After a second round of drinks and an informal brainstorming session, we parted ways in high spirits and Seth agreed to keep me posted on the progress of the magazine project. Read More
Fast forward to now, May 2017, and I’ve got something to show you...
I find the manmade world to be merely tolerable;
a manipulated rendition of select natural qualities
with a domesticated lifestyle so dominant it feels unquestionably correct.
Until you question it.
Then you learn that… Read More
Even though I couldn't relate to being a freshly-divorced woman gallivanting around the world to find myself, I was still one of the millions of readers who found themselves charmed and inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert's best-selling memoir Eat, Pray, Love, of which more than 10 million copies were sold worldwide.
I sympathized with the longing and curiosity that she gave herself permission to explore as she ventured to Italy, India, and Indonesia. I mean, haven't we all longed to truly know ourselves through international adventure?
Gilbert's way of communicating, so authentic and friendly, has a way of gently holding your attention. And so, after swiping the book off of my mother's bookshelf, I read through it with delight.
However, though certainly a memorable introduction to Gilbert's work, this report is not about Eat, Pray, Love but, rather, on her latest release titled, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, by which I've found myself charmed once again. Read More
Recently, after sharing my thoughts on the benefits of white privileged men facing discomfort uncharacteristic of their race and gender now and again, I was blindsided by a commenter calling me "a fucking cuck." After looking up the word – an insult used among the alt-right to shame fellow white men reluctant to exploit their strength – I was enraged. After the anger cooled, however, I did what any cuck would do; I wrote this poem: Read More
Zooming out from our place and time in the planet's history is both terrifying and refreshing. Terrifying in the sense that we're faced with the reality of our species' minuscule nature – how we're merely a part, not the centerpiece, of a host of other living organisms and ecosystems at play around us. Refreshing in the sense that we can stop taking ourselves so seriously – even though we may persist in conditioning ourselves to think we are the masters of our fate...captains of our souls...etc.
In reality, we're quite biologically vulnerable and genetically manipulable. Read More
The sound of Pico Iyer’s voice resonated with the spiritual wanderlust longing inside of me before his writings ever did. I’d encountered his conversation on the art of stillness with Krista Tippet on her podcast, On Being, last year, and found myself drawn into the effortlessly elegant way he spoke. It turns out that Iyer’s writing comes across the same way.
If newspapers dedicated a column to the existential wanderings that accompany travel, then Iyer would be its founding Editor in Chief. In this collection of travel essays, Sun After Dark, Iyer is a tour guide of the human experience en transit. In addition to conversations with the likes of Leonard Cohen and the Dalai Lama, he takes you into conversations with Cambodians post-genocide and Yemenis pre-9/11. He’s equal parts journalist, poet, and explorer. Read More
I have no plans to read Marcel Proust’s (1871-1922) gargantuan 7-volumed magnum opus In Search of Lost Time any time soon. That 4,215-paged behemoth would require a commitment of time and energy that I’m not ready to give at this juncture of my reading career. So, instead, this last week I sampled a gateway drug of sorts, Alain de Botton’s How Proust Can Change Your Life.
After finishing this much more manageable 197-paged overview of Proust’s life and work by de Botton, I found myself wanting more Proust…and more de Botton. The book reads like a witty and sophisticated self-help book, where Proust’s life and work are mined for insights on how we might better navigate relationships, endure pain, read books, and love with greater attention. Reading it made me eager to get in touch with the teachings’ primary source. Read More
Our relationship to the image of self that we diligently maintain and project.
The digital personas we create, curate, and/or fabricate.
The alluring illusions of industrialized wealth and the subsequent havoc they have brought upon society, self, and our environments.
Oh, and the dastardly intentions set by a more-distant kind of extremism bent on obliterating shallow obsessions by bathing them in violence.
These were not topics I expected to encounter when I picked up this book. But, what I found within its pages were a handful of characters – worlds apart in their hopes and dreams, yet lives intersected by blood, lust, and greed – burdened by the relationship fate would have them endure with their identity. Read More
I once read an essay by Haruki Murakami in which he confessed to starting his novels by first typing out his sentences in English. (This is worth noting because he is a native Japanese speaker.) As a result of his limited dexterity with the English language, he found himself producing simple and concise prose that provided him a contextual foundation on which to build out his novels. I’d learned this about Murakami while in the midst of reading his fantastic and otherworldly novel 1Q84. Being made aware of this writing tactic helped me understand just how I had been so unknowingly convinced of parallel realities and mysterious “Little People” born out of communes in mountainous villages in Japan. His simplistic writing style serves to make the extraordinarily unbelievable entirely plausible. Read More
Susan Sontag’s name has been consistently popping up in my email’s inbox by way of the weekly newsletter dispatched from Brain Pickings. The frequent exposure to her name, and excerpts from her novels, had begun to lend her a legendary status in my mind – she was one of those (many) writers of whom I hear, and know are influential in some way or another through their life and work, but have yet to engage with personally.
Not wanting to only be a reader of memes and snippets, I grabbed her novel, In America, off the shelf at one of my favorite used bookstores. Blindly, I trusted that, because there was a National Book Award Winner medallion on the cover, and because Maria Popova (creator of Brain Pickings) celebrates Sontag’s work so much, I would be captivated by the book. And I was...kind of. Read More
Though the writer and aviator, Antoine Saint-Exupéry (1900-1944), had forever found a beloved place in my heart through his book The Little Prince – a book that can change the way you choose to see – I hadn't been compelled to read any of his other works. It was only while reading last week’s book, The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt, that I came across Wind, Sand and Stars – it was mentioned as an escape in which Tartt’s main character, and narrator of the book, Theo Decker, found solace during a particularly troubled time in his fictional life. Having it cited in a novel that I am still processing with love and awe was all the excuse I needed to explore another book by a man who, with The Little Prince, had made clear his extraordinary knack for a storytelling style that puts flesh and blood on the mystical. Read More
I first heard of this book in the spring of 2014 when a writing mentor of mine, who serves as a book reviewer for the New York Times, lauded it as one of Donna Tartt’s greatest works. The book, which won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2014, took 11 years to write.
As I read, my attention was effortlessly pulled into the downward-spiraling life of its narrator, Theo Decker. Tartt was able to give his voice as much authenticity as if she had been reading his journal pages, presenting his narrative in a harrowing quality reminiscent of Karl Ove's autobiographical series. Read More
It seems that every Irish person I've met possesses the gift of gab. Perhaps it's their endearingly playful accent, with the ending of every phrase punctuated by an inviting rise in tone, or the way in which even their most simple recollections are orated like epic tales. In poetry, song, and novel, they are a nation of storytellers and mystics. And being that I've always been intrigued by Irish culture, in which I have some ancestry, I have been meaning to read more from its own writers, both past and present.
To begin, I dusted off James Joyce's Dubliners and dove right in. Read More
Watts' way of storytelling and philosophizing is hilarious and smart. He discusses noetic ideas in a lighthearted way that invites everyone, from all walks of life, to feel welcomed into a conversation. His playful inquisitiveness allowed me to sift through some major existential questions from a posture like that of a curious child rather than a serious intellect.
In reading this autobiography, it's clear that Watts' life was driven by relentless introspection paired with an indulgent quest after the essence of existence – he was an Anglican priest, a professor, a prolific writer and lecturer on Zen Buddhism, and a self-proclaimed shaman – yet as he recalled the many characters who played major roles in his own formation – many of whom were famous artists, writers, and philosophers, like Aldous Huxley, Krishnamurti, and Carl Jung – I was reminded that the journey into love and an expansive understanding of existence is always informed by our relationship with others. Read More
When I traveled to the monastery in 2014, I shouldered a burden with me. Even now, with feelings of shame, I must admit that I’ve continued to carry it. Yes, it’s still here, arriving as an accusing whisper beneath my thoughts, demanding that I show how well I stewarded the experience of three months in a spiritual sanctuary – How are you going to better serve the world now? You had time for you, now what are you going to do for everyone else? etc. I assume that the voice is mine, but admitting as much would mean full capitulation into its trap. It can’t be. Somehow, somewhere along the lines of my conditioning, I’ve come to believe that the worth of my life is contingent on what I do. And while I pray that’s not true, it feels like it down to the marrow in my bones. Read More
The room buzzed with nervous excitement. Over 100 of us circled up in two rows of chairs that faced each other to engage in a series of counseling sessions in a format we’d never used before. One row would play the role of clients as the row opposite would serve as their counselors for five different six-minute sessions. After the six minutes was up with one counselor, a new one would shift over to resume the session wherever it had left off, and the six-minute clock would start again.
It was just like speed dating...except that all attempts to impress the person opposite us were thrown out the window. Read More
Morning: SoMa, San Francisco
I barely noticed him in my periphery standing at an ATM machine. It was nearing 7am and in my sleepiness I assumed he was getting finances in order before showing up to work a bit earlier than his tech-employed coworkers. I hastened my steps to appease my addiction to caffeine, which I fix daily at a Philz Coffee near Giants stadium.
The streets were surprisingly quiet this morning. On most days there are construction crews already jackhammering slabs of street into rubble and tractors beeping in perpetual reverse. But this morning was different, and I was enjoying the city in an uncharacteristically quiet state when the man from the ATM shouted from just a few feet behind me. Read More
A little over one month ago
I was venting frustrations to my partner about how so many of my writings, specifically my poems, were in journals gathering dust.
"The whole point," I said, "of writing for hours each day was to create a bountiful batch of writing options to choose from for when it came to time to compile them into a book."
"Will they ever live in a book?" I worried aloud.
At that point, as often happens when longing approaches a ledge, I was visited by an idea so energizing that it made me stand up out of my seat: Read More
A voice so soft
She spoke with a voice so soft that no one heard her truth Read More
And though honesty was her intention
And love her presence
Shame pushed her into silence
Both she and the world suffered as a result
Imagine going into your workplace and calling one of your coworkers over for a chat.
You begin to tell them, in a flustered and frantic way, that they have a lot to do today, more than they’ll be able to accomplish even if they were at their most focused and efficient best. You tell them that they probably shouldn’t have managed their time so poorly the day before. And that they should feel ashamed of how they manage their time in general. You tell them that they aren’t carrying their weight, or doing things as well as they could be done. You tell them that, though they may be doing all they can, it’s never enough.
Without waiting for a reply, you end this conversation by giving them a look of disappointment and shooing them off to go redeem themselves by working harder and not messing up. Read More