This year, I walked through more grief than I thought I could handle. There were many moments when I was sure I would break. Sometimes I still feel like I might. This was not a year of gentle transition or peaceful endings. It was a year that felt cruel. I willingly left an ecosystem I loved more dearly than I had ever loved anything. I left a life that had grown thick with meaning and texture. I miss my dog and my old cat Hector with an ache that doesn’t leave. I miss feedin

I refuse to organize my life around the narrative of self-development. I say that as someone who was not just a consumer of it. I was a vehicle. I was a coach. I spoke the language fluently. I helped move others along the same conveyor belt I was standing on myself. I believed in growth. I still do. But what that industry quietly demanded was not growth with an end point. It demanded perpetual motion. Self-development was always about more . More insight. More healing. More r

For a long time, I accepted the New Year the way most of us are taught to: a clean line between what was and what might be. A moment of collective pause. A symbolic beginning. The story is nice. But the narrative never felt quite right. What we now call the New Year did not emerge from nature, intuition, or spiritual insight. It emerged from administration. From political necessity. From an empire trying to get its house in order. When Rome Lost Control of Time—and Took It Ba

Immigration is often framed as a decisive break, the before and the after, but that framing hasn't matched my lived reality. What I have experienced instead is a long, unsettled middle. An experience where one foot remains planted in what I lost (or still attempting to untangle from), while the other figures out how to step into a life that is still forming. This in-between space is not dramatic or cinematic. It is quiet, demanding, and persistent. It follows me through ordin

People often ask how I ended up in Romania, and I have trouble finding the words because my brain is flooded with all the reasons . There isn't one main reason or one moment that decided our direction. It was a long process of research, noticing what felt solid and what kind of future felt possible. Romania revealed its welcoming charm and promise of a dream through a lot of curiosity and thorough questioning. A Landscape That Felt Familiar Before It Felt Foreign The Carpathi

I’ve been carrying a heavy mix of emotions lately. Back home, in the streets where I grew up, innocent and hardworking Mexican immigrants are being taken into big unmarked trucks — disappeared under the cover of night. Families are left wondering where their loved one is and if they will ever see them again. Dreams are erased. People who have built lives among people they thought were friends are treated like they don’t belong anymore. Watching those videos makes something in

Thanksgiving used to be one of the most intentional days of my year. Not because of patriotism or tradition—actually the opposite. For a decade, I opened my home to anyone who wanted a place to land. My table wasn’t about turkey or spectacle; it was an annual practice in truth-telling and community. I cooked Indigenous foods, played PBS’s We Shall Remain , and held space for conversation about the real history of the holiday. It was part education, part ritual, and part quiet

This isn’t about fear—it’s about discernment. Across history, people have faced the impossible question of whether to stay and fight for their country or leave to escape the oppression. It’s a question layered with emotion, loyalty, and grief. The stories we’re told about heroism often glorify the ones who stayed—those who defied tyranny from within, who risked everything for the chance to reclaim their homeland. But those stories, as moving as they are, rarely tell the full

When autumn arrives in Transylvania, the air grows sharp and metallic, and the forests shed their color until only the stone of the mountains seems alive. Smoke rises from the first hearth fires, curling above tiled roofs and lingering with its sweet scent in the cold. In the West, this is the season of Halloween I am familiar with - a celebration of ghosts, costumes, and death. In Romania, the same chill carries something older. There are no pumpkin lanterns or suburban tric

This message is an invitation to stay awake. The world is shifting quickly, and people are beginning to feel it — the tightening of systems, the quiet disappearances of benefits, the growing unease about what happens next. While no official order says “you can’t leave,” the truth is that exit windows rarely close with a public announcement. They close through small, invisible steps that make leaving harder and harder  until the option is gone in practice. The question keeps s

The Keeper of the Flame In every culture, there are keepers of the flame—those who carry the memory of a people across generations, adapting it to new languages, new screens, and new worlds. In Romania, one of those keepers is Corneliu Țepeluș, a filmmaker, storyteller, and cultural ambassador whose life has been shaped by the timeless human pursuit of immortality—not the kind that denies death, but the kind that ensures meaning endures. His work bridges the mystical and the

If you’re carrying U.S. student loan debt and dreaming of a life abroad, you probably feel overwhelmed by the idea of carrying your debt burden into your new life. For many, the burden of student loans feels like a locked gate, barring access to the kind of life they long. It’s common to feel torn between settling financial obligations and following the deep call to build a life that actually feels like home. The prevailing message in American financial culture is this: pay o

This message isn’t meant to alarm — but I write because I wholeheartedly believe in informed self-determination. We all know American feels uneasy. There’s a quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) tension under the surface politically, socially, and economically. I’m not sharing this to create fear. I’m sharing it because awareness gives us options and wisdom. Recently, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) increased its spending on weapons, explosives, and tactical gear

Once you realize that life abroad is possible, not just for the wealthy, not just for the lucky — then the next question naturally is: How do I make it real? Money is often the last wall standing between people and their freedom choice. Not because they don’t have enough, but because they’ve never really seen how far what they do have can go. The moment relocation becomes a tangible option, it stops being a fantasy. The next step is to break it down into real numbers. It's no

Many Americans grow up believing the United States is the safest place on earth. We picture flashing sirens, neighborhood watch signs, and the comfort of knowing that law and order are part of who we are. And we grow up assuming that many far away countries are dangerous, corrupt, and unpredictable. But as I started learning about Romania, I found the truth is practically the opposite. When you compare the numbers and the everyday lived experience, Romania is statistically sa

When suppression begins to take root, it rarely announces itself with drums or banners. It slips in quietly: a shift in tone, a...

There was a time when traveling from the United States carried a kind of lightness. You could say, I’m going abroad for a few weeks,  and...

For many people, the idea of leaving their country feels impossible. They may dream of building new lives in Europe and think, that’s not possible for me. Maybe they’re living paycheck to paycheck, maybe they’ve lost everything, maybe they’re simply too exhausted to imagine another version of life. But here’s the truth: you don’t have to be wealthy to begin again. You have to be willing, and curious, and dedicated. The Myth of the “Rich Expat” When people imagine moving abroa

For those who have lost almost everything and are still daring to begin again. When you choose to move—truly move, not as a tourist or an adventurer, but as someone rebuilding from the ashes—you step into a life that demands trust. Not the easy kind of trust that comes with clear plans and safety nets, but the raw, trembling kind that asks you to keep walking even when the ground disappears beneath your feet. For some of us, relocation was not a luxury. It was a necessity. We

When the world feels uncertain, the simple act of preparing food and water becomes something sacred. It is more than a survival task; it...