Meditation: Love and Gratitude, seven minutes

We exited the California African-American Museum heading towards the Science Center, and Melle noticed something to our right.

“That’s a big beautiful bush,” she said. I didn’t reply with the twelve-year-old’s retort that entered my brain. The bush was stunning and tall, a shock of beauty that demanded attention.

“Let me take your picture,” she said. Tiffany declined, but I was into it. I remembered previous photos of myself amongst the poppies or in the pool in our villa in Jimbaran Bay with a flower in my hair. Those moments where how I felt inside actually came through the camera lens.

I brought my hands to my chin mimicking many an Instagram selfie. The young ladies next to us who were also taking pics said, “SAAAAME,” and my grin grew.

I thought they were taking pictures for a wedding but after our viewing of the King Tut exhibit—a thing you should do—we realized it was prom night for many a local high school, two of whom were having their coming-of-age event in Science Center venues around Exposition Park. We stopped and watched a bit as couples arrived at the Wallis Annenberg Building. A red carpet had been rolled down the staircase. Underclassmen lined the carpet to greet arriving guests while teachers stood at the top in their chaperone attire.

In the rose garden, parents took pictures and friends greeted each other with delight and surprise, seeing each other dressed to the nines for perhaps the first time. A young woman walked towards her friends in a dark, full-length gown, the bodice elegantly beaded and stitched. Her hair was perfect. Unlike others, she wasn’t struggling in her shoes. She couldn’t contain her smile as she approached and her braces gleamed in the evening sun.

“Yolanda, what the heck,” her friend shouted looking her up and down. They grinned at each other and hugged and quickly got in formation for another photo.

Tiffany was emotional. “I love these big moments of transition,” she said. I do, too. Those moments when we believe anything is possible. Those few times in life when we feel both accomplished and anxious for what’s next.  Prom night in Los Angeles in 2018 amongst the big beautiful bushes of expo park with a bunch of goofy grinning old heads gawking at them, those kids were the stars.

And I was grateful.

I wrote about my latest read yesterday.

I’m halfway through Wild, Wild Country. I’m a bit familiar with the story because of a 99% Invisible episode from a few years back. Sometimes, though, you’ve got to see it to not believe it. The 80s were, ahem, wild.

Oh, that’s just somebody who’s worried about you taking their place.

White Donald would be James Franco—a guy doing a lot of different shit, none of it interesting.

“You don’t have to say anything to the haters. You don’t have to acknowledge them at all. You just wake up every morning and be the best you you can be. And that tends to shut them up” ~ Michelle Obama pic.twitter.com/dxn199dcSz

— Melanie (@PoliteMelanie) April 26, 2018

Dirty Computer.

And you,

Always you.

Remixed by Jazzanova