Tag: gratitude (page 3 of 4)

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June 10, 2018 / 0 Comments

My Heart is Full


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“I am tired. I am strong. I am human. I will listen. I can think. I will love.”

— Norah Jones

The lyric I almost pulled from Norah Jones’ latest asks, “are we broken?” That’s a question that has camped in my brain far too frequently this past week. In America, we’re taking our own lives with increasing frequency the CDC reports. At the same time as that news was breaking, the lives of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain were ending. They join other prominent names of the last year or so that have killed themselves.

The language of suicide is blunt. I want euphemisms, but there are none that don’t mask the harshness of the act. Like many others, Bourdain’s death has thrown me for a loop and, like many others, this is not the first time suicide has come through the door with its terrible chaos. Every time it hits close, I cycle through anger and empathy and wondering why. The answer to that one is simple though even if it isn’t satisfying: they were hurting.

This time, I’ve tried to be different. I read and remembered. Serendipity was having a breakfast planned at Petit Trois Le Valley early Saturday morning where I had the best-scrambled eggs I’ve ever eaten and hugged my friends. I visited with my barber and listened to her talk about her impending nuptials while she cut my hair, a reminder that life keeps moving. Her excitement and anxiety showed me that hope and possibility still live here. I went in a darkened theatre and watched eight women fill the screen with charm and an unusual lack of bombast and enjoyed the pleasant romp.

Today’s meditation, The Joy Lens, suggests taking unadorned appreciation for the things you and others enjoy. The sexual. The sensual. The delicious. The physical. The experiential. The simple. The complex. The Joy Lens would have us not lose sight of those things even when things are hard.

Even when we’re sad. Even when what’s happened fails to make sense.

I’ve tried to do that this weekend. To fill my heart with joy to take up the space that has emptied as it cries out for losses felt deeply.

Are we broken? Maybe. But we’re also beautiful. And still here.

And I’m grateful.

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May 20, 2018 / 0 Comments

Don’t Wait


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“If someone loves you back, don’t get in the way. Don’t hold it back. Don’t wait.”

— The Foreign Exchange

Meditation: Love and Gratitude, 7 minutes

It’s been seven years and seven days. I’m not going to retell our wedding story even though it’s my favorite tale. We celebrated Tuesday night with a meal at Native in Santa Monica. In between magical bites and delicious sips, we marveled at the passage of time. Seven years married, ten years together come this September, fifteen some odd years of knowing each other existed in the world.

Time moves and love is powerful. The most reverend Michael Bruce Curry said during yesterday’s Royal Wedding:

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We are actually family like last Sunday when my immediate family and her cousins broke bread together in our house on Mother’s day. We ate and drank and talked as if everyone were blood and had known each other for years when, in fact, these two groups had never shared the same space before.

Seven years and seven days mean a lot of routines, many battles for space in the kitchen, and frustrations about chores. There are concessions and conflicts. Days of silent treatment and disappointment.

Every moment—even the ones that aren’t sunshine and soft shoulders and feet entwined and hands clasped and boisterous belly laughs—has been full of love.

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Love to make men better. Love to make me better. When I remember our wedding, I like to recall my vows. I entered this partnership not by thinking of what I might gain but of what I might give. Every day I challenge myself to think about how to be more kind and compassionate to her and then by extension how do I bring that from the home to my work and my community and the world.

Seven years and seven days. May each that follows be even greater.

Better together.

And I’m grateful.

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May 13, 2018 / 0 Comments

This is America

“America, I just checked my followers list, and you motherfuckers owe me.”

— Young Thug


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I intended to write this last Sunday just 12 hours after Childish Gambino’s This is America entered the public consciousness as song and video. I’d watched the visuals several times by that point. I’d seen the SNL performance. I’d listened to the music alone on Spotify. I’d read the many Twitter reactions and overreactions.

But I didn’t have the words. A week later, I’m not sure I have them now either but if you feel the urge to write, there’s no reason to put it off.

This week, I’m grateful for art and artists that defy definition. This is America is dense and complex and complicated. It’s bold and obtuse. My brain hasn’t entirely been able to wrap around it and hold it with any certainty. Donald Glover has chosen not to explain it’s intentions or meaning. I appreciate that.

It is somewhat tricky, I imagine, to create art in 2018 that can survive the hot take unblemished. On David Letterman’s Netflix show, Tina Fey discusses the impact of the social media reaction to her SNL Weekend Update bit from last August. She’s not even on Twitter, and the hot takes bruised her bit—a segment that I still think is pretty good—and her perception of it.

This is America, though, remains a thing to be unpacked and considered and reconsidered. Even as the remixes and memes began yesterday, I found it undiminished. What I most appreciate about Glover’s recent works—with this song, with Atlanta, hell, even his acceptance speeches at awards ceremonies—is that he isn’t overly precious with Black American popular culture. For him, it is a thing that exists and to be treated the same as any other aspect of the American experience. He respects it on it’s face. He does not feel the need to explain or defend it. He recognizes that it is a thing to be played with, challenged, deconstructed and reconstructed.

Blackness can handle it. The people it represents can handle it. In fact, we’re better for it when we neither apologize nor overly celebrate what we make and who we are. He centers blackness. Full stop.

We use terms like unapologetically black or, in the past, unforgivable blackness. For my money, what feels different about Glover’s current output (and Beyonce’s Coachella performance and, perhaps, Janelle Monae’s Dirty Computer) is that they remove those signifiers. There are no demands of their presentations of blackness other than to be.

This is America, man.

This is us.

We are America.

And I’m grateful.

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April 29, 2018 / 0 Comments

Another Fine Day

“One fine day—day from now—we’ll stand still watching how things went right.”

— Jazzanova

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.


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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.

Dirty Computer.

And you,

Always you.

Remixed by Jazzanova

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April 22, 2018 / 0 Comments

Nice for What


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“That’s a real one in your reflection.”

— Drake

Meditation: Healing Love, 12 minutes

I watched the college gymnastics national championship this morning. UCLA won in a thriller that required Christine “Peng Peng” Lee to put up two back-to-back perfect tens in the uneven bars and the balance beam. In the post-match interview, coach Valerie Kondos Field was asked about the quote she used to inspire her team that morning. It’s a remix of a King James Bible verse:

“Be anxious for nothing and grateful for all things.”

I’m not a religious person but that resonated. I struggle some Sundays to figure out what to write. This ritual is an exercise in gratitude, and the reality is I’m often most grateful for the mundane. I woke up this morning. I live in a place where the sun is shining. I want for very little. My body works. I enjoy the work I do and the people I do it with. I appreciate my friends and family (even if I don’t tell them enough). My life is more comfortable than most.

So what, each week, am I uniquely grateful for? Maybe it’s a song like “Nice for What” which reminds us that this is a short life; to do and be you; and that those you let in should care for you.

Maybe it’s that the book you most wanted to read—Sing, Unburied, Sing—was in the new release section of the library when you arrived after months of being unavailable.

Maybe I’m grateful for the adjustments to my morning routine that kept me clear of mind, on task, thoughtful, and disciplined most days.

Maybe it’s NBA playoff basketball which has been excellent.

Maybe it was feeling particularly good at my job this week.

Maybe it was for the opportunities presented to be kind to strangers and that I took them.

Maybe it was the Friday of self-care: a long lunch at one of my favorite places and an after-work massage that found and removed the tension in my muscles, my shoulders, and feet that I’m rarely aware of until they are gone.

Maybe, though, it’s all things. Even the hard things that require more of me. Especially, perhaps, those things that demand courage and voice with outcomes uncertain.

Be anxious for nothing and grateful for all things.

Okay.

April 16, 2018 / 0 Comments

Something to Remember


“They say that happiness cannot be measured.”— Dynasty
Meditation: Find Beauty Everywhere, three minutes
My style of leadership and communication is heavily rooted in steadfastness and compliance. I rarely seek to accomplish things by focusing on influence or dominance. At least this is what a leadership training session centered around the DISC personality test told me. You can take a free version of the test here. Once the traits were explained to me in detail, I found them accurate.
I was in a group of over 40 people, most of whom I did not know or didn’t know very well—though I was there because that will change soon—and we had broken into clusters based on our primary trait. One of the Ds (Dominance) asked: “How can I get you [the Ss (Steadfast)] to give feedback?”

What an interesting question.

I took time to ponder it—as my style is want to do—and realized that this is true. I am not prone to give feedback when asked both personally and professionally. At least not immediately. I like being asked about my day or my weekend or how I’m doing, but I’m not likely to say much beyond surface thoughts. At work, I’ll give feedback in a structured situation—I love formal goal setting and reviews—but otherwise, I tend to be more circumspect.

I know feedback has consequence. I like to know why I’m being asked something and how you’re going to use the information I give you. I want to be confident my thoughts will be clear and received as intended. I don’t like to burden others with whatever I’m feeling at the moment.

I hadn’t considered this about myself before. I imagine that awareness will be useful to me going forward. I’ll be more likely to ask some why questions and for additional time rather than be non-communicative or feel pressured to respond immediately.

40-something and I’m still learning about me. Who’d a thunk?

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If you’re in NYC over the next two weeks, you should head uptown and see Detained. It’s timely and compelling and well done.

This is coming out late tonight because I was distracted by Beyoncé’s Coachella performance this morning. It was on a whole other level. Please to send me your best explainers and deep dives into all the elements that went into making that magic happen. You can keep your think pieces though.

Right before I sat down to write this, Cardi B was performing on the ‘Chella livestream. Who is more delightful in pop culture right now?

On the plane ride to NYC, I read Annihilation and listened to the soundtracks for the movie adaptation as well as Westworld, The Cloverfield Paradox, and Arrival. They all go well together. The book is good but the film—which I saw first—did a better job of screwing with my head.

On the return flight, I watched The Shape of Water and the first Kingsman movie. I expected to like The Shape of Water and did. It’s impeccable film-making though I think Get Out will be the 2017 release that most people will still talk about years from now. Kingsman was a surprise. Outside of an off-putting turn towards the end that was out of left field and felt incongruous with the rest of the flick, it was quite fun for that kind of hyper-violent comic book adaptation.

Shana’s dictionary.

California is the future.

Dapper Dan is still the man.

And these are the things for which I’m grateful.

That includes you.

Yes, you.

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April 1, 2018 / 0 Comments

Find That Love Again


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Yoga: Yoga for Connection (27 minutes)
Meditation: Ease with Everything (11 minutes)

“Something on my mind, something I gotta find.”

— Phonte

The prescription didn’t take. Well, that’s not true. I didn’t spend the week in a bad mood, but I’m struggling to shake this ennui. This morning’s session of yoga was about connecting with your breath and with yourself. It was mostly still—Shana might call it lay-on-the-ground yoga—and I was present throughout. I felt release. Alone in the house, I loudly exhaled several times. I cursed with relief. I thought I might cry.

Instead, I smiled.

That connection was fleeting, though. The meditation I do before writing these Sunday missives was an exercise in distraction. My mind wandered to to-do lists and imagining future interactions. I’m unexpectedly traveling for work in a week, and it has me uncharacteristically and unnecessarily anxious. But this isn’t the problem. I’m focusing on usual work shenanigans because the real challenge is elsewhere.

I told a friend this week that I don’t fight against the tide. I want life to be easy especially for everyone around me. I want to keep it nice. That works for me 99% of the time.

March 2018 was the other 1%. Maybe that’s why this morning’s meditation didn’t go well. Maybe I don’t want ease with everything. Maybe ease leads to complacency. Maybe trying to be easy is what got you to this uncomfortable feeling in the first place.

Probably. Sometimes. Maybe.

When I’m trying to figure my shit out, I write. So, I’m grateful this week for this space where I get to tap tap tap it out and hit publish. And for reminders that sometimes I write things I like, like this little story from 2002.

When I’m trying to figure my shit out, I read. So, I’m grateful this week for my public library branch and their seven-day rule on new releases which forced me away from digital distractions to devour Walter Mosley’s latest. I picked up Jeffrey Eugenides’s short story collection for this week’s adventure/challenge.

When I’m trying to figure my shit out, I eat. So, I’m grateful this week for this Epicurious meal-plan which was perfect even if my execution was not.

When I’m trying to figure my shit out, I seek fellowship. So, I’m grateful this week for lunch with my mom. Our conversation was wide-ranging but deep and probably not long enough. Afterward, though, I saw myself better.

I don’t know that I’ve ended this week having figured my shit out. I’m grateful, though. For the words. For the stories. For honesty. For the kitchen. For patience.

And, for you.

Yes, you.

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March 25, 2018 / 0 Comments

Deep in Mudd


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Meditation: Untangle Negative Thoughts, 15 minutes

I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Wallowing doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m uncomfortable in the muck. These past seven days, though, conspired against me. My birthday didn’t feel as I desired or needed. We got real live rain for days. The sun hid from us most of the week. I was unexpectedly burnt out from the pace of the first three months of the year. There was random unwanted work drama. My routine was slightly askew.

So I stewed in the swamp of dark vibes. It’s starting to break, though.

Wednesday night, I cooked new things. Meatballs and beet salad inspired by Persian New Year and the New York Times. Thursday night, I hung with colleagues as we celebrated YouTube milestones and the end of awards season. Friday, I took a personal day and caught up with kick-ass ladies in Jessica Jones and Annihilation and the NCAA Women’s Basketball Tournament. Yesterday, my haircut session was therapy. My Name is Myiesha was entertaining and thought-provoking.

And then dinner with my mom, my wife, and an old family friend was medicine. Hungry Crowd was a surprising little spot in Toluca Lake with Korean fusion dishes that were better than expected and a conversation that soothed whatever was ailing me.

We laughed throughout, to the point that diners at the table next to us leaned over and joked that we must be having a terrible time. We laughed even louder and engaged for a few minutes, learning they were from London, happened upon the place after being told of a 45-minute wait across the street. She was an actor I recognized. He was a member of BAFTA. They have cats and love LA. They aren’t citizens but found time to March For Our Lives. We apologized for our current President. They countered with a firm belief that he’d be done soon.

This week I’m grateful for this prescription to ending a bad mood:

  • Do new things
  • Seek unusual knowledge
  • Talk to strangers
  • Celebrate the little things and the big
  • Take a break
  • Laugh
  • And Laugh
  • And Laugh
  • And Laugh

Now you’re not stuck in the mud; you’re dancing on it.

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March 18, 2018 / 1 Comment

It Runs Through Me

“I’m grindin’ on the back side of life, we dance.”

— Posdnuos

Meditation: Tap into Happiness, 11 minutes


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I was on the receiving end of several “thank yous” this week. I was thanked for hosting a meal. I was praised for conversations had, and meetings led. My job description suggests my work would be all numbers and data and whatever secrets I can get them to whisper to me.

In actuality, my value is in the soft parts. I rarely get thanked for providing reports. Gratitude comes when I communicate effectively. People give thanks when I’m persuasive and thoughtful and gracious.

We visited the Jasper Johns special exhibition at The Broad, yesterday. The exhibit circles around this quote from the artist:

“One hopes for something resembling truth, some sense of life, even of grace, to flicker, at least, in the work.”

— Jasper Johns, 2006

Grace and truth and life are the things I’m grateful for this week. It’s the last day of another year on this blue marble for me. May those things run through me well into the next one.

Thank you.

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March 11, 2018 / 0 Comments

Lucid

“It was all something or nothing to me.”

— Jordan Rakei

Meditation: Hard on Yourself, 11 minutes

I’ve been ruminating on my failures. I have writing unfinished and text messages unanswered. There was the moment I put my foot in my mouth in a meeting and the back-to-back days of lunch consisting of fries smothered in cheese and meat. I’ve spent too much time on my devices idling and not enough time learning and reading.

This is only a partial list.

Today’s meditation is about getting past those uncomfortable and seductive thoughts—The Little Hater as Jay Smooth coined—and finding space for a full view of you. Be kind and compassionate to yourself. Express gratitude for your strengths and weaknesses. Recognize that those around you also make mistakes. We are fallible.

In Chris Rock’s Netflix comedy special, he says the most important lesson he can give to his children is this:

“Nobody outside this house gives a fuck about you.”

That recognition of our relative lack of importance except for those who know and love us always brings me comfort and clarity. I can see what matters.

What mattered this week?

  • Last weekend’s full plate of birthday festivities for two people I am honored to call friends
  • A life-affirming live performance from Jordan Rakei at the El Rey on a school night (here’s his KCRW set)
  • Handling dinner more times than usual
  • Learning how to bake with yeast

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  • Every time I listened more than I talked
  • Every time I told someone something they needed to hear even if they didn’t want to hear it
  • Every time I thought of someone else’s comfort before my own and acted with that intention

I have found a good routine with yoga most mornings to start my day, but daily meditation has been an unintended casualty. The challenge is making time for honoring both the body and the mind. When I do that with consistency, the little hater’s voice is rarely louder than a whisper. When one or the other is out of practice, he starts to shout.

Hush now.

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