Comfortably Uncomfortable

Cuba is one of those unique spaces in this world that have a way of awakening your soul. Its history, plagued by struggle and hardship, yet rooted in a passion for freedom and equality. Its streets filled with stories, radios blasting with music that takes over your body and makes you feel it down to your core. Friendly faces, greeting you from every corner; faces that manage their daily lives with limited resources that many of us take for granted, yet always willing to offer a smile and a welcoming air to your space. Many have faced that feeling of uncertainty at the thought of visiting Cuba, with its restrictions and constant debate over political conflict. From afar, we are treated to songs from Cuban artists, some of which invite us to imagine a space where your heart belongs, while others speak of the hardships even when those cannot be fully expressed due to censorship.  Walking around Havana, there is an inexplicable feeling in the air. It’s a world that appears to have

I’ve always been afraid of the dark. Something about staring at what at first feels like an endless void makes me really uncomfortable. Sure, your eyes eventually adjust, and you become able to discern certain shapes, but more often than not, we tend to leave the “dark place” before that happens. I have a specific order in which I can turn on and turn off lights as I walk through my house at night that keeps me from waking everyone, all while helping me avoid darkness. I know this is my home, and the chances of some unknown “something” coming at me in the dark are slim to none, but that’s where my brain goes. I attended a learning a while back about beginnings, transitions, and endings. Endings, to me, feel like a little dark room. Everyone at some point has experience some form of painful ending; it can be big like a breakup, losing a job, or worse, a loved one; or it can be something like finishing college, or a trip or learning experience coming to an end. When thin