GROUP CHAT

Dear City Girl,

There’s a phrase I return to often: “Lying to ourselves about what we want prevents us from getting it.” In New York and London, Paris and Los Angeles, it often feels like we’re lying to ourselves about how much we actually want to live there. About how much we’re receiving in exchange for our enormous financial, energetic, and emotional investments.

This disconnect can become more pronounced as we get older, when the appeal of skipping around the city, hot, bothered, and primed to be seen, starts to fade. At the gallery openings, and the bars and clubs, a refrain starts to ring. What is this even for?

When I poll my New York friends about why they choose to stay, they offer some variation of, “All of my friends are here, how could I leave?” My reason for staying offered some variation on that, too. I had one foot out of New York long before I finally moved last year, enjoying existing in the cultural context even as I spent significant periods of time physically removed from it. There was a sense of gravity that came with living there, like everything I did automatically had meaning. Even if I was suffering, at least I was suffering in New York.

The idea for this piece came shortly before I left for a solo road trip in Washington state, an area I’ve been drawn to for years and am considering moving to. It was more fulfilling than I could have ever imagined, and surprising, too, mostly because I didn’t feel alone or lonely for even one second. Even though I knew only a handful of people there, and it was technically my first time driving alone, I felt far more at home than I do in the city where I currently hold a lease. I felt fundamentally available for the life I was being called to live.

The women featured below are at different stages of their moves, from a few months to many years. But what they share is an unwillingness to keep trading their truth for a life that only looks good from the outside. Enjoy :)

Note: this is part one of a two-part series. Next week, we’ll be hearing from three more women who left marriages, families, and dreams behind to pursue what was true for them.

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“MY LIFE BECAME VERY FULL VERY FAST.”

Surya Milner

Writer of and Creator of Empress of Ghee

Location: Montana
Time there: Two years

Where did you move from, and why?

In the most broad sense, I moved because I felt spiritually misaligned with my immediate environment, which privileged competition, a distrust in the very idea of God and also of each other, and a focus on self and pleasure as the ultimate site of inquiry.

(This is not a blanket statement about the city but rather my experience of it.)

My foremost goal in leaving was to live in a place that fostered my ability to connect with God and the Divine, because I knew that everything else (the job, the friends, the life partner) would follow. They did.

How did you ultimately make the decision?

After a couple of years of living in the city, I took a mental survey of what I call my habits of living: the activities and rituals I engage with daily. In the city, I lived in a milieu of young writers and creatives; our main activities were reading, writing, dissecting, and, when all of that proved tiresome, partying. I recall yearning to get out of my head — to stop thinking as much, and to start doing. I wanted to live in a place that commanded my physical presence.

It also struck me while living in Chicago that a lot of young people live in large urban areas because they feel like they “should” or because some widespread and cultural idea of success has been borne of the great American cities: they house our most prestigious universities and are the seat of many culturally significant industries. My generation, which was weaned on TV shows like Sex and the City, has fully imbibed the fantasy of the young and upwardly mobile woman who, with grit and aplomb, climbs to the top of her field, “makes it,” gets the guy, has the girlfriends to grab drinks with, etc.

I wanted to live in a place that commanded my physical presence.

After earning a degree from one of those universities and being immersed in all that city life had to offer, I reckoned that none of it would make me happy. I didn’t want to be an observer anymore, sipping martinis with the gals and contemplating what it means to be alive today. I wanted to press my face up against the world.

I had been contemplating moving for several months when, while on an afternoon jog, I witnessed a fatal shooting in the park near my house. It took me a while to process the senseless violence; once I did, I booked a one-way ticket to Montana.

What were your expectations going in? How did reality compare?

Montana is a fantasy-addled place, and I wasn’t immune to that. I’m still not, even though I live here. The myths of this place, and the American West more broadly, run deep in all of us. I think that can be a healthy thing if we harness that energy to create a nurturing and just environment.

When I moved here, I assumed I was opting into a more quiet life. That was only half true. Montana does not have much of the noise and chatter that burdened me in Chicago, but what I wasn’t expecting was how much easier it is to find your people when there just aren’t that many people to begin with. Here, everyone knows everyone. I always joke that living in a Montana town is like going to a liberal arts college, because you’re always running into someone you know. Some folks crave anonymity and run from that; I think being known is one of the greatest privileges of being alive.

When I told my city friends about my move to Montana, many of them served me expressions of disbelief and asked how I could live in such a place...they were of course assuming all of the unflattering things about rural folk. Inwardly, I felt like those assumptions were part of the problem and the very reason I had to leave. I’ve never felt more at home in Montana, and part of the reason is that people don’t carry those assumptions — and at the end of the day, many of us just don’t care. We care more about the land and how we treat one another.

What does your day-to-day life look like? How do you like to spend your time?

I open the day with prayer, then writing whatever thoughts come to me on my yellow legal pad while sitting on my back deck with my dog, Phil. We walk around the neighborhood and admire the mountains that cradle our town.

Then I’m often off to the university to teach, or running an errand for my business, Empress of Ghee. Sometimes I’m prepping for a farmer’s market, making a butter run, fulfilling orders to one of our local retailers, or teaching a cooking class. It varies by the day.

Social life usually consists of a wholesome activity: a bike ride through Yellowstone National Park, a run through the trails near my house, crafting with a girlfriend, attending a reading, cooking a communal meal. Last week, I met a girlfriend for a sound meditation in a yurt. Morgan, my fiancé, loves to hunt, so sometimes I’ll meet him for an evening mission, which is just an excuse to walk around the woods.

In what ways has rural living shaped or changed your sense of health or vitality?

Living in Montana has strengthened my connection with God and the Divine in an unexpected way, which has to do with the social atmosphere. There’s an open-mindedness about this part of the country that gives me hope and lends itself to seeing the divine in others. People here care less about labels: queer, straight, atheist, vegetarian, vegan, left, right, etc.

Who am I and why am I here? How can I best serve? This is the foundation of health for me.

Of course, all of those ways of being exist here, in abundance — it’s just not what people lead with. Being given permission to shed those categories has been freeing for me, and allowed me to direct more energy into being curious about the questions: Who am I and why am I here? How can I best serve? This is the foundation of health for me.

In many other ways, living in Montana has supercharged my physical health. I eat more local and seasonal food than I have in my entire life, and I know exactly where or who the food comes from. I live with a fiancé, soon-to-be husband, by whom I am cherished and protected. On any given day, I am able to go outside and run, bike, ski, forage, swim, fish, or hunt. Or sometimes I just go and sit. The literary community here is small, which makes it easier to plug in — attending readings or even leading workshops fills my cup and stokes my creative fire, which also makes me feel vital and alive.

What have been some of the hardest or most surprising aspects?

My life became very full very fast. Within one week of landing in Montana, I met the man who would become my husband. Since then, we’ve built a business together, and our lives have merged and become busy.

I’m still learning how to balance the business of the season with the reason why I moved here in the first place, which was to slow down and connect to God’s path and purpose in my life.

I suppose I assumed that life out here would be slow by default, and I didn’t expect living here to, at times, feel busier than living in a city. But this is also an extraordinary season — wedding, businesses, family moving out here, etc.

Could you see yourself living in a city again?

I can’t. The benefits of rural living far outweigh those of city living. For folks who really care about where their food comes from, the city simply can’t compete with the country.

[And] the city things — museums, art, shows, insane culinary experiences, etc — are only a plane ride away. It’s a lot easier to drop into a city for a weekend to experience city things than it is to drop into rural Montana for a weekend to ice fish, forage for wild rose, wander in the woods, dip into the hot springs. Those experiences take years of trial and error to get right.

Plus, it’s just so beautiful here, that to leave would feel like losing a cherished friend. Montana is a part of me.

Follow Surya on Substack and Instagram.

“I DON’T THINK I UNDERSTOOD HOW MUCH THE CITY WAS COSTING ME UNTIL I LEFT.”

Madison Joseph

Publicist and writer

Location: Park City, Utah
Time there: <1 year

Where did you move from, and why?

Los Angeles. I spent my twenties building a life that looked really good on paper, the career in PR, the apartment, the social calendar, etc. I didn’t leave LA because I didn’t enjoy living there. I left because I had a feeling there was something better, not better objectively, but better aligned for me.

How did you ultimately make the decision?

I didn’t wake up one day and decide to move to a mountain town. I’m way too rational for that. But I couldn’t ignore the voice that kept telling me: You don’t belong here. So I gave myself permission to experiment first. I found a site called Trusted Housesitters and started applying to housesit in small towns I’d been curious about. Low stakes, no commitment.

My first “scouting mission” changed everything. I called my mom about a week into my stay and she said she hadn’t heard me sound that happy in a really long time. That was the moment I stopped treating it like an experiment.

On feeling unaligned: I think I knew for a while before I admitted it. There’s a tiredness that isn’t about sleep; it’s about performing a life that looks good but doesn’t quite fit. I felt that throughout the entirety of my twenties.

On what stood in the way: Fear. The feeling that this wasn’t a typical path. There’s a very loud voice that says: But this is what you’re supposed to do and want. Learning to hear a quieter voice underneath that one, and trust it, took a really long time.

There’s a tiredness that isn’t about sleep; it’s about performing a life that looks good but doesn’t quite fit.

What were your expectations going in? How did reality compare?

I braced for loneliness, for the novelty to wear off, for the crash of “what have I done?” that follows a bold (some might call it unhinged) decision. But it hasn’t come.

What came instead was a feeling of peace. And no matter what comes of this chapter, I feel proud of myself for having the courage to carve my own path.

What does your day-to-day life look like? How do you like to spend your time?

My morning routine is coffee on the deck listening to the birds, then a walk on the trail behind my house before I open my laptop. I work remotely in PR, and that flexibility made this whole thing possible.

I’ve been having fun trying out the local brands, so breakfast typically includes a local sourdough and eggs paired with coffee roasted here.

Evenings look like puzzles, cooking at home, reading actual books. I got a library card within my first week here and I’ve used it more than I expected.

On social life: In LA, my social life revolved around going out for dinner and bar hopping after. Here, the social scene revolves around being active together outdoors — skiing, hiking, biking. The culture here is just different. There’s no social climbing. Just mountain climbing.

However, being new here, I don’t know many people yet. I actually took a chance and DM’d a woman I found online who lived here and asked if she wanted to go for a walk. She said yes and we ended up having a ton in common.

In what ways has rural living shaped or changed your sense of health or vitality?

Getting outside here isn’t a workout, it’s just what you do. The trails are literally steps from my door. The birds are my alarm clock. Nature is not a destination; it’s just the backdrop of an ordinary Tuesday.

In LA, stress and anxiety were my constant low-level companions. The city amplified everything — the noise, the congestion, the comparison. Here, getting out of the house alleviates it. I come back from a walk so much lighter than when I left. I think there’s something about being surrounded by nature that puts everything back into perspective.

As physical proof, within a month of moving here, my hormonal acne, which I’d been dealing with for years, completely cleared up. The only thing that changed was my environment and my stress levels.

What have been some of the hardest or most surprising aspects?

The hardest part was trusting my gut when this isn’t a typical path. There’s a version of this decision that looks irresponsible from the outside — leaving a major city, networking opportunities — for a small mountain town most people associate with ski trips.

The fear doesn’t go away. You just have to decide it’s not the one calling the shots.
The most surprising part is [that] I don’t feel lonely. Not for a single day. I actually feel less lonely than I did in a city of four million.

Could you see yourself living in a city again?

No. I don’t think I understood how much the city was costing me until I left. Not just financially, but energetically. I got so much out of that chapter, but it just wasn’t a fit for me long term.

What advice would you give to someone thinking of moving?

Don’t wait until you’re ready. By the time you feel ready, you’ll also feel resentful. I wasn’t ready, I was just willing to try.

Follow Madison on Substack.

“IT’S SO EASY TO GET SWEPT UP IN OTHERS’ WORLDS IF YOU AREN’T CAREFUL.”

Jenny Bourn

Writer, artist, and YouTuber (you may know her channel, Wear I Live)

Location: Madrid, New Mexico
Time there: 6 months

Where did you move from, and why?

I moved from Los Angeles, where I had been for four years; prior to that, NYC for six. I started to notice I had one foot out of the door in LA. I had been feeling an oncoming pivot for quite some time and was having trouble making that a reality. I was being sucked into old ways of being or pulled by distractions that weren’t lighting me up in ways they once did. Most of that work is internal, but I do find that certain places bring certain things out of us naturally. Sometimes an external shake-up is potent.

I felt intrigued to go check out New Mexico at the end of 2024, and by early 2025, I circumstantially ended up in the Southwest for about a month. I reconnected with someone I had met in New York eight years prior, who had since moved here, and we hit it off and started seeing each other. We were long distance for about a year, both contemplating which place we’d move, knowing long distance wasn’t ideal for us. I had more interest in life outside of the city, so I ended up making that decision around October 2025.

I keep coming back to a phrase, “If you don’t leave, you won’t get to go.” That kind of sums it up for me.

How did you ultimately make the decision?

I’m usually horrible at small decisions and great at big ones. I usually get a very deep knowing that I want to, and will go, somewhere, like I’m being magnetically pulled. That mechanism was pretty reliable in the past with my two other big moves. Even when they were scary, or I had no idea how it would work out, I had a deep clarity that I couldn’t really explain.

This one came with much more cloudiness. My gut feelings weren’t silent, but my mind became extremely loud. I think I was really afraid to leave the circuit I had been on since I was 19, between being in NY and LA. I had clawed my way out of a small hometown, and I felt like I was throwing away the life I had built. It makes sense; this was a much bigger difference (the town I’m in has 200 people), and there were way more variables to consider (making a decision in tandem with someone else). I think getting older has to do with it, too; it feels like decisions hold a little more weight. I also had a dreamy little back house that I lived in that felt like my soul house. I had never been so connected to a space I lived in, so that was really hard to let go. I think in the past, I was so done with the place that it made it easier to leave.

What were your expectations going in? How did reality compare?

I had pretty honest expectations. Overall, I understood that this move would be incredibly hard and wonderful at the same time. It has been both. I feel my baseline happiness has improved, but my internal stability took a big hit for a couple of months. It honestly felt like my body was confused, like it wasn’t existing in space or time. I’d lay in bed at night and a part of me was still tethered to Los Angeles, like I could feel myself laying in my old bed in my old house at the same time.

I just hit the six month mark and it’s starting to feel real now. There have been so many magical moments even through feeling a little lost at sea. It’s given me so much perspective on myself and my old lives. I can see things now that I was having trouble seeing when I was so close to them. That, in itself, has made this move incredibly worth it. My energy has been returning tenfold. I think it must be the release of letting go where my energy had been tied up unintentionally. Now, it’s coming back, available to something else.

What does your day-to-day life look like? How do you like to spend your time?

I’m just feeling like I’m hitting the point of having any semblance of a routine. I’ve been spending most of my time writing, making ceramics, or studying with my mentor in a modality she developed. I found a cheap kiln on Facebook marketplace when I moved here — something that would’ve never happened in LA — and it’s now in our backyard at my disposal. I’ve loved throwing myself into a new art form. (No pun there, I hand build.)

I’ve met a few wonderful, older women who are artists and they are so generous with their knowledge, one teaching me silversmithing just for the hell of it. I’ve been touching life in a new, simpler way. Getting back into a meditation routine and walking and hiking. We’ve taken a few roadtrips, visited hot springs, town gatherings, gone to antique and thrift stores, old bookstores, and small gatherings with some friends. It’s been pretty mellow, but I imagine much more time outside now that summer is right around the corner.

In what ways has rural living shaped or changed your sense of health or vitality?

I really believe in the power of being a hermit for some time. I feel like I am getting to know myself better than ever at an exponential rate, and the quietness is a huge part of that. It’s so easy to get swept up in others’ worlds if you aren’t careful.

I feel much more grounded and in touch with my body for the first time in so long. Messages from my God are loud and clear. (Many were the same messages I was getting in the city, but I was too stubborn or preoccupied to listen then.) Synchronicities have been off the chart. I feel like I’m constantly laughing at it.

What have been some of the hardest or most surprising aspects?

The disconnection from my old lives has been hard. I’ve been grieving. I miss my friends. I knew some tougher emotions would come up. Surprisingly, I feel more open to the world than before. It’s given me a burst of energy. Being in cities, I think a lot of that aliveness can be externalized. Here has been an opportunity to create that for myself wherever I am.

It’s so easy to get swept up in others’ worlds if you aren’t careful.

Could you see yourself living in a city again?

I’m not dying to get back to a city, but I can see myself wanting to return eventually for a chunk of time, or to just explore the world. I still kind of laugh at all the people that scoff at city living out here… I tell them I moved here from Los Angeles and they often hit me with something like, “Oh, well good for you for getting out.” The unsolicited opinions kind of annoy me; I guess I feel defensive to some degree because I learned so much from those places, too. I’m glad to know I can go either way.

What advice would you give to someone thinking of moving?

I keep coming back to a phrase, “If you don’t leave, you won’t get to go.” That kind of sums it up for me. Life will fall into place once the decision is made.

There is no running from self, either. It’s easy to think a new place will make a whole new you, and it will, if you are willing to change alongside it. Something that helped me commit to the move is committing to a time frame. I knew I could do it for at least a year or two. There was no telling if this would be my forever, and that’s fine. It could be, it might not be. I don’t know yet. But I’m glad I came.

Follow Jenny on Instagram and Substack.

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is a London-based nutritional therapist and founder of Full Serving, a practice for whole-body health. On her newsletter, she takes a practical, fuss-free approach to all things health and wellness, considering the intricacies of people’s real lives rather than striving for total optimization (see: her case for breakfast soup and a sweet treat, or her guide to eating out).

Those interested in working with Kat 1:1 can schedule a consult here.

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What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Being healthy means feeling good most of the time, for a long time. Energized in the day, relaxed at night, and having enough strength, discomfort, joy, or sadness relative to what the experience calls for, rather than chasing an unrealistic state of constant perfection. When you’re healthy, you can do “imperfect” things and still feel good.

It relates to the idea of being adaptable, which to me is a key tenet of health. The opposite is rigidity — inflexibility with ideas, inability to deal with friction, body feeling all stiff. Not great.

If I can feel good in a packed morning train, stay resilient during challenging times, and feel great sunning on a beach…that to me is a good indicator of health. Healthy most of the time rather than hoping and waiting for the right conditions.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

Instinctive. A bit hodgepodge, in a good way. My lifestyle is really a mashup of being super present for short spurts, then allowing space for creative projects, spontaneous socializing, and whatever unexpected thing lands on my plate. I’ve learned to trust my choices without constantly questioning them when it comes to health — that alone has lightened the cognitive load considerably. I also live and die by my Google Calendar; everything that matters to me goes in there. I’m no longer a time optimist and it’s freed me. Get real, do what you say, stop overcomplicating it.

How do you start and end your days?

Open the curtains so daylight can stream in. Head to the kitchen to boil the kettle so I can rehydrate with hot water — I’ll go for about half a liter first thing. While that’s happening, I brush my teeth, light an incense cone, and send a “morning” emoji to my parents who are halfway across the world. Then I’ll eat a couple of bites of something before heading out for a walk with my boyfriend. I tend to leave my phone at home.

We take a loop of the park — I like seeing all the runners and checking on the herons that hang out by the lake. There are a lot of great dogs, which always lifts the spirits. We grab a coffee during the walk, sip it while we chat, and by the time we’re back it’s been 5,000ish steps and I usually feel nice and warm. Then either lift some weights or get in the shower before enjoying a big breakfast. Having time in the morning to do something nourishing — for free — is a real blessing. I don’t take it for granted.

I’m interested in health that integrates into real life, not a fantasy version of wellness.

That’s what I’ll do most days in London. I’m currently writing this from LA, and I do basically the same thing: curtains, hydrate, emoji, walk, chat, sweat, breakfast. The routine is so simple I can do it anywhere.

If time allows, I also end my days with a walk after dinner. Otherwise, I crack on with my wind-down routine. Most days, I jot down a quick recap of what happened in my diary. There’s no pressure to write something poetic; usually, it’s just a series of “I did this, then saw this, tried this, and ate this…”

Then I’m off to wash my face. I’m big into face massage. Never go a day without it. All I need are my fingers and knuckles. I love a tool or a gadget, but I like that if the airline lost my suitcase, I’d still be able to do the things I need to keep a routine. I’ll wash my face with an oil balm, really getting under the cheekbones, jawline, around the eyebrows, and then follow up with a gentle face wash to rinse off any remaining residue. Brush my teeth. Face cream, eye cream. Then get into bed to read for between 15-30 minutes. Lights out.

Can you recall a moment when you became more aware of your health, or your relationship to it changed?

I can think of a few. I’ll start with when I realized I had a crustacean allergy as a kid — I think I was maybe five? — after sitting down and eating what felt like fifty shrimp in a row. It was at a big family get-together in Hong Kong. I remember everyone peeling shrimp and tossing the shells onto newspaper laid out on the table. I reacted pretty quickly: lips went dark, I got super itchy, and my throat started closing up. It taught me early that food can be extremely powerful. It also taught me the importance of advocating for myself. It’s not up to other people to keep me safe from shrimp!

Even knowing this from a young age, it took years of treating my body poorly — lots of partying, restrictive eating, “sleep when you’re dead” type of thinking — for me to return to ways of being healthy that work for me. I had a phase when living in New York in my twenties that led to burnout: full-body hives, blinding migraines, painful periods. I was extremely cranky, which is interesting to think about now because, in general, I’m a pretty upbeat person. This wasn’t so much a moment as a multi-year phase, but it definitely changed my relationship with my health — and also how I thought of myself.

I think all of this shapes how I work as a practitioner now. I’m interested in health that integrates into real life, not a fantasy version of wellness. I understand what it feels like to be ambitious, overstimulated, social, creative, exhausted, and still wanting to feel good.

What’s your relationship to self-healing?

Committed and pragmatic. It’s something I value and prioritize. I also know what I’m capable of and, where needed, I seek expert help. I know my limits.

Do you work with any practitioners, texts, or modalities on a regular basis?

I do a lot of self-study. Professionally, I stay engaged with nutrition research. It’s important to know what’s happening and to stay engaged with the topics my clients are going to bring in, plus it’s required for my certification and insurance as a registered nutritional therapist.

Personally, I’m devoted to reading in general — print whenever possible. I love having a paperback or a fave magazine. I go to the theater. I go to the movies. I listen to the radio. I count these as modalities I rely on for health.

I’ve had periods of acupuncture, therapy, and bodywork at different points in my life depending on what I needed. I think it’s all brilliant. There isn’t a huge functional massage culture in London, which I do miss from living in Hong Kong and NY. Give me a row of massage beds separated by a curtain and I’m happy as a clam.

And I see a personal trainer. He’s got me doing a mix of boxing, calisthenics, and weight lifting. We do it in the park and it’s really fun.

When do you feel the most nourished?

After jumping into a body of water under baking sun. If that’s not available, a good laugh with someone I love will do the trick.

How do you reset?

Take a walk, drink lots of water, move my body, get in the sauna, have a shower, cook meals, have a poo, go to sleep. I find that if I go too many days without reading a book, I can feel “off,” so I try to avoid that.

I’m not a fan of big overhauls and try to do things consistently so I don’t need to fully reset.

Do you have a favorite meal?

Hong Kong-style fish ball noodle soup. Fresh fish balls with flat rice noodles in a chicken stock, blanched choy sum and lots of chopped spring onion on top. Fried fish skin on the side (if you’re unfamiliar, it’s like a crackling) to dip into the soup. I’m salivating typing this.

In terms of what I’m drawn to: simple, whole foods. I love naturally vibrant, colorful foods. I usually make meals that don’t require a lot of ingredients and assemble easily. I leave the elaborate cooking to the pros. Love a good chew. And fruits that start with the letter P.

What advice would you give your younger self?

Just start. Time will pass whether you do it or not. And if you don’t like it, you can always change your mind.

To the person reading this?

It’s never too late. I’m cheering you on.

What would you like to see or create more of in the world?

Kindness, optimism, originality, fun, generosity.

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Related reading:

This is a record of several hours on the phone with my grandmother, Lola Kay, who I consider to be the blueprint for my life. Each time we speak, it is late night for me on the East Coast. Across the planet, it is morning for her. She sits at her breakfast table, the lush home garden she tends to behind her. Throughout our discussion, shrill chirps would interrupt. Their source: a handful of baby chicks at Lola’s feet; new companions she enthusiastically hatched in an incubator earlier this week. She flips the camera to show me the chicks, who waddle around: “I am so happy because they are so cute and fat and strong.”

—Alex Westfall, Lola Kay’s granddaughter

Miss and love you, Lola. How are you?

Love you more. Love togetherness. It’s raining here a little bit. I’m very well, as always. Nothing will stop me from being well and happy and rejoicing.

What does “healthy” mean to you?

Physically, it’s that I can function well and not feel any pain. I’m alert and my mind can comprehend what my granddaughter tells me. Also, I have many friends that, in spite of our age, we have fun, learn from each other. Then my family, who I see every Sunday for dinner. That’s complete health for me.

What do you do to reach this definition of health?

I try to be aware of what makes my body not function. For example, crabs and meat make my arthritis flare up. I try to consume more fish and vegetables. Being my age, I notice that I forget things, even my handbag. So every day, I do little mind puzzles made for children. I also try to maintain my long and reliable friendships.

How old is your oldest friendship?

My classmates from college, way back from when I was a youngster in the 50s. I still have them — those who are still alive, you know? My 88th birthday is coming up and my friends are throwing a party for me.

You have so much energy during the day, Lola.

That’s what you think! But I have a secret: I cat-nap in the car. If it’s a hot and draining afternoon, I give myself a gift…lying down for 15 minutes.

Do you still drink your ginger shot every morning?

I have changed it to Three Cs.

“Three Cs”?

I learned it from my younger sister. Cucumber, carrots, and celery in equal proportions. I puree that, and I have it in the morning in a bamboo mug. It’s good for your digestion, your eyes (carrots!), your blood. Also a big glass of water and lemon.

What do you typically eat for breakfast?

Papaya in the morning. Dried, salted fish is my protein (this morning though, I had sardines for omega 3s, and some aged cheddar). The 3 Cs. My coffee is of course my luxury.

You reminded me recently of how you would sneak candy for me and my sisters as kids, because my dad wouldn’t let us have any.

I didn’t like to see you looking so hungry.

You made us happy. What are your favorite recipes or dishes to make?

My poundcake, and nilaga (boiled beef bone soup with marrow). My mother had taught me that while boiling, we add onions and leeks for flavor. But squash goes in first, and you squish and mash it to make it part of the soup.

What else forms your health routine?

Throughout the day, I bring around my drinking kit: a jug filled with warm organic tea with ginger. I never drink cold water, only at room temperature. I like to walk; I try to do up to 8,000 steps a day. When I am attacked by colds and coughs, I soak my feet with warm water and salt, then massage them. And, you know Vicks [VapoRub]?

I love Vicks. Lolo would put it on my tummy as a kid. Where do you put it?

I put it on the bottom of my feet. Try it, it will put you to sleep.

Do you have any routines in your daily life that make you feel your best?

I like hot coconut oil hair treatments, which I do twice a month, with a back massage, a manicure and pedicure. It makes me feel pampered. What a luxury. Every now and then, I feel lousy and don’t want to get up. So I go to the parlor. Get my hair done. I feel much better. Just like that.

My mother was a pharmacist by trade and later ran a patis (fish sauce) factory, but she was such a good gardener. From her, I learned the phrase: “the secret’s in the soil.” This applies to everything in life — the foundation is important.

Now, you run a bamboo garden. Why bamboo?

I fell in love with bamboo as a young girl. Its rustling and swaying leaves sounded like the most beautiful music. The shadows it left on the ground looked like lace. In 1997, my parents gifted me five hectares of land, and I began to plant all kinds of bamboo there. That’s what I spend my time on. We have the gazebo where seminars are held for school visits. We have the Bambusetum: a library of live bamboo, and a plant nursery. I was just at the garden two days ago. There’s still a lot that I would like to improve.

You’ve practiced pilates twice a week for the last 20 years.

Years ago, I had a frozen shoulder. I would wake up at 3 am, it was terrible. Even just lifting a cup of coffee was so painful. The doctor advised me to do exercises for a week, and it completely healed. I didn’t know I would love pilates so much. It’s so gentle, it improves core strength; posture. The body feels very, very clear after pilates.

My instructor, Mimi, is like my daughter. She asks me about life — what she needs for her husband, her children, and what I’ve done in my own life. We are always in alignment.

Have you ever felt truly afraid?

I had cancer twice, breast and in the bile. I was so afraid physically and mentally. There were no outside signs, but we caught it early. Doctors told me, “Take one day at a time.”

At first, I could not sleep because I believed I was going to die. I took Valium. I learned to relinquish my life to God. I said, “I know that my life is borrowed, and it’s not mine, and it’s yours. So I’d like to give it to you. If you want to take me, please do it in my sleep.” From then on, I didn’t struggle anymore. When I surrendered all to Him, I felt peace.

Do you believe in miracles?

First define “miracles.” What do you mean by “miracles?”

I think it can be whatever you want it to mean.

If the definition of miracle is when the impossible becomes possible, then I believe in miracles. And, when that has happened in my life, I see it as the divine work of God.

How has your relationship to God influenced your life?

When I was young, I thought I was the creator of what was happening to me. But there came a time in 1977 when I felt so dissatisfied with my life. My husband was successful, loving, kind. My children were intelligent and healthy. I had a good paying job as an economist. But I was still unhappy. I saw my mother’s missionary friends…they were happy, I envied them. I attended Bible Study for two years, and I learned the word of God. My faith came from that.

There is not a moment when I have things I would like God to know and be thankful for. Anytime something happens, good or bad, I pray.

What advice would you give someone my age?

Possessions come and go, but a good relationship is forever. Invest in learning. Remember your past. Work hard. Never lose sight of your faith.

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Lola Kay’s Famous Pound Cake Recipe

I learned this recipe from Nonoy Alivio, who was the admiral's chef aboard the USS Missouri submarine. My children and grandchildren love this pound cake. Many relationships were made and strengthened over this delicious pound cake. My second grandson, Miguel, was the first to learn the recipe and now can bake on his own. —Lola Kay

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Lauren Rothery is an American writer and filmmaker. Her debut novel, Television, was published by Ecco last year. You can read her short fiction in The Baffler and elsewhere.

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What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

I think lately that a healthy person is like a healthy old tree, invisibly altering the local air. You breathe easier next to them.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

Chaotic just now. I ended a long relationship recently, and moved back to New York. I’m subletting while I look for some place I’d like to stay longer. I spent the better part of six years in Europe, being in love, writing, riding on the back of a motorcycle, climbing up mountains, moving around a lot. I wrote and published my first novel. It was wonderful. But I’m tired and I’d like to sit down.

How do you start and end your days?

I wake up early, sometimes before sunrise, and start the drip coffee. I try not to look at my computer or turn on the lights. I just bump into things a while if the sun’s not up. When I’ve got the coffee made with whole milk and honey, I go sit in the front window at my bedside and think. It probably looks meditative but it’s the opposite. I’m not trying to be present in my body, but to let my thoughts roll. There’s a tug of resistance sometimes, the impulse to do something. I ask myself, What’re you, in the FBI? What’ve you got to do at dawn? and go back to aimlessly thinking. After a while, I’m comfortable. Then, very comfortable.

I do hot yoga every morning. I like to go alone. I like to listen to Beck on the walk. I like to sweat and chat with the same people at the same time every day. I’m a highly fidelitous person. I rarely get bored of what I like.1 In terms of cumulative physical results, hot yoga yields a nice mix of softness and strength, and it feels like giving my insides a shower. After class, I shower my outsides and have some fruit or a PB&J. Water. Orange juice. Desiccated bovine organ vitamins. Arnica tablets, if anything feels sore. Then I write for as long as I can. Sometimes at the park with my notebook, sometimes at home with my computer. If there is a friend to see, I like to see them in the afternoon.

I take a walk around the neighborhood in the evening, then watch an old movie. I love The Apartment. Last week I watched it twice. I’ll watch anything that Billy Wilder was even remotely involved in. If Billy Wilder lit somebody’s cigarette on set, I’ll watch the movie. I think if you’re having a tough time in your life, it’s good to be made to laugh and cry by someone dead. Gives you a sense of proportion.

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One of the most interesting parts of running a questionnaire-based newsletter is watching the themes and archetypes that naturally emerge. If I asked you to describe the Health Gossip Girl, you could probably come up with a list: flower essences, dry brushing, nightly herbal infusions, daily grounding… (Or, as put it a few months ago: the “friend who’s constantly referring to her osteopath.”) You know the type, probably because you are the type.

Lately, another characteristic has emerged, what friend-of-the-letter Carlisle has called the lymph nymph. The lymph nymph remains deeply attuned to the state of her lymphatic system on a daily, if not hourly basis, frequently engaging in self-massage, tapping, brushing, and jumping. Some people question the lymph nymph, uncertain if her lymphatic system actually needs to be manually pumped (it does), and yet, she persists — snatched, based, and glowing.

Today’s guest, , both fits this mould and departs from it. Ash is a true Renaissance woman, a master herbalist and folk doctor who, in a previous life, was a renowned fine-art photographer. On her X account, she posts some of the most truly esoteric (as in, not often spoken about) takes on light, breath, beauty, and, yes, the lymphatic system.

Below, she opens up about the late-stage Lyme diagnosis that forced her to step away from her photography career, the long unraveling and rebuilding that followed, and her slow life on the prairie today (“where every lake meets the sky”). Enjoy.

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What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Living within the rules and laws of proper right relationship, where our body, minds, and spirits are integrated within the greater sacred hoop of nature. Vital in a way that aligns with greater goods and our life purpose.

Health, for me, deeply equates to a physical and emotional vitality and resilience that is embodied and lived on those levels, with a healthy nervous system and adaptable capacity. A body that is nourished enough to be harmonious in its purpose and in what we need from it.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

I am a total loner at present. I live and breathe herbalism, Eastern medicine, and creativity from a house tucked into a hill that I lovingly call OMOTH (“Old Man on the Hill,” so named for the lovely old weeping Spruce along a sandy creek out back).

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Jess Jobst (@jess__jobst) is a designer, producer, and motorcyclist. She writes the Substack, .

What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Being healthy, to me, is a symbiosis of the mind, body, and spirit. It's as much to do with my mental wellbeing, emotional sobriety, and my environment as it is with my actual body. It's about being alive and awakened, living in sync with nature and the universe.

When I can, I stay away from any regimented routines and let my body sleep when it is tired, intuitively eat, etc. I have become so much more aware of how my body functions by paying attention to it acutely. I try and live in sync with the natural rhythms of the seasons and my menstrual cycle, etc.

I'm one of those people who need their space to be clean, enticing, comfortable, quiet, calm, and decorated well. I cannot do anything in a messy room — this affects my mind and my ability to function. I need to curate a beautiful space with art, handmade objects, books, and well-designed furniture to surround me, and a lot of light to feel good and inspired. It needs to be a peaceful environment. I am usually listening to some sort of new age, environmental, meditation music in the background, and there are fresh flowers on my table. My nervous system craves being grounded, so that is very much to do with setting the stage for that.

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A little-known Lily fact is that I used to be somewhat Soundcloud famous. It was a formative period of time, one that led to some of my closest friendships and a years-long flirtation with living in Europe. After starting this newsletter, interviewing my ultimate music idol, and simply outgrowing a good amount of angst, the arc felt complete. It was time to move on.

In this week’s newsletter, we’re hearing from , a Los Angeles-based music journalist and host of Bandsplain, a music podcast exploring cult bands and artists. Yasi is, it turns out, a major Health Gossip fan, and also runs a fabulous Substack of her own, where she’s sampled the music tastes of guests like Alexis Page and Petra Cortright.

Her approach to health mirrors much of this newsletter’s ethos, prioritizing simplicity over optimization. “I’m most interested in leaving room for delight,” she writes. In spending time with loved ones, “even if they insist on keeping their living room lit like the hostage-breaking room at Guantanamo.”

Read on to hear more about her daily routines and journey from leading a party girl lifestyle to weightlifting, raw milk, and going to bed by 10pm.

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What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

My ideas of health have changed a lot over time, but right now, I would say health means cultivating balance, authenticity, and alignment with your highest Self. More granularly, the aspect of health I’m trying to work on now is regulating my nervous system.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

My current lifestyle is pretty chaotic, but in a natural way. I’ve tried to fight that a lot in the past, but the truth is it’s just how I function best. I’m never going to be the person with the completely organized office/car/closet or a neat and exacting schedule and that is fine.

Some days I work nine hours straight, and some days I work in short, intense bursts, and some days I can’t work at all. I have to be a bit vigilant about honoring those days, because I tend towards workaholism. I try to move every day, be outside some part of every day, and eat often and well. It's important for me to connect with my friends and family every day, even if it's just texting or FaceTiming. I’m most interested in leaving room for delight, rather than planning or optimizing. Less rigid scheduling, more magic.

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is the creator of Health Gossip, which she launched in early 2023. The name appeared to her in a dream.

What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Our capacity to receive and participate in the world around us. To meet life fully; to appreciate and cultivate beauty. To give from an overflowing cup.

When I feel most healthy, I feel most clear, like I have the energy to fully shine my light and give that light to others. When I feel least healthy, it’s when I’m only thinking about myself.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

Urban-ascetic-contrarian.

How do you start and end your days?

I start most mornings outside, staring into the distance while sipping from a cup of warm broth or herbal infusion (lately: nettle, hibiscus, and dandelion root).

Over the past few years, this has been my most consistent, and most necessary, routine — originally born out of a desire to normalize my circadian rhythm, only to realize it had a ripple effect on my overall mood, energy levels, and sense of peace.

I firmly believe that the way we start our days determines the spirit of that day. It’s important to connect to ourselves and be conscious of what we’re consuming in that vulnerable, post-waking state.

Before I leave the apartment, I’ll do a few things: tongue scrape, take a flower essence (if I’m working with one), and drink mineral water with any empty-stomach supplements.1 Lately, I’ve also been doing a lymphatic + dry brushing routine, which I’ve written about elsewhere.

When I return home, I focus on nourishment: breakfast, which normally looks like some combination of a raw carrot salad, eggs with raw sheep or goat’s milk cheese, and sauerkraut. Now that it’s warmer out, I’ve been enjoying a smoothie with wild blueberries, coconut milk, Ceylon cinnamon, and bone broth protein. I drink matcha or coffee most days, usually at a cafe.

I really value movement and seek to always be out and about, ideally only home in the early morning and late at night. I don’t want to live in a city forever, but am grateful for the flaneur lifestyle that it permits.

After breakfast, I leave the house to start my workday (outside of Health Gossip, I work in marketing for a health and wellness startup). If time allows, I’ll either go to the gym before work or during my lunch break, where I do a mix of calisthenics, weightlifting, and pilates depending on the day.

I walk for at least an hour every day, ideally listening to nothing, breaking my “music fast” at the gym with trashy Belgian house music and religious chants.

By evening, I’m usually quite exhausted, and like to keep things simple: Cook a nice meal, keep the lighting dim, read, write, clean, take a bath... Lately, I’ve been allowing myself to go to bed as soon as I feel like it, sometimes as early as 8 or 9pm.

Can you recall a moment when you became more aware of your health, or your relationship to it changed?

Of course. Many moments. I think I may be going through a moment right now.

The first was a series of accidents in early childhood, which feel a bit minor now but definitely had an impact on my overall outlook on health and expression. At the age of five or six, I was in a park showing off to a friend “how far I could jump” off the curb, then jumped straight into a tree trunk. I got stitches. Around that same time, I was “ice skating” in socks on the hardwood floors of my father’s house and face-planted. It didn’t particularly hurt, but my face was bruised for a week or so after (which, to a young girl, almost felt worse than a broken bone). I put sparkles on my nose in an attempt to make the bruises more palatable to my kindergarten audience.

In both of these experiences, I think I realized — literally faced — the fact that my actions had consequences, and, to a lesser degree, that my self-expression had to be tempered or controlled in order to stay “safe.”

(This shyness would carry me into college, where, I later learned, a friend of a friend thought I was a Russian exchange student.)

In the moment I’m in now, of once again becoming conscious of my “health,” a similar theme is resurfacing (maybe because I’m living in the same city where I grew up). I’m noticing the rigidity that has become my default over the past few years, despite leading a fairly spontaneous, bohemian, connected life. I’m reminded of a sculpture an old friend once titled after me: “Lily, All Buttoned Up.”

In my heart of hearts, I don’t relate to this rigidity. Inside, I feel like a wild, freedom-oriented woman, one who lives in the country with her family and a black convertible Jeep Wrangler Sport. And yet, I still find myself defaulting to the monochrome urban costume; to blow-drying my hair. Perhaps these are the last gasps of a Falsified self.

I think it’s the work of a lifetime to be fully expressed — and even then, there’s always a gap between who we are and how we’re interpreted. With time, I’ve learned to not be so focused on narrowing it.

And what a blessing it is to have that interiority; to have something, some place, that’s just for us and God.

(There have been other moments, like a corneal ulcer that left me healing in the darkness of my childhood bedroom for a month, that I have spoken on elsewhere.)

Do you have a spiritual practice?

After a period of early-20s agnosticism and flirting with pop spirituality (more on that below), I am reengaging with Christianity, specifically Eastern Orthodoxy.

This has been a process, and one I’m still very much in the midst of. As someone who is naturally quite curious and mutable, I’ve noticed a resistance to committing to an organized religion, and also a lingering attachment to systems and practices that run counter to it. But I think whenever we feel resistance or fear towards something, that’s a sign that we must pursue it. Alas, there is no Perfect Christian.

My journey through and out of New Age spirituality has been winding. After a series of awakenings in the years following 2020, I felt a veil being lifted and wanted to explore everything on the other side. What began with Rudolf Steiner and the Christian mystics evolved into a deeper engagement with astrology, Human Design, manifestation, and eventually Kabbalah. I had all of my podcasts queued, and I was hooked.

But, like many, my relationship to these systems and modalities was ultimately that of a dilettante. I never fully committed to any one path, preferring to create my own spiritual system rather than anchor into a singular Truth. This left me confused, circling myself, with endless rabbit holes to dive into and no clear place to land. It also fed a kind of narcissism, where I was more focused on “fixing” myself and reaching a higher state of consciousness than being present with the world around me.

With time, I’ve found that the latter is actually a far more spiritual, and far more difficult, pursuit.

When I attended Divine Liturgy for the first time, something clicked into place. I finally felt held, like for once it wasn’t all up to me. I remember walking in, met with the haze of burning frankincense and timber of Byzantine chants, and understanding, on a visceral level, what “God-fearing” really meant. The acknowledgment of a higher authority, of divine law; of the reality that there are things objectively “right” and “wrong,” and that our actions have consequences — these are all truths that our modern, pleasure-oriented society loves to dismiss. Returning to them has given me a sense of peace that affirmations and chart-reading never quite did.

There’s a quote that I recently rediscovered from one of Manly P. Hall’s lectures, where he says that we can change human laws, but divine laws are meant to change us. Religion reminds us of the moral universe.

What’s your relationship to self-healing?

As someone who doesn’t often trust the popular narrative, I’m a self-experimenter by nature. In the past few years, I’ve reoriented much of my approach to health to be less informed by external advice or “experts” and more centered on my own inner knowing — with the understanding that it will guide me to the right modalities and people, should I need assistance.

(That’s an amazing prayer, if you’re struggling with some sort of perplexing ailment: God, bring the people and modalities into my life that will help me heal.)

People sometimes interpret the self-healing question quite literally: Do you believe that you, alone, can heal yourself? But, by virtue of being alive, we’re always in relationship — to our environment, to the people around us, to ourselves. In my view, when we aren’t in right relationship with those things, that’s when symptoms and imbalances arise.

I’ve said this before, but I think in order to be “healthy” in our current conditions, we have to live a bit alternatively. This is, in part, why I’m drawn to the guests that I am, and why the newsletter doesn’t feel so literal in its approach to health and wellness. I’m far more interested in hearing about someone’s goat milk water-flossing routine or pregnancy dreams than the 30 supplements they take every morning.

When we see people going deep in the biohacking direction, I think it’s because, deep down, they know they’re living in a way that is quite unnatural and feel the need to balance it out.2 But the way that we “balance it out” matters, especially when we consider how many things are marketed to us that we can simply create for ourselves, through living, or simply find in nature.

Sometimes, I really feel like the people who don’t think about their health much are the healthiest.

Do you work with any practitioners, texts, or modalities on a regular basis?

I haven’t been to the doctor in over a year, and don’t really feel the need to now (beyond getting bloodwork done). Diagnosis is a kind of spell-casting, and the practitioners that we choose to surround ourselves with matter greatly in our healing journeys. Everything affects everything.

The most life-changing doctors that I’ve worked with have functioned more like teachers (the true meaning of “doctor”). I feel like I’ve spent the past few years integrating what they have taught me.

When do you feel the most nourished?

Rolling around in the grass in the sun, temperature 65-82 degrees. Laughing with friends at a beautiful dinner, ideally one cooked by us. Acknowledging my needs, and allowing them to be met, without retreating into the (perceived) safety of solitude. Experiencing the abundance of nature and thinking, What more could I possibly need?

How do you reset?

These days, sleep and slowing down are often the best ways for me to reset, particularly if I’m feeling depleted or drained. Following my move out of NYC last year, I’ve felt myself entering an entirely new chapter. The transition out of the old and into the new has been a bit destabilizing, requiring a level of slowness and patience that doesn’t always come naturally to me. I’m learning how to tend to and be present with the beauty around me, rather than living out of pure utility. I’m learning to be a woman, rather than a girl or a machine.

On days when I’m not working, I’m a big fan of having my phone on airplane mode and doing something super simple, like taking a leisurely walk or reading in the park. I’ve been revisiting fiction, most recently by Natalia Ginzburg and Louise Glück.

I think it’s our right as women to rest as often as we please.

But, in other moments, it’s action that we need. When I’m feeling stagnant, I love to shake, dance, run, sweat. Talk to strangers, or God, or myself, out loud. Get out of my head. Deep clean my apartment. Do the things I’ve been avoiding.

These actions can be restoring or depleting, depending on where our systems are at. I often return to the phrase, “The opposite is the medicine.” If what you’re doing isn’t working, go another way.

Do you have a favorite meal?

In recent years, I’ve found that repetition works well for me (this is the case for meals as well as routines). My digestion functions best when it knows what to expect, especially if that food is local and in season.

Currently in rotation: baked chicken thighs, steak tartare, homemade bone broth, baked Japanese sweet potatoes, ground beef and rice... I agree with when she says that gym bros are enlightened beings. An underrated health “hack” is reducing the number of decisions we make per day — and keeping meals simple, predictable, and meal-prepped is a great way to do that.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Honor your vision and don’t sacrifice your truth for a temporary high. The right ones will come if you let them.

What advice would you give to the person reading this?

Have the courage to go your own way.

What would you like to see or create more of in the world?

Physical skills. Cloudbusting and weather modification awareness. Gyms with natural lighting, 432 Hz music, and structured / spring water on tap. Tan lines. Healed male-female dynamics. PDA. Discernment.

The throughline of all of these is less energy spent on reacting and more energy spent on creating. The latter will lead to the desired outcome of the former, anyway.

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Happy Mother’s Day weekend. To celebrate, here’s a conversation between Los Angeles-based writer Samantha Stahl and her mother, Marisa, a therapist and former aerobics instructor-turned-competitor. Enjoy <3

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I appreciate everything about my mother, Marisa. She is my constant companion, the voice in my head, my literal idol. She has taught, encouraged, and guided me to walk in a straight line when all I want to do is fall to the floor.

Something about my mother is that she is strong, and always has been. In every sense of the word. What stands out in particular, though, is the way she takes care of her physical health — I can never remember a time when I have not been impressed by the way her biceps look in a spaghetti strap tank top. She is always able to help me lift furniture, and will carry my entire body in her arms if wanted, or if necessary. I am a grown adult woman with muscles of my own. This strikes me as impressive, and also rare. I am grateful for a mother who can move.

My mother is also a therapist, and many ask me how that is for me, to have in my bloodline and in conversation and generally around. I can speak on this at this moment to definitively say that my mother’s word is Truth to me nearly all of the time, and her knowledge is very precious to me.

She is a deeply discerning and emotionally perceptive person, and her thoughts that I disseminate to friends are often referred to as “Pearls.” Below are her Pearls of Wisdom for Mom Gossip, with insights into finding God in aerobics, thong leotards, not minding what happens, and advice for young women to grow with grace.

—Samantha on her mother, Marisa

Marisa: I told my phone to call you, and it called my mom. It didn’t even go, “...this number’s been disconnected....” It kind of hung out there and went click, click, click... Interesting. Oh, I heard this thing on Larry Mantle this morning that ice baths are out, and guess what’s in?

Samantha: Hot.

Extreme heat! It stimulates the mother cells, which take care of all the baby cells.

You are my mother cell taking care of my baby cells. And speaking of taking care, I wanted to start by asking: what does the picture of health look like to you?

The picture of health. Picture of health, picture of health... The picture of health can do what she wants to do physically and emotionally. She is in balance. The care that she takes of herself is evident — not just physically, but it radiates out of her. And she has energy, extra energy to share with those around her.

More of a vignette of health, but okay. That’s a good philosophy for being a therapist and a fitness instructor. How does your therapy practice align with your health practices?

In both professions, I see my role as realizing potential in the people that I’m lucky enough to share space with. Connection is of paramount importance. You can’t draw anything out of anybody, and no one is going to trust you or dig deep — either physically or emotionally — if they don’t connect with you and feel that you are authentic and present. You need to be both in both careers.

Let’s get into your aerobics journey. I know it was a huge part of your life when you were my age, and that you were nationally successful and very beloved in Los Angeles.

That’s a linear trajectory. I moseyed into my first aerobics class when I was 18 — Cheryl’s Fitness Center on Santa Monica Boulevard in West LA. There was this very tiny, short little instructor who was so adorable, and she was jumping around and doing these things in choreographed succession that I had never seen before in my life.

It was like I had found God. I took the class right after that one, too. And then when I went home, and I did little routines that I could remember from class in front of my mirror. On the same day, that same night. I went back the next day. And then the next day. And then the next.

After a while, they asked me to teach, so I taught my first class there with my notes and my cassette tape. Then, I taught at the Santa Monica Sports Connection, and then Spectrum. Then, the crown jewel — Sports Club — opened and everybody was like, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, who’s gonna teach there?” They took very, very few of us. But they took me!

I taught the first class on the first day. They were signing memberships in a trailer as they were building the gym, because it was so luxurious at the time. There was nothing like it. It was the place to be. They had pool and racquetball and state-of-the-art everything, and all the celebrities were there. It was quite the scene. The classes were packed and it was just literally the best thing ever.

The picture of health can do what she wants to do physically and emotionally. She is in balance.

Then, I discovered aerobics competitions. Sports Club sponsored me and got me a choreographer. But I came in second, which doesn’t get you to the National Finals. However, the runner-up gets one more chance to go to Nationals by competing in the Open. The Open is the hardest, because everybody from across the country who just missed qualifying by one place is there.

Sports Club was like, “Yeah, we sponsored you once. We’re not sponsoring you again.” So my class raised all the money I needed for the plane ticket, for the hotel, everything. I came in second at the Open and I made it to Nationals.

I’m literally crying. This story makes me cry.

It was good times, babe. It was good times. Aerobics was everything. It used to be the height of sexiness. There was one club I taught at where guys were teaching and they would stuff their tights. They would put socks in their crotches and teach.

Some club owners wanted us to have our hair and makeup perfect every class. We had to look a certain way to teach. One always said, “I don’t care what you look like at the end of class, but at the beginning of class, I want you to look great.”

I’ll never forget, the first day, this one instructor came in with a full-on thong leotard, and I was like, “Oh, my god!” We would wear tights and a high-cut leotard, but it would cover part of your butt. But she came in wearing the thong leotard and the leg warmers, and that was it. From then on —

You wore the thong leotard.

Of course! And then it progressed from the thong leotard to the thong bottom and the bra top. It was adorable.

But you’ve never worn a lot of makeup, especially compared to other moms or even Grandma. Why?

I often think about that. I don’t get my nails done. The hair, nails, makeup stuff.

Dave (my dad, from another room): Too much working out.

He’s not wrong. I put all that energy into working out. I was working out two, three times a day, and never did it when I was younger. It became a habit. Working out was more of a priority than looking a certain way, makeup-wise.

Wasn’t working out in your 20s more aesthetic-driven than wellness-driven?

It was body. Body was everything. There was a lot of pressure — to be in front of 45 people, ten times a week was not easy. Half the time, I would wear a sweatshirt tied around my butt when I felt self-conscious, and everyone would make fun of me for it. Your body needed to look a certain way.

It’s hard for me to appreciate certain practices when I don’t look or feel better. Like, why am I doing this? Why do you do things that you know are good for you but don’t have perceptible effects?

If I know I’m doing something good for my organs and my internal health, that’s enough for me, at least at this age. It wasn’t at your age. I had to see it. My external appearance was everything, and I really couldn’t care less about what was going on on the inside. But now, as I age, that’s more precious to me. I’m taking better care of that now. I’d like to be around, and things just happen. Many things are out of my control. So, I try to control the things I can.

True that. God grant me the serenity.

Speaking of God granting you the serenity, let’s move to more of your spiritual practice. Your eclecticism has led me to some interesting places. I feel like it’s all mixed up into something that works for you, not following a dogma.

My philosophy is based on finding meaning in life itself. I want to be the best version of myself, have the most self-awareness possible, and be as intentional as I can be in each moment.

I try not to take things personally. When someone does something I don’t like, I try not to be reactive, to take a breath, and to recognize that that person is having a moment in their own life. I remember that we are separate beings and I am here to be alongside that person, not to lead them. I am here to support when asked. That has taken a tremendous amount of angst and responsibility off my shoulders, which has created a sense of calm in the past 2-3 years.

I have zero control over anything that happens in anyone’s life. All I can do is be there. No matter what happens, I will handle it. If I lose them, if they get hurt, if they die, I will be okay.

Even if I died, you would be okay?

I would have to be okay. I think that way about Daddy. I think that way about Ally. I think that way about me. I think that way about everything.

That’s where my Buddhism practice comes in. Everything is temporary. Every relationship is temporary. People get sick. People die. People make dumb decisions. People have accidents. People’s lives take left turns that they don’t foresee. It has not been my turn yet. I’ve been intensely fortunate, and I am so grateful for that. But, I don’t expect that my luck will continue until the day I die.

I do think about the fact that I could lose anybody at any time all the time. Buddhism teaches you that you have to know that your most beloved people can die today. There’s something in the acceptance of that. That’s what non-attachment means. It doesn’t mean that you are not going to be ruined or devastated, and I would not leave the fetal position for two months. It means that that could happen, and people get through it, and I will make my way. I don’t know how, and I hope I never have to, but I know that it could happen.

The people who suffer are those who act like they’re dying every day of their lives. I vowed never to live my life like that. Instead, I bring myself back and listen. I want every moment to be intentional. I’m not perfect, and I’m going to stray, but I want to remember how I want to be. I want to be intentional enough to say, “Oh, you’re drifting. Bring yourself back.”

It takes a lot of self-awareness. In every conversation with my patients, everything — I ask myself how I want to show up. I want every moment to exist as it is. Having my lane, and knowing when I am drifting.

Growing up, we had no junk food, no fast food, no Disney Channel, no Nickelodeon, no Bratz dolls. No iCarly. What’s the deal?

It’s not like we just fed you edamame and spinach. You had pizza and Trader Joe’s enchiladas and cookies, but you didn’t have Doritos or McDonald’s or Coke. We didn’t eat that stuff. I mean, Daddy ate it, but I didn’t. Well, I used to. Oh, those were such good days. I used to go from Taco Bell—I’d get like three tacos and a bean and cheese burrito—to Carl’s Jr. and get a baked potato. There were three places that I’d love to go in quick succession. ‘Cause I worked out so much, I could eat anything I want.

Anyways, I didn’t eat junk like that, so why would I feed you that? We don’t put that in our body, so why would we feed you something we didn’t feed ourselves?

When it comes to the Nickelodeon and Bratz, I think there’s better things to watch, better things to do. And, in first grade, when that kid with the little bowl cut called you sexy? He had an older brother, and I bet that’s where he learned that word. I thought, “You know what? These girls are going to grow up so fast anyway. Why would I add to that?” Let me try to tap the brakes again as much as I can, because the world is going to grow them up so much faster.

Shit’s going to happen. The stuff I can control, I’m going to control. When you were out with anyone else, their rules were fine. But in our house, we’re not getting Slurpees at 7-Eleven. Except for the all-you-can-drink Slurpees. Then we’re taking the big martini glass and we’re doing that.

What would you like to see women my age do to grow with grace?

Oh God, I just want to wrap my arms around all of you.

I would tell you to slow down. Life is going too fast. Your brains have not adapted to how fast technology, social media, and life are going. It’s not your fault. It’s not your particular brain. It’s that human brains are not adapting. You’ve been bombarded with more than you can handle physiologically, and you’re feeling tremendous pressure because of it.

Growing with grace — I think you should grow with health. You all are doing the absolute best you can to keep your heads above water, and to stay as healthy as you can, to not compare yourself to everything and everybody that you see.

Forge your own path. Be successful in a way that matters to you. Be challenged in a way that matters to you. That’s what I wish for you.

I wish that too.

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Brigid Blue Wallace (@brigid.blue) is a farmer living in New Jersey. I didn’t know much about her before inviting her on, and truthfully didn’t need to. Longtime readers of the newsletter will know that “good-on-paper” credentials often make for a boring interview. The less obvious the guest, the better.

You can find more of Brigid on TikTok and her baking Instagram.

What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Being healthy is like winning the golden ticket of life. Sometimes you don’t win the golden ticket, and sometimes you do, and you try to keep it in mint condition, but over time it bends and folds and wears down. Sometimes you accidentally leave it in your pants pocket and put it through the washing machine, and find it all crumbled up in faded pieces. Health is the will to live. It transcends the flesh. It’s the spirit in the flesh.

Animals can smell health; it’s the first thing they do when they meet each other. We do it too. It’s a sixth sense that women, in particular, have. I can smell a rat from a mile away like a prize bitch hound, and I feel most healthy when those senses are sharp. When I want to know if one of my animals is sick, I see how the rest of the pack is responding to them. Every living creature has its own special value and contribution to the collective consciousness of the group.

For me, most of my desire to be healthy is due to my fear of death. I suppose my healthiest day will be the day I make peace with the fact that I’m going to die. I’m a body for God to experience life on earth through, and right now I don’t want it to ever end.

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Matt Blackburn (@mattblackburn) is the founder of Mitolife, a wellness brand rooted in mitochondrial health and his CLF Protocol — a framework that looks at aging through the lens of cellular stress and energy.

I first came across Matt’s work years ago, and have since come to admire his willingness to (publicly) change his mind — a quality that feels increasingly rare in the health space today.

On his podcast, Mitolife Radio, he’s tracked many of these changes, revisiting earlier positions while exploring topics like iron overload, high-dose melatonin, and the neuroprotective benefits of tobacco. His approach aligns closely with the Health Gossip ethos, viewing health not as a variable to optimize, but as the practice of tending to your life as a whole and iterating as needed.

You can find more of Matt’s work on Instagram and his website.

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What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Being healthy means using resilience instead of avoidance. You can be in an electric vehicle without getting a headache, and can go into big cities without feeling sick immediately from all of the electromagnetic radiation. Supplementing the right vitamins and minerals in the right amounts and forms — on top of a balanced diet, including animals and plants — creates this resilient state.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

My current lifestyle includes a healthy blend of technology use and nature immersion. Being 100% off-grid creates a unique challenge when juggling two or more wood stoves in the winter and operating heavy machinery to clear snow or downed trees. Living by myself in a cabin in the woods has given me rugged resilience and a sort of initiation into manhood that I didn't receive in my younger years.

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Last weekend, about 25 of us gathered for the Health Gossip x STARGIRL day retreat, hosted in collaboration with MERIT Beauty.

I first connected with Emma Glenn Baker of STARGIRL last year, after our respective appearances on each other’s platforms (you may remember her Health Gossip interview, or my STARGIRL episode). We realized how much our audiences overlap, and throwing an event together felt like the natural next step.

It was truly such an honor to meet you all and celebrate the spirit of our projects. As the first retreat that either of us had thrown, it quickly exceeded our (…already high) expectations. We shared our daily routines, learned new practices to carry home (Eyren Powell’s lymph massage, Supriya Jein’s sky body meditation), and walked away with goodies from Earth Archive, VanMan, Pro Mix, MERIT, and more… along with a custom flower essence blend, created in a workshop led by .

(Listen to the audio below for a taste of what led Amanda to this medicine, which you can also read about in her “Remedies” column for County Highway.)

Here are some more highlights, captured by Angela Cabarios and Marco de Acetis.

See you at the next one?

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is an herbalist and the author of Naturally (2025), a beginner-friendly guide to herbalism and beyond.

I’ve found Rachelle’s approach to living — and, by extension, health — to be truly refreshing, an example of how, today, living “alternatively” doesn’t necessarily mean living in rebellion, but living in truth. As she wrote in a recent post, “When we’re brave enough to act according to our convictions, I believe, we end up resembling our truest selves.” She continues:

“What I want to see more of in the world…is an example of how to live differently. How to leave a life, for more life; how to leave a marriage, when nothing exactly is wrong. How to change radically and honestly, despite every pressure not to do so.”

You can find more of Rachelle on Substack and Instagram.

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What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

I have come to know the deepest state of health as one that requires, and results from, our living the lives we are meant to live. Meaning that no amount of biohacking can compete with existential misalignment.

To me, health is a state of aliveness — body, mind, and spirit.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

Beachside-jungle, pleasure-seeking, surf-addicted flowing — which could not be more different from the lifestyle I maintained until about two years ago.

I’ve been studying health my whole life, which means I know how to push my body (and brain) to the limit. I did that, working essentially nonstop from the time I was barely an adult. Through my move to New York (no money, no friends, no job, etc.), and many wild years in the fashion industry, through building my own businesses (herbal product lines, herbal cafe-apothecary, a private practice, classes and workshops, endless amounts of content…), and writing my book (Naturally). Then, suddenly, I stopped.

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My mum Julie is the most abundantly loving person I know. She was born in a small town in Quebec, traveled the world, trained as a classical pianist, and then as a speech-language therapist. After meeting my dad, she moved to New Zealand with him to have my brother, and I grew up in a smaller and warmer country. She really embodies joyful warmth and a nurturing spirit. She is always welcoming stray friends to the family dinner table, dropping me off blessed pumpkin seeds, second-hand wool jumpers, and stews. She gives every facet of her life the same kind of care, love, and enthusiasm.

Since my brother and I moved out of home, she has thrown herself into life in a very inspiring way. She’s started painting, drawing, doing pottery, joined her church choir, and cycles everywhere avidly. I think we can all take something from mum’s approach to life, and tap into the endless well of beauty and divinity she seems directly connected to. Recently, she sent me a message saying, “I feel close to you when we are online together.”

I caught my mum near the end of Lent, which led us to discuss her relationship to her Catholic faith, which is very intertwined with her intuitive and joyful approach to health.

—Romily Marbrook

How does your faith influence your life?

My faith is at the center of everything, completely. It’s like a sun inside me. I live on earth, but I feel very connected to another invisible world. Everything brings me back to it: you, my children, people around me, my workmates, my friends, my sisters, music, art, nature. Walking inside churches where so many others pray settles my eyes and my soul.

I pray a lot, especially on my bike. I always start with, thank you for protecting me on the road this morning, thank you for looking after me, always. Then I think of you, protect Romily, stay with her, and the same thing for your brother, for everyone. I thank God for always making His presence felt to me. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like a cuddle, like the feel of a merino or cashmere sweater. I think that if you can feel the pleasure of a merino or cashmere sweater, you can feel the pleasure of God’s cuddle.

How has your faith evolved throughout your life?

Enormously. When I was a little girl, I had a lot of faith, or a strong connection with Jesus; I think the word “faith” doesn’t quite translate what it is about the feeling of being touched by almighty love. But my connection faded when I grew up. I stopped connecting with it because it felt a little naff, and I didn’t see anything I liked in the religion as it was being practiced. When I arrived in New Zealand, I met a lot of Māori people, and I loved the way they lived in their faith. When you and your brother arrived in my world, it was one of the biggest shocks of my life. I was like, oh my gosh, wow! I remember seeing you and being so in love with you. I cried, you’re so beautiful, it’s incredible. It was clear to me that it wasn’t just me who did that. You were like little gifts from the sky.

I’ve always known that before I was conscious of my faith, or my connection to God, I felt like I had a petite joie in me. Since I started going to mass again, it’s clear to me where this joy comes from. Everything I do is informed by something else. It can be a bit contentious to talk about my connection with God, so I go very gently with it. People at my work see me come in with a rosary wrapped around my bike, they think it’s funny and that it looks quirky and cute. I like this. It’s approachable. Having lovely, soft, and gentle connections with people around me makes me feel good. It gives me a lot of hope.

How did your approach to health and existing in the world change when you moved from Quebec to New Zealand?

Well, I’ve never liked processed food; it’s always made me feel sick. When I lived in Grand-Mère as a child, I didn’t have much choice because it was such a small town. My mother only ever made good meals. We occasionally went to A&W, or to get hot dogs at a local shop called Chez Auger. When I moved to Montreal, I discovered an organic shop called Frenco’s on St. Laurent Boulevard that sold things in bulk: tofu, organic peanut butter, veggie patties. I’d never seen anything like it before.

I loved moving here because food is made on a much smaller scale. In North America, when you walk into the supermarket, and it’s minus 40 outside, and you see a pineapple or a passionfruit, you think, that’s not right! Everything in New Zealand, everything, was so crispy and fresh. Fresh fish was extraordinary, the milk tasted so much better. Now, they’ve added permeate, so you need to buy raw milk if you want it to taste good. When I arrived in New Zealand in the 90s, all the milk tasted like that, the meat, everything was so good. I felt people had a different kind of care. I liked that there was wine made here. I think that wine is good for you. I have one glass of wine when I feel stressed, and I’m cured. It’s amazing.

How did you get into the realm of organic food?

Good question. I think I used to read underground newsletters about it in Montreal. In Grand-Mère, we had one organic food shop that my mother would laugh about, saying they sell things for three times the normal price! But I went inside, and looked around like, wow, it’s enlightened in here! I loved it, and I bought incense from them. I think that was my first contact with organic food.

When I think about what you do for your health, it all seems very intuitive to me. You really just do things that make you feel good.

Yes, I eat fruit and vegetables every day. I always have some apples in my lunchbox. I feel like it cleanses my body. Now and then, I hear about a new fad, and I’m always so excited to try it. Like my turmeric tea with honey. I put my milk in my cup, I put my honey in it, a little turmeric, saffron and pepper, then a little bit of warm water inside to dissolve. It’s very important that you don’t put honey in boiling water, it’s a living organism! My pinkie is always my guide for temperature.

I always drink lukewarm beverages. It just makes me feel so good! I feel like the warm water goes everywhere in my body. It’s a strange and beautiful thing.

What do your mornings look like? What are the things you do that make you feel good and ready to start your day?

I get up, and I always look at the sunrise. I take pictures of it every morning. I do a prayer, I thank God for giving me a good night of sleep, even if it wasn’t very good. I thank Him for giving me a good job where I can be late without issue. I always have to massage my eyes with a flannel and warm water, and I like to stretch while I do it. It feels good to look after the gift of seeing.

I wash and alternate between hot and cold water quite often when I’m getting ready in the morning. I like to keep my face wet when I apply my creams, they feel like barriers around me. Then I like to put a little natural foundation around my nose and eyes, and I love to put a little rouge around my nose.

Then I brush my teeth, but I don’t actually brush my teeth, I brush my cheeks, my tongue, even underneath. I don’t want to wear my enamel, I want to keep my teeth forever. At night, I brush them very thoroughly, but I don’t eat anything at night, so why should I brush them in the morning? I’ve been doing it for years and I don’t have any cavities. My teeth are very strong.

I then often get into the bath and wash my feet. It does me so much good to put hot water on my feet in the morning. It is a humble thing to do.

After that, I do my morning yoga. I love it.

When I get dressed, I always have to wear things I feel comfortable in. I only buy secondhand clothes with natural fibers. All the chemicals they put in new clothes are gone when you buy them secondhand; they’ve already been softened! I find it so boring to go into a shop to buy brand new clothes.

When did you start doing yoga?

When I was studying music at university, I did yoga classes. Yoga and swimming were the only physical courses we were allowed to do because they didn’t want us to hurt our hands. I loved it. I’ve done yoga all through my life. I’ve never gone to the same class religiously, but in my own way, I’ve found something that works for me.

I also bike to work every single day, rain or shine. I don’t want to worry about parking. I feel so nimble on my bike, I feel as if I am flying above everyone! I’m very fortunate, I feel loved by the sky. I feel as if the sky is looking after me, and I would never want to be complacent about that.

What are some things you do when you get home to finish your day?

I don’t have very good routines when I get back home. I go on my Facebook, I waste a lot of time on it. I love to watch baby reels and my Catholic reels. I love my Catholic reels.

I eat the same thing almost every week: a lot of eggs, organic chicken liver once a week, red salmon, and little strips of steak. After dinner, I’ll do pottery, draw, and write in my journal, which I do very frequently. I drew your apartment recently, but it’s not very good.

I’ll practice my piano or my choir songs. I always do yoga before bed, it prepares me so well for sleep. I do little prayers when I’m in bed. I thank God for my day, and ask him to protect everyone I love.

How is Lent changing your daily routines?

I eat a lot more moderately, I pray more, I give more to the less fortunate, especially women I see on the street. Lent is about three things: fasting, praying at your weakest moment to connect with God, and practicing generosity. (I started fasting at the beginning of Lent, and I felt very fatigued; I re-read the regulations and they say that after 60 you shouldn’t fast anymore, so I stopped.) During Lent, time seems to slow down. I took the week off work to slow it even more.

Lent allows me to think more about God and Jesus’s life. It’s about loving others like ourselves. To me, this means we have to start by loving ourselves, warts and all. Forever forgiving. When I am trying to improve myself for the sake of solely feeling better, the feeling it gives me soon wears off. But if I’m doing so to be better at distributing God’s gifts, it feels everlasting.

When do you feel at your healthiest?

When I slow down and take the time to do what counts for me. Connecting with my family, organizing nice means to commune on. To look after my children, giving them food and going out with them. Listening to my children’s wisdom, they are so full of it. Going to mass every week, and more if possible. Meditating on the sacred texts we read in mass. The Psalms are so incredible! When I do my hobbies, especially when I practice my choir’s Gregorian music. When I am physically active and look after my earth vehicle. When I am in nature, when I eat well, when I write in my diary…

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More Mom Gossip:

Today’s guest is the one and only , the writer, actress, and director perhaps best known for HBO’s Girls (2012-2017). Critics-a-many have called her “the voice of her generation”; more recently, friend of the letter, Courtney, dubbed her the “patron saint of Substack.” Her second memoir, Famesick, is out now.

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What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Growing up in the height of the diet-obsessed 90s and early 2000s — Snackwells cookie commercials on TV, my mother and her friends all drinking a confounding daily powder called Ultraclear, which tasted like a vanilla-infused crayon, speedwalking for their lives — I didn’t realize it, but I thought that being healthy meant being thin. I started eating Lean Cuisine with my grandmother when I was eight, and I wanted to have twig-like arms swimming in my thermal, delicate ankles sticking out of my Pumas. Soon, jeans got tighter and tank tops got smaller and puberty came and my body started to change, which coincided with a spike in profound, fight-or-flight anxiety and painful periods (which, I was told, were just a fact of female life, like deciding whether or not to get an underage belly button ring from the place that also made fake IDs, or having a man expose himself to you on the subway).

Looking back, I can put together the emergence of my chronic health conditions like a detective going into a fugue state of newspaper clippings and red string. But at the time, it felt like everyone else was moving around in a body that made sense, could do its job, and mine was always glitching.

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Happy April, everyone. It feels like we’ve been moving through a few different types of new year energy since the “conventional” new year on January 1st, from the spring solstice to Aries season. These last few days, I’ve felt a sense of major calm, and also gained perspective on the ways in which I had been living in survival mode over the past few years. Fast mornings, constantly hurrying, pulse racing, prioritizing productivity over all else: my version of survival mode afforded little room for creativity or flow, and, as I’m looking back on photos of myself from this time, there’s a palpable sense of disconnection and sadness in my eyes. Oftentimes, returning to ourselves simply means slowing down.

(It’s funny how things can feel the same for so long, and then all of a sudden, you wake up anew. Willow flower essence has been helpful here. Probably, also, the emergence of spring.)

I’ll be headed to New York next week for 10 days, one of which will be spent with some of you. It will be my first time back since moving last spring, and I’m excited to reconnect with people and places there. I’ve been sitting on a long piece about my time there, and also a series of entries (originally intended for ’s Collected Agenda) from last March, around the time when I first decided to leave. An excerpt:

(Paid subscribers can read the full piece here.)

In other news, I recently did a podcast interview with friend-of-the-letter , touching on self-trust, discernment, and aura-maxxing.

Whenever I have these conversations, I’m reminded of how much matter is living in us, waiting to be unearthed by someone who isn’t us. Being asked the right questions truly is a form of love.

I recommend starting the episode around the 10-minute mark.

I’m working on a few different things for you, including the long-awaited provider directory (live soon!). Some of these have been derailed by new commitments, including the full-time job I started last week; nevertheless, we persist.

NOTE: The below is paywalled for non-subscribers. Subscribers, you can read the full version in your inbox!

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Thursday

E is still at her office when I arrive, so I use the lockbox to get in and rest for a bit. I only brought one book in my carry-on, Joanna Walsh’s Hotel, knowing that there were just a few pages left and I wanted to read them while in a transient state. The book is tiny, and a bit more forgettable than Break.up, if only because her style (drifting, liminal, almost clinical in its broaching of emotion) is one I already know. But I find the premise, a hotel reviewer contemplating the end of her marriage, compelling. In moments like these, she really nails the female state:

“I want my temperature taken hourly, my pillows smoothed, my corners hospitalized. I want cool water and a straw, I want to be referred for treatment. [...] I want it to be time for something to be done about me; it’s too late for me to do anything for myself. I want to be told to do things, then told to do nothing. [...] I want to be a hopeless case.”

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John Doe (@pain___house) is a poet from Michigan and the author of Autumn in the Pain House (2024). He lives on the West Coast.

What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

I’ve been blessed with consistently good physical health throughout my life. To me, health has always referred to mental health and sobriety. I’m often very ill mentally, I have been addicted to almost everything. I’m healthy when I’m living a life in line with an Alcoholics Anonymous program and the DBT principles set forth by Marsha Linehan.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

I recently relocated to the West Coast from Michigan. Besides one very troubled year in New York when I was 19, this is my first time leaving my home state. I feel very inspired here. The landscape is dramatic and my lifestyle includes a lot of driving. This is by design, I detest public transportation. Spending time alone in cars is, in my opinion, the closest we get to whatever happens before birth or after death.

Moving here has been one of many changes I’ve made since releasing my first book of poetry in Fall 2024. Another change has been semi-departing from Twitter. For people who are familiar with my writing or Twitter, this is a big change! I posted non-stop every day for almost two years while living an underemployed, celibate, cortisol-fueled life.

Now I have a wagey job that aligns with some of my interests. My drive to work includes a long bridge soaring over a portion of the Pacific Ocean. I have a girlfriend. I don’t know if I can live this ‘dopamine detox health chungus’ lifestyle forever, I would probably get bored, but I’m really enjoying how things are right now.

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Welcome back to Health Gossip Top Shelfies, a series peeking into the medicine cabinets, vitamin shelves, and beauty (slash wellness) rituals of our dear community.

Today marks our first male Shelfie. is a New York City-based consultant, magazine editor, and the writer behind HEAVIES. I loved his interview with Molly Young, which filled in some of the blanks from her Health Gossip feature (protein pancakes, prison workouts, et al). Now, Chris is here to fill in some of the blanks from his own routine. Enjoy.

Who are you?

I’m Chris, a writer, magazine editor, and consultant based in New York City. My pie chart of work is all over the place. During the day, I’m head of editorial at SSENSE, but I write features for places like GQ (where I was an editor for nearly a decade), New York magazine, National Geographic, The Believer, etc. I also work as a consultant and strategist with my friends at C47 and the Office of Applied Strategy, and write the health and wellness newsletter, HEAVIES.

Outside of all that…I’m heavy into Muay Thai and train at Five Points Academy like 5 days a week. My gym is my favorite place in the city, and I’ve made a handful of wonderful friends there. I’m also 41 and tired 99% of the time, mostly because my wife and I have a four-year-old son who is very curious and funny and enjoys waking us up before the sun comes out.

Describe your approach to health and wellness.

The wellness industry, at least here in America, is one of those downstream effects of a society designed to profit off healthcare. It’s partly why I try not to overcomplicate my approach to health.

To my mind, it’s mostly just four things: eating right 80/20 (mostly whole foods), getting enough sleep, moving your body, and filling your life with people you love. That’s basically it. Supplements, red light, PEMF, peptides, hyperbaric — all that other sh*t is fun and nice to have, but not required.

Fundamentally, I think of being “healthy” as introducing necessary friction into your life. Cooking for your people, lifting heavy objects, reading challenging novels, walking places, meeting up with a friend even though it was a long day and every ounce of your being just wants to bail and order Seamless and binge Netflix or whatever. That’s sort of been the mission with HEAVIES: the case for doing the hard thing in order to become a little more resilient.

What are some of your must-haves?

I get sent a lot of products to try, but the important-ish things for me are:

1. Filtered water. This is probably the big one for most families, since hydration and cooking with water can do a lot of work for your health. My friend Dr. Michelle Davenport is the source code for all of this, as water-based cooking, i.e. soups and braises, is sort of the skeleton key to longevity. Essentially, it helps lower the level of advanced glycation end products (AGEs) in your food, which are these harmful compounds associated with inflammation, oxidative stress, and all that bad stuff associated with the Western diet. I use an AquaTru reverse-osmosis countertop system and have been testing the Rorra filter. New York tap water, while delicious, is filled with PFAs and microplastics — not because our water-treatment infrastructure is poor, but because a lot of building pipes are really old.

2. Creatine. Since I’m sleepy all the time, I find that 10g of creatine daily, as recommended by Dr. Rhonda Patrick, helps mitigate brain fog and has helped me squeeze in more reps. The downside, which isn’t even really a downside, is that I’m like 17 pounds heavier than I’d like to be (my fighting weight is closer to 125 pounds).

3. Whey protein. I try to get 120g of protein a day, which is a lot to get from meat alone, so I often supplement with a shake or two. I like whey because its amino acid profile is more complete than, say, pea protein, which can be high in heavy metals.

   

4. Beetroot powder. Good for blood flow and heart health. For vanity purposes, I love that bodybuilders swear by the stuff because it makes your veins look cool and throbby.

5. Vitamin D. I’m originally from Southern California and grew up surfing, meaning getting enough sun when I was younger was never an issue. Quite naturally, I was shocked when a recent blood test revealed that I was close to being vitamin D deficient, so as a result, I’ve been supplementing with a little something extra to get through this relentless winter.

Any wellness secrets you swear by?

Hot pot night. Ideal food (soup, protein, veggies) and friends. Very communal. Good for the soul.

I’m a big believer in PEMF therapy to speed up cellular healing and get it done frequently at MOCEAN (second-favorite spot) here in New York City. It’s a game-changer, especially for nagging injuries; it should be more popular than red light, to be honest.

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is an indie product developer and beauty brand strategist. Obsessive Into the Gloss readers — which I assume many of you were — may remember her from her days at Glossier, which she helped launch alongside Emily Weiss. You can read more about her health and beauty escapades on Self Involved.

What does health, or being healthy, mean to you?

Health is the feeling of freedom and ease in mind, body, and spirit.

How would you describe your current lifestyle?

The past year has been a bit weird because my mom got diagnosed with glioblastoma last June and I moved back home to Buffalo temporarily. I’m still in the in-between space of my “real life” in NY and then posting up in my childhood bedroom. It’s been a really expansive experience and an unsolicited test of my own resiliency. My world quite literally got turned upside down.

Because I had already been very dialed in on my own health when this happened, I doubled down in Buffalo as a way to stay sane. I do best with routine, so really the only thing that shifts when I’m not sleeping in my own bed is my diet. I’m a much better eater in New York than I am in Buffalo, the junk food capital of the world. Otherwise, I stick with my morning supplement/injectables routine, found an amazing Pilates studio in Buffalo that’s randomly owned by my childhood ballet teacher (a sign from the universe), maintain my twice daily meditation schedule, keep in close touch with my group chats, and ultimately it has been really nice to be with my family.

I stopped drinking last May because I was testing out some new protocols and wanted to eliminate any variables. It was meant to be temporary, but I just never picked it back up. It’s been kind of a blessing in disguise. I didn’t necessarily drink a ton before, but I noticed that as I got older, I wouldn’t have a physical hangover the next day but an emotional one — morbidly depressed, totally anxious about every little thing. If I had been drinking last summer under all that stress, I would’ve totally lost it.

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