If resilience is in our nature, it is up to us to create the spark of change

Why is it so hard to start a new habit? All the intellectualizing in the world, the preparing of your physical environment, and everything else we do to set us up for success when we take on new objectives add up to a bunch of nothing until we are ready to take action. We must be more than fed up with the results of our current actions. What is it that ultimately motivates us to act? How can the intellectual recognition of our future self convert itself into action, especially when we draw so much satisfaction from inertia and status quo? 

We are all resilient, but but change remains a challenge

I have been trying to figure this out my entire life, and even though I've experienced enormous success from changing my mindset, I find myself in times of discouragement unable to act on my own best intentions. Do you ever feel this way? It's a real challenge to the human's nature which I believe is intrinsically fueled by a resilient spirit.

Tapping into that resilient spirit is the key. For some they achieve the change they desire through small incremental changes over time. And of course, this is necessary for all of us regardless of our own unique process. For me, though, it takes big changes in my environment to spark the change I see inside. 

We are all different. But never forget your natural inclination is resilience. So continue to seek your motivators while always remembering that you have the ability and all the wisdom you will ever need to guide your own life in the direction you will it to go.

Act now! Live to reap the rewards of your success or failure

Sometimes thinking about something and chewing over every detail during the planning process is essential to a project's chances of success. But don't forget, success can also be counted in degrees of failure and in a person's measure of bounced-backedness, a.k.a. resilience.

After all. "Action is the foundational key to all success," according to Picasso. And he was a genius of sorts apparently. 😛

When entering a dark portal of grief, cling to hope

Yesterday when I woke up, I was struck with a depression unlike any I have felt in years. It had no single culprit to blame. I was simply struck by a full on mélange of melancholy out of nowhere.

Cling to hope; there are brighter days to come

I felt older, sure. And I have been worried about my dad's health, more so lately since he had to postpone my birthday dinner to take care of himself. Plus, I have been contemplating a huge life change while at the same time addressing a plethora of my own unchecked health issues.

And of course, I am feeling now and will forever feel a constant tinge of sadness regarding the loss of my mom.

This is me at 40, hanging on to hope

In spite of all this, though, I couldn't pinpoint a single source to match the incredible sea of blah I found myself drowning in all day.

Last night, though, I got a good night's sleep, and I am happy to report that I'm back to my "normal" self, for lack of a better word. What a difference a day makes!

I guess it was a door I had to go through, to move on to whatever is coming next. They say it's always darkest before the dawn. Well, good. I made it through the portal and I'm back, once again ready to take on the world!

GenX meets GenZ in a cafe and it goes something like this

Can you even believe that I’m 53 years old today? I don't look as old as I am, though. I mean, look at my face. See? Not a day over 32. (See pic below and laugh.)

Sure, I’m bald and gray, and my crow’s feet have crow’s feet. But with this baby face I can pull 30's.

Not. Nope. Not even in fantasy land.

Don't worry. I'm not as delusional as all that. I look at least my age if not older. But anyway...

Had a scone, but came in for a muffin;

I went to a local café today for a birthday muffin, and it was quiet, so I thought I’d ask the person behind the counter a few questions. Here’s how it went. I’m the GenXer, so I’m pretty sure that’s what I said, obviously. The lines of the GenZeder, though, are fictionalized to protect all involved. 

GenXer: Hello, are you the manager?

GenZeder: No, just work here.

GenXer: But you’re over there and look like you’re managing things. I mean to me you’re doing all the merchandising and stuff, so you’re definitely essential here.

GenZeder: I’m doing the inventory and the inventory, well, it’s not adding up.

GenXer: Aren’t you supposed to say, “The inventory isn’t inventorying”?

GenZeder: Well, I was going to, but…

GenXer: So what you’re saying is that it’s not giving?

GenZeder: Slay

GenXer: Honey, always.

(Like I said, fictionalized for my enjoyment.)

My fit life today at 53 - after glance back, fully focused on the future

Mine is a complicated relationship with food, a relationship that leads me down a path toward self-destruction during particularly challenging eras of my life. Fortunately, at 53 I’ve been up, and I’ve been down many times before, so I’m no longer carrying the extra stress of not understanding my body or fearing that I’m incapable of making the kind of lifestyle changes necessary to get my nutrition, and ultimately my fat to muscle ratio, back in check.

I know nothing is permanent if I decide to stop accepting a status quo that is not to my liking. Earlier this year, as I detailed in a previous post, I decided to address my health to be able to attack the cancer of morbid obesity that has once again taken hold of me.

Enjoying a free 8-shot shaken espresso at Starbucks on my 53d b-day

My weight maxed out at 455 this time around, five pounds less than I weighed at my all-time high weight in my late 30s, the result of 9/11-related PTSD

I don’t know how I let this happen to me again after losing nearly 200 pounds by my 40^th birthday, back in August 2011. Reflecting on that now is not helpful. Setting goals and planning is. So that is what I am in the process of now. In fact, I’ve already lost 45 pounds, which is about 10 percent of my body weight since May of this year.

Now my goal is to achieve a much healthier weight, remaining mindful of my choices, day by day. I commit from this day forward to making choices filtered through my original decision to control my caloric intake and spur myself to exercise at least 10 minutes daily.

The goal this time is to get down to a weight somewhere between 245 and 285 by my 55^th birthday two years from now. It’s God’s whether I get there at all, but I am certainly going to strive toward my goal, so long as I have the functions working in my body to allow me to do so.

You may be thinking, “Hey, Brian, why would you want to stop at 245 if you are still considered obese, according to your height of 6 feet 1 inch, above 225. Well, I can only reply that I know myself, and because I’ve been down this road before, I know what happens along the way to my ultimate fitness goal.

I know that 285 is achievable, and it is a comfortable size for me. Any less than 245 pounds and I feel scrawny. So, I will focus on building muscle through resistance training, just as I did the last time I struggled with this monkey on my back, or should I say piggy in my gut? lol

Get a sleep study and treat your sleep apnea today!

If you think you may have sleep apnea, drop everything you are doing right now and schedule a sleep study for yourself. You will be glad you did. Your future self will thank you for giving them a much healthier existence and for increasing the probability that you will live a longer, happier life.

This is not an overstatement. In fact, I feel it would be appropriate to be even more hyperbolic about the benefits of treating your sleep apnea. Let me share my recent story to highlight the many immediate benefits you may experience when you take this important, proactive approach to managing your health.

Treating my complex sleep apnea with that ResMed AirCurve 11 ASV

I had been told for decades by anyone I shared a bed with that my snoring was out of control. One person even said they saw me stop breathing multiple times throughout the night. Even with several people sounding the alarm, my philosophy was always, “That which does not kill me makes me stronger”. In this instance, though, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Fast forward to 2016, when I was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation. My cardiologist said a sleep study was urgent, as my condition may be the result of or at least exacerbated due to chronic sleep apnea. I knew he was right, but I didn’t have insurance that would cover the entire procedure at the time, and the co-pay was beyond my current means.

Hindsight is 20/20

Looking back, I should have financed the sleep study, because instead I waited another 10 years before addressing my problem, and during that time my a-fib worsened, and my weight began to balloon.

Feeling guilty for my weight gain, I knew my mobility was lessened because of the a-fib but for some reason I blamed my lack of exercise on laziness. Then I began to shame eat any time I thought about the predicament I found myself in. My weight soon reached an all-time high.

By January of this year, my weight gain added insult to injury, and I was barely able to walk to do my everyday chores. In fact, I was unable to shower in my own bathroom because it was not built for someone my size. So, I began to wash myself the best I could without stepping in the shower. This made me feel even worse, because I never felt as clean as I would from standing in a shower.

The shame compounded when every week my ability to walk worsened. Plus, I was unable to work a regular job, so I began driving for Lyft to pay my bills. But existing in a constant state of sleep deprivation because of the unchecked apnea made working more than a few hours per day impossible.

Paying for the study

The loss in income turned out to be a blessing, as I was forced to apply for public assistance and found out that I qualified for Medicaid. My new health plan meant I would be able to methodically address my mounting health issues without breaking the bank. There was no longer any reason to avoid taking a more active approach to my health.

I scheduled a new patient appointment with a primary doctor in April, and he put me on medication for my a-fib that made an immediate positive impact on the way I felt. All year long, my arms and legs had felt they were coated in a blanket of lead. With the addition of this medication, I felt that blank lift overnight.

My doctor said my reaction to the medication was not physiological but rather I was experiencing a placebo effect, that the medication would not have that powerful of an effect on me. “What does he know,” I thought. Everything he knows about the med he learned from a book. I know through experience that the medication increased my energy level by at least 20 percent. I felt like a new man.

Of course, my mobility was still impeded by my weight, which at the time of my doctor’s visit was 455 pounds, but with my newfound confidence in the healthcare system, I booked my appointment for a sleep study and began to eat a more balanced diet, immediately cutting out fast food and candy.

A month later, I had lost about 30 pounds through my efforts. My sleep study revealed I had an extreme case of complex apnea, where I would stop breathing nearly 80 times per hour without support. So they fitted me with an assisted breathing machine, and on that very first time using my ResMed AirCloud 11 ASV I experienced an immediate change in my daytime energy levels.

The brain fog lifted

I also noticed the brain cloud I’d become accustomed to for years had lifted. Achieving REM sleep for the first time in probably many years, my brain was now processing my complicated throughout the night leaving me feeling refreshed and with increased mental clarity and acuity. From one day to the next I was able to work as many as 12 hours at a time.

That’s right, I went from having enough energy to work three hours at a time to 12 hours literally overnight! That is the incredible power of sleep therapy in a nutshell.

I still have a few issues to deal with. I have some arthritis in my hip and knees, which also contributes to limited and painful mobility. And I’m in the process of testing cardiovascular health to see if I am healthy enough for surgery to deal with my a-fib. Once these things are under control, I imagine I will feel even better than I already do.

Don't be afraid to change

Through lifestyle changes and watching what I eat, I have now lost a total of 45 pounds in less than two and a half months. Next for me is increasing my daytime activity, getting my steps up. Currently I average only 1,500 steps on my good days. My goal is to slowly work up to 5,000 steps. Then, I will work on getting back up to the recommended 10,000 steps per day.

I hope by sharing my story you might be encouraged to treat your own sleep apnea or perhaps encourage a family member or friend to get themselves the treatment they need and deserve. If so, please subscribe to my blog, follow me – “Brianopolis” on social media and YouTube – and leave a comment with your experience below.

Grief comes in waves; some are ripples and others tsunamis

The thing about grief, as many have described it, is that it comes in waves. Some waves are ripples. Others are tsunamis. It has been nearly a decade since the loss of my mother, and still I can rarely predict when grief will hit me or just what intensity of wave it will bring.

This morning It I was hit by a ripple that grew bigger as I reminisced in my mind of the beautiful spirit that is gone from this world and the complicated relationship we shared. Instead of suppressing them, I allowed myself to surf through my feelings, and I let the tears flow.

Remembering my mom during my birthday week

This is my birthday week, and this week nine years ago my mother went in for a new-fangled procedure that knocked her down. She had told me she was going in for a checkup to see if her lung cancer had returned. But she already knew that it was back.

She hid the fact that she was not really going in for a checkup but rather a new-fangled procedure to treat the cancer that had spread to her brain.

Instead of helping, the procedure robbed her of much of her cognitive ability, leaving her unable to control her bodily functions. In one fell swoop, she went to being the rock I could always rely on to becoming the dear soul who needed others to feed her, clean her, and provide her with round-the-clock care.

When I visited the hospital the day after her botched medical procedure, I brought cantaloup and watermelon to her bedside, per her request. She loved melons and had been craving them all summer. As I began to feed her, I choked back tears and suppressed the knot in my throat. I remembered when I was a child how she would cut me slices of cantaloup for my breakfast, skillfully peeling the rind to give me a chunk “with no green on it”.

On the day of my 44th birthday that week, she didn't remember it was my birthday until the nurse mentioned it to her. Immediately, in spite of her diminished condition, she asked for her wallet and dug in, finding and handing me a hundred-dollar bill. Somehow in all the chaos of her mind she was able to recall how I had told her what I wanted most for my birthday that year - an annual National Parks Pass.

The gesture meant the world to me, but even after buying the pass I found it difficult to use it. Mom held on from August through October, and every time I drove from Virginia to Pennsylvania to visit, I would drive through the mountains, passing Shenandoah National Park along the way. But I would never go in. I just couldn't enjoy myself outdoors while she was stuck in a hospital bed with nary a view from a distant window.

I would also pass along the way to see her farm stands replete with the colorful marigolds of the season. In brighter times, she and I would shop the farm stands together, and she'd buy several potted flowers to adorn the front of her home. We had done this every fall for as long as I could remember.

Although I never made it to the hiking trails of Shenandoah National Park during the entire time she was in the nursing home. She entered hospice and passed away on the most beautiful day of fall, 2015, and the next day I finally made my way back up into the mountains. I found the parks pass that had been shoved deep in my glove box, and I made my way to the trailhead and experienced a most sorrowful.

Along the way I became disoriented, and I slouched along the trailside to indulge myself in hardy cry. I had missed the turnoff to the summit, as it was not a popular destination and so had become overgrown. Just then, I saw a blue butterfly, and it made me smile. “Hi mom”, I said. Then it disappeared into the brush and I instinctively followed it. To my surprise, I found myself on the hidden trail, and within minutes I was treated to one of the most beautiful views I had ever seen. 

I know deep down that the butterfly wasn’t really her, but to this day whenever I see a blue butterfly it makes me think of my mom. I am reminded that her soul is free from the confines of her failing body, and she is at peace. And just as suddenly as the wave of grief crashed upon my subconsciousness, my raging thoughts are quelled and the placid crystal blue waters of my mind return.

Every "bad kid" needs a Madame Frank to remind them of their worth

Yesterday I met up with my high school French teacher and her husband for lunch. I hadn’t seen Madame Frank in more than 30 years, but we reconnected like no time had passed. Back when she knew me, I was involved in a constant emotional battle with myself and the world around me. Not much has changed in that regard. My entire life has been a struggle.

Sometimes I feel sorry for myself when I think about my situation, wondering why stability and wealth have eluded me, wondering why I walk this earth alone instead of with a companion to share my experiences with. Our meeting reminded me that not only have I stayed true to myself over the years, but I have also come a long way from my days of being shoved against lockers or unfairly castigated by impatient and angry educators who were incapable or unwilling to “get me”.

Talking "silly French" with Madame Frank

When Madame Frank was teaching me French, she experienced the same disruptive behaviors I became infamous for throughout my adolescence. Talking incessantly during class, distracting my classmates during lectures, and challenging authority at every turn was my way of making sense of what I observed as a chaotic existence, of being a stranger in a world where I never felt I fit in, where I felt misunderstood and discounted because I didn’t act like everybody else.

Fortunately for me, in Madame Frank I found a teacher who was patient enough to manage my emotional dysregulation by giving me space and time to cool off rather than instantly sending me to the office for punishment. She would send me next door to another kind teacher’s classroom who was on her planning period. Without distractions, I was able to regain my composure and get on with my day.

Of course, it helped that I had a natural penchant for language learning and yearned to one day be bilingual. If I hadn’t been talented in that area, my behavior perhaps would have been dealt with more harshly. But she saw my raw talent and understood that often I distracted others because I was distracted by boredom.

Instead of plucking me up and discarding me like nearly all my other teachers in other subjects were prone to do, Madame Frank apparently decided she would nurture me, to help a wild weed transform into blooming flower of worth. And this was not because of who I was, but because of who she was a person. I was simply a fortunate beneficiary of the woman’s patience and kindness.

Since our meeting, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that instead of being the tragic figure I sometimes consider myself to be, I am in fact blessed beyond measure. My dream of becoming bilingual has come true several times over. I’ve travelled extensively throughout the Western Hemisphere, and I’ve racked up countless stories from my solo adventures, many of which have yet to be told.

Not only that, even though I’m on the verge of turning 53, she reminded me that my life of stories remains incomplete. I am a storyteller by nature, and there are many more stories left to experience as well as to be told in my future. She encouraged me to continue to live my wild and extravagant life of adventure, but also to take time to slow down and write out a few of the stories I’ve racked up along the way.

Many of the stories along my seemingly scattered and inconsistent timeline do in fact have shocking starts, meaty middles, and incredible endings that might entice a reader or two. These stories exist in technicolor in my mind’s eye, and the memories keep me company when I’m alone. Maybe my stories offer something to these potential readers, too. Perhaps it’s time for me to do what I am meant to do with my life and simply write.

If you have read to this point, you might be interested in some of these stories I'll be telling in the near future. If so, subscribe to my blog and follow “Brianopolis” on YouTube and social media.

There is little I don't like about being up before dawn

There are very few things about waking up before dawn that I don’t like. In fact, the only thing I can think of is that not enough businesses are open that early.

I mean, Starbucks opens at 5 a.m. and you can usually find a 24-hour Starbucks in your city if you’re lucky. And of course, convenience stores and McDonald’s. But eat there at your own peril, no matter the time of day. It’s just not worth it.

I do love that I can usually find a Denny’s or local diner is open before the sun rises. And I love that no one else is hogging the roads. I love that the colors of the rising sun fill me with hope for the day to come. And I love that in the silence of morning I can listen even to the whispers within my own heart.

There will come a time when my mornings expire. Until then, I will keep getting up in time to greet the sparrow tapping at my window. Take stock and give thanks for all I have, and pray for continued hope in a world intent on knocking it down.

Maintaining a healthy diet on the road is tough but not impossible

 What do you do when you're on the road and are trying to be healthy without having access to a kitchen to prepare healthy foods? You either pay an arm and a leg at restaurants to get the healthy options, since only to bad-for-you choices are actually affordable. Or you live off of convenience foods, downing protein drinks and eating the available healthy choices, like bananas, yogurt, and hard-boiled eggs. 

Lately I've had to rely on eating out for several meals per week. I've tried to do it in as healthy way as possible, but I'm longing to have my own home and kitchen again, so I can get back to the business of getting my health back on track.

My main objective when I eat out is to get as much access to a variety of vegetables, both raw and cooked, as possible. It's tough. I like diners, and sometimes they really overcharge for the healthier options, which aren't really that thought out to be "healthy" but rather have an air of healthiness. 

Still, I'm doing the best I can. I feel I'm making good choices, and in fact my body tells me when I am and when I'm not, so via self regulation I maintain a decent diet. I am sure I can make it through the next few weeks without absolutely going off the rails. 

Try this McDonald’s breakfast sandwich hack!

Let me begin by saying that you should avoid fast food altogether. Avoid it like the plague! But in a pinch, you may find yourself pulling into the McDonald’s drive thru around breakfast time, ready to order your favorite biscuit or McGriddles sandwich. If so, then consider this McDonald’s breakfast sandwich hack to get a filling, protein-packed sandwich without so much fat and a million calories.

Remove the cheese and request no butter for a healthier McDonald's breakfast

What I do is order the regular McMuffin sandwich, which has the lowest calories at the outset. But then I customize the sandwich to remove the cheese. I also request that no butter be used on the bread. This cuts more than 100 calories, and a ton of the calories derived from fat. See, the round egg that is served on the McMuffin is an actual egg, cracked that morning, and cooked via a fat-phobic poached method. This means there are not strange ingredients or fillers like the scrambled eggs have. And by the way, you can replace the scrambled egg on any breakfast option with a slight upcharge. But the English muffin is still a better option, with fewer calories and less sugar and fat than the biscuit or McGriddles options.

With this life hack, you might just save your diet while on the road

Removing the cheese from your McDonald’s breakfast sandwich is a good idea, too, for many reasons. First, it’s barely able to be called cheese; it is actually some strange food product probably made of plastic or some undigestible gunk (allegedly). So not only will you feel better about what you’re eating (and not eating), but you will also be less likely to suffer from an upset stomach within minutes of consumption. So that’s it! Not a complicated hack for sure, but a very simple one. No cheese. No extra butter. Oh, and if you can afford extra calories, just double up on the Canadian bacon or add some regular bacon or another egg for more calories from protein rather than fat.

After years of declining health, sleep therapy provides hope

This has been a difficult year for all of us. I am no exception. Besides struggling financially due to rising costs of pretty much everything, I have been dealing with taking care of several health issues that had been going unchecked, leaving me very, very sick for the first time in my life. I was so fatigued, my bones and muscles were constantly causing me pain, and I couldn’t seem to get better no matter what I tried. It turns out I had a severe case of complex sleep apnea, and I had had it for years. Leaving my sleep apnea untreated was literally killing me, slowly but surely.

My dog was happy I was sleeping so much, but I was not

By the grace of God I have been surrounded by a loving church community over the past two years, and when I got sick many people from the church offered all types of support to me. Their compassion gave me the ability to seek out the medical treatment I so desperately needed. I was able to get on an excellent health insurance plan. And I started getting treatment for all that was ailing me, which as it turns out was more than just sleep apnea.

The sleep apnea had exacerbated and probably caused atrial fibrillation, which is a disorder of the heart which, left untreated, most inevitably leads to stroke and other severe issues. I was able to get on a medication to help me avoid such a fate, and immediately I could tell the difference in how I felt. I got on a blood thinner and believe it or not it felt like a weighted blanked had been lifted off me. Once I got that physical aspect taken care of it was time for the sleep study.

My sleep study was done in two parts and at two different locations, both within the UPMC hospital system. I had a split study done first. This is where you get hooked up to a bunch of wires and sleep in your normal state. After four hours they observed that I stopped breathing nearly 80 times per hour. Not only that, but of the four levels of sleep – the fourth being the all important REM sleep – I did not get beyond a superficial sleep. In other words, my brain was not getting any rest and was not able to process any of my thoughts overnight, which is essential for mental clarity and health.

After the first four hours, they began to try a CPAP machine at varying levels of intensity to see what I could tolerate. It turns out my case was a bit more complicated and required a second study. Then, for the second study, they tried a BiPAP ASV machine. This machine adjusts the intensity of the air pressure to match my specific, moment-by-moment needs. This proved almost miraculous. That night I slept like a baby for more than six hours without interruption and reached REM sleep multiple times.

Treating my sleep apnea with my ResMed AirCurve 11 ASV

After the study, the doctor prescribed me the top-of-the-line ResMed AirCurve 11 ASV. After having had such a great night sleep, the next few days I was on a high from the amazing night’s rest I got. Unfortunately, though, I had to wait nearly a month to get the machine through my insurance company, and by then I was back to my former groggy, exhausted, and mentally confused state. But then the day came for me to pick up the machine, and since that very first night my life has been completely changed.

I have loads of energy. I work currently as a Lyft driver, and while before I could only manage a two-hour shift before becoming too sleepy to drive, I can now driver for 12 hours at a time and not loose mental clarity and focus for that entire time. I have so much more energy now. And I finally have enough clarity to get control of other areas of my life, which had gotten out of control.

The result of all this is that I am back on my healthy eating plan and am getting more exercise in the form of stretching and walking. Soon I plan to rejoin the gym. From my top weight I hit during my illness of 455, I have lost about 40 pounds. I am hoping to lose another 20 by the end of August to finally be back under 400 lbs.

Watch the R.E.M. Everybody Hurts video and comment below

MEMORY FROM A PRE-Y2K VALENTINE'S DATE

As the world was raging toward the "new millennium", I was working full time as as an associate editor of a free trade magazine while freelancing as a neighborhood reporter for the Miami Herald and teaching ESL a few nights a week to Cuban refugees in Little Havana. I was loving the life I'd made for myself but I was perpetually broke and desperately trying to date above my pay grade in a fairly expensive international fashion destination, filling up quickly with the most beautiful people in the world.

My rent on a tiny art deco ocean front condo was about $1000 a month all in, which was a lot 25 years ago. But the location was primo and the place had charm for days. It was the kind of vintage locale with a bed that drops out of the wall, with mirrors paneling all four walls, bringing in the sunshine and scenery from outside, making it look way bigger than it actually is.

North Beach at the turn of Y2K

There was a beachfront amphitheater right outside the window, too, where there would be dance classes and live concerts throughout the week, mostly traditional Caribbean and Latin pop artists on the rise. Nearby Collins Avenue was lined with shops, bars, cafes, groceries, bakeries, restaurants, and little import shops run mostly by Argentines.

I loved my NoBe neighborhood, but my go-to date spot was Papillon, a boutique restaurant on Lincoln Drive in South Beach where you could get an outdoor table along the potted palms and order two entrees (salmon or steak) with a bottle of wine for only 20 bucks. I picked up the tab, even though my date definitely had more cash than me (he was living on his dad's money and made extra cash under the table as a model). He called me an "hombre hecho a sí mismo", a self-made man.

Dinner was followed by drinks, a drag show at 12th street, and dancing at Twist. Then we took a stroll out to the beach, stopping along the way to see our friends, a couple of "chicos fiesteros", or "party boys", who could usually be found out front at the Adrian Hotel.

I still remember it was the night of the New Moon, and so it was one of the darkest nights I had ever seen on the beach. We sat there on the sand, looking out to the ocean, and I remember him telling me how different it feels to be in the northern hemisphere on a February night like this.

Just then, like magic, he pulled a joint out from behind his ear. We lit it up, and once relaxed we laid back together and gazed up at the sky. It was then that we both realized how the darkened moon made the stars shine brighter than ever. Breathless. We spoke with no words. We just laid there, enjoying the romance in our minds as we connected our thoughts to the sky and felt the vibration of the universe beyond and the earth below.