I injured my face two days ago. I plowed right into a thin piece of plywood hanging out the back of someone’s pickup truck. I’m fortunate it wasn’t my eye. My injuries could have been worse. I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a mere freak accident as it may have appeared. It was more of a much-needed distraction as it happened a day before the six-year anniversary of my mother’s death. The gnarly gash on my face sat gruesomely like the giant white elephant in the room, er, on my face.

When I saw the blood, I couldn’t help but think, “Why me?” It was sure shaping up to be one of those weeks. I have to check myself when I have those thoughts, though. I’m a believer that we attract what we put out in the Universe even if they’re unspoken thoughts.

“Why me?”

I went to yoga that night with a band-aid on my face, praying I wouldn’t sweat so much that it would drop to my mat mid downward facing dog. Thankfully, it did not.

HOME IS WHERE THE HEAT IS

Today, I walked out of my third yoga class of the week with gratitude for the city I call home. Downtown Los Angeles glowed in the pink and purple hues of the sunset. It’s been hot as hell here, but I love LA. I couldn’t help but comment to my yoga partner the entire way back to my apartment on the beauty of this city. Even though there was a sea of brake lights ahead, my focus was on the hills of Griffith Park and the dark clouds in the dimming eastern skies. I inhaled and then exhaled with a smile.

As Labor Day weekend approaches and the forecast shows no signs of cooling down, I’m eager to spend it discovering something new in this city. Whether it’s some kitschy street art or a quirky roadside attraction, I’m looking forward to meeting it. Fourteen years later with a short stint in New York City, I’m proud to call the City of Angels home. Thirty-two years later, I’m even prouder to be showing up for myself.