In honor of Georgia Darehshori and her beloved Gholi—for reminding us that love sees beyond the veil, and stories keep the light alive. E.Z. “Love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” — Kahlil Gibran My father is missing. Not in body— but in the margins. I’ve searched through every...

Last week, I raised my voice in a declaration of care. Today, I follow up—with a deeper vow... and a nod to BTO. E.Z. "Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope."—Maya Angelou They ask me why I care— Why...

Inspired by Andy Borowitz. I speak not as an outsider,but as a neighbor. A witness. A fellow human beingwhose heart beats across borders. I’ve lived among you. Raised children in your schools. Walked your streets. And still,I feel the tremble of a nation on the edge—and I cannot stay silent. This is not about lines on a...

God in Drag follows last week’s piece. A reminder that the divine doesn’t just visit the holy places—it walks with us in all our contradictions. E.Z. “Treat everyone you meet like God in drag.” – Ram Dass We are all—God dressed in drag. Yes. Feathers, fishnets, fists raised in anger, eyes rimmed with...

Tales from the Rainbow Throne — A Spoken Word Piece The children gather in a hush.A soft spotlight brushes a plush rainbow rug.From behind the velvet curtain enters a vision—heels clicking, lashes blinking like galaxies.Big.Beautiful.Betty. She settles into a glittered rocking chair, adjusts her crown of chrysanthemums, andopens a rhinestone-covered book. “Good...

For Sandra Bradley—my friend, spiritual mentor, and channel of timeless wisdom—whose words in Vallarta Mirror kindle hope and reflection—I lovingly dedicate this piece. May its verses resonate with your gentle guidance and joyful spirit…and honor the miracles your teachings inspire. E.Z. The holiest place on earth is where an ancient...

“Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have.” —Eckhart Tolle In Puerto Vallarta, the sky is a kind of gospel. Each sunrise arrives like a whisper from the divine. Each sunset, a quiet benediction. People pause. Conversations still.And then—almost always—someone nearby says it, softly, reverently: “La...

To my American friends—so many of you here in Puerto Vallarta, living with open hearts, fairness, and respect for all walks of life—this poem is for you. Crossing the Line is a tribute, a reflection, and a hope—for the soul of a country, and those still holding her hand. E.Z. We crossed...

In the heart of Puerto Vallarta, I’ve been graced by the presence of women who do not age quietly. They embody art in motion—laughing louder, loving deeper, and wearing each year like paint upon canvas. This tribute is for them and for all who dare to age like fire...

For my mother, who shaped light. EZ They told me I was dying. Ovarian cancer. A flower too sacred to bloom wrong—and yet it did. For weeks, I clutched fear like rosary beads, counting each maybe, each what if, each not yet. I curled into the question, tight as a fetus— What now? What...