The Universe Knows

Champagne Sundays Were Never About Dom Perignon

My fingers desiring to stroke the letters on the keyboard to desperately put down the words my heart was intensely wanting to speak. Yet, as they arrived, the message felt as though it had snuck into a hiding place, as the feeling would not evoke onto the screen. 

Pausing, taking a breath, it hit me- those feelings were meant for silence, for the inside, those words of internal joy were the feelings of Sundays at home. Facebook had kindly reminded me that for the past five years, I had traveled away from the comfort of my house on this exact day. New York, Harbour Island, Zermatt, Mérida, and Asheville. For six years, my life has been Cloudsurfing, hopping on the next plane to get to the next destination to write, to feel, and perhaps, to be anywhere but home. 

All of those flights, those places sparked some magic inside- a self-discovery of what I am seeking- adventure, exploration, creation, love, admiration, happiness — from one airport to another writing, inquiring, treasure hunting. The places and the people along the way were all part of a journey that often felt unbelievable. 

Writing and experiencing the wonders and awe-inspiring magic we call life. For me, the world became so small and so big all at once. I became sucked into the chaos of continually moving, overcasting on social media, and thinking that it was all about me having this grand experience on this earth. 

While dream bigger was my motto, I kept dreaming of the next place, the next thing, the next beautiful wine. I was fearless and so motivated to see the world, I had silenced the inside to listen to outside. Why can’t my fingers type what I am feeling? Because I forgot that Sundays at home with the ones I love are actually the thing I love. The quiet moments of introspective time the sacredness of these times before the chaos of a new week ahead. 

The Wisdom of Sundays is connection. This day is the beginning of the week. It is the meditation of what the upcoming week will bring, the laughter with the one I love, and the peace of the quiet leaves shifting color without broadcasting the small, almost insignificant shifts that result in their vibrancy. 

On this day of connecting within, the realization of what matters now, to what mattered those six years ago, is so different, and yet the same. Adventure, creation, exploration, and love are all things I desire. Happiness is an inside job. Admiring the beauty all around, in every moment, is much more present today than it was. 

Six years ago, I found this quiet place that inspired the fibers of being. Where my fingers could type, my eyes could spill their tears, my lips could turn upwards in utmost bliss, my laugh could overtake the room, and my heart felt more at home than ever before. So obviously, I felt safe and felt loved, but that was more than I could handle. Instead of running into the wisdom of Sundays, I escaped to every plane, work assignment, and busy task I could find to keep me from feeling what we all deserve the most.

LOVE.

I love writing. I love to travel. I love telling the stories that connect people for the better. That fulfilled me and will continue to fulfill me. 

It took listening to hear what love meant to me. 

My dad used to say, “There is a difference in listening and hearing.” In all my stories, I listened, I felt. And in my happiness, I only heard with my ears and not with my heart. My heart was not ready to listen, because of the holes my mind had told it, it had. 

Each of us has a laundry list of experiences that have helped shape who we are, who we were, and where we will be. But our list of the past is not the present, nor is it the future. For me, Sunday’s should be soul-charged and full of love. 

I felt this love, and I jumped on more airplanes, ran off perfectly good mountains, jumped in cenotes, and tried another new wine to do everything not to feel it because I did not believe I was worthy enough. The truth is, the term “life is better with bubbles,” started six years ago. I fell in love with a man who tasted the stars with me and shared his entire world, and I ran away believing those stars were not part of my galaxy. 

Somehow, someway, our stars collided, and I believe the universe knew exactly what we needed to know, that “life is better with bubbles,” meant life was better with each other. That Sunday’s were meant for spiritual moments together and apart, and that Champagne Sunday’s are about the more beautiful things in life – 

Silence, conversation, connection, and love.  

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