the version of myself that had become too tied to achievement, to image, to proving something. Maybe I thought that if I got far enough away, I could outrun the parts of me I hadn’t yet made peace with. But distance doesn’t dissolve your inner world. It just gives you a different backdrop and climate to face it against.

It’s been uncomfortable. But it’s also been liberating.

I’m learning to sit with the quiet. To ask myself, Did I enjoy that? Did I show up how I wanted to? Am I proud of how I moved through the day?

And then… to let my answers be enough. Not the praise. Not the compliments. Not the jealousy.

Maybe that’s the real gift of change: Not just new, favorite coffeeshops, or new friends (although these are definitely blessings), but the invitation to rewrite the story of who you are, and to change the way in which you measure yourself. In laughter, in smiles, in deep breaths. To realize that home is not a place, it’s not a city, it’s not even another person. It’s the Self. Not the Self I will become when I accomplish, move to, finally achieve, etc… It’s the Self just as I am.

I am always home.