During my most recent trip to Los Angeles, no less than five people asked/told me to move back. And I am tempted. During a run on the beach last week, the sun sparkling on the crashing waves, traces of salt water, literally, splashing on my face turned up toward the setting sun, I thought to myself, this is heaven. But this was heaven at that time. I've also had moments when I've truly felt no more at peace and at home than in the middle of the hustle and bustle of NYC. As I was staring into the sun across the sea, I was moved, literally, to tears. Miranda Lambert’s most recent song entitled, “The House That Built Me” popped on my iPod. A song about a woman who seems to have lost her authenticity returns home one last time to find some sense of who she is. As a tear rolled down my cheek, I myself felt confused and questioned, "Where is home? Where do I feel most at peace?" So many have called me a ‘wanderer’. Someone who never settles in one place, as if I am constantly looking for or chasing something. Often I’ve felt uncomfortable with that description and felt the need to defend myself. But in that instance, I a revelation came to me. As clear as the day is long. It doesn't matter what coast I'm on. I spent over 11 years of my life in Los Angeles and built a world for myself here where amazing things have happened and dreams have come true. At the same time, when I’m in NYC, I am reminded of my roots and the house and people who have built ME. Without those, I would not have been able to spread my wings, explore unchartered waters and fly. And the many opportunities that still lie ahead.

The answer is that I can feel at home and at peace either place and anywhere.I have always followed my heart when deciding on a place to live or a job to take. I’ve tried to let opportunities direct me and to take advantage of them without fear. And I will continue to do so, no matter where the path leads: Los Angeles, New York, New England or Timbuktu.
Yes, some may call it wandering. I prefer to call it living.