And it was a very sad day for bonfires.

Like all things, seasons change, Holidays, Birthdays, weekends... they come and go. As we officially enter the middle of the Holiday Season (Halloween and Thanksgiving down, Christmas-and-all-it's-related-non-related-maybe-Jewish-maybe-pagan-maybe-made-up-and-yet-to-be-named-variants and New Years to go)it's the time to bundle up, hunker down, light a fire, sip some coffee, or Granny's Egg Nog (Don't judge, that shit will put you on your ass)and reflect as we prepare for the New Year.

Lately I've had massive Writer's Block. Not sure if it's the changing seasons, changing temperaments, changing habits, or what, but I've had a really hard time focusing and finding something worth putting into words. I told myself I was holding out for something that moved me. Something that made me feel again. I tried last weekend to recreate a very magical birthday moment. If you know me you know I'm not a fan of my birthday. It's never seemed like all that big a deal. I love other people's birthdays. I like celebrating life, and friendship, and love for all those important to me. However, my own birthday ... egh.

Last year though, it just worked. I semi-planned a bonfire that just fell into place. Everyone was there. Everyone was nice to each other. Everyone laughed and ate mom-made-hummus and helped bury the keg in the sand so we could be a little bit more inconspicuous. Like all "perfect" events, some friends were missed, and some friendships were yet to mended, and some people were there who looking back, maybe didn't deserve that place in my heart. But all in all, it is one of my favorite memories. It's like being in Ecuador and dancing in the rain at 13. Or it's like playing in the creek with leeches at 8 with my brother and cousins (so cool!). It was standing on the beach, watching the sunset, and feeling loved, and happy and content and very very okay. It was a perfect November night in San Francisco.

And with the New Year, things changed again. Seasons, people, they tend to do that. Things got messy. REALLY messy. I got all flip-flopped and upside-down. And caught up in running to find something to hold on to. Something stable. Something freaking normal. My family saw this, and my dad bought me a 20 class yoga pass. And I got a little bit more grounded. A little bit more balanced. And I ran away with love and hope and desire to Costa Rica. And it didn't work. It exploded and burned and simmered, and re-stoked, and finally, I feel like I can walk over the ashes without something in my soul feeling oh-so-burned. It's no longer a morning memory. And that is thanks to sleep, and time with myself. And writing this silly blog. And breathing fresh air. And swimming in amazing summer lakes with friends who would hold my hand, or be there, right there, when I needed them. And I needed them.

So this last weekend, the bonfire-revival fell through. As things forced and full with too many expectations tend to do. But I spent the evening with a boy who has captured the heart of one of my favorite people, and with another friend who knows all the beautifully ugly truths of mine. And it was a good night, with people who have been woven into my life in mysteriously awesome ways. It was a sad day for bonfires, but as I laughed into the dusk it seemed okay to have that memory be just that. There will be many beach side bonfires in my future, I can assure you. After all, my brother's birthday falls on the winter solstice, which, if you ask me ... might be the perfect time for a celebration of life, of love, of changing seasons, moonlight, and all those things that move you.

To a life full of silly and fated rituals, including bonfires-on-the-beach,

Rio