Head + Heart = Hustle

Do You Follow Your Fire?

I went to the DMZ yesterday (that’s a story for another post), and along the way, in an effort to reduce my battery usage to increase Instagram story output, I rediscovered some of my old downloaded playlists.

Does anyone remember Kodaline? I know they’re still active, but let’s be real, they peaked in 2014. They have this one song, that I listened to on repeat yesterday, that has had me thinking. A lot.

Are you still following your fire? Do you even know what it is anymore? Remember in college, when you had passion? Lord knows about what – possibly a war in a country that you hadn’t even heard of or being a vegetarian – but it was passion. It was something in the pit of your stomach that just made you feel all these exquisite feelings at once. You felt like you could possibly be an agent of change one day. You felt like you could matter.

Then you graduated college, and your passion became your career. Maybe your drive became paying your bills and keeping up with rent. Passion became productivity.

I’m on a 5 week trip at the moment, and I really hope that this helps me rediscover my fire. I’ve been feeling a bit drained lately. I want that fire in my life again – excitement, too much energy to sleep, the whole nine yards.

In the past, I’ve always taken away so much from travel. Much more than I ever expect to. I can zoom out and see my day to day life clearly. I can see how others live and see what I need add to my own life. I’m excited to see what comes of this trip.

I’d like to have a conversation. For anyone who is reading this, what is your passion? How do you balance your fire with being an adult? How do you ground yourself in the fact that you are more than your job description?


Turning a House into a Home

It’s been a long week. I’m the type of person who thrives on 8 (preferably 9) hours of sleep a night and that has just not been happening. Granted, big changes have been underway for us, and they are totally worth the sleepless nights.

Yesterday, we moved into our big kids house – meaning not a one bedroom apartment. It’s been a long ride here but I’m so thankful we were able to take it!

Us, in all our chaotic glory

I’m so excited to be here, but I’ll admit I cried a bit leaving the old apartment. It feels like a new chapter in our lives have begun, and I need to store the memories from the three years we spend in our apartment away. It was our first home, which we bought when I was 22 and my husband was 24. Then, it was a dream come true that we were even allowed to purchase it! It was a good home for us. We grew up there, together and on our own. We hosted our first Thanksgiving there. We (half-assesdly) celebrated three Hanukkah’s in that home. We laughed, cried and laughed a million more times there.

The day we moved into our first home

Growing up, my family moved around often. We moved around on the island for a while, then moved to Washington, then back to the island. Finally, we moved to Illinois – where we continued to move about 5 or 6 times. The house my husband and I lived in was the first house that really felt like a home to me. It was ours, and it was special. It still is special.

How adorable is this though?

But nonetheless, I’m elated to be here, in the new home. I was unpacking a box yesterday, and something fell. My first thought was “Fack, I hope I didn’t wake the neighbors.” Then, I remembered I no longer have neighbors. SCORE!

This is the home that will soon, hopefully, be filled with the sounds of children laughing and playing. This is the home that we will continue to grow in and make memories in. This is a new chapter for us.

We have our work cut out for us. At the moment boxes are sprawled everywhere. There aren’t any window treatments or closet storage installed. We’ll be living in chaos for a bit, but I’m okay with that. We’re building a house that is a home and that takes time.

Shout out to the South Side, for being our first home