In California, if it rains for more than a few hours, freeways are littered with mangled, twisted metal, the line at Starbucks is twice as long, and women who rely on flat irons to achieve sleek, polished locks refuse to remove their hoodies until they’re safely indoors. (If you have curly hair, you get it.)

When my lover and I sailed into the harbor in Huatulco a couple months ago, the landscape looked pretty much like every other Mexican coastline we had encountered thus far—which is to say, thirsty. But, as the seasons change (from the dry season to the wet season), the parched hills have erupted into a lush jungle, teeming with life. The patchy mountainside-- looking a lot like the hairballs my cat, Little John, used to cough up on my bedspread—is starting to look like the movie set for Apocalypto.  

The work that I'm doing--the yoni egg practice, meditating, writing--is having an marked effect. I’m starting to notice a difference in the way that I move through the world. I’m calmer, and less likely to go on emotional benders that threaten to spiral out of control. I am moving slower, thinking slower, breathing.

Physically, I am definitely becoming more sensitive and stronger. Sometimes when I contract around the egg it sends a jolt of energy up my spine and makes me shiver, which is awesome. I am starting to be able to move the egg with greater ease. More than that, my body simply feels good.