A guy I dated 10-yrs back came back into my life. Now, the two of us are very different. Always have been. This man wholeheartedly does not believe in what I believe in. Never did. Even before I came to believe what I believe today. Told me repeatedly, beyond my actual beliefs, that he doesn't believe in going deep. Said to me multiple times, even 10-years back, how he had no desire to 'go there.' But he 'supported' my work over the years. Liked nearly everything I posted on IG no matter what it was related to. And he once told me he respected how much I had drastically changed my life.

When I went back to NYC in the Spring of '21, he started pursuing – a friendship – with me. I say friendship, but I can’t say for certain what he was pursuing. He never gave me the respect of actually asking me out but it felt like there was something else happening, and I’ve come to trust what I feel. On the surface though, he just said how much he’d love to see me while I was already out and about, which was said again and again. So I played along and let it play out because I felt there was something about this connection I had to go deeper into.

It all started when hope ended. I’d been holding on to the idea that I was sick from the seasons changing. That it was just a coincidence I’d been exposed to someone who had it. When the first test came back negative, that helped me hang on. Until I couldn’t any longer.

At 3AM, three nights into my self-quarantine, the second test result came back via email. I just happened to be awake, laying there sleepless, so I saw right away. It was POSITIVE. They were positive. Now, I was positive. I had it. I had COVID.

A cup of coffee. Made for you. By someone kind. Who's being kind. And considerate. To you.

It may not sound like much. But it happened to me. And it was TREMENDOUS. And I could feel the tremendous shift that it signified.

I'll take you back first, to explain why this – which was a unique sign for me from Spirit – was so significant.

Back in 2016, I gave a Reiki-Break to a woman in a WeWork. Most of the session was spent with my hands over her heart, easing out the painful energy stuck there. After, I said there was a lot still there, and she asked...

“What else can I do for my heart?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. I hadn’t found the full answer yet, and I couldn’t give her one that wouldn’t really help her. I wish I could find her today. To tell her what I now know.

They told me I sat in a corner on my own at age one, trying to lessen their burden by keeping myself quiet. Never wanting to make life difficult, I imagine I wanted to take their pain away by pulling it inside of me. The reason for it filled the house we were staying in. He was dying. The man. . .

My first night back in the city I love, I was reminded of how much I love life in New York City. As I sat on the subway with my suitcase, listening to my music and reading signs about how to help the homeless, I exchanged a moment of gratitude with one. . .

Standing at a locker recently, I grew increasingly agitated by a sound coming from the other side of the room I was in. The wails of a baby incessantly punctured the air around me, and my mind railed against it. Surprised with myself, I questioned my annoyance, as I reasoned, this baby couldn’t help the feelings that needed to be vented. Then I realized. I wasn’t upset with the baby. I was. . .

A street artist I’ve admired is posting photos of the homeless he sees on the streets of NYC. For years, I’ve loved the larger-than-life hearts, full of small hearts, he draws on the buildings I love with all of my heart. I’ve posted snaps of them, hoping to spread the beauty he’s seeded across my path. When I saw his latest view of our city. . .

Recently, I was shown how far I’ve come. Alone in my sister’s house, my father knocked, needing a favor. Giddy, he handed me the smartphone his 75-year-old-mind was learning to maneuver. Its screen showcased a selfie his oldest friend in Italy had sent him. With a shy smile, he exclaimed. . .

Fully exasperated with myself, I lugged my small suitcase and big satchel up a second flight of stairs. Rushing to get to the platform where the local was expected in 9 minutes, I’d decided against. . .

Sitting on the subway, after an afternoon spent wandering, I was faced with the fear of my smallness. To my left sat two burly teenage boys. Both bigger than me, their loudness made them seem twice as big as they were. Together, they threw out insults peppered with fucks about the people they knew, all the way from 14th to 42nd. Annoyance at the noise breaking through my thoughts persisted until relief flooded when they rose to exit. Only to have annoyance return, with them, after they kicked the door that had shut on them before they could reach it.

One name each, two shared interests and five pictures apiece. Our matching energy led us to both swipe in the right direction, and after a few messages, that bounced the right kind of words between us, we met and then guided each other through the eighteen hours that would give me my first touch of intimacy in eighteen months. The first I allowed into my life since. . .

Pace quickening, I catch sight of the first sign of my happiness ahead, and the uncertainty weighing me down lifts off of me. Exhaustion disintegrates and anticipation pushes out trepidation. There’s no obligation here. I know what’s about to come up in me, and my heart can’t wait to feel its own pounding energy. Walking in, a wave of. . .