intensity is a good thing

Last night my family played a game called The Resistance: Avalon. If you've ever played Mafia, it is kind of like that.

When my family plays, it can be an exhausting adventure to finish the game. We're an intense group of people and even those among us who fashion themselves laid back can really get into the game. People get heated in a harmless way and sometimes we really need that in our lives. Though after one or two rounds of this game I'm spent and need a break, it's fun to feel the energy in the room during and after the game.

There are times when intensity needs to be dialed back a bit. However, intensity is a good thing. It's what drives passionate and committed people and often what makes things happen.

Growing up and even now, I recognize a weird pressure for us to be engaged but not intense. We have to walk this tight-rope and not scare people off during our discussions. Sometimes, though, intensity is what you need. Many times, it's what I need to push through to a breakthrough, so I'm going to try to embrace my own intensity more often.

master, steal, forget

I'm in the early stages of my life and my career. Though there is some anxiety about what my next steps might look like, it is, overall, an incredible opportunity to be intentional about how I want to build my life.

One way that I've been thinking about just how to build things is asking three questions:

1) What do I want to master myself?
2) What can I steal from other people?
3) What can I forget altogether?

I should master the instruments that are essential to my personal and professional life. I might put things like meditation, staying present with people when I'm around them, writing, and critical reading in this category. These are the kinds of things that reward deep work, play, and presence.

Anything that doesn't benefit from my own careful attention, I should steal. Just find a trusted expert and run with the knowledge. They've done the work and I should benefit from their craft.

If it's not something I should master or steal, I should just forget about it.

Learning to differentiate between these three categories can save you a lot of time and make you better. Maybe you're trying to master something you should forget altogether. Maybe you thought you could steal something that you really need to master. And so on. The point is that the three questions can help you redirect your energy to where it needs to be.

flexing a new muscle

Years ago, I started writing letters to people. I would solicit people through Facebook. Most of the time, it would be people close to me but I often people I hadn't talked to in a long time would ask for a letter. I bought a great fountain pen and luxurious paper and made a habit of writing letters.

Later, I started to write my family members letters on their birthdays. I generally have tried to use those letters to reflect on what I admire about the person who has just made another revolution around the sun. Even though I have deep relationships with my family members, my muscle of direct appreciation was still weak. The letters helped me learn how to flex it in a generous way.

In the last few years, my family has solidified a new tradition. We ask whoever's birthday it is to share one word that summarizes their last year and a piece of advice they would pass along. It's a great way to come together and reflect on how far that person has come and support their next steps at the same time.

When Asha moved to San Francisco, she got to become part of this tradition. The first time, she was understandably a little nervous about it, and my brother came up with an idea to stall for time, boost her confidence, and shower her with love all once: we would go around the table and share a memory we have with the person that year. Now, the sharing of memories is a part of the birthday tradition.

The birthday letters and the birthday tradition are enriching experiences for many reasons. However, I've been dwelling on the value of not just telling someone that you love or care for them, but what you find so worth loving and caring about. During these holidays of community find some time to express that to the important people in your life. If you have to make up a tradition or bring back an old form of communication, do it. I promise, it will reward you over and over.

Nana's red tin

When my grandmother would come to visit, she would often have two things in tow. Nana ran a small bookstore in West Virginia, and made a habit of bringing books for each of her grandchildren. My grandmother was a much better version of Amazon's "You might also like..." feature and she's the reason I spent many hours curled up with a good book during my childhood.

Besides the books, Nana might have a red tin. The red tin was circular, much wider than tall and had white writing on the outside. The red paint was worn and scratched, an unpainted surface peaking through at points. Like a good wine, it got better with age. I couldn't tell you one word of that writing because I would always be so excited to see what was inside. It might be brownies, lemon bars, or what mom tells me were "go to school" cookies (soft chocolate cookies with icing on top). It didn't matter what was inside. We just know it was going to be a real treat, because what was inside was quality.

Today is Black Friday, and millions of people will buy stuff churned out by our consumptive society that will almost certainly be temporary and soon disposed. Nana's red tin was a permanent, beloved fixture in our lives. Through the care that went into what was inside, it became a talisman for the family. These days, I think we need to take extra effort to build through ritual talismans like Nana's red tin and then shepherd them through our lives.

grateful living

I already shared this video, but some things are too good to share just once. And on a day with a theme of gratitude, I'll be reflecting on these words:

There’s something we know about everyone we meet in the world. And that is that all of us want to be happy.

By experiencing, by becoming aware, that every moment is a given moment, as we say. It’s a gift.

You haven’t earned it. You haven’t brought it about in any way.

You have no way of assuring that there will be another moment given to you.

Grateful living — that’s the most valuable thing that can ever be given to us.

We have to stop. We have to get quiet. And when you stop, then the next thing is to look.

You look. You open your eyes. You open your ears. You open your nose. You open all your senses for this wonderful richness that is given to us.

Whatever life offers to you in that present moment.

If you take this opportunity, go with it.

Stop.

Look.

Go.

That’s all.

does it haunt?

I submitted my first brief last week for a written arbitration in the Costco case the Impact Fund works on. Though I didn't write large portions of the brief -- much of it was pulled from a previous claim by the woman we were representing -- I did get to author significant pieces of it.

One question, prompted by a Radio Atlantic episode featuring Ta-Nehisi Coates, was top of mind as I was drafting: Does it haunt?

Here's TNC talking about this idea:

I always say that when I'm trying to write, I want all my facts and all my logic to be correct, in terms of the argument. But the argument should haunt. The argument should bother you. You should feel some type of way. You shouldn't just like, finish the piece, and say "Oh, that guy was right" and go on with the rest of the day. . . There should consequences for the reader.

Around the same time, I finished both seasons of Stranger Things. I had finally gotten around to watching S1 and loved it, only to realize that S2 would come only days later. I finished the most recent season in a bingeful day. The story haunts. It lingered with me for days.

I think this question, "Does it haunt?", can be put to a number of our endeavors. If it doesn't haunt, can you make it so? And if you can't, is it worth doing?

a brief argument against centrism

I consider myself on the left. That means things like pursuing single payer, meaningful commitments to public education and infrastructure, robustly responding to the threat of climate change, clawing back to a sane foreign policy, admitting the negative influence of "capitalism" on the lives of many and of money in politics, and so on.

There are a lot of people that would sign onto these projects but don't for the sake of political expediency. The basic thought: pursuing a truly progressive agenda isn't possible given the politics of today. Instead, they insist, we must slowly and carefully push the country to the left.

There's some merit to that strategy. However, I can't shake the feeling that the left negotiates with itself while the right consolidates political power and owns the rhetorical space. Gun rights, climate change, national security, health care, etc. all feel like spaces where we debate on the terms of the right. But we've seen that actually advocating for the strong position can make a difference. For example, single payer is now a surprisingly popular idea.

That is, I think, in part what the appeal of Bernie Sanders was in 2016, and why he remains popular today. He unapologetically offers a progressive agenda. Of course, some degree of pragmatism is necessary for implementation. However, we don't need to tie our shoelaces together at the beginning of the race.

To the detriment of the country and their own political power, the Democratic Party has fought tooth and nail to remain the centrist's party. The Trump years are not the time to offer a restrained political vision for America. He didn't. We don't need to either. We can do better.

earning the title again

I've published not a thing on this blog since March. Life got in the way: I graduated law school, took the bar, started my first job, and got engaged. But I also let life get in the way of writing instead of integrating writing into my life. I know that writing is an integral way for me to reflect on the moment and sharpen my thinking. I like to call myself a writer, but I haven't been earning the title. It's expired.

This must change.

Today, I'm setting myself to the task of publishing something to the site every day for three months.

I've giving myself a number of exits and caveats on this daily road. After 10 days, I can quit, or continue with one "skip" a week. At the month and two month markers, I can quit.

Anything counts. I just want to show up again and again. And again.

A note to email subscribers: after this post, you'll recieve a weekly digest of posts as I do not believe my words have earned daily pride of place in your inbox (yet). You can subscribe to the digest here.

A teaser for this week: posts will include reflecting on both my greatest success and one of my greatest failures.

Let's Talk

The endless march of the news often makes me feel that communities are splintering and that our politics can only drive us further and further apart. In the darkest moments, I wonder if we are all now unreachable by the power of conversation, the very thing that has made the grand experiments of our kind possible.

That's why I was so moved by this TED talk by Megan Phelps-Roper, who grew up in the Westboro Baptist Church and then later left. She recounts with kindness what made her leave behind the extremism of her former church, which, of course, could only be one thing: conversation.

She shares four steps that can help us engage in real conversation:

1) Don't assume bad intent.
2) Ask questions.
3) Stay calm.
3) Make the argument.

She notes, "the good news is that it's simple, and the bad news is that it's hard." Her vulnerability, willingness to change, and simple advice gives us a model as we do the hard work of engaging with each other. Let's talk.

Two Kinds of Smart People

David Axelrod spoke with Van Jones on an episode of his podcast. I found the entirety of the conversation engaging. However, my ears perked up for one segment in particular. Jones, who comes from an unprivileged background in the South, recounts the wisdom his father transferred to him right before he began studying at an elite law school:

There's only two kind of smart people in this world. There's smart people who take very simple things and make them sound very complicated to try and impress everybody. And there's smart people who take very complicated things and make them sound very simple to try and help everybody. You come back in my house, you better be that second kind of smart guy.

I'm committed to the life-long project of learning. The wisdom Jones passed along clarifies the aims of that project: learn and then share with others. Knowledge should not exist in a vacuum.

I know that I'm sometimes guilty of trying to make something simple complicated. But I'm striving to be that second kind of smart person, one who invites others in to whatever discovery I've stumbled upon. What kind of smart person are you? Or, more importantly, what kind of smart person do you want to be?