I am struck, often, by how complex and challenging life can be. We are all trying our best. Or, at least, we can hope too.

And when, we inevitably err, it can feel like a disaster. A mistake… god forbid.

But in our essential nature, mistakes are what make us human. No one, I repeat, NO ONE gets it right, every time. And in fact, I’ve started looking at mistakes as a blessing…

My heart is raw and open. Just the way I prefer it. If you never take the chance, you will never know. That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt like hell when you land on your face.

And it hurts… hard.

I spent the five most wonderful days in Abbotsford, BC, with Gagan, a local change-maker and visionary.

He made me breakfast every morning…

Last year, on my birthday, I thought, “I can’t kill myself today, that would be too dramatic.”

This year, I am smiling with friends I didn’t know back then, in a space I finally feel safe in, with a purpose, and more alive than ever.

Give. Yourself. Time.

Ever since I remember, I’ve cried on my birthday…

Today, I visited my dad in my childhood home. My dadaji (paternal grandfather) was sleeping upstairs, along with my mother and brother, my two childhood abusers. I wanted to see my grandpa, but I maintain distance from my mother and brother to keep my own peace.

My dad guided me, telling me that my grandpa was sleeping in my brother’s old room. I went upstairs to open the door to what I thought was the correct room…

What’s the age-old saying? Choose one day of the week to rest or your body will choose for you.

I am infamously trying to outrun rest, and always failing. Blame the ADHD, the drive to succeed, or the immigrant mentality. Whatever the reason for my constant drive to “do more, do more, do more” is not as important as the reality that rest is just as important as the work. And in fact, rest is radical, in a society happy to misuse it’s citizen’s bodies and minds…

Do you believe in coincidences? Today, I was walking to a café with my friend and roommate, when we found some papers scattered on the ground. The first page we found was this one, a tattered and dirty page titled “POLICING GIRLS”. I continued to gather the papers that I found every few feet and slowly realized these pages belonged to a book titled “Invisible No More: Police Violence Against Black Women and Women of Colour”. I stopped in my tracks at the relevance to my life and current situation…

Yesterday, I called my mom and told them that I loved them. It was a suggestion from my grandpa’s sister, who’s in regular contact with my mom and familiar with their pain over losing our relationship. I am also in pain over losing it, but it has been for the best. Until now…

Every morning I like to start my day out with a contemplative walk with my puppy, Norman. There is a park that we frequent, sitting on the lakefront, and nestled between neighbourhoods. Among the family homes are two funeral homes. I pass them almost every morning. A reminder, of what’s to come…

Every weekend in my childhood home meant paranthe (filled roti’s)! My favourite. I separated from my immediate family in August 2023. Since then, I haven’t tasted my mother’s cooking. On purpose, but it still hurts…