Guest Blogging

Welcoming Kaleigh Somers from Rewriting Life

Kaleigh Somers has been both a devoted reader and friend for nearly a year now. I have watched her grow as an individual and as a writer throughout these months and I could not be more proud of her, for the young woman she is and the young woman she will continue to become. I admire her greatly for her raw honesty when it comes to the “sometimes hard to talk about” subjects and I am honored to feature her here on As Simple as That. Please do check out more of her writing here. Oh, and Dear Kaleigh– my favorite is red.

Driving home from New Jersey last week, I had a crazy thought. So crazy I actually started laughing at myself. Out loud. In my car. Windows rolled down and the heat pouring in on all sides.

Maybe I should start passing out bags of Skittles to racists on street corners.
Picture the five-foot-tall white girl with a laundry basket full of the sugar candies like Santa Claus with his Salvation Army donation bucket. That’s what I’m going for.

Don’t you worry. I won’t be so bold as to smack a stereotype onto the passersby in the hopes of nailing the ones who need the message most. No sir.

I’ll wait to hear bits of conversations that fly past me, because nobody notices the Weird Girl With The Skittles. Nobody covers their mouths as they rush by on all sides with shopping bags and strollers, toddles and teenagers. They talk as if I am deaf, a fly on the wall who speaks another language.

I’ve heard it before. Just last weekend, I heard the exchange between two women sitting outside a bar on a Saturday night, discussing the boys they brought home.

I’ll hear it in their words, because you cannot hide something you feel strongly. Racism becomes a part of you. It envelops the way you see the world. The way you speak and the people you speak to. The words you use and the tone in your voice.

It’s not just a noun. A word to label the less-than-open-minded. It’s a mindset.
And I hear it all the time.

My grandmother slips and calls all the Hispanics in her town Puerto Ricans. She starts talking about skin color and how it correlates to place of residence like we’re mapping this world into carefully organized sections.

Like we’re not bleeding into each other. Our love for each other ebbs and flows until we wake up in love with someone because of the way they act rather than the boxes they check off on census bureau surveys.

This is what I’ll tell anyone who gets a bag of Skittles:

“Taste the rainbow.”

I know, I know, it sounds sleazy. I don’t mean it like that.

“Have you ever had Skittles?” I’ll ask them.

And if they have, I’ll ask them their favorite color. Everyone has a favorite color Skittle; mine’s green.

But when you think about it, it’s kind of ridiculous. They all taste pretty similar. They’re all filled with sugar, all made in the same dark factories.

And us, humans, we’re made of the same things. We’re all 70 percent water. We all pump the same blood and breathe the same air and use the same organs.

I’ll wait for the weird look that’ll inevitably follow when you try to pair candy with philosophy. Trust me, I know. My friends don’t understand me, either.
“Imagine a bag of Skittles all one color,” I’ll say. “Like that one time when M&M’s had a promotion and if you got the bag with all green M&M’s you won a boatload of cash.”

It’s not like that, though. In real life, nobody wants the bag with all orange Skittles.

We love variety. That’s why there’s variety packs of Lance crackers and Frito Lays chips and Hershey’s Miniatures.

We don’t know what we’re missing, having a bag full of one color. A world full of one race. A town with one standard for beautiful.

Because here’s the kicker: Every heart beats the same. Every. Single. One.
The colors, they’re just for show.

Maybe I’ll even customize the message based on who I’m talking to. Like personalized therapy sessions on the shoulder of the highway, me giving out free candy and them rethinking everything they’ve ever known about Different.
Different skin. Different birthplace. Difference cuisine. Different words for the same thing.

I’ll give Tropical Skittles to the Northerners to reconnect them with the scorching South and Sour Skittles to the Southerners to reconnect them with the less-than-sweet North.

Crazy Core Skittles for the tame ones. Wild Berry for the cautious. Ice Cream and Smoothie Skittles for the lactose intolerant. Chocolate Skittles for the Plain Janes.

Maybe I’ll start taking special orders for people who want to save themselves from prejudice. Until people started lining up for a dose of Open-Mindedness or Bravery.

Until the first thing we do when we shake someone else’s hand isn’t measure the color of their skin against our own but ask them one question:

“What’s your favorite color Skittle?”

Kaleigh Somers blogs at Rewriting Life, where she tries to keep happy, heartfelt and hopeful. And she wants nothing more than to discover all the beautiful, good-hearted people in this messy world.

Guest Blogging, Uncategorized

Introducing Kerry DeVito: Little Girl, Big World

Today I am beyond excited to introduce all of you to Miss Kerry DeVito, a beautiful young lady and fiercely talented writer who is near to my heart.  I think you will discover quickly that her soul matches her prose. Stunning & Refreshing. Find more of her inspirational writing here. Thank you Kerry for posting today!

“Dad, I’m going to live with her now,” she said, her little curls of sand leaking from her ponytail. She walked over to me and took my hand and said, “Let’s go!” I’ll never forget her four-year-old determination, the look of pure happiness and all sorts of excitement in her blue eyes. So intent on reaching big girl status.

But there was something she’d need to know before she left the safe and comfortable confines of her parents’ rustic home. I knelt down before her, holding both her fragile hands in mine, and told her an important truth: “Delia, you know, I’m not a very good cook,” I said, and with that, Delia, her dad and I laughed, giggling at the classic moment when a child wishes they could instantly soar their way into adulthood. But as I think on it now, I’m not quite as jolly as I was then, mostly because I find myself in a completely opposite pair of shoes than Delia; I’m wishing I could float on back to the blessed moments of childhood.

Here’s a fact concerning my new adulthood: I was miserable the morning of my college graduation. And though I wish I could, I can’t attribute it to a minor hangover and slight case of dehydration. No, instead, I was bathing in my misery just for the sake of being miserable—a cold, marbleized I-could-care-less-about-my-diploma gloom. It was quite the pity party, and I’m glad I didn’t send out any invites, because, honestly, I’m rather embarrassed by it.

So I sat, shrouded in black, listening to the commencement speeches and looking around with a dewy daze that my blue eyes sometimes get. I pretended that the moment didn’t matter; just another chapter ending, doors closing, a comfortable fist releasing me into the wild. I wasn’t feeling the hysterical “yays” or teary “nays” that my fellow classmates were experiencing. I was just there to get my diploma and get the heck out of the crowded mess. I dodged a lot of post-diploma acceptance photos, made a quick round of hellos and goodbyes, and set off to pack the rest of my things into my little blue Honda. Then I was off, heading back home to Rhode Island, a really small place with a really small job market. And I was starting to realize how really real it all was.

It was an hour and a half later that I pulled into my driveway, and the first person to greet me was my four-year old neighbor, little Delia, bouncing along in her youthful glory. She had recently taken to the art of bicycling, and hardly had use for training wheels. As she pulled her two-wheeler into my driveway it hit me that she was growing up just as quickly as I was. If I didn’t have half of my life to unpack from my car I would have gratefully shed fifteen years and grabbed my own bike to ride down the road with her. But I had to unpack the last four years of my life and put it away in picture frames, store it in my memory, pretend that it wasn’t over just yet.

Most people are surprised when I tell them I only recently finished unpacking. Yes, two solid months and five days later I completed the process. It wasn’t the usual brand of procrastination I usually sold myself; it was something more like a fear delay. Two feet of fear blocked me from unloading all those boxes of clothes and memories. I can’t quite say when the apprehension started to melt away—perhaps it was when my new RAs (they prefer to be called mom and dad) reminded me that I had graduated college and should start my adulthood with a clean room, at least. And so with each pair of shoes and shiny picture frame that I put away, I was one step farther from what I once knew, and five steps closer to what I still have no idea is to come.

I wish I could reveal the secret to transitioning, maybe write a book about its lost history, but I can’t. I still don’t have a definite answer to the deafening question, “So what’s next?” I’m stuck wondering just the same thing. The only piece of wisdom I have on the matter is not to give up; pursue the unknown. There is only one guy who knows what’s ahead, and He’s pretty discreet about the whole thing. I’ve put all my trust in God, and we’ve been working together at this whole next chapter thing. I might be blind as a bat right now, but I think this guy’s got my back.
After attending school for sixteen plus years, I’m suddenly finding myself without homework and the excitement of back to school shopping. Instead, I scour job sites, send out ten resumes a day to different places, hoping for one thing: the start of a new chapter. My pen’s ready, and I’ve more than enough paper—now all I need is a storyline.

Kerry lives in southern Rhode Island next door to a little girl who she considers to be a best friend, a teacher, and bicycle extraordinaire. She can be found blogging here.

Guest Blogging

Lessons in Hand-Holding: Life as a full-time volunteer

Hello everyone!

Today I am shaking things up a bit and inviting you over to my blog post on the Augustinian Volunteers blog. It is always exciting for me to get the chance to write about the work that I am doing throughout this year as a full-time volunteer.

I pray that you are all having a wonderful introduction into the holiday season, find time to sit with one of those brilliant red cups for me! And I will do the same for you.

I will be back to posting this weekend, after I unearth myself from a pile of love letters that still need to be written.


Hannah Katy

Beauty, Guest Blogging

Making Peace with Reese’s Pieces: A beauty message and a promise.


Fallen peanut butter soldiers, armored in chocolate with sugar as ammo, fell clumsily onto the table top. Wounded in transport, their exteriors were thickly coated in a residue of vanilla ice cream.

Audrey, you are making a mess. Keep the Reese’s Pieces in the bowl.”

But I was only trying to get them to your bowl,” she replied, a somber look etched upon her face. “They forgot to put the candies in your ice cream.”

I often forget she is only four, that I am her babysitter instead of her best friend. No four-year old easily understands the concept of anyone, young or old, turning down candy. Skipping out on chocolate-coated morsels to dodge demons of saturated fat and Sucralose. Opting for frozen yogurt. Cutting one’s self off at the knees because thin tastes good and skinny even better.

Millions of us are lost somewhere, amidst a slew of numbers on a scale and inches in a waist line. We are pumping conversations, held over skinny lattes, with words like: love handles, nose jobs, Botox, diets. All to attempt gripping a single word, hoping to hear it pounce from the tongues of others: Beautiful.

We begin to wonder (or at least I have): Who is our beauty for? What purpose does our beauty serve? What is up with this word being so exclusive?

Somewhere, yes, somewhere we became slaves to three syllables. Nine letters.


The Beauty Challenge, at first glance, seems like no challenge at all. I giggled at the thought of declaring my beauty in front of a mirror, three times a day, in a fashion similar to the queen in Snow White. “You are beautiful,” “You look awesome today,” “You are powerful and wonderful beyond measure.” Easy to type. Surprisingly, not so easy to say.

When we stand face to face with ourselves, sometimes questioning if a stranger has come to be a stand-in for our own reflection, we realize how hard it is to lie to ourselves.

We can lie to the world pretty simply. Gorgeous Liars and Pretty Hiders. Hiding behind our Smiles and Make Up. Our Salads and Diets and No Carb Challenges.

But face to face with me, and only me, a dialogue was forced. That tired girl in the mirror had something to say. And let me tell you, I very rarely allow her to speak.

“You make me feel worthless sometimes,” she told me. “You deprive me all the time. Would it kill you to let me have something sweet? Delectable? Something that takes my taste buds out of comatose?”

“Stop summing me up through single body parts: thighs, butt, arms, nose, teeth. You make me feel like I am only worth one word. One Breath. If that. You criticize me but you are the one who gave me the cookies and the chewy bears. It was you. So why am I your verbal punching bag? You poke and prod me and you detach yourself from me. I am trying, can’t you see? I am trying to be loveable enough for you. But you cannot love me, you won’t even try.”

The girl in the mirror is right. So right. I cannot love her without trying first.

You are beautiful,” I reply back. Timid and shy, speaking as though I am making an offering that I already believe she will decline.

The words carry weight and promise of things to come.

Make the promise with me: To give our body good foods but to treat them to a cupcake once in a while as well. To give our bodies plenty of exercise but to acknowledge and supply them with rest when they need it. To own up to and then stop the negativity, the full frontal combat delivered through unkind words.

Let’s find peace in pieces of cake. Find peace in piecing together a new love constitution with our bodies. Find peace in the Reese’s Pieces that others drop into our bowls. Tap, tap, tap, against the ceramic of our ice cream dishes. The resounding sound of Love.

This post can also be found at the Beauty Message Challenge. Every day during the month of September the Beauty Message Challenge is posting inspiring blogs and messages on Facebook and Twitter.  I am honored to be one of thirty bloggers to share my beauty message with the world…

Guest Blogging, Healthy Lifestyle

When the weather outside gets frightful: Seven tips to keep fitness and nutrition as top priorities this season.

Today you can find me guest blogging over at “You’ve Been Running Through My Mind All Day.” I always adore switching things up from time to time and bringing my fitness and nutrition knowledge to the page. Erin is new to the blogging world and I have had both the pleasure of working with her and knowing her in real life. Check out her site and check out the article below. I think you will fall in love with this newly wed’s fierce passion for running and fun personality in no time.

I am a firm believer that fall derives its name not only from the leaves that “fall” from the trees but also from how quickly this season can cause us to “fall” into a fitness slump.

The degrees find lower digits, we find chunkier sweaters and our stomachs often find an overhaul in holiday foods and seasonal Starbucks’ brews.

But donning a few extra layers of clothing these days does not give us an excuse to add a layer of laziness as well. Here are seven helpful tips to keep us motivated in walking away from the Halloween candy and walking towards the gym this autumn.

1) Goals=Good (with or without a bikini in mind): It is a dozen times easier to set goals and stick to them when we know the summer months are sashaying towards us with bikinis trailing close behind, but what about the winter months? Goals are still important to set even if the season requires significantly more clothing. Set a realistic goal for yourself and make your deadline the New Year, that way, when the time to make resolutions rolls around you will already be on the right track.

2) Schedule sweets into your planner: Ok, let’s be real. It is absolutely impossible to resist each and every treat that the holiday season ahead has to offer. Pumpkin pies. Apple crisp. Christmas cookies. Our stomachs (and our relatives) won’t let us say no. It is important to allow room for indulging within our health and fitness goals. Adopt the mindset that you should have a slice of pie or a cup of hot chocolate. Our bodies thank us when we allow for indulgences without the guilt attached; we just need to be careful of overdoing it.

Treat yourself to a pumpkin spice latte after a successful week of working out or allow yourself a serving of pudding when you stick to your diet regimen for the week. Your results and hard work won’t disappear after one piece of cake, trust me.

3) Keep motivation at every corner: It may sound ridiculous but I often cut out pictures from fitness magazines and hang them in places where I will see them throughout my day. Having a healthy and realistic goal that you can physically see will make you work harder towards achieving that goal. Read success stories and inspirational blogs that will keep you motivated to reach your own goals. Ask friends to cheer you on with your workout goals but also lend yourself to be a motivation to someone else. You will quickly find that wrapping yourself in motivation will feel even warmer than a blanket by the fire. When you wrap yourself with positive motivation- you feel great on the inside and look even better on the outside.

4) Made with love: A good friend of mine actually turned me onto this technique and it has really helped me make healthier and more conscious eating decisions during the holiday season. Ask yourself, was this food made with love? If the answer is yes, then have a bit. Don’t skip out on your aunt’s famous apple pie or your mother’s ravioli (don’t overdo it either though). But think about the love when you are placed in front of a sleeve of Oreo cookies or a line of processed desserts. My rule of thumb: If the love is not there, neither are my taste buds.

5) Make yourself a morning person: I am sure some people felt a tinge of pain from just glancing at this header but I speak the truth on this one. I used to be a person who gave her mornings to coffee and the New York Times only. However, getting into the gym in the A.M. has changed my life completely. Sure, it is insanely hard to lure yourself out of bed when the sun hasn’t even woken up yet but once you finish then you are done for the day. Enter feelings of accomplishment and pats on the back. As it begins to get darker earlier, the motivation to hit the treadmill after work will start to slide. Avoid the issue altogether by setting your alarm an hour earlier and signing on to greet the sun when she wakes.

6) Allow fitness to save you from being a Scrooge: You really need to ask yourself the question, why do I work out? Not only is it good for you and your body, but it also a definite mood booster. I cannot stress how important this is from October onward. With less sunshine, it is no surprise that people often feel lonelier and more depressed during the winter months. Beat the blues by breaking a sweat. Instead of pressing the snooze button on the alarm a few more times, imagine how much more energy you will get from the day when you lift some weights or hit the bike before work.

7) The season is changing, why not your work out?: Let’s face it, the elliptical gets old after a few months. Why not switch up your workout routine? Try out that dance class you have been eyeing, sign up for a session of hot yoga class. Introducing new forms of fitness into your routine will keep you motivated and passionate about your fitness goals. Google is a definite God send for finding fitness classes in the area that will burn up those calories and keep you from burning out this season.

I also would like to make a shout out for a dear blogger friend of mine, and an extremely talented writer. Giulietta Nardone is offering a phenomenal online writing course for all you wannabe writers and experienced gurus of the pen out there. Secrets of Personal Essay Writing is a five-week writing journey that you won’t want to miss. I urge you to check out Giulietta’s site, especially if you are looking to bring your own inner workings to the page.

Guest Blogging

Lauren on waiting for “Big Moments” in this Big World

I refer to this next guest poster as a better version of “Carrie Bradshaw.” Lauren is driven, motivated, and a real life friend whom I thank God for each and every day. Miss Lauren (LC) is the one who inspired me to pick up writing again after a very long while. I am convinced: If the world needs anything, it needs more people like Lauren. Oh, and she is newly engaged! LC does not have a blog of her own yet but I think we can work on coaxing her into one… Thank you Lauren for writing this post!

A little over a year ago, I had a column in Assumption College’s newspaper (which I passed on to the lovely Hannah when I graduated). Being an avid Sex and the City fan, I took the Carrie Bradshaw approach to my column- reflecting on life, love, family, relationships and anything else that fell into that category. I believe very strongly in one of Carrie’s quotes: “The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself,” which I used to kick off my column.

Here’s one big thing I discovered: the relationship with yourself is hard.

Throughout college, I felt I was driven by something else, something that set me apart. I never really had an interest in going out and partying like the rest of my classmates- I enjoyed spending my time studying and writing, found my solace in working out and running, and dedicated myself to my work so I would be ready for the next big thing, whatever that may have been. I was waiting for that big moment- the life-changing one, the one that would take life as I knew it, and everything and everyone, to another level.

I had a few ideas about what that moment would be: finding my dream job, falling in love, getting engaged (and of course my future wedding), or maybe something that hadn’t yet crossed my mind. Essentially, I was in a state of limbo- I struggled for a while with being different, and then I accepted it. I learned it was okay to say no to people- no, I don’t want to go to the bar. No, I don’t want to stay up all night. Yes, I want to go home and see my family instead. Yes, I’m going to stay in and watch a movie.

Saying no is a hard thing to do for a lot of people, but until you can, you might be torn, as I was, between going along with the crowd and doing what you really want to do. It wasn’t easy, especially since I was the minority in a large group of 21 and 22-year-olds who wanted to live it up almost every single night in college (which is great, don’t get me wrong- when else do you have a chance to do that? To each his or her own.)

But that wasn’t me. I counted the days until graduation, nervous for what the future would bring but at the same time ready to run out the door and face the world- and have my moment. I spent my senior year working on that relationship with myself and through the achievements, tears, heartbreak, minor (and major) drama and support from my family and friends, I came a long way, learning to love myself and all I had accomplished.

And eight months after graduation- I had my moment. Maybe it’s better phrased as a series of “moments” that combined, got me to the defining point in my life. My life was a whirlwind after graduation- I started dating my now fiancé, quickly fell in love, had several jobs which led me to my dream job and figured out who my true friends were- those who stuck by me. Things got better and better, and then on March 21, the day Matt proposed, everything truly fell into place and I could see exactly where my life was headed.

I couldn’t be happier now, but I did face challenges along the way.  I’ve had friendships that were on the rocks because of differing viewpoints and lifestyles, and I’ve dealt with the inevitable separation from my high school and college friends since our lives are taking different directions. I was frustrated at first when I worked at a job that wasn’t quite right and very stressful, and did everything I could to change that, too.

Is my journey of self-discovery over? Absolutely not. I am much more confident in who I am, I’ve weeded out a lot of the drama in my life, and I’m truly, truly happy. I know I have the strength to face any more challenges that may cross my path.

My advice: above all else, work on that relationship with yourself. Devote time to it, cherish it, relish in the fact that you and you alone control defining who you are. Say what you mean. Surround yourself with those who bring you up and make you a better person, not those who inhibit you. Believe in true love. Believe that love can change you. Look for your dream job, or something to dedicate your life to, follow your passion and don’t settle for anything less than absolutely everything you deserve. Quite simply- follow your heart.

Guest Blogging

“I Love Love” @Lucille in the Sky

Hello Readers:

If it were possible to miss all of your faces, I really think I would. I am gone for the next ten days making my move to New York City! But don’t worry, I am not leaving you empty-handed by any means! I have lined up three lovely guest bloggers to hold down while I am gone.

Today you can still find me blogging over at Lucille in the Sky about my big move to New York City! Lucy and I have swapped sites for the day and I am absolutely honored to have her upon my page. Lucy is a blogger that I look up to in so many ways. I see a lot of myself in her and her writings but I rely on her page as a constant reminder to follow my own heart and count my blessings. I am sure you will be bookmarking her page after one glance at her writing…

When I stumbled upon Miss Hannah Katy, her blog immediately stole my heart because she speaks to the heart. Every one of her thoughts, her stories, her dreams. Her writing pulls me into a reverie, weaving together words and sentences in utterly perfect harmony. I’ve been particularly taken with her unabashed dream of finding true love (in a coffee shop, no less) as I was a dreamer of the same kind not too long ago. And since I’ve found this love and I bask in it’s glory on a daily basis, I became compelled to share some thoughts as well as guidance to those struggling with love. Whether they are in a relationship and struggling with their partner, or single and struggling with themselves. I do not pretend to be an expert on love, but I am an unabashed expert at loving.

I love love.

Once upon a time, I was one of those hopeless romantic teenage girls who would become undeniably giddy after imbibing a simple romantic comedy. Drunk with hope and not yet jaded by the world of dating or broken hearts.

My heart swelled at the prospect of finding Him. The one who would love me in spite of myself. My quirks, my failures, my flaws. Someone who could see through the wall and into my guarded spirit. My hopes, my dreams, my values. And most of all, my heart of hearts.

My naiveté gradually eroded as I experienced the painful reality of dating in modern society, which usually involves too many expectations, too little commitment, and too much alcohol. Young men rarely know how to court a woman. They know how to get her drunk and sometimes, they know how to get her into bed. And it being the 21st century, women are embracing their sexuality. We like bad boys. We take lovers, we take friends with benefits, we even take random hook-ups. When more often than not, all we want is love.

Most young women I know, including myself, have had their fair share of disappointments when it comes to love and relationships, but there’s no rhyme or reason in dwelling on sadness. This is not a story of broken hearts. This is a story of love.

After all. I love love.

When I fell in love with my future husband, I was happy and already in love. With life. I had recently emerged from a transformation, an uncovering of my true self in which I shed false hopes and discovered a higher consciousness. I woke up. My spirituality deepened. I was 23 and I finally had a clear picture of who I was and who I wanted to be.

In retrospect, I met Him exactly when I was supposed to.

 Any earlier, and I would not have been ready. Even though I wanted it earlier. Truthfully, I wanted to find Him for a long time.

 Any earlier, and he would not have been ready. He would have been married. With a new baby. Or newly divorced. He needed time to heal and pick up the pieces.

Any earlier, and I may not have chosen Him. He is ten years older than me. I would have shunned a 30 year old when I was 20. Too old, too gray.

Any earlier, and he may not have chosen me. I was immature and out of touch with myself. He needed a confident woman, not an insecure girl.

We hear it often and we hear it often because it is true; patience is a virtue. If you’re looking for love, be patient. If you are not patient, you may accidentally settle for the wrong one. And the right one for you is out there. He is marinating, transforming into your perfect mate with each passing moment. Even when you’re lonely and frustrated, do not lose sight of possibility. Bitterness is the antithesis of love.

Instead, keep your heart and your eyes wide open. Try not to judge others based on their appearance, and others will be less likely to judge you by yours. Don’t be scared of dabbling in different ages and races. Don’t succumb to a picture of Him, because he may be short instead of tall. He may be blonde instead of brunette. He may have brown eyes instead of blue. He may be poor instead of wealthy. In the long run, physical appearance and monetary wealth are irrelevant. Both will do very little to make your heart sing.

It’s the heart that matters. Your heart, your partner’s heart, and the way they fit together.

I am aware of my own idealism. The idea that a great love is possible for everyone. But a perfect mate does not mean there will be no problems to work through or differences to accept or misunderstandings to understand. A perfect mate is an imperfect person whom you can learn to love perfectly. We can all have that, right?

It’s the stuff of happy endings. And not that I’m an expert on happy endings, but I do know a thing or three.

Believe. Believe that you will find Him. Know that you will find Him. Once in a while, pretend that you’ve already found Him. Ask the universe or God or your higher power for Him. Believe in your innate ability to manifest Him.

Follow your heart. Follow your heart to new experiences, new crowds, new friends. If you don’t feel good where you are, whether it’s at your job or with your best friend or in your home, follow your heart out of there. Run in the other direction if you have to.

Let go. Let go of the urge to look for Him everywhere. It’s a fine balance to strike between letting go and keeping your eyes open. Do not search, let Him come to you. Do not obsess about your crush who doesn’t call or the boyfriend who forgets about you. When you find Him, it will be easy. He will knock you off your feet, but he will pick you up before you fall. He will take the words right out of your mouth, but he’ll inspire new words you never knew were in you. He will call you, he will be thirsty for you, he will love you.


Follow your heart.

Let go.

And you’ll meet Him exactly when you’re supposed to.

Have you found Him or Her? When and how? 

Are you looking for Him or Her? If so, are you skeptical that you’ll find love? Or do you believe that He or She is out there, waiting for you?

Have you been hurt by someone whom you thought was The One? How did you discover that he or she was not The One?

Do you believe that anyone can be The One if the timing is right? Or do you believe that there is only One for everyone?

Please share your thoughts and love stories with us!