The idea of never being finished with my work bugged me when I first embarked on a path of self-discovery. I wanted to accomplish the shit out of enlightenment. Releasing the need to arrive at a destination is the most liberating thing I’ve done in the last year. Well, that is not counting the many days I’ve gone braless. A destination? There isn’t one. I will never “arrive.” Not in this lifetime. I wanted my journey to have an end game. A moment where I would have it all figured out. A moment where I would be doing insane forearm balances and sitting in meditation for hou. I wanted my journey to have an end game so bad. An Eckart Tolle moment where I would sit on a bench in Central Park, see God, and change all my ways in one fell swoop. A moment where I would be yoga skinny. A moment in which I would amass all the treasure and dive into the money bin from Ducktales. You know the one. If not, I’ll just put this here. The idea of reaching an end game is a construct of how I used to operate when I was ignoring […]