By Jessica Solomon
Let’s set the scene.
I was a house guest, a participant, an observer in a gathering that defied definition. It was part networking event, part house-sitting gig, part soul retreat—a collision of worlds orchestrated with no agenda, no script, and no requirement other than to show up as your full, unfiltered self.
The epicenter of this organic constellation was Eli Angote—a friend, a connector, a trailblazer whose energy hums at a frequency that magnetizes humans with big ideas and even bigger hearts. Eli doesn’t “host” in the traditional sense—he curates a space where unpredictability is not a problem but an ingredient. Where a plan is just a vibe, and “lemonade from lemons” feels more like a cross between Willy Wonka’s magic, Napa Valley’s beauty, and the spiritual ease of a Sunday morning.
This was networking reimagined. It was leveling up in the truest sense—not climbing a ladder, but floating up with others, carried by connection, presence, shared meals, pet therapy, majestic views, and laughter that traveled across walking trails and through labyrinths of heart-to-heart exchanges.
Come as you are, as you were, as you want to be.
As a friend. As a friend. As a friend.
One of the highlights of this weekend—this soulful convergence—was meeting Claudia.
Cool as a cucumber, grounded like a mountain, and warm in that rare way that people are when they’ve lived deeply and chosen to stay open. I recognized her instantly from one of Eli’s online networking events. Her heavy-hitting tech background and razor-sharp insights were unforgettable. But now, here we were in the flesh, perched at a kitchen table, the boundary between digital presence and real-world connection dissolved like sugar in tea.
Claudia shared the story of her recent health challenges—periods of pain, immobilization, frustration. As she iced her foot, she spoke not with complaint, but with gratitude. Not about what her body couldn’t do, but what it still could. She talked about freedom. Not the abstract kind, but the kind you feel when your body finally lets you walk again. The sacred kind that lives in your bones after illness.
This wasn’t just casual conversation. It was a clinic in embodied self-care. Claudia didn’t just talk about healing—she radiated it. She reminded me that caring for oneself is not a luxury—it’s a discipline, a practice, a spiritual rebellion in a world that often tells us to override our needs.
Later that evening, we dove deep into a conversation about my startup. Claudia gave thoughtful feedback—direct, honest, no sugar coating. At one point, our dialogue hit a nerve. An emotionally triggering moment flared. I could hear it internally—a crescendo of strings, drums, a full-blown opera screaming into the void of my self-doubt. But before the emotional storm could take over, Claudia’s calm presence transmuted that energy. She redirected it. Held it. Grounded it.
It was like someone grabbed that emotional opera and turned it into a symphony of understanding. A Koombaya moment. A soul cloud. Guardian angels might’ve been toasting tequila shots in heaven.
The next morning, the sun spilled into the great room. Claudia was there—birthday girl. But guess what? She brought the lox. She brought gifts. She brought presence. On her birthday.
She spoke again about her healing. Her tone was one of acceptance, of reverence for the journey, and above all, hope. That there’s always room to grow stronger. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.
As we prepared to leave, Claudia stood at the top of the stairs with her crutches. I offered help. She handed me one, and I—being me—twirled it like a baton, marching down as if leading a joyful parade. She laughed. We laughed. We were no longer guests or strangers—we were mirrors.
At the landing, we each placed a hand on our heart. No words were spoken. They weren’t needed. The gesture said everything:
I see you. I hear you. I am you.
A true namaste moment.
So what can people like Claudia teach us?
That self-care is sacred. That healing is nonlinear. That bringing your full self—your aches, your insights, your laughter, and yes, your lox—to a shared space is a form of leadership. That holding space for others while honoring your own limits is not contradictory—it’s divine.
So thank you, Claudia. For your wisdom. Your presence. Your birthday gifts—none of which were wrapped but all of which were felt.
And thank you, Eli, for creating the container where all of this magic could unfold.
Here’s to soulful retreats, healing meat suits, and the wild, wonderful ways we show up for ourselves—and each other.
Happy Birthday, Claudia.
Namaste.
