The Two People Who Followed Me Across Los Angeles
On the day before I turn 39...
Birthdays always make me reflective. Most people look back on the highlights of the year—the wins, the milestones, the beautiful moments. And that's important. But this year, the biggest lesson wasn't in the highs. It was realizing that life is just as much about what keeps showing up to teach you.
Wherever you go, there you are. You bring your mindset, your fears, your reactions, and your stories. There's not much running from yourself.
Life had a funny way of reminding me of this yesterday at a Breathwork class in Los Angeles.
About a year ago, I started going to a Breathwork studio near my old apartment. It became one of those rare places where I consistently left feeling like I'd found myself again—beyond the stress, beyond the constant thinking, back in my body. Exactly what someone like me needs.
There was just one problem. Almost every class, the same two people would arrive together, sit next to each other, and whisper through the instructor's opening reflection. Then came the little laughs and giggles, right during the stillness I had shown up for. I could feel myself getting irritated almost immediately. How could they do this? Why isn't anyone saying something? Eventually I started making sure I sat as far away from them as possible.
Then one evening I arrived right as class was starting. There was one spot left.
Right next to them.
As the whispers started, so did the movie in my head. By the time the breathing began, they'd mostly stopped talking, but then came the fidgeting, adjusting, moving around...you get the point. Finally, I picked up my mat and moved to the other side of the room. Problem solved.
Or so I thought.
Fast forward to yesterday. I've moved across Los Angeles, signed up for a completely different Breathwork studio with a different instructor, and walked into the lobby...
Standing there were the exact same two people.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Really?"
I just looked up and thought, "Okay, GUS." (God. Universe. Spirit.) "I get it."
No matter where I go, there I am.
It's so easy to believe that someone else is the problem. That if people behaved differently, if our job changed, if our relationship changed, or if we lived somewhere else, then we'd finally feel more peaceful.
Sometimes that's true. This does not excuse other peoples’ behaviors. But sometimes the thing following us isn't another person—it's our own mind. Our own reactions. Our own stories. Our belief that peace exists just on the other side of someone else's behavior.
That doesn't mean people shouldn't be considerate. It means my inner world is still my responsibility.
The annoyance may be inevitable. The suffering isn't.
As I head into 39, I'm becoming less interested in changing every circumstance around me and more interested in changing the place I'm experiencing those circumstances from.
And thankfully...there was an open spot across the room. Some lessons don't need to be learned all at once.
So I'll leave you with this: What keeps following you from job to job, relationship to relationship, city to city? You might just discover the common denominator isn't your circumstances.
It's you.