It’s been a little over 5 years since my last post. Sooo much has happened in that time. And all the while I was asking myself: What is my Why? My ikigai?
Love, love, love, love
To write about love is humbling because, no matter how much we learn about it, aspects of love are still mysterious. Perhaps that’s why love, specifically, romantic love, is one of the most explored topics in literature, art, music and, increasingly, in the social sciences. We dissect it, try to understand it, long to find it, and yearn for it to stay alive when we do. We can’t live without it. Every love story is a snowflake.
Forgiveness: What?! Why? How?
After writing my previous post, I started thinking about forgiveness. You’ve probably heard that it is good for you, and that life is too short for unnecessary misery. But what is this forgiveness and how do I do it?
Depths of Loss, Depths of Beauty
On behalf of Mother Africa, I extend my deepest apologies to African Americans for the part our shared ancestors played in their enslavement. We must move forward—forgiving. I search for hope, for silver linings. I find it immensely hopeful that beautiful people and things, like jazz, were born of those dark times.
I grew up in Kenya, where no one ever called me black. Even references to my Africanness were few and far between. Queue my move to the Western world, where I was immediately informed that I was black. I always want to say that I am not actually black.
I’m convinced that we aren’t meant to be one-dimensional, finding that one career and sticking to it for life. Let’s leave that to robots. We are much more complex.
A Mindful Year
I am toasting to a year of mindful living, having recently watched the Netflix documentary Minimalism. It reminded me of what I’ve believed for years, even if I live it out imperfectly, in fits and starts: happiness lies in intentional living.
Small talk isn’t my thing. If neither my conversation partner nor I want to get deep, I much rather prefer silence of any kind; companionable or otherwise. Sometimes, though, listening to others make small talk can be quite entertaining. I’ll let you decide what kind of small talk is going on here… Small Talk Wasn’t…
Faith (a contemplation)
FAITH My means have now come to an end It’s time for miracles. Those great confessions I have made Must now be proven true. Unseen things I have leaned upon Now be made manifest.
For Years to Come
National Poetry Month begins tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait. Partly because I just love poetry, and partly because March is my Dad’s birthday month, and I wanted to pay tribute to him for the amazing life he lived, and the many wonderful memories he left behind. So much of who I am can be directly…
An Admirable Woman
March 8 is International Women’s Day, so I’m celebrating a remarkable woman with this post: my great-grandmother, Nyar Nyanjong’. I’ve been thinking about her lately, chiefly because I realized I’m becoming like her in some ways. One of the things I discovered about her near the end of her life was that she loved to…
There Are No Endings
“…there are no endings, only pauses when we look for new beginnings once again.” ~Grace E. Easely These words to a poem I read and memorized years ago always come back to me when I get to the end of something. I think Grace Easely hit upon a genius idea when she realized that every…