6 Shooting Stars

Last Updated on February 2, 2026

When I was in Peru, in the Andes—ten thousand feet above sea level—I went outside at night and looked up at the stars. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. I lay on my back on the ground looking up and I decided I would stay there until I saw six shooting stars. And I did.

I don’t know how much time passed. I took in the energy of all those stars—so bright, so incredible—framed by the mountains. I thought of a line from a P!nk song, “billions of beautiful hearts.”

Tonight, I was walking as the sun went down and the new moon came up. I saw the stars come out one by one, only a fraction of what I could see in Peru. I registered that I can still feel the presence of all the stars I can’t see. They’re everywhere. Their energy is with me. Looking up, I feel comforted by an unimaginable number of of guides, ancestors, story keepers, and symbols of eternity, order, and vast intelligence.

In Peru, I had a psychedelic experience of expanding my awareness way beyond my day-to-day state—right up to the edge of my capacity. I felt my own pinprick of existence within the entire cosmos, my human puzzle piece of the universe and how I fit. My mind, body and soul said yes to full immersion. Where my curiosity, capacity, and openness took me is beyond what I have words for.

However I got to that place, and whatever came together in my life that allowed me to expand my consciousness like that, my sense of what’s possible and what’s true became so much bigger. At the same time, it didn’t erase any of the hardness of my life. I didn’t bypass any challenges, my emotional ups and downs are all still happening consistently, the all likes and dislikes of my current reality exist fully all the time. It all includes a much larger awareness.

That larger awareness can help me—when I remember it. But I don’t always remember. Tonight feels like a remembering. I want to mark the moments of remembering. I’m grateful that I had that experience. I’m grateful that I know it’s possible. I also know I’m human and my life is going to be hard. And it’s also going to be incredible—unimaginable, amazing, surprising.

We try to be in control, but we’re not. Sometimes though, we get to feel these deeply good, magical moments when they happen.

When I was getting ready to go to Peru, I was on a really good path. I was eating well. I felt strong in my body. I was gathering energy and capacity for high altitude, for traveling on my own, for being in a new place and having the vitality I wanted for the experience.

After I came back, I stayed on this high—for several weeks. Elevated. Expanded. Living in the mystery and possibility of it all. I eventually I realized I was living above my capacity. I was pushing myself too much. Then came Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s—the holidays—and over time, I just collapsed. I burned out hard.

I gave in to the sweets and the holiday food. I stopped moving my body. Everything caved in on itself. And tonight, finally, I just said: that’s it. I’m dropping everything I’m doing. I’m going outside. I’m walking.

It doesn’t have to be the start of a perfect health journey. It just means that tonight, the time I spent outside—seeing the stars, the moon—that works for me right now. In this moment. And that’s enough.

I keep thinking about how, if we’re lucky, we get to have peak experiences. In Peru, I had so many moments of spontaneous joy that brought tears to my eyes, even ugly crying because of happiness. I felt so free to be myself—experiencing so much unknown beauty. It was incredible.

And then there are low moments. Moments where everything feels like it’s falling apart. Where I ask: Why am I doing this? Who am I? Why am I here?

Part of the expansion—part of the elevation—is making room for all of it. The entire spectrum of life experience. Not turning it into a hierarchy. Having peak moments doesn’t make you a better person. Having low moments doesn’t make you weaker or worse. Ranking it all feels pointless when it comes to the soul’s journey.

You get what you get. You feel as upset as you feel. You feel as much joy as you feel. You can try to control that—but acceptance probably works better. Comparison and judgment don’t help at all.

The hard thing for my ego is: those highs, those moments of expansion—their newness doesn’t create lasting change in my life without focus and moment to moment awareness. The cycles of high and low can be extreme. I want the highest highs and the lowest lows. I don’t want to avoid either. I don’t want to live in fear.

I don’t want to get stuck. I don’t want to lose hope. I don’t want to believe I can’t get better. I don’t want to pretend it can’t get worse.

There’s always more to learn, more to know, more to experience. I want to do it. I want to keep stringing together the moments of time and see what happens.