The Ginsburgs

This week, I watched RBG.

It was a wonderful documentary on the life of incredible & iconic Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

My goodness: I was struck how much she gave to us — with her brilliant and ferocious work to uplift women (and many other people along the way).

There was one thing that drew me in: her marriage with her husband, Marty Ginsburg. Their partnership filled me with so much comfort and warmth.

They were different people: Marty, more playful and outgoing, with Ruth, more shy and soft-spoken. But their love was filled with deep adoration, care, and respect.

Stories of how Ruth took notes for Marty until the odd hours in the morning when he was sick, or how Marty became a voracious cheerleader to promote Ruth for her Supreme Court nomination.

At a time where gender norms were extreme, it was incredible to see both of them take such a modern, shared partnership. As it ought to be.

This letter from Marty to Ruth near the end of his days gave me so much light:

“My dearest Ruth – You are the only person I have loved in my life, setting aside, a bit, parents and kids and their kids, and I have admired and loved you almost since the day we first met at Cornell some 56 years ago. What a treat it has been to watch you progress to the very top of the legal world!”

8x8

I’ve been itching to write a longer-form piece, but couldn’t think about a topic I wanted to cover.

Then it dawned on me: this year in 2020, I have been working 8 years in corporate jobs — and fortunate to have learned some things along the way.

Thanks to the extended downtime of quarantine, I am excited to share my 3-month project: 8x8: 8 Tips to Unleash Your Work Performance (under Guides)

My goal? Empower young professionals with their career with practical tips and templates — such as running good meetings, preparing for 1:1s and annual reviews, and managing their inbox.

Grateful for your support as a patron and for sharing this with anyone kicking off their career.

[8x8 Guide] 8 Tips To Unleash Your Work Performance

$8.00

Purchase

I can be, and still.

I saw a fantastic image the other day. A reminder of how much emotional range we can have.

For many years, I struggled with the fact that feelings were a ‘path’ - and once you were down a path, your identity was set.

Far from the truth. Our identity flows by our own definition; and we should divorce the notion that only certain feelings match certain identities. And you can feel a mosaic of emotions - both ones that cast vote to that identity and even ones that don’t.

We can be one thing, and still be another.

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Power of Bookshelves

I’ve been slowly making my way through Malcolm Gladwell’s Masterclass on Writing. It’s been a great watch from a fascinating author.

Gladwell had an interesting analogy on finding new ideas: use what’s in and around a person’s ‘bookshelf’

• Get inspiration from their ‘bookshelf’: You likely have an interesting friend who knows weird tidbits, odd facts, and peculiar stories. When you’re stuck, meet with this friend and share openly about your project and work.

  • How to apply this: Ask their thoughts on your project, and see if it triggers any ideas. You know you’ve struck gold when they start to say things like “Oh, this reminds me of __”. Their orthogonal thought might catalyze a new perspective you might have never have considered.

• Look for related ‘bookshelves’: Your interesting friend probably hangs out with other interesting friends. Gladwell shares: Just as the library organizes books by related topics, it’s in your advantage to scan the shelf above, below, and next to the ‘book’ you like.

  • How to apply this: How do you find other ‘books’ on other shelves related to the ‘book’ you like (your friend)? Ask your friend to introduce you to someone in their network: aka another ‘shelf’. Where one good idea is, there are many.

So when you’re looking for your next big idea, keep reading and searching. It’s okay if it leads to nowhere; there is a lot to learn on the journey.

Meet at their spot

We all have a safe spot that soothes us.

It could be drinking coffee on a crisp morning, watching sports on a rainy afternoon, or playing music on a quiet night. Our best time of the day to feel safe, secure, and at ease.

And I realized this week: this spot could be the best invitation to get to know someone. So meet your loved ones there.

There’s something beautiful about connecting when their tank is the fullest. Conversations feel more special, more expansive, and more vulnerable.

You might have to sacrifice your own spot from time-to-time, but it’s worth the price of admission. And maybe later, invite them over to your spot too?

Porch, Kitchen & Dining Room

I listened to a lovely presentation last week: Building Better Relationships with Michael Desanti.

Michael spoke about a thoughtful topic: Boundaries. His definition: Energetic agreements to keep both parties safe.

He went on to expand: think of your boundaries as a home. In your life, you have your outside circle — who is on your ‘porch’. You have an inner circle — who is in your ‘kitchen’. And then you usually have your partner — who is in your ‘bedroom’.

In each ‘room’ in your home, there are different levels of expectations. Highest in the bedroom; lowest in the porch.

The challenge: The wrong people are in our rooms. This breaks agreements, reduces mutual safety, and withers relationships. There are folks in our ‘kitchen’ who would better off on the ‘porch’. Or people we keep our ‘porch’ that actually deserve a spot in our ‘kitchen’.

It struck me: be cognizant of who’s in certain rooms in your house. And reshuffling your home from time to time is an act of love — both to you and to them.

5 comfort languages

Most of us are familiar with the 5 Love Languages — a fantastic tool that clarifies how to give and receive love.

A few weeks ago, I watched an interesting video from Kat Woods on 5 Comfort Languages.

A very interesting watch. How can we extend support to our loved ones in a language they ‘speak’ best? Here were the 5:

1) Being heard - “Man, that’s really tough and difficult.”

2) Optimism and pep talks - “You got this!”

3) Problem-solving - “Let’s figure this out.”

4) Distraction - “Let’s watch a movie.”

5) Physical - “A hug is waiting for you.”

For me, I realized I feel safe & looked after when someone gives me 1, 4 & 5.

And it made me reflect on a few other things:

• Situational awareness: Different situations might require a different language for each person

• Meet their strengths: Certain people in your life are just naturally better at talking in a certain language. Go to those when you need a certain language to let them shine.

• Tell them: As I’ve written before, a reminder to always share early and often on what you need. And let your loved ones take care of the rest.

What’s your language of ‘comfort’? And have you said it to those you love and who love you?

Atomic Habits

I haven’t read a page-turner in a while.

That changed this last month. It was fantastic to read James Clear’s Atomic Habits.

A lovely book on how to build durable good habits and break destructive bad habits.

I was drawn to his ‘4 Laws’ of a good habit:

• Make it obvious

• Make it attractive

• Make it easy

• Make it satisfying

If you can build a habit supported by each law, you can be pulled to achieve based on ancient chemistry versus pushed from raw discipline —which leaks considerably.

My biggest takeaways:

• Reframe your identity. Self-talk matters as you shift thinking from “what you do” to “who you are”. For me, I would mention to people: “I want to sing.” But I never thought of myself as a ‘singer’. His point: Unlearn that and switch your script to start saying “I am a singer”. And you’ll be more likely to reinforce this identity through a new habit.

• Stack your habits. Use everyday cues to help you do a particularly difficult habit. Something like: “After [X], do [Z].” For me, a ‘stack’ would be after waking up, drink half of my water bottle & put a book on my pillow to read. And a new one I’m experimenting, after I close my laptop, do ‘10’ push-ups.

• Create a ‘loyalty program’ for yourself. Love this one. Airlines, credit cards, and more have been using loyalty for decades. Why not for you? For example, I’ve struggled with exercise for 2 decades. But I sure do like buying or vacationing. Attach the two: pay yourself when you workout towards something you want. $5 a workout towards new headphones or that Cancún trip. Use short term rewards as incredibly powerful incentives.

Amazed how a simple framework is starting to redefine my approach.

As James beautifully wrote: “Tiny Changes, Remarkable Results.”

Afterglow

In certain experiences, there’s something special about after:

After an appetizing meal.

After a humbling conversation.

After a dripping sprint.

After a satisfying song.

An afterglow. ✨

And we are blessed to have it at any point, if we so choose.

What are yours?

Our brother's & sister's keepers

The always lovely Michelle Obama released her podcast this week.

And of course, the first episode was a home run — featuring her husband: Barack Obama.

It was fascinating to hear their tender and lively chat. What struck me was a guiding principle for them throughout their life — from community organizing to country management.

“We don’t just look out for us, but for all. We are our brother & sister’s keepers.”

Reflecting on her own childhood, Michelle mentioned how neighbors watched over the little ones — and through that, the whole ‘village’ played a huge part in lifting the whole community up.

And it made me muse over the current state of affairs: how “inward’ we’ve grown. More of us are looking after ourselves. Hostility to “others” feels so woven into our fabric. And our leaders aren’t helping: stroking the flames of dissent and marketing “separateness” broadly — where they should be marketing '“togetherness”.

But listening to both of their brimming optimism, you can feel the light in the room. Our newest generation can take a renewed mantle of looking after each other. This is a messy process, but we can do it.

Michelle said it beautifully: I see you, and I celebrate you. More “we-ness”.

The Invisible Knapsack

As I continue my journey of learning of Diversity, Inclusion and Belonging, I took a wonderful workshop today: White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.

Dr. Peggy McIntosh reflects in her powerful essay:

I have come to see white privilege as an invisible package of unearned assets that I can count on cashing in each day, but about which I was "meant" to remain oblivious. White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools , and blank checks.

It’s worth a read in full. It struck me how many forces are at play, both conscious and subconscious, that affect our daily lives:

• If I should need to move, I can be pretty sure of renting or purchasing housing in an area which I can afford and in which I would want to live

• Whether I use checks, credit cards or cash, I can count on my skin color not to work against

  appearance of financial reliability.

• I can swear, or dress in second hand clothes, or not answer letters, without having people attribute these choices to the bad morals, the poverty or the illiteracy of my race.

For me, I am incredibly fortunate. Powerful forces (my heritage, citizenship, skin color, race, religion, etc) have pushed me up. In short, I am extremely lucky.

And only recently, I’ve realized how the darker forces can push others down. It’s not fair; it’s not equal, and it’s definitely not just. In the workshop, we talked about how to lessen our own privilege to make space for others.

Here was a fantastic illustration that helped me:

Some tips they shared: Interrupt the default of doing nothing. Recognize your success is so much more beyond you. Start small. If you are a position of any success, reach farther to lift more.

My small part: I am doing work with Braven, an organization that empowers promising young people (especially from underrepresented groups) on their path to college graduation and strong first jobs. Check them out!

To close, I’ll leave you with a quote from Toni Morrison, a novelist who wrote about the Black experience, that gave me chills:

“If you can only be tall because someone else is on their knees, then you have a serious problem”

Convenience vs. Rituals

A tweet by Scott Belksy sparked my curiosity a few weeks ago:

in this everything-as-a-service frictionless-seeking world, consider the tension between CONVENIENCE and RITUAL. For example, subscription coffee startups vs. the escape and pleasure of going out for coffee, smelling the brew, entering a new environment.

— scott belsky (@scottbelsky) June 25, 2020

In the age of ‘now’, we crave the immediate satisfaction of things coming fast. And millions of $$ have flowed into businesses that serve this need — and only accelerated from this pandemic.

But this struck a chord: sometimes a good amount of ‘friction’ is good. Especially in-person experiences that shake things up in our brain.

Personally, a ritual I enjoy is having a long dinner with friends at a restaurant. Nothing beats the atmosphere: the live music (sometimes), the chatter, the table arrangement.

I am thankful for how much convenience comes to my doorstep, but this made me aware of how much I enjoy things that aren’t so easy to get.

The Rock

Little Rock, Arkansas: what a beautiful city that permeates southern comfort.

My best friend and I were able to do a quick road trip from Dallas here (only 4.5 hours away)!

It was a perfect getaway in a challenging time: local breweries, great ‘Arkmex’ food, and beautiful pedestrian bridges.

Best part? Arkansans are brimming with pure positivity and kindness: it flows so effortlessly like their own namesake river.

My deepest gratitude to La Petite Roche (named by the French who discovered it) in the Natural State!

The magic rectangle

As I’ve written before, I’ve been moved with the idea of digital nutrition from my friend Faheem (check out his letters).

And this week, I’ve been thinking on the chef behind the bad diet: our smartphone — the magic rectangle.

This rectangle uses some dark magic: it is carefully designed to regularly draw us in with sight (blue light, red badges), sound (dings and notes), and touch (buzzing, smooth glass)

That dopamine hit punctures small holes in our focus and willpower; and we end the day with an empty cup.

It's something I've struggled with for a decade and only realized the gripping effects in the last few years.

My current strategy to lasso control over my own rectangle:

• No push notifications for messages: in the past, I remember having dinner with some friends: but my brain was no where in this chat. Where was it? Far away, in the clouds; formulating a future response to a text I had seen on my phone. How crazy was that?

• Turn off most red badges: Woof, does this spread anxiety — especially for my inbox. This gives me shivers. Most apps aren't that important for me to go in a check on their time schedule.

• Tucking away apps deep into a folder: Man, Instagram and TikTok really can do a number on you, right? I found as soon as lull hit, I opened my home screen and gravitated immediately to those colorful app icons. I found a huge difference in just putting them out of visual reach so I have to actively go and find them. Bonus: if it’s been a particularly addictive, I log out of the app to make it tougher to access.

Of course, magic is wondrous, and we are all grateful for this rectangle’s power. But with great power comes great responsibility. And I need to exercise it more!

The City by the Bay

A half-decade later, I am saying farewell to a lovely city: San Francisco.

Nestled by the ocean, enveloped by a cloud: the city enraptured me as a place of possibility and promise.

In late 2014, I still remember driving up the 101 looking at the water kissing the highway — in absolute awe.

So many things to love, but here are a few things that meant so much:

• Under the moonlight: Most people I met had a very good day job, but what inspired me was how they spent their night. So many crafty tinkerers, budding musicians, simple chefs, avid bicyclists. For me, I discovered a love of creative dabbling— from singing to drawing.

• Spacious skies; mountain majesties: Man, isn’t she beautiful? I marveled at the diversity of SF’s landscape. In one day, you could ski on a snow-capped Heavenly mountain, drink chilled Pinot on a rolling Sonoma hill, and then bask in a sunset on the edge of the Pacific. My favorite spot of all time: The Labyrinth at Lands End.

• “Think different”: Uniqueness was the color of the city. I reflect fondly of the experiences I had: Hardly Strictly, Bay to Breakers, Outside Lands, Cherry Blossom Festival, and even the Folsom Street Fair. And I’m grateful that it stretched my perspective.

So, nothing but love to this city that grew me a thousand times over. As Tony Benett sang it so beautifully:

I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars
The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care

My love waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you, San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me

Stories we tell ourselves

On Juneteenth, I wanted to reflect on my ignorance.

I’m grappling with how little I know. And how much I need to learn and support the Black community. The hard truth: I didn’t know anything about this date.

Watching “13th” recently, I was startled to see how much noise in the background I mute.

This is the story we tell ourselves: if it’s in not affecting me, it’s not my problem. And if look away, maybe this goes away.

And it’s painfully clear: it doesn’t.

So a challenge to myself: more listening, more learning. And then be an active ally to a better story.

Teach me

In school, I was lucky to be in the company of friends who were gifted students. Facts, figures, equations, and essays came brilliantly to them.

I was in awe of how much they could store in their brains. How could their brains hold so much and my brain so little? Did I even put shampoo on this morning?

For years, I endlessly cycled through methods: flashcards, pneumonic devices, re-writing notes. Some worked; others bombed.

In the last decade, I started to internalize a (not-so-secret) secret: the teacher who teaches knew best. 8 hours, 365 days went a long way. They not only knew the concepts but also expressed them in their own texture. It was both malleable and permanent.

So when you want to learn something pat, find a way to teach it. Even if it’s only to yourself.

Let me hold the door for you.

Anguish, anger, pain and exasperation.

It has boiled over in this past month in the US, but sadly, it has been a stain on us for many generations: we have massively failed the Black community.

It’s made me reflect on my privilege and silence. I have said little or averted my gaze when it counted.

I realized this week it starts directly with my inner circle: Too many jokes and whispers that had ‘soft echoes of discrimination’.

It made me internalize this poem that was shared with me by Morgan Harper Nichols:

Let me hold the door for you. 

I may have never walked a mile in your shoes, but I can see that your soles are worn and your strength is torn under the weight of a story I have never lived before. 

So let me hold the door for you. 

After all you've walked through, it's the least I can do

A call to myself to commit to this journey for the long-term, especially as the world keeps turning. Don’t look past it, don’t abandon it.

Less bystanding, more upstanding.

Being loving vs. being right.

That knot starting to tighten. The grip starts to clench. The lines in your face narrow.

I know that feeling too well: you’re ready to go to war with your partner, friend, parent or maybe your child in a heated discussion. Of course they’re wrong — they clearly don’t know all the details as you do!

But…but…but: is it really worth finishing the fight? With the ones we love, usually not. And sheepishly you realize this days later.

My challenge to myself: learning to calm the ‘lizard brain’ of reaction before conflict bubbles to a boil. The love is what remains.

Hoping to remember to being excellent when it’s easy not to.

Making the ordinary come alive.

I saw a beautiful poem: Do not ask your children to strive — by William Martin.

He writes how to teach children to take immense joy in simple pleasures. Invite them into wonder and let them marvel in supremely simple things.

Three decades on this beautiful marble (and even more apparent from the virus), this has been a soothing reminder that ordinary is really lovely.

A belly of laughter from a good chat, the salty finish of a good cookie, and the warmth from a sunny balcony.

Anything beyond? Lovely cream on a satisfying cake of life. The ‘extraordinary’.

Full text of the poem below:

“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”

— William Martin