I felt a wave of imposter syndrome crash ashore as I stared out at the glossy ocean.

As a true Cancerian who can spend long hours staring at the ocean, maybe there is a part of me that loves to be so clearly reflected by that endless vastness in front of me and the melancholy that follows.

Every year, my birthday consists of a familiar ritual: a long day at the beach with my family, lingering together until the sun begins to sink into the horizon. Most years, the busy rhythm of the day is enough to keep the birthday gloomies at bay. Last year, I managed to do just that.

But turning twenty-five felt different.

There is something significant about stepping into your mid-twenties. It feels like standing in the in-between—no longer at the beginning, but not quite where you imagined you’d be. As I sat by the water, I found myself wondering if this life I get to live truly belongs to me. This love I get to experience... how did it find its way into my lap? For a moment, I felt disconnected from my own reality, almost as if I were watching someone else’s life unfold.

Growing older is such an extraordinary privilege, one that so many people never get to experience. To grow older with a healthy body and a willing spirit is a gift I never want to take for granted.

And yet, pessimism has a way of clouding my ability to receive that gift. It convinces me that I need to earn joy before I’m allowed to fully experience it. More than ever, turning twenty-five made me realize that it doesn’t matter how beautiful your life looks from the outside if you can’t allow yourself to be present enough to truly live it.

Presence is so much of life.

Mine felt painfully thin that day.

I’ve always placed quiet expectations on my birthdays, hoping I’ll feel overwhelmingly grateful, inspired, or transformed. When I don’t, I leave feeling disappointed that such a meaningful day was blurred by my own thoughts. We spend so much of our lives digging for significance that we forget the simple act of being alive is significant enough.

࿔

I want it to be the year I choose peace over pressure, presence over perfection, and lightness over the weight of expectations. I want to laugh more freely, hope more deeply, and trust that I don’t have to constantly prove I’m worthy of the life I’ve been given.

As someone who loves to share her heart with others, I’ve spent a long time afraid of letting people get too close to my truest thoughts. Maybe it’s self-protection. Maybe it’s the fear of disappointment, or of being judged for feeling too deeply.

But the truth is, the softest parts of my heart are also the truest parts of who I am.

For twenty-five, I will simply be. I won’t resist the water-like spirit that flows through me.

With love,

x

Maybe it has to do with me being born on a hot day. July 17.

I am seeing everything again for the first time.

The beauty of summer mirrors me.

It arrives with that familiar, nostalgic haze. I've longed for the perfect hot day. I lie in the grass, the sun beating down on me. How I've missed it. It's no longer lukewarm—I can feel my skin warming, almost burning. Finally. One of my guilty pleasures of summer. The greatest of them all is the crippling nostalgia it brings. I bite into the ripest cherry yet, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time. Something in the air feels like it carries all my childhood memories. Heat on my skin, the sound of insects in the evening, ice cream, freshly cut grass, bright sunlight, the feeling of being outside until it gets dark.

As the days grow warmer, the simplicity of summer fills my mind with familiar daydreams. Staring up at the blue sky, watching children run across the lawn. They race around, jump inside bean bags, and laugh without a care in the world. Their lightness infultrates the air. Watching them, I drift somewhere far away back to childhood.

Like after a long day at school, your mom finally picks you up. The ride home is quiet and comforting. Patches of sun kiss your face as the car drives. You might drift off to sleep knowing you're safe. When you arrive home, there's food waiting on the table, and that comforting smell welcomes you.

On days like these, I find myself longing for that feeling again, not just to be young, but to be held by the certainty that everything would be okay.

The other day I came across a picture of my childhood home, where I spent all of my time playing outside at that age, never knowing time would pass so fast. I zoomed in at every detail of the house. I could imagine my younger self running in through the door after school to see my mother.

There is something so delightful about knowing that, despite how much the world changes, the delights of summer endure. Long before us, people found themselves softened by the same warm evenings, captivated by the same golden light, and comforted by the same abundance of life. The thought connects me to something larger than myself. Summer feels timeless in that way. It returns year after year, and each time it does, I recognize a part of myself within it.

I feel swallowed between the bittersweet taste of gratitude and longing.

This brought to my memory Clarice Lispector, reflecting on her summers as a kid, going to the beach at dawn with her family in her book Too Much Life. She shared how deeply it stayed with her. Sometimes what we once overlook as kids stays with us in the most beautiful way… but one never knows till it is gone.

“How should I ask for a repeat of that happiness? How can I feel again the fresh innocence of the Red sun rising?

Never again?

Never again.

Never. “

I hope that when I am old, my skin wrinkled from too much sun, I can remember every mundane memory I got to live in my youth. How wonderful. I will make the most beautiful life and I know I will eventually miss it too.

x

As I look out my plane window back to New York City, I am thinking of my empty apartment that will welcome me, untouched, just as I left it. I feel sad to be leaving my family to go back to the city. But I feel lucky to have my heart stored in two different places.

Seth said,

“At least spring and summer will come soon.” He was right.

—

I rushed to my yoga class this morning just to arrive and see that it was cancelled. Slightly annoyed, yet relieved. It is a beautiful morning, so instead of taking the train back home I decided to walk those twenty minutes. White landscapes, Op. 57a plays in my ear. There is nothing that could steal the stillness of this moment. As I was passing by Clinton Hill the trees looked lucious as the sun peaked through its leaves, kids were being pushed in strollers, everything felt in harmony.

Last night I dreamt I was forced to leave the city to move to Seattle. I remember the pain I felt looking out to see the skyline from a distance once more. Maybe my love for New York city is bigger than I give myself credit for. I often fantasize about leaving the city, for a quieter life, more space than my shoe-sized apartment. The endless sacrifices one makes living here from needing roommates, walking to a laundromat, never-ending winters that leave you locked inside for days. God those drive me mad. Yet, when you step out your front door there is always something beautiful to see for those who have eyes to see it. I would like to think people can’t leave this city because it gives you an abundance of beauty, in midst of the ugly.

I have been stretched to the brim here, where I almost feel like I will break, only to be proven wrong by endless endurance.

My first Fall in the city, I have just moved for college in 2022, the unfamiliarity of everything weighed on me. I bought Slouching Towards Bethlehem, not knowing how perfect it would be to experience the city through Didion’s eyes. The book now sits on my dusty shelf three years later after living here. The more time you live here the more the push and pull intensifies. The romantic language of the vibrant life that this city stores. A bubble of energy.

It would be a long while because, quite simply, I was in love with New York. I do not mean In “love” in any colloquial way, I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and you never love anyone quite that way again. 1

For my writing class in College, I had to write essays every week to share with classmates. I wrote a piece of New York inspired by having just moved here. Hungry for its mystery, yet feeling so alone….You feel like a new-born baby learning to walk for the first time.

The piece is called Shedding Old Skin.

The idea of freedom and the curiosity of it consumed me in my early years. I desperately craved for more than just being seen as a precious child in the eyes of my father. As I devour the delight of being independent it leaves a sour after taste in mouth. I wake up and I don’t hear my mom blasting her music in the downstairs kitchen, instead I hear my alarm echoing in my small apartment room. Reminding me, once again, of the demands of today. I have spent my whole teen years wondering what it would feel like to no longer be just someones daughter, but a person who finds meaning in their own name. I wake up every morning and I search for new pieces of myself. Pieces I haven’t collected before, ones that can endure loneliness gracefully. Yesterday as I took the subway home, passing the Brooklyn Bridge, the sun peeked bringing a sense of safety and warmth to my body. I take the train with the hopes that one day I will arrive to a miraculous land that feels like home, not in my exterior but within myself.

Memorabilia of the city I hold dearly to my heart —

Thank You, NYC.

I want to feel connected to that little girl again, not concerning myself too much with every thought I have and remaining light in my walk. Adulthood has made me feel stale in my body; I feel too serious and disconnected from movement. Seth loves when he randomly sees me dance, because he knows that’s when I am happiest. Quarantine brought that side of me out again. During those endless hours inside with nothing to do, I would lock myself in my room and dance. That is when my obsession with Beach House began.

What else is there to do but shake everything off?

What if dancing more could open new parts of me—deepening my self-connection and allowing me to be more present in life? It might help me become a better risk-taker, learn to release a bad day quicker, or feel less ashamed of my mistakes. I forget that the things I latched onto as a kid to express myself can still benefit me now. Maybe not a tantrum…. although I do have those every once in a while.

Being able to reconnect with what made me feel grounded from a young age, providing moments of calm in my overwhelming feelings, I want to incorporate that into my adulthood more.

I yearn to grow in my abilities, to be stretched and molded, even if it means being a little uncomfortable at times. The risks of life never end; it is I who must learn to adapt to change. Growing up makes you analyze everything too much, and it steals the pleasures of every day. I want to honor what’s important with intention, but I do not want to let it steal my childlike joy. There’s healing found in not holding the world too tightly.

A common theme in everyone’s journey is learning to move, to know when it’s time to let go. Not remaining stagnant with our fears, but instead acknowledging when it is time to release them.

Growth teaches us that possibility and change are always with us. Their steady movement reminds us of something eternal beneath everyday life. To stay connected to this, we must keep our minds clear, our souls open, and fully engage with life.

I know that when I move, I can channel that energy into gratitude. I honor the gift of having a fully functioning body. I’ve found a new appreciation for what I see in the mirror; it is the physical proof of everything I am. For me, when I dance, I love everything. It is the best medicine we can nourish our spirit with.

I feel reflected when I am fully present in my body, when I remember its fragility, I also remember its strength.

With love,

x

Listen, are you breathing just a little and calling it life?1

I take a deep breath finding my feet exactly where I need them to be. Even the dark clouds of spring come with hope. A seed.

Looking up to the sky, there are no answers to be found beneath me. No riddles to solve.

Freshly born Spring, I open myself up to endless possibilities. Imitating nature.

A strong sense of ownership is in the air. Opportunity and abundance. This is My life.

How can I add to the beauty that is around me? Does this abundance come from within?

Growing life. Growing Pains.

Lead me through the dry desert to arrive to some miraculous land with an open mind.

When the bad storms come, shortly after new life follows.

𓇢𓆸

Freshly born Spring,

Because of you I know what it is to see beauty be born out of nothing, Empty hands. Finding purpose.

I can now breathe. Dark clouds of Spring, I know you come to give everything new life.

Looking up to the sky, there are no answers to be found beneath me.

A Poem, on Spring.

I think of David Lynch and how he said that this flower smells of old Hollywood, this scent contains a certain nostalgia for him. Night-blooming jasmine in Hindi, translates to Queen of the Night, because of its strong and unique fragrance that is released only after sunset.

The night is blue as I start walking home, I pass many warm lit homes. Strangers pass by me and the sound of their laughter echoes, I find comfort in it. These people don’t know me at all, and I don’t know them. But I feel safe. They just see my physical body, but will never know what lies deep within my thoughts. I feel free. My body is just a container of dreams.

Avalon Sutra by Harold Budd plays in my headphones.

I walk without acknowledging gravity, time, or space.

Strong, silent, the night becomes distinct. At this nocturnal hour there is a feeling of infinite hours. The birds and owls sing their song. I am without worry. There is no eerieness or danger to the darkness that follows. The noise that usually fills my head as I walk alone at night, “is there a possibility I am being followed” or “I’ll never be safe alone at dusk” it all vanishes. I give myself away to the night.

Is it during these quiet hours my thoughts can transport me anywhere I wish? without the need to explain or express.

As I am walking home I come across a subtly pink rose hanging from a vine, I prick my finger from its sharpness and laugh. The sting of my existence.

I step in my front door, the outside reflection forms a figure of a tree on my wall. It has movement to the rhythm of the wind. I take my shoes off and walk to the kitchen to place my single rose in a small vase with water. I take it with me to the bathroom and set it on my counter.

My soft white camisole hangs above my bed, I throw it over my delicate body.

My life feels joyous when I incorporate small things in my day that I know will enhance my experiences.

As I begin to recognize what truly feels right to me, both inside and out. From eating a cookie once a day (I do) to reading a book once a month that changes my life.

I have been dwelling on doing more acts that improve not only my life, but the way I show up for others. I want to be good. As simple as that sounds.

—

1.) Loving others through service

I recently volunteered for BloomAgainBklyn an organization that helps make flower arrangements that go towards residents from homeless survivors to senior centers. I love flowers and I want to get in the habit of doing more for my community. I highly recommend. The purpose it adds to my life when I do something out of pure selflessness. It reminds me that it was never meant to be all about me. That is so liberating.

2.) My daily dose of matcha

My saving grace always, I either make it at home or I will treat myself to going somewhere new. That small act feels like self-love to me.

2.) Less quantity, more quality

When I first moved to the city I would buy everything I liked and quickly drained my savings… Slowly outgrowing that has taught me the value of cotton, cashmere, & silk. Less overspending and more selectively choosing what I want sitting in my closet. It feels good to slow down on mindless shopping and buy minimal clothes that I know I will use a lot.

Currently loving brands like Cou Cou intimates, vintage shopping jeans, basic black cashmere shirt from Intimissimi, My cashmere coat I wear 80% of the time from Dunst, & my nighties from Brandy Melville.

3.) Moving my body

This year I had the goal of starting yoga after some long procrastination… Thanks to my sister for pushing me to start. I did. I don’t go as often as I wish but i always feel so proud of myself when I go to any class. As silly as it sounds we forget to breathe, to fully inhale and exhale. I’m not looking to be no expert, but trying new activities this year has been very confidence boosting. Have a small dance party when i’m home alone! My favorite way to self-soothe.

Small acts that remind me of my existence and that I get to take up space. I want to live more in a state of presence and less in my head.

4.) Watch a beautiful movie

No better way to lift my spirits than either going to the cinema with a friend or indulging at home to a good film. Here are some movies I consider pleasing to watch. Enjoy!

5.) My morning journal

The first thing I do every morning when I get up is write down my thoughts. That makes me feel like I always have a structure to my mornings and it feels productive. Whether I’m on a trip somewhere new out of my routine I still try to incorporate it.

𑁍ࠬ

The path to understanding yourself — and discovering what truly works for you never really ends. Lately, I’ve been reminding myself not to take life so seriously, to appreciate where I am right now, while still investing in my future self in small, intentional ways. When you channel your energy into the right places, what you plant has a way of returning to you tenfold.

Choosing to believe you deserve a good life and actively building toward it is one of the greatest acts of self-love. It’s the small, everyday choices that slowly come together to create a life that feels meaningful and true to you.

With Love,

Joanna x

Landing that room felt serendipitous, almost like it was meant to happen. It all started thanks to my uncle. I was in Mexico, staying with my family, when he put me in touch with one of his college friends. We ended up talking about career paths, which was perfect timing since I was still figuring out my next move after, of course, dropping out of college.

My uncle’s friend introduced me to her stepdaughter, Isabela, who was living in New York City at the time. We met in person and quickly became close friends. Coincidentally, she was planning to move to Mexico just as I was having a really hard time finding an affordable room in the city. Which really did feel nearly impossible.

That whole encounter not only gifted me a bedroom, but a true friend.

—

For Christmas that year I asked for linen bed sheets and a canopy scarf to put over my bedframe. All I dreamt of was feeling like a princess sleeping in her royal bed and luckily I managed to complete that feeling.

Not to mention it already came with the dark wood bed I dreamt of and some furniture.

My first winter living in a new space isolated looking for a new job with little to no friends was difficult, but it was in this bedroom where I found some sort of inner strength I hadn’t seen in myself before.

With a very slim budget from just working a free-lance styling job I bought flowers from my local bodega, brought things back from my parents home in Oklahoma, and stacked all the books I had at the time on my shelf. All of that added up to a room that felt familiar.

Although that era of my life was the most challenging, it was also deeply rewarding to witness growth in moments of suffering.

That bedroom allowed me to host many people I love and there is no better feeling of being able to do that. The privacy of late-night talks and all the wonderful things kept within a bedroom, knowing your hard work has resulted in being able to share that with others.

It felt like my true introduction to adulthood.

To watch the little girl in me return to her feminity in her own space.

Being a woman is so rewarding when you see your taste start to take its own life, and see a piece of yourself reflected in it. Like hell yeah, my room is so beautiful and it was all my doing.

With love, I released that room before getting married and welcomed a new season of change.

To my room in apartment 2E.

X

I am not here to tell you what to buy for your loved ones on February 14th, but to remind you to keep your heart open, Especially on Love month.

Make yourself open to the possibility that love is a portal we all have access to, Valentine’s Day is just a holiday that amplifies it. Whether we admit it or not don’t we all crave to experience that sense of love and desire.

The Valentine’s decorations displayed in the window of restaurants and shops reminds me of our desperate hunger to be loved and love others.

Why be ashamed of something that’s in our nature?

Sharing that same desire with others is why I enjoy this month so much, the way I did in elementary school being able to give out candy grams to my classmates.

Some things that inspire me to continue to keep my heart open

—

Renaissance art

Receiving random phone calls from loved ones

Hand-written letters

Museums

Books

Love songs

The familiar smell of someone you love

Shared meals

Allowing yourself to feel love without shame

In a society that tends to be cold and frigid, we must find things that nurture our hearts to be the opposite.

The vivid recollection of my mom sneaking in a little Valentine’s day book in my backpack in Elementary school still lives in my head, that small act of tenderness and that feeling of love from a young age…so engraved in me. It reminds me every year how small acts always go such a long way.

That tenderness is what I want to give to others.

Let us love each other till the end.

Love Songs on The Radio

x

During the wintertime days feel eternal all blending into one another, I decided to take myself on a date to remind myself that I live in New York City - that in itself felt like a good enough reason to seize the day.

I treated myself by going to some familiar and new places in the West Village.

C.O. Bigelow. The Valentine’s aisle at CVS.

Lastly…..

Caffe Reggio. Founded in 1927. A New York landmark left untouched, next to me sits two eloquent elders. The lady arrived with a beautiful brown fur coat. I don’t think they are a couple because their demeanor feels more like friendly interaction. She has an enchanting look in her eyes listening to him speak.

I feel lucky to sit next to them they make me feel more comfortable in my solitude. Iam currently reading The Spare Room by Helen Garner, I picked it up on a random bookstore trip yesterday. It is about two best friends in their olden years, Nicola and Helen. Nicola has cancer, Helen is not only her friend but caregiver too.

In a cafe surrounded by conversation I sit there reading my book and eating my pasta, I feel exposed…

The language in this book is fragile, echoing the place where we are all ultimately headed, It reminds me of the importance of having people in your life that will love you enough to take care of you; especially when you are old and sick.

Everything in life feels fragile, like you and I.

My Glory days of winter always include being in good company of a book, I want to share a piece of that with you, in hopes you can indulge in a new read and feel less alone.

Shall we begin with Non- fiction, my preferred cup of tea

I’m always immediately drawn to memoirs. There’s something I love about stepping into a writer’s mind when nothing is hidden. In their vulnerability, I find pieces of myself looking back.

Fiction Reads

It’s not easy for me to lose myself in fiction, but these stories managed to do just that.

Reading good books is a luxury to me, since books tend to be pricey. I’ve linked a few of my favorite websites to find cheaper prices. Blackwells is more for finding European copies which I love to do as well.

https://www.thriftbooks.com

https://blackwells.co.uk

https://www.abebooks.com

I want to know any books you are reading this winter season :) feel free to share

With Love,

Joanna.

These long winter nights I am gifted the opportunity to pour love and attentiveness to the life conspiring inside of me. Am I more focused on what I lack, or what is ahead of me? Am I freely allowing myself to shed old skin, the one that doesn’t serve my well-being anymore?

“Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.“

- May Sarton

Superficialities, distractions, and vain conversations can’t save you in the winter. This season is full of wearing your heart on your sleeve, loving honestly, and forgiving yourself.

I have found a lot of solace in learning to live with the unknown and finding comfort in it. Life will go on no matter how I decide to feel. Why not try to live as gracefully as I can? Prioritizing patience and kindness in my discomfort.

That is the beauty of Winter, it feels honest.

The green pastures are no longer.

The once busy streets now echo in silence.

This silence doesn’t have to be painful, I can love it. I will learn to love what is difficult.

That what is difficult, makes me softer. Without strife there is no understanding.

Without understanding, there is no gain.

Those who are self-aware and choose to endure their lessons rather than avoid them come out stronger, carrying an unraveled understanding of what they are undergoing.

Within each of us lies a source of life, a quiet spring of inspiration and survival.

Winter to me is metamorphosis. I am becoming.

I am learning to exist bravely, loudly, and delicately.

With love,

Joanna

There are not many moments in life where one gets to experience a split second of ecstasy and completeness. Where you feel like a stranger looking in, can this state of perfection belong to me?

I seem to carry those fleeting feelings every time I am with all my family. It isn’t very often we all get together, so when we do, that is where my most meaningful memories in life are formed. To be seen completely and loved by them is all I could ask for.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have been close to my loved ones from a young age. That sense of desire to remain that closeness has only gotten stronger since my grandpa’s passing in 2021, and it will continue to do so. When I am physically closer to them I feel close to my ancestors. I know our ancestors also feel the pull of the love they created for us. Like a stream of consciousness that flows to new generations.

It is our job to nurture what we have as a family and pass it down to our future kids, they deserve to feel that support I feel so fortunate to have.

We recently all gathered together in Baja California where most of my family is from, we spent the week celebrating my grandma’s 80th birthday—Huge!

Without her, her sacrifices, and dedication to raising her five children who knows how different my family’s life would’ve unfolded…

As each year passes, it feels increasingly special to celebrate another year with your grandparents. I’m especially close to my grandma, so seeing her overwhelmed with joy surrounded by people who adore her set the tone for the whole week. A sacredness of love kept closely between us.

We spent time visiting vineyards in Baja California, our mornings accompanied by long conversations in my Aunts backyard with the view to the ocean, and evenings consisted of two big birthday parties for my grandma. It was beautiful to share more wonderful experiences that remind us of what it is to love life together. That is something we do very well.

I remember there was a moment one evening after dinner in the vineyards where the sun was starting to set making everything feel like a dream, you could feel the sleepiness of everyone setting in the moment felt so peaceful. Some family members were talking at the table, others were playing with the younger kids, and some taking a nap on the grass. There was completeness in that. Nothing was lacking.

A precious memory, I know that will always belong to me. I know it will always bring me courage to keep living with softness.

To be present in all that one does, from the effort of loving to the breaking of the bread

- James Baldwin

I came from love and love flows from me — always.

There is a rare sort of company that moves you so deeply that the words to describe it never fully come; you try to find words to complete the puzzle, but they are never fully graspable.

I feel so lucky to have that.

There is a clear memory that always comes back to me of the deep effect it was to live a life in deep closeness to family - it was right after my grandpa passed, we were all gathered outside in my grandparents’ backyard, and the night was quiet. We were all passing around ceviche to eat, and music dimly played in the back, but I felt so at peace — Even in our deepest grief, there was deep hope and safety in our company.

It was a true eye-opener that a love like this is not a casualty, but intentionality in showing up and putting our own needs aside.

As you grow older, you realize the fragility of the people around you, and all our human needs begin to feel seen the moment we take our eyes off ourselves. No one in this world is getting any younger, so how can we love those around us better?

-

Gracias Pachita,

Every meal you cook for us brings our family closer through laughter and the sharing of plates

Every stroke through my hair stays with me forever through your delicate touch

Elvis Presley on your record player

Your love for the ocean I carry, too

I will always see myself in you

You hold so much love in those hands.

With Love,

Joanna.

July 17, 2025

I go to sleep in between these four sacred walls that have brought me solace in my restless teenage years, my husband sleeps next to me. Quiet lullabies play from his phone. Candle wick flickers. I welcome a new age enjoying the essence of what makes my life precious and my own.

Turning (24) feels good, safe, and tender… I reach my arm out to the little girl inside me and she doesn’t look the other way in fear. She looks at me and waits for my unexpected pain to pass, not living in avoidance - but in hopes.

When you make it past fear, there is joy. When you make it past grief, there is healing. Unfamiliarity and those lingering questions don’t feel overwhelming anymore. I think I have gotten better at not abandoning my fears or the emptiness that sometimes visits. They are reminder of the vastness that lies within me. Life truly begins when you take that leap of faith that there is more to what you feel.

It is a privilege to watch yourself evolve with nature, I don’t take all the different seasons one must endure for granted. I don’t fight to escape my nature. Why fight the force that will prepare you for something better?

Like water, I ebb and flow.

I accept that who I am now is good enough, yet the thought of becoming someone that I get to continuously be proud of with intention and time excites me. There is always more for those who want it. I want it.

To another tender year….

with love,

Joanna x

7:24 am

I woke up abnormally early this morning. I don’t know if it was the jet lag or anticipation of the beautiful day that awaited me. As I opened my eyes, I could not believe I was here, in this surreal location, that had once been just a post saved on my Instagram archives. I did not waste any time lingering in bed, I got up and walked to the kitchen to open our window. From my view, I could see the pool was empty, as I tilted my head to the right I saw a man standing on a ladder, cutting the leaves from the trees. I smiled to myself, life can always get more beautiful.

I quickly changed from my camisole into my turquoise swimsuit, which had tiny flowers imprinted on it. I wore white linen pants with a headscarf and carried with me The Lover by Marguerite Duras. From the far distance, you could see the lively green of a newly born spring, the hills of Tuscany kept me company as I lay alone in the lounge chair. Camile 2000 by Piero Piccioni was all I listened to.

As the morning grew into the afternoon my fiance joined me, followed by my brother-in-law and his girlfriend Libby. We munched on small pastries and drank hot tea. I stayed by the pool for four hours with Libby, soaking up the sun long enough to notice a difference in my skin color. Accompanied by long conversations that made time slip right through our hands.

My showers in this villa felt like a meditation, the window had a direct view of the tall trees and the bathroom tiles had a beautiful orange color. I kept cracking the shower door and taking deep breaths of the fresh air. I closed my eyes and soaked in this perfect moment.

Seth and I had a dinner reservation that evening in the villa, I had a feeling it would be the night he proposed. I brought a specific outfit I wanted to save for this day. A mini white dress styled with white lace tights, paired with my favorite perfume, Rozu, by Aesop. It has a delicate scent of rose and romance. I did not carry anxiety as the evening came, I felt calm and excited more than anything. As we sat there in between the trees the sky carried subtle tones of pink and blue, the wind was brisk.

No matter how much you preemptively see a moment coming you can never prepare for the exact feeling of being proposed to, as Seth read me the letter he wrote me asking me to be his wife I felt all my senses peak. Tears fell on both of our cheeks as a sign of our commitment.

This particular night there was a multitude of stars spread throughout the sky, the moon was full and bright. We sat there, beneath the moon till the late hour. Wine, champagne, and finished dinner plates spread all over our table. I smiled to myself, life can always get more beautiful.

We stayed at Villa Cozzano, located in the middle of Umbria and Tuscany. The whole experience was so lovely and everyone that worked there became a friend to me. If you are looking for where to go this summer, I highly recommend it. I will link their website below.

https://www.villacozzano.it/

With love,

Joanna x

Someday I’ll Love, Ocean Vuong

As this new year turns — I step forward, not with pressure or striving, but with an open heart, grateful for where I am and eager to gently evolve. This poem by Vuong perfectly encapsulates the simple words I could not seem to find.

I feel full of optimism at the chance to have another 365 days to grow, improve, and hold so much life in the palm of my hand. Even when sadness creeps back in, I am okay, because I know this isn’t all there is. I don’t fear my sorrow or my struggles; I know their presence is only temporary. I let them hold my hand for a moment, and then release them. I turn my eyes forward, letting hope carry me onward. What’s ahead is always better than what is left behind.

When you spend so much of your life missing what is now just a distant memory you skip out on the growth found in what awaits you, how are you supposed to keep learning when you obsess over the past? Yes, there is value in remembrance. But the only way to keep growing is by looking forward.

Easier said than done. What has helped me is small things to look forward to every day and making plans that excite me. Staying present and looking ahead is a form of meditation. Life constantly pulls you in many directions, but the one that matters the most is the one that brings you back to yourself.

In that space, I find the grace to be kinder to myself, to let go of past regrets and the weight of expectations, allowing room for gentleness and compassion. I think winter especially forces you to sit with yourself and focus on what matters to you. I have been dwelling on my goals of tending to every aspect of my life that demands intentionality.

physical

emotional

spiritual

This looks different for everybody —

I want to prioritize becoming better at cooking homemade meals, making more space for peace, being stronger in my body, and giving myself more grace in areas I struggle in (no more self-deprecating behavior). I don’t want to feel guilty about that anymore. I love myself dearly, and I will make it evident not only in my words but also in my habits.

I realize that growth does not need to be rushed; it can unfold naturally as the seasons change without force. The impermanence of all things gives life its beauty, and as I embrace this truth, I learn to cherish the now.

I hope this new year gifts you the courage to reach out and create a life that makes you proud.

My mantra for 2025

                            I want to be a compass of optimism for others and myself

Sincerely,

Joanna x

7:49 am

On the train back to New York City after Thanksgiving day, everything feels calmer. The sun gently decorates nature, its warmness on the far horizon melting in the trees and homes on a hill. The reflection of the tall trees and mountains on the water is so still.

Tiny homes from a distance with a warm painted coat of yellow. I wonder what the people who live in them are like. Is it a big family? What kind of decorations do they have? What was their first heartbreak like?

There is something special about wondering and never knowing. So much of life feels like that.

Everyone on the train seems to be slipping in and out of sleep, but I feel too attentive to everything around me to let my mind sleep. My exhaustion almost makes this all feel like a dream, yet somehow I feel most inspired to write in moments like these — when everything feels quiet around me and I can dream.

Nothing is more rewarding than being able to sit with the noise in your head and find purpose in it. There is no one big purpose to seek, this train ride is enough right now. I sit quietly and humbly let everything pass through me — the lessons, the pains, the joy. I am only a vessel.

Like Rilke’s “Sonnets to Orpheus” says

I will meditate on this.

My torment is loud at times, but these hands of mine can mold any pain into something good.

There is death in life, and it astonishes me that we pretend to ignore this: death, whose unforgiving presence we experience with each change we survive because we must learn to die: That I all of life.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Grief is a beautiful part of life, an inevitable one. This life is just one big lesson that teaches us to constantly let go and it can be a transformative part of who we are if we allow it. We not only mourn physical deaths, but emotional and spiritual ones - who can teach us how to let go if not ourselves?

Recently my grandpa’s sister passed away and it switched something in me. Death is not a foreign concept, it lives close to all of us. It broke my heart thinking of my grandpa mourning his sister - but seeing him handle it so gracefully showed me that I must learn to come to terms with grieving life too. The only thing in life that is promised is that we will all one day die - that can either make every day more meaningful or you can live with that dread that nothing matters.

When I called my grandpa to see how he was doing he sounded cheerful, quite the opposite of what I had expected. My grandpa is a man of few words, but whenever he speaks it is like he always knows exactly what to say. His sister lived til the age of 92 and she lived a beautiful life, he expressed how lucky he felt to have had someone like her as his sister. How he spoke of her touched me, his words weren’t full of sadness, but rather of joy in the life that she got to live. Can we all learn to celebrate the life we have lived rather than mourn what is gone? A practice that can make all our lives more precious and present.

My grandpa shared those words with my sister, it means life goes on and we must fill it with love. It feels like a wonderful gift to witness my grandpa at an old age celebrate the life he has left most presently and humbly. No day is taken for granted and it teaches me that as long as the sun is shining in my cold face I am lucky. I want to learn to not let my fear of the unknown consume me, I want to be a student in life. Always being attentive to what every season of life has to show me.

Savoring every moment I am gifted —putting more effort into not allowing anxiety, stress & worry to affect what life has to offer me.

Last night I saw an interview with Andrew Garfield about grief when he lost his mom, he shared a beautiful passage that was exactly what I needed to hear to finish this post.

Grief will always remain near, but so will the love…..

With love,

Joanna

I was married in a precious brownstone in Fort Greene, a ten-minute walk from our home. Growing up the concept of a wedding seemed like such an over-the-top occasion, but thankfully my wedding felt the complete opposite.

The owner of the event space was a very kind French lady. She shared with me why she chose to start a business of hosting weddings in this brownstone that feels like home to her. It felt like a true honor to get married somewhere that held so much significance to someone else. I hope all the love I felt on my wedding day stayed there in that brownstone to keep her company.

On the morning of my wedding day, I woke up next to my mom, nervously thinking of all the expectations I had for the day. Before the day began, my family and I walked to a bagel spot near the corner. I had apple cider and a lox bagel—my comfort meal. I loved sitting in the company of my family in this small bagel shop with many strangers surrounding us not knowing how precious this moment was. I loved the mundane moments on my wedding day that reminded me that today is a very meaningful day, but it also is just another fleeting one.

My cousins all showed up a couple of hours later to see me before I started getting ready, no significant conversations were exchanged, but their company and laughter I carried like a souvenir. After an hour passed, my sister started doing my makeup as my girl cousins sat with me in the small bathroom - that gesture meant so much to me. All of us were once little girls dreaming of growing up to become women, now they accompany me as I got ready for my big day. 

When I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time with my dress and veil it felt like I was playing pretend bride. It is still a pinch-me moment to this day. I will always remember the innocence of that feeling and that mirror reflecting at me. Where did that little girl go? She stands tall in front of me.

Before the ceremony, I met Seth at the park to get pictures of us taken. We have spent many simple memories of our days together at Fort Greene Park and he got to see me in my wedding dress for the first time there too. I love how intertwined our wedding day was with the everyday moments of our lives. Marriage, having a wedding, and choosing the person you want to marry does not have to be this huge gesture. It usually is in the simplest things that we find what we are looking for. 

Even with every conversation Seth and I had exchanged as friends I felt this peace and reassurance. Loving him and being loved by him has flowed so seamlessly. All my prayers as a little girl led me to him. 

Sometimes our hearts have to be broken and molded a couple of times, to land in those caring hands.

My sister told me that my wedding felt like a celebration of me growing older, not being the baby in my family anymore, and accepting this new step of growth. I felt that same way the whole day too. Grievance and newness of something beautiful. It is taking me a lot to find the right language to translate the love and joy I felt with my loved ones that day. In every corner of that venue, we all carried a smile on our faces and I got to hear and see someone I cherish so deeply. The love I felt on my wedding day is so crystallized in my being like protective glass, that I weep in remembrance of that transformive love I got to witness now in memory, but it will always live in me. 

After our wedding ended Seth and I held hands and walked ten minutes back home… just like any other day.

I think of you often. I wonder what other memories people have experienced in the company of your wooden arms. Thank you for being the beholder of such special memories in my life. Tears. Heartbreak. Laughter. Love. 

During the pandemic when everything was very restricted and social interactions weren’t a thing, I would take a lot of walks around my old neighborhood and explore what was around. It eventually led me to stumble upon a wide field and a very old wooden swing that hung crookedly under a big tree.

After discovering the swing I would visit it daily. It was the company I needed in such a lonely time, it felt like I was meeting a lover in secret —a sweet escape between me & that beautiful lonely swing.

I would bring my headphones and a book, most times I’d just zone out in awe of the beauty around me and just write a lot about the unknown. It felt like in such an uncertain time it was a sacred piece I had just to myself, it allowed me to let my mind wander without being trapped inside my room.

Unfortunately, my parents do not live in that neighborhood anymore, but I still feel so drawn to it. When we moved I remember being very upset, there was not anything particularly special from that area we lived in. But that damn swing. I try to go visit the swing every time I am in town, crossing my fingers the whole car ride hoping it is still there. It still sits there waiting for me.

I have seen the swing grow older in every season - fall, winter, spring, & summer. I think my favourite has been seeing it covered in snow, you sway your feet in the air and feel the bitter wind kiss your face. Nose turning red whilst holding someones hand to keep your warm, as you push your legs back & forth.

I feel like I have shared so many feelings and experiences with that old creaky wooden swing, I have taken people I love dearly and shared such special moments I still look back on. Some are too tender and precious to put in writing, I would rather let them live in my mind. But it is so beautiful how something as simple as this can stay intertwined in my memories in such a special manner. 

My best friend & I wrote our initials in that old wood, the ink faded away, unfortunately. I like to think they are still imprinted there beneath the surface. 

With love,

Joanna