 Image: “An Indian palm squirrel shares its emotional feeling (love, care, fear) with its pup, which is in a cage. Photographed in June 2011, in (Batticaloa, Sri Lanka).” Photo and description by Anton Croos For all of my life, I have been the giver, the nurturer, and the pleaser for my closest loved ones. I have put great effort into nurturing others, and have had to learn (and re-learn) how to receive that same love and care. I have made great strides, but life still teaches me that receiving from others is not enough—not even from the most giving, caring, loving, selfless, amazing, and wonderful people in my life. It isn’t because they are inadequate. By far, they are breathlessly amazing. Instead, it is because I need me. Nurturing myself is something I will likely never master but only improve upon, especially as I put more effort into others’ care and forget about myself—as a devoted mother, as a lover, or as a friend. It’s a tricky balance to strike, especially when nurturing others brings genuine, tremendous joy. However, a situation has reminded me once again of this important truth: we and only we can nurture ourselves in the ways that we need. That sounds harsh, but I’m not saying that we don’t need others. We absolutely need others, whether they’re our parents, grandparents, spouses, grown children, best friends, or other special ones in our lives. The first people in our lives absolutely should give us that nurturing, but I’m reminded that this nurturing from others was never supposed to be the goal or the endpoint. We get married on this premise and promise—to nurture someone else and to be nurtured by them for the rest of our lives. If we must replace what we never had (or what we had greatly and yearn for again) for the time being, so be it. It is necessary, but… it was only supposed to be the foundation for the real goal. We have to level up to the point where we can nurture ourselves and show ourselves out of the cage. No one else—not our mothers, not our fathers, and not our partners—can do that for us. They can only provide that foundation of love, but it is up to us to continue that momentum of self love for the rest of our lives. The true endpoint (and it is not a point, but a continuum) is receiving that care from ourselves. We all start at different spots—some of us have been shown no love, some of us have been shown inadequate love, some of us have been abused and told that it was love, or some of us have been given material replacements for love—but we can all continue that momentum of self nurturing no matter where we started. It is our only way out, or rather, our only way in.
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This is a time of great change. I am informally counseling my loved ones and friends through break-ups, lost jobs, new jobs, new relationships, mean fights, new or growing businesses, and creative projects. Often, I speak to several people in one day, and lately these conversations are occurring simultaneously as messages come through at once. It's a turbulent time! While I don't intend to write about the goings on in people's lives (I probably need to start a chisme column though), from the breadth of these conversations, I can share the threads that weave through the situations I'm hearing about, and going through myself. I've begun to see that the door slams of lost jobs, break ups, lost loved ones, diagnoses, and major transitions are life's call to release old ways of living, being, doing, feeling, thinking, and connecting that no longer serve us. While they may seem to serve us on the surface, ultimately they do not serve our deepest desires or the solutions for which we have been profoundly asking. Why can't I just do / be / know / feel / have _______? your inner voice asks. These losses and major transitions literally force us to line up with that inner self--the aspects that we know we need to nurture but have forsaken for all of the reasons and excuses (and we have rehearsed these reasons all too well), the joys and desires we have neglected to follow, and the dreams we have been fancying without paying attention to the ideas, places, and people that can birth their reality. These transitions are a message that we have been holding onto the familiar for far too long. After all, we have good reason to resist change. Unfamiliarity is effortful for the brain as new neurons must form and connect during new behavioral routines and modes of thinking, while unused connections diminish. Unfamiliarity also activates fear networks and can trigger anxiety even among those of us who do not have clinical anxiety levels. But if we're forced to change in order to line up with our deepest desires and joys, even if that means we have faced loss, doesn't that mean that things are unfolding in order to bring us closer to what we truly want? Perhaps life does love us. Perhaps the universe does have our back. Perhaps we have been the co-weaver all along, and we have been our best ally without our knowing, despite that our minds and brains know too much, think too much, and can work against us sometimes. For all of the brain's benefits, sometimes--no, often--I counsel friends to spend less energy in the head space. By this I mean, overthink less, analyze less, compare and contrast less, manufacture hypothetical scenarios less, and sort through the minutiae of pros and cons less. These have their necessary place, of course. But they are not the exclusive bearer of our knowing. I will repeat this important truth: cognition is not the exclusive bearer of our knowing. In 1637, Descartes famously proposed: cogito ergo sum, "I think, therefore I am," ushering the profound defense of knowledge that can be obtained on rational thought alone--one that is not predicated on any external conditions except an inner reality of thinking. To this, however, I propose a refinement: sentio ergo sum. "I feel, therefore I am," for the feelings that instantiate our emotional sensations are not predicated on external conditions either, but instead exist pristinely in an inner reality of feeling that comprises a crucial aspect of our knowing. And the feelings come first. From what is known about the physiology of the brain and heart, these feelings come prior to the thoughts, as information and emotion processing occur swiftly first through subcortical routes in the brain, beneath conscious awareness, before they arrive to the more complex and outer pre-frontal cortical areas of the brain that allow us to think consciously, rationally, and hypothetically. We call these feelings our gut feelings, first response, or intuition. Science does not know what to make of these because it does not yet have the tools to observe them, so we have long ignored, minimized, and derided them, much to the detriment of our navigation. Philosophy and physiology aside, all too often the solutions we arrive with our thoughts and over-thoughts can lead us astray or engender a tangle of anxiety, procrastination, or apathy. This is at best counter-productive and at worst harmful. The most common phrase I have found myself repeating in every conversation is this poorly understood cliché: follow your heart.  What does this mean for a society that has long practiced the art of following its head? Too often we think that follow your heart means following emotions. I'm here to clarify that this is not the case, though the distinction is subtle. We must not follow the emotions so much as pay attention to them. The heart space is not so much about emotions, believe it or not, because emotions are the by-product of whether we are lined up with what we deeply want. They serve as the guidance much in the same way a check-engine light and other indicators in your vehicle serve as guidance on whether your inner systems are functioning at optimal levels--however, they are not what drive the vehicle, nor are they the destination that you deeply intend. Following your heart means allowing yourself to arrive at the destination as you actively drive your vehicle, while also paying attention to all the indicators (emotions) that need attention for you to function optimally. It's a very simple concept to understand in our vehicles, but somehow greatly murky and poorly understood when it comes to its application in navigating our hearts. What is this destination supposed to be? Sometimes, you must tune into yourself and listen deeply to find out. Spending time in nature, meditating, having quiet moments to yourself, listening to music, cooking, cleaning, creating art, making music, and etc. are all activities that facilitate this inner listening. This may require you to pause from your routine for a moment. Always, these destinations will necessarily be your joys--not your instant gratifications per se--but the things that bring you deep joy and fulfillment, the things you envision for your role in your families, communities, society, and humanity, the things you wish to do for yourself that you never allowed for all of the societally-approved obligations that you allowed to control you, the things that make your heart soar and your soul sing, and the often illogical things you deeply want but have betrayed in yourself (though life is guiding you to stop that self-betrayal through these failures, losses, and transitions that you are now experiencing). As you re-calibrate your compass, you will begin to check in with yourself in order to recognize whether you are truly following your joys, or merely avoiding your fears. The latter can still motivate us--but here we must distinguish motivation from inspiration. Motivation often involves an avoidance component, in which we are arriving at what we want by walking backwards out the door instead of facing forward. Often, motivation is when we are driven to achieve inefficiently by what we don't want to happen (e.g., we're afraid of disapproval, of failure, of rejection, of aging, of loneliness, of being unloved, etc, so we are called to action to avoid some unwanted outcome). In contrast, inspiration is efficiently walking through the door facing forward. When we are inspired, we are receiving thoughts in the form of ideas and solutions, and we are called to take action in the direction of what we do want to unfold. We recognize that there may be losses in the unfamiliarity because there is some fear in the unknown, but what is driving us is the deep joy we seek and envision, not the failures or losses we wish to avoid. What is driving us is the confidence (or lack of confidence, but at least the possibility) that we deserve these joys. What is driving us is the exhilaration of foreseeing our dreams coming true. What is driving us is the fulfillment we can already taste, even if none of the parts are lined up yet. Throughout, we are moving forward, following our joys to the ends of the earth. I ask you now: are you listening to your heart? What is it telling you? What do you deeply want? Are the decisions you need to make and the actions you need to take based on forward-moving inspiration? Indeed, if you are following your heart, you will find that your transitions and transformations have led you on the path to its desires. This is the space you want to be in, and it requires your trust. You must remember that the brain isn't the source of this trust (in fact, it is often the source of mistrust because it is primarily concerned with survival). Instead, the source of this trust is the heart. Now you know what this means. May you follow your heart. May you follow your joys to the end of your time here. May you listen, receive ideas, and then take action and transform by sheer inspiration. This is alignment (with God, with the universe, with the vibrating energy around you, with the people and places you encounter, with your higher self, with your inner self, and with your purpose). May you be aligned. This morning I shared something rare with my Trump-supporting Mexican American mother: a political bit of news that Laura Bush rebuked the Trump administration's practice of separating children from their families at the U.S. border. I was hoping we could come together, agree that this is inhumane, and show instances where both left and right decry the inhumanity. The response was not a favorable, "I read it, but I disagree with...," or, "I don't know, I've never heard of this...," or even, "Wow, that's interesting, but I don't care." Instead, it was an immediate, knee-jerk reply: a misleading meme about why liberals loved this when Clinton and Obama did it, followed by a conspiracy theory about mistrust of the Bush's and Clintons as the same beast working toward the New World Order.  Image: Paris Tuileries Garden Facepalm statue against a blue sky background Breathe.
I teach basic critical thinking to my Intro Psych students at a university, and this demonstrates exactly why I do. It's beyond the pale. What is also beyond the pale is the practice of ripping children as young as infants and toddlers from their parents' arms at the border and detaining them in concentration camps, even among those who comply with the law and seek asylum at a checkpoint legally. I had hoped that at least we could come together and agree that this was an egregious unfolding that we should do something about. I even mentioned a few Ohio Republican lawmakers, like Governor John Kasich and Senator Rob Portman, who've been vocal against separating immigrant children from their families. No such agreement came. Instead, I received incessant, repetitive soundbites about how this is the fault of Obama, the Democrats 8 years ago, and the Clintons. I tried to reason that I'd be equally outraged even if Obama were the current president and this were happening under his watch now, and agreed that the Obama administration's deportation practices were also horrendous. But to no avail. The lack of critical thinking in these responses is compounded when unquestioning beliefs in conspiracy theories take hold. At this point, we're no longer debating facts but beliefs now, which are held in a realm beyond debate: "I don't want to hear your facts because I just don't believe any of it," or the ironic, "You're brainwashed by propaganda and you just don't see the truth [of this conspiracy] that I see. You don't have a clue." It becomes very difficult if not impossible to get through to anyone consumed by such beliefs. The combination of incessant finger pointing and staunchly held beliefs on paper thin, loosely connected conspiracies means that they become conversationally impenetrable--a lost cause. My friend D. Phillips captured it: "One of the many diseases infecting the right wing is whataboutism," which is the attempt to discredit charges against you by pointing out unrelated areas of hypocrisy in the accuser. I see it in a particular category of Trump supporters who lack critical thinking and are thus more inclined to repeat the soundbites given by this administration, who perfects the fallacy. For example, White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders recently failed to take responsibility and blamed the democrats for separating children at the border. The childish "well they started it" retorts are heard from the very top of command, so it's no surprise that these are echoed down the chambers where our vulnerable grandparents, parents, spouses, uncles, aunts, cousins, and friends eat and sleep. Phillips' characterization of it as a disease is spot on. It does feel like an epidemic. I don't know a single person who is not affected by a parent, a spouse, a close family member, a relative, a friend's friend or spouse, or a personal friend who is lost to the infection of whataboutism, often combined with belief in vague conspiracies. The loss of my mother to this did not occur overnight during the election, but in the two years preceding as the extreme news took hold of her. The heartbreaking detail is that she was swept by alt-right fake news sites as a result of her isolation and loneliness as a hard-working truck driver. She had nothing else to do, and having lacked critical thinking skills (because she did not have the basic education that she worked tirelessly to pay for mine--did I mention that it's heartbreaking?), she became swallowed whole. At family gatherings, she shared alt-right conspiracy theories as though they were stories of her own grandchildren, and she sadly cannot share any stories of her grandchildren because she doesn't have any: whatever comfort, excitement, sense of belonging, or sense of aroused fear Breitbart and Infowars have given her, they have been exchanged for increased paranoia and isolation from her children and grandchildren. Years ago, after telling people that my mother voted for Trump, friends would joke, "I'm sorry for your loss." After witnessing the degradation in her communication, increased negativity, increased fear energy, intolerance for any countering facts, and isolation, I realized that it was not just a joke. I've also witnessed the denial, excuses, refusal to listen, and accusations that I'm lying or clueless every time I confront her with these observations or with a piece of information that runs counter to her new beliefs. The administration has taken hold of her not unlike a religion might, and that is a scary prospect as it echoes the cult successes of past dictatorships. Culture adds another impenetrable layer to these conversations. Coming from an Asian and Mexican American household, anything said that even remotely paints the parent in a bad light is brushed off as mere insolence or disrespect from the child. It is easy to sweep away any criticism using this spear of disrespect, and it's no different in my mother's case. In this way, elders often position themselves as static and untouchable. For this reason, caring family members often refrain from saying anything or making any waves. It does not matter if it comes from a caring, concerned space: "It is not your job to teach me about my errors." But this is not about the mere teaching of errors for the sake of correction, like folding sheets the wrong way--this is about mental and behavioral observations that are having a major impact. From my clinical training, I also see the rash responses--denial, high irritability, impulsive accusations and behaviors--as eerily similar to those of an addict when confronted with their addiction, and I am treating it as such. The drug (in this case, alt-right conspiracy theories) that was initially intended for feelings of comfort and belonging only end up isolating these individuals, as they cut themselves off from family and begin to exclusively associate with fellow addicts. Any notion that their drug-related behaviors are hurting you is met with intense backlash. As with quitting any drug, addicts have autonomy of course, and they must quit when they are fully ready to commit. My mother can choose to come to terms with the observations I've been persistently sharing for years, but until then, I have decided that I will no longer support or enable this seeming addiction. In the meantime, I've been writing children's books and stories about an abuelita who is present, caring, focused, and magical. I realize that this is a form of grieving about the abuelita that my daughter and I no longer have. There's nothing I love more than supporting the businesses of talented people I believe in. Today's post is dedicated to three people of color doing amazing work with conscious vision. Get your professional photos done, get your skin and hair pampered, and learn how to save the planet while honoring its people. Vino Photography |
 | Image: A Palmview High School mariachi band member wears a blue traje embelished with white stars and embroidery, a red moño, and a beige sombrero de charro. They are wearing red lipstick, pearl earrings, smiling brightly, and holding a violin and bow in their hands. Pure beauty. Photo by Vino Photography |
California Country Organics
Tracey Kennedy-Chan
 | Image: Tracey Kennedy-Chan rocks her natural hair, her glowing skin, her leaf-motif dress, and her beautiful radiant self against a sunny, tree-lined background. Her products are raw, organic, and necessary for that sweet life. Photo by Raymond Wu, RW Photos |
Friends, if you don't know Tracey's products, then I'm sad to say, no tuviste vida. You haven't lived--at least your hair, skin, and teeth haven't. Just note her mission:
My mission is to take you away from the roller coaster of life and offer a moment to recharge with high quality body care products made by hand, sprinkled with love and unicorn magic.
Have you read a better business statement? A ch-ch-ch. That's right. A no, never.
Tracey Kennedy-Chan is a Black business owner, mother, and writer extraordinaire. Her natural, organic, hand-made products have worked wonders for eczema and healthy skin, have made teeth so white (chemical-free) that the moon will give the jealous side-eye, and have worked more miracles than the Shroud of Turin for hair.
Shop all CC Organics products here.
Get your life and follow this Phenom on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
My mission is to take you away from the roller coaster of life and offer a moment to recharge with high quality body care products made by hand, sprinkled with love and unicorn magic.
Have you read a better business statement? A ch-ch-ch. That's right. A no, never.
Tracey Kennedy-Chan is a Black business owner, mother, and writer extraordinaire. Her natural, organic, hand-made products have worked wonders for eczema and healthy skin, have made teeth so white (chemical-free) that the moon will give the jealous side-eye, and have worked more miracles than the Shroud of Turin for hair.
Shop all CC Organics products here.
Get your life and follow this Phenom on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
Brown Girl Green
Kristy Drutman
 | Image: Kristy Drutman wears a brilliant gold, black, and pearl headdress with gold leaf patterning, and is shown facing the camera with black hair, radiant makeup, and shining gold top against a green nature background. Photo by Valeriya Guseva. |
Kristy Drutman is a Filipina American climate activist and UC Berkeley graduate who just launched her podcast, Brown Girl Green. Therein she "interviews diverse, boundary-pushing leaders and advocates redefining what it means to be an 'environmentalist' in the 21st century." Kristy is brilliant, bold, passionate, and here to be the change we would like to see in this world. In her words: (for video, click here)
This all started when I attended this mind-blowing environmental conference my freshman year, where this white woman stood up and asked these panelists, "Why is no one taking action on climate? We should care about the birds and the bees and the trees! So why is no one taking action on any of this?"
And this empowered black woman stood up, took a deep breath, and she said, "You know, I come from Detroit, and I live where there's a factory polluting upstream down to my water supply. So I would love to care about the birds and the bees and the trees, but first, I have to care about my babies who are sick, my community who is dying, and just trying to survive by living paycheck to paycheck."
So we can't be talking about Yosemite if we're not even talking about Flint. We can't talk about farmers' markets if we're not talking about food insecurity...
Listen to her podcast Brown Girl Green on libsyn or soundcloud.
It's important to acknowledge that compassion for flora and fauna must also extend to our vulnerable, overlooked, and undervalued human counterparts. As Kristy puts it, "It's time to put Brown back in the Green Movement."
This all started when I attended this mind-blowing environmental conference my freshman year, where this white woman stood up and asked these panelists, "Why is no one taking action on climate? We should care about the birds and the bees and the trees! So why is no one taking action on any of this?"
And this empowered black woman stood up, took a deep breath, and she said, "You know, I come from Detroit, and I live where there's a factory polluting upstream down to my water supply. So I would love to care about the birds and the bees and the trees, but first, I have to care about my babies who are sick, my community who is dying, and just trying to survive by living paycheck to paycheck."
So we can't be talking about Yosemite if we're not even talking about Flint. We can't talk about farmers' markets if we're not talking about food insecurity...
Listen to her podcast Brown Girl Green on libsyn or soundcloud.
It's important to acknowledge that compassion for flora and fauna must also extend to our vulnerable, overlooked, and undervalued human counterparts. As Kristy puts it, "It's time to put Brown back in the Green Movement."
Do you have any shout outs? Feel free to link any projects, art, or businesses owned, made, or run by visionary PoC and other diverse people in the comments!
Balancing Act.
Work-life Balance.
Working While Parenting.
Working from Home.
Masochism.
These are the commonly-used terms to describe the state of parenting and working simultaneously.
Too often, society would have you believe that it looks like this:
Work-life Balance.
Working While Parenting.
Working from Home.
Masochism.
These are the commonly-used terms to describe the state of parenting and working simultaneously.
Too often, society would have you believe that it looks like this:
 | [image of a shiny, happy Asian happy family with shiny, happy housewife and mother serving food at a table] |
Or like this:
 | [image of shiny, happy, Apple-loving hands over a laptop, with a shiny happy table free of any clutter, tiny hands, fingerprints, food, or food-paint-questionmark-finger smudges] |
But in truth, it looks more like this:
 | [image of a gray stone statue depicting a facial expression of gratuitous despair] |
Which leads to today's juggly jiggly bits:
I was having a normal morning with my daughter, my dog, my breakfast made, my dishes done, my writing ideas planned, my clothes on, and all the daily things taken for granted. My washing machine has been broken for some time and I finally scheduled a service person to come fix it. Today was the day! I was ready like a teen at homecoming.
The repairman knocked on the door, I let him in, and it made my dog lose all of her teeth in barking, and my daughter lose all of her breakfast in crying and screaming. Still pretty normal any time someone knocks . . . except that before I knew it, I was stepping on my maxi dress, pulling it down, flashing the repairman a full view of breasticles, all while trying to shoe my dog and calm my daughter.
I've wished to one day be intimate and vulnerable with a new person in my life, but I never pictured this was how it would actually come true. I now re-christen this balancing act of working and parenting: The Jiggle Juggle.
How is your jiggle juggle going?
I was having a normal morning with my daughter, my dog, my breakfast made, my dishes done, my writing ideas planned, my clothes on, and all the daily things taken for granted. My washing machine has been broken for some time and I finally scheduled a service person to come fix it. Today was the day! I was ready like a teen at homecoming.
The repairman knocked on the door, I let him in, and it made my dog lose all of her teeth in barking, and my daughter lose all of her breakfast in crying and screaming. Still pretty normal any time someone knocks . . . except that before I knew it, I was stepping on my maxi dress, pulling it down, flashing the repairman a full view of breasticles, all while trying to shoe my dog and calm my daughter.
I've wished to one day be intimate and vulnerable with a new person in my life, but I never pictured this was how it would actually come true. I now re-christen this balancing act of working and parenting: The Jiggle Juggle.
How is your jiggle juggle going?
I have grown weary of this repeated experience with my daughter: finding a book that represents me or my child, checking out the book at a library or purchasing from a bookstore, and then finding out subsequently that it was written by an author who "traveled once to X country and picked up some language," who "once knew someone who did X tradition," who "adopted a child from X country," or worse, had no connection whatsoever aside from a strong urge to pass off cultural authenticity without question.
I don't care how dear and lauded the work is, or how famous or talented the author. It's like drinking water you thought was fresh only to find out it was someone else's backwash. It's a betrayal every time I intimately share a story with my daughter only to find out later that it was not authentic. I want more from our #ownvoices. This does not mean that talent is inconsequential. It means that it's disappointing and disingenuous when talent does not match authenticity.
Yes, I can Google search the author before check-out. Of course, we all can easily Google, even while chasing a toddler at a bookstore. But the fact is, I shouldn't have to chase the cultural credentials of an author--which usually aren't considered credentials and hence usually not explicitly written in authors' bios--while I'm chasing my toddler at an establishment. It's time for cultural competency and authenticity to be a mainstay in authors' and illustrators' credentials, and for authors to explicitly express these if they are to write books that represent culturally diverse characters.
Instead of simply complaining, I've decided to do something. I've compiled a booklist of authors and illustrators my daughter and I have enjoyed whose heritage matches their beautiful work authentically--those who tell their own stories. I've included this ongoing list of love and literary shouts here.
I don't care how dear and lauded the work is, or how famous or talented the author. It's like drinking water you thought was fresh only to find out it was someone else's backwash. It's a betrayal every time I intimately share a story with my daughter only to find out later that it was not authentic. I want more from our #ownvoices. This does not mean that talent is inconsequential. It means that it's disappointing and disingenuous when talent does not match authenticity.
Yes, I can Google search the author before check-out. Of course, we all can easily Google, even while chasing a toddler at a bookstore. But the fact is, I shouldn't have to chase the cultural credentials of an author--which usually aren't considered credentials and hence usually not explicitly written in authors' bios--while I'm chasing my toddler at an establishment. It's time for cultural competency and authenticity to be a mainstay in authors' and illustrators' credentials, and for authors to explicitly express these if they are to write books that represent culturally diverse characters.
Instead of simply complaining, I've decided to do something. I've compiled a booklist of authors and illustrators my daughter and I have enjoyed whose heritage matches their beautiful work authentically--those who tell their own stories. I've included this ongoing list of love and literary shouts here.
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