In my American life, I often find myself having to justify taking a vacation, especially when it’s longer than a week. In my European life, it’s a sin to work during the entire month of August.
When I booked this trip, I said to myself, “come on, Perel. Even God rested on the seventh day, no justification needed.” But this is easier said than done. I am rarely unoccupied. I actually find it a very difficult state to achieve.
So, when I set out to take a “real vacation” this summer, I made an intention to reconnect with my sense of play. At this moment, I’m not feeling connected to playfulness, such a core philosophy in my practice, and I feel a bit guilty for that lack of connection.
This sprawling summer trip took me on a boat through the Greek islands with a few close friends. We celebrated a wedding anniversary, hiked miles of coast line trails, cooked, danced, biked from village to village, did daily yoga, and lavished in the company of women.
We played. And we played well.
But I found myself plagued by a sense of distance, not the kind that comes with traveling far from home, but the kind in which you feel distant from yourself. Even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home. No matter where you go, vacation always comes with a choice: do you want to stay connected to the world and its realities or do you want to disconnect and simply be present where you are?
I think what struck me this year is that while I loved seeing friends in each leg of the trip, I came to realize that what I may need more than anything is a fast. To empty out. To go still and quiet.
I am full, of people, stories , their problems, my own…and there is not much room inside me.
I need to empty the tank, to digest and create space, that will recharge my system. There are many ways to take a break, and perhaps we need a little something different with each season.
What does a break mean to you, in this moment?
In my American life, I often find myself having to justify taking a vacation, especially when it’s longer than a week. In my European life, it’s a sin to work during the entire month of August.
When I booked this trip, I said to myself, “come on, Perel. Even God rested on the seventh day, no justification needed.” But this is easier said than done. I am rarely unoccupied. I actually find it a very difficult state to achieve.
So, when I set out to take a “real vacation” this summer, I made an intention to reconnect with my sense of play. At this moment, I’m not feeling connected to playfulness, such a core philosophy in my practice, and I feel a bit guilty for that lack of connection.
This sprawling summer trip took me on a boat through the Greek islands with a few close friends. We celebrated a wedding anniversary, hiked miles of coast line trails, cooked, danced, biked from village to village, did daily yoga, and lavished in the company of women.
We played. And we played well.
But I found myself plagued by a sense of distance, not the kind that comes with traveling far from home, but the kind in which you feel distant from yourself. Even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home. No matter where you go, vacation always comes with a choice: do you want to stay connected to the world and its realities or do you want to disconnect and simply be present where you are?
I think what struck me this year is that while I loved seeing friends in each leg of the trip, I came to realize that what I may need more than anything is a fast. To empty out. To go still and quiet.
I am full, of people, stories , their problems, my own…and there is not much room inside me.
I need to empty the tank, to digest and create space, that will recharge my system. There are many ways to take a break, and perhaps we need a little something different with each season.
What does a break mean to you, in this moment?
In my American life, I often find myself having to justify taking a vacation, especially when it’s longer than a week. In my European life, it’s a sin to work during the entire month of August.
When I booked this trip, I said to myself, “come on, Perel. Even God rested on the seventh day, no justification needed.” But this is easier said than done. I am rarely unoccupied. I actually find it a very difficult state to achieve.
So, when I set out to take a “real vacation” this summer, I made an intention to reconnect with my sense of play. At this moment, I’m not feeling connected to playfulness, such a core philosophy in my practice, and I feel a bit guilty for that lack of connection.
This sprawling summer trip took me on a boat through the Greek islands with a few close friends. We celebrated a wedding anniversary, hiked miles of coast line trails, cooked, danced, biked from village to village, did daily yoga, and lavished in the company of women.
We played. And we played well.
But I found myself plagued by a sense of distance, not the kind that comes with traveling far from home, but the kind in which you feel distant from yourself. Even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home. No matter where you go, vacation always comes with a choice: do you want to stay connected to the world and its realities or do you want to disconnect and simply be present where you are?
I think what struck me this year is that while I loved seeing friends in each leg of the trip, I came to realize that what I may need more than anything is a fast. To empty out. To go still and quiet.
I am full, of people, stories , their problems, my own…and there is not much room inside me.
I need to empty the tank, to digest and create space, that will recharge my system. There are many ways to take a break, and perhaps we need a little something different with each season.
What does a break mean to you, in this moment?
In my American life, I often find myself having to justify taking a vacation, especially when it’s longer than a week. In my European life, it’s a sin to work during the entire month of August.
When I booked this trip, I said to myself, “come on, Perel. Even God rested on the seventh day, no justification needed.” But this is easier said than done. I am rarely unoccupied. I actually find it a very difficult state to achieve.
So, when I set out to take a “real vacation” this summer, I made an intention to reconnect with my sense of play. At this moment, I’m not feeling connected to playfulness, such a core philosophy in my practice, and I feel a bit guilty for that lack of connection.
This sprawling summer trip took me on a boat through the Greek islands with a few close friends. We celebrated a wedding anniversary, hiked miles of coast line trails, cooked, danced, biked from village to village, did daily yoga, and lavished in the company of women.
We played. And we played well.
But I found myself plagued by a sense of distance, not the kind that comes with traveling far from home, but the kind in which you feel distant from yourself. Even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home. No matter where you go, vacation always comes with a choice: do you want to stay connected to the world and its realities or do you want to disconnect and simply be present where you are?
I think what struck me this year is that while I loved seeing friends in each leg of the trip, I came to realize that what I may need more than anything is a fast. To empty out. To go still and quiet.
I am full, of people, stories , their problems, my own…and there is not much room inside me.
I need to empty the tank, to digest and create space, that will recharge my system. There are many ways to take a break, and perhaps we need a little something different with each season.
What does a break mean to you, in this moment?
In my American life, I often find myself having to justify taking a vacation, especially when it’s longer than a week. In my European life, it’s a sin to work during the entire month of August.
When I booked this trip, I said to myself, “come on, Perel. Even God rested on the seventh day, no justification needed.” But this is easier said than done. I am rarely unoccupied. I actually find it a very difficult state to achieve.
So, when I set out to take a “real vacation” this summer, I made an intention to reconnect with my sense of play. At this moment, I’m not feeling connected to playfulness, such a core philosophy in my practice, and I feel a bit guilty for that lack of connection.
This sprawling summer trip took me on a boat through the Greek islands with a few close friends. We celebrated a wedding anniversary, hiked miles of coast line trails, cooked, danced, biked from village to village, did daily yoga, and lavished in the company of women.
We played. And we played well.
But I found myself plagued by a sense of distance, not the kind that comes with traveling far from home, but the kind in which you feel distant from yourself. Even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home. No matter where you go, vacation always comes with a choice: do you want to stay connected to the world and its realities or do you want to disconnect and simply be present where you are?
I think what struck me this year is that while I loved seeing friends in each leg of the trip, I came to realize that what I may need more than anything is a fast. To empty out. To go still and quiet.
I am full, of people, stories , their problems, my own…and there is not much room inside me.
I need to empty the tank, to digest and create space, that will recharge my system. There are many ways to take a break, and perhaps we need a little something different with each season.
What does a break mean to you, in this moment?
In my American life, I often find myself having to justify taking a vacation, especially when it’s longer than a week. In my European life, it’s a sin to work during the entire month of August.
When I booked this trip, I said to myself, “come on, Perel. Even God rested on the seventh day, no justification needed.” But this is easier said than done. I am rarely unoccupied. I actually find it a very difficult state to achieve.
So, when I set out to take a “real vacation” this summer, I made an intention to reconnect with my sense of play. At this moment, I’m not feeling connected to playfulness, such a core philosophy in my practice, and I feel a bit guilty for that lack of connection.
This sprawling summer trip took me on a boat through the Greek islands with a few close friends. We celebrated a wedding anniversary, hiked miles of coast line trails, cooked, danced, biked from village to village, did daily yoga, and lavished in the company of women.
We played. And we played well.
But I found myself plagued by a sense of distance, not the kind that comes with traveling far from home, but the kind in which you feel distant from yourself. Even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home. No matter where you go, vacation always comes with a choice: do you want to stay connected to the world and its realities or do you want to disconnect and simply be present where you are?
I think what struck me this year is that while I loved seeing friends in each leg of the trip, I came to realize that what I may need more than anything is a fast. To empty out. To go still and quiet.
I am full, of people, stories , their problems, my own…and there is not much room inside me.
I need to empty the tank, to digest and create space, that will recharge my system. There are many ways to take a break, and perhaps we need a little something different with each season.
What does a break mean to you, in this moment?
“There is laughter in hell.”
Today I join @nayeemaraza and @karaswisher to discuss the loss of their friend and colleague Blakeney Schick and how we live through grief. Listen to our full conversation through the link in my bio.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Birthdays are a moment of reflection — a celebration yes, but also an annual benchmark, a moment to survey the vista and see from whence you’ve come.
I found myself flipping through old photo albums this week, reflecting on my early childhood, my first steps on stage at 3 years old, to studying education and theater at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, to expressive arts therapy at Lesley College, jumping to much later down the line when speaking, improvising, and playing on-stage is still such a part of my life.
These memories draw me back through this lifelong pursuit of play, reminding me how formative this liberating act has been in my world and my work. Encouraging me, even now, to continually come back to the play that has shaped me.
Traveling has been a lifelong passion for me. When I first began traveling, I had to see as many places as possible – the temples, the mosques, the churches. What building can I see? What place can I discover?
Often, the value of a vacation lies in committing yourself to doing nothing at all. Relaxing without an agenda. A vacation means releasing ourselves from the burdens of planning and productivity. It’s stepping away from the “I must” or “I should” that allows us to enter a liminal space. In my recent trip, even though my surroundings had changed, I was still occupied by work and home and thinking of all that I had planned during my time abroad.
But, I reminded myself, during your time off, your only job is to make room for serendipity. Now, I’m committed to focusing less on the number of places I should see and more on creating space inside of me for a real vacation, a real break. I focus more on the quality of my experiences, not the quantity of activities I’m able to complete. I focus on emptying out and making space so I can come back replenished and a little stronger.
So tell me, what do you need when you need a break?
Explore this topic further by reading my latest newsletter linked in my bio.
Have you ever done something that you can’t come to terms with?
Have you ever found yourself caught between the person you strive to be and the actions you can’t quite reconcile?
Have you asked yourself, “What pushed me to cross a line I never thought I would cross, leading me to a situation where my values clashed with my behaviors?”
Tune into the latest episode of Where Should We Begin? as I sit down with a woman who transgressed the one boundary she never thought she would.
A woman in her 40s called me to talk about a crossroads in her life.
She finds herself stuck in relationships where she has to fight for crumbs, or fight to be loved and desired. When love is given to her generously and freely, she can’t receive it. She has begun a relationship with a supportive and loving partner, but without the constant roller coaster of emotions she’s used to, she wonders if there’s something missing, or is there something wrong with her?
Listen to the latest episode of Where Should We Begin? through the link in my bio.
A woman in her 40s called me to talk about a crossroads in her life.
She finds herself stuck in relationships where she has to fight for crumbs, or fight to be loved and desired. When love is given to her generously and freely, she can’t receive it. She has begun a relationship with a supportive and loving partner, but without the constant roller coaster of emotions she’s used to, she wonders if there’s something missing, or is there something wrong with her?
Listen to the latest episode of Where Should We Begin? through the link in my bio.
Stories shape our reality. They help us make sense of our pasts, what we’ve been through, who we were then, who we are now, and who we would like to be going forward.
We use our stories as reminders, as protection and prevention. But while they fit the past, they don’t necessarily fit the present—and they may be blocking the future. Holding on to them with tenacity can make us so hypervigilant that we see the past everywhere. What we insist on, persists. It can stop us from seeing and trying new things and, yes, writing new stories.
When I tell people to “write often and edit well,” what I mean is this: we are not in control of how life unfolds, but we have agency over how we structure and interpret it. And those new interpretations can help us get unstuck and give us the freedom to make adult choices that we couldn’t as children. New stories can liberate us from defeating narratives, predetermined thinking, and forgone conclusions. They create hope and possibilities for change.
And that is why I lowered the four walls of my office for this podcast – it’s a public health campaign for modern relationships. It’s a podcast that reminds listeners that healthy relationships require us to write often and edit well and to be open to changing our stories. The more deeply you listen, the more you see yourself in the mirror. The more you hear real couples navigate real problems, the more you feel empowered to heal your own.
So, what new stories are you ready to tell? Tune into Where Should We Begin? on Apple Podcasts.
(Video credit: Apple Podcasts)
Meet a remarkable couple: grandparents, united by a 40 year love story and an enduring bond. Yet, beneath the surface, lay concealed secrets that are now exposed.
As they bravely confront their past, they turn to me for guidance in healing the lingering shadows of shame, guilt, and pain. Tune in as we navigate the complexities of their journey towards understanding, growth, and renewal in this timeless session from Season 1: “The Addict.”
Hello again, London!
The general sale for my one-night show at the Eventim Apollo on October 2nd has opened this morning, and we anticipate tickets will go quickly!
I would love to see you all there, and invite you to share your questions and curiosities in the comments section below as I prepare to join you all for this immersive, interactive experience. So looking forward to it. Visit the link in my bio for more information.
