What 120 steps taught me about growing up, getting lost, and remembering who I am. There are 120 steps at Mago. Each step represents a year of your life. The practice, based on the work of Ilchi Lee, is to climb slowly. As you move through the years you've already lived, you remember yourself at that age. Then, when you reach your current age, you keep going. Into the years you haven't lived yet. I knew this experience would probably be emotional. I had no idea how emotional. Mago is a hard...

Yesterday, I pulled the Dream card. Of course I did. I have always been a dreamer. Ask Bergen. Dreaming might actually be my love language. Give me someone I love and an uninterrupted hour (or 3), and I can happily dream up seventeen different versions of our future. Places we could live. Trips we could take. Things we could create. Ways we could change the world. At least twelve of these ideas will be wildly impractical. This has never stopped me. So when I pulled Dream yesterday, it felt...

What happened when I stopped deciding which parts of myself belonged in the room For a long time, I thought credibility required editing myself. Depending on the room I was walking into, I would decide which parts of me were allowed to come along. The researcher could come. The advocate could come. The mother could come, sometimes—especially if her story was relevant and appropriately packaged. But the deeply sensitive part of me? The intuitive part? The spiritual part? The part that notices...