Another World is Probable

You may already know this, but AI safety researcher Mrinank Sharma resigned recently. That's not really news in and of itself – people leave their positions all the time. No, the newsworthy part is that he left Anthropic, best known for its chatbot Claude, to study, drumroll please: poetry. Yes, poetry.The context is what makes the whole thing fascinating.

When life gets stressful or complicated, I notice a tendency in me (and in some people I know) to make things even more stressful, even more complicated. I don't know why exactly, but I suspect it's because when people are scared, they start scanning for threats and want to resolve them all. It feels protective to try to fix everything. I don't know about you, but for me, that only makes things worse. More in this week's post about what "keeping it simple" means and practical suggestions for doing so.

You know how people say most of the things they're afraid of never happen? The opposite is true for me – most of the things I've feared have happened. Not the fleeting, “I'm scared I'll miss my flight” things, but the “I'm scared I'll be broken into” things. The recurring fears, the ones that cause my stomach to roil and my chest to constrict. But I've learned something as a result.

Something that's on my mind a lot is the desire for one-and-done. I want the magic pill, the silver bullet, the “do this once and everything is fixed” solution. I see this in myself but I also see it in the rhetoric we use when talking about the world writ large. “Save the world,” we say, as if the planet is in need of rescuing. That's what “saving” means, by the way, to rescue from impending danger. Here's the thing, though: When in human history have we as a species not been in impending danger? Seriously, when?

Something I heard recently: “No one really wants the truth. Not when the truth is ugly, and the liar is beautiful.” Yeeees. The truth is ugly, uncomfortable. It often asks something of us. It forces us to look at something we'd rather not look at because it challenges our worldview or a belief we have about someone or ourselves. It's much easier, in some ways, to keep living a lie.

I had an interesting experience with certainty on Saturday night. I went to a Democratic Socialists of America teach-in where they discussed how veganism feeds anticapitalism and vice versa. They served dinner and I was SURE I'd be able to eat almost nothing because while I'm vegan, I don't eat onions and garlic, which are basically in everything. It turns out they ordered food from one of a handful of restaurants that don't cook with those ingredients! And then on the way home, all the transit apps said my bus was on time (it wasn't). I was certain I'd missed my connecting bus because of the delay, which, again, all of the transit apps said would be the case, but I didn't! The connecting bus was also late, which meant I waited a grand total of 2 minutes rather than the 15 I begrudgingly anticipated. Here was the trickster working in my favor. I usually think of the trickster as the disruptive force that makes it rain on your wedding day, but sometimes the trickster can work to your benefit.These experiences around uncertainty reminded me of a quote a friend shared. Painter Paul Cézanne said, “We live in a rainbow of chaos.” I don't know about you but I don't naturally associate “rainbow” with “chaos.” I don't think of chaos and unpredictability as beautiful. I think of them as dark, ugly, something to be avoided at all costs. But that's not the full story, is it? As the Post-It note on my bathroom mirror says, “Remember: Life can be surprising and delightful.” More in this week's post.

A few people have said to me they don't feel particularly motivated right now, that they're low energy, and just generally not feeling amazing. What keeps coming to mind is a post I wrote in November 2021 about letting things be terrible. Even though I'm not recovering from a car accident or participating in the now-defunct NaNoWriMo organization challenge, this post still feels relevant. Enjoy.

I just finished Elizabeth Gilbert's latest memoir, All the Way to the River, and a few lines jumped out at me. In one art piece (because the memoir includes her doodles), she writes, “Replacing fantasies with different fantasies is not a good idea. Trade fantasy, which has a storyline, with mystery, which does not.”As we open this new year, that feels like the best possible advice I could hear. More in this week's post.

One of my guiding principles is that the universe is always communicating with us, so when something unusual happens – like this week – I pay attention. The other day, something small and slender drooped from the top bar of my shower stall. Was it caulk? The glue unfurling? No. It was a millipede. Listen to hear what the millipede had to tell me.

It's funny, or perhaps timely, that as we approach the longest night of the year in the Northern hemisphere that I'm thinking of light, both literal and metaphorical. On the metaphorical level, I very much relate to the story of the Golden Buddha.

I have preconceived notions of what my life will look like and how I will get my needs met. What I'm finding out, though, is the universe takes care of me in ways I didn't think it would.

You may be tired of hearing about gratitude, but at the risk of overloading you, I want to talk about gratitude. Author and speaker Case Kenny reminded me recently of a powerful way to feel grateful. I don't know about you, but gratitude can start to feel rote. Like, of course, I'm grateful for clean drinking water and a safe place to live. But do I always feel that in my body? I wish I did, but I do not. More in this week's post.

A frequent complaint I have is, “Why is this taking so long?” That's everything from a person returning my telephone call to becoming a bestselling author. I'm struggling with what to say, but when I let my writing flow in the form of a letter, the words poured out. More in this week's post.

We're still in a time machine this week. I'm noticing I'm slowly chipping away at the obstacles before me, and this post from December 2018 gives me hope. May it do the same for you. When I thought about what to write this week, the image that kept coming to mind was a sea wall battered by waves. That's a lot of what 2018 felt like to me – ceaselessly buffeting an immovable object until finally the object disintegrated. That's what happens to sea walls – they must be replaced every 30 years or so, depending on how well they're constructed.

As I watched Hamlet this weekend, all I could think was, “Me too.” I wouldn't have taken the actions he took, but I empathize with his feelings in a way I didn't before. I'm reminded of that quote by Maya Angelou, who said, “We are all human; therefore, nothing human can be alien to us.” Yes!

On Saturday, I visited my old San Francisco neighborhood for the first time in years. It was weird to compare what it used to look like to what it looks like now. It was also strange to be there and remember the person I used to be. More in this week's post.

I, like many, have been amused and surprised by the Louvre heist. Instead of focusing on the heist itself or the ethics surrounding museum acquisition, theft, etc., I want to talk about why I think the story is so compelling. The museum heist is giving major trickster energy. More in this week's post.

I can say unequivocally that “happily ever after” has screwed me up. A young part of me latched onto the idea that if I just do xyz, I'll be happy forever. No more tears, no more sadness, no more hard moments – just frozen in a perpetual state of happiness until I die. We're sold this narrative over and over again, but, well, life isn't like that.

I was never a Girl Scout but you'd think I was because I'm always prepared. Not only do I have an earthquake kit, I also have a camping stove so I can still eat cooked food in that circumstance. If you need something, I probably have it. One time, I was in the car with someone who realized her food was undersalted, and I literally pulled out a mini salt shaker from my purse. Why am I like this? Because thinking ahead, preparing, and planning make me feel safer.

I watched a clip of Netflix's “Famous Last Words: Jane Goodall” and started tearing up. That woman was an icon, a messenger of hope, and someone who remained consistent until her dying breath. She exemplified neohumanism, a concept in my spiritual tradition, that begs the question, “What is the boundary of your identity?” More in this week's post.

As we're finishing the Jewish High Holidays, I think it's only fitting to share a concept I learned about recently. In Jewish mysticism, there's an idea that in every generation, 36 people hold up the world. These lamed-vavniks do not themselves know they are one of the 36, and no one else does either. What intrigues me about this concept is that it makes each and every person important. More in this week's post.

I'm having a tough time with the impermanence of things. The good things in my life I want to lock in little glass jars and preserve them for all eternity. What's funny is I have a similar reaction to the bad things. Not that I want to preserve them for all eternity, but rather it feels like they'll be with me for all eternity. There is no sense that this too shall pass. More in this week's post.

What a week. Lots of grief on a societal level, but also a personal one. I'm reminded of how human we are. Of how we're all in this together. As Ram Dass says, “We're all just walking each other home.” More in this week's post.

Last week, I wrote about a portal of transformation. How the grief I'm feeling is changing me into someone new. However, the reality is, I'm not a butterfly yet. Instead, I very much identify with the chrysalis stage. More in this week's post.Also, here is the link to the Scientific American article: Scientific American

I've been grieving and am reminded of a few things. One, grief is a portal, transporting us back to previous hurts that were not mourned. A dog dying may stir up grief about not only that dog, but childhood wounds of not feeling fully loved because the dog did what parents could not. The event (the dog's death) is a portal, opening a way to previous losses as well. That's why grief can feel so overwhelming, so outsized, because often it's about a mix of things.

I read a letter on Facebook the other day from E.B. White (the author of Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little) to a man who wrote to him in despair over the bleakness of the human race. I loved the letter and wanted to share it here.Also, here's the BBC article I reference.

Lately, I've been thinking about fairness, or rather its opposite. How it's not fair that people we love die. Or that fascist leaders are calling the shots. Or that the world literally and figuratively burns so a few companies can increase their profits. It's not fair. More in this week's post.

When I ride the bus, it exposes me to people and situations I might not otherwise encounter. On Wednesday, I rode the bus and felt like crying hearing the stories around me. As tears started to leak from my eyes, a woman walked on the bus and sat in front of me. Her shirt said “love” down both sleeves. In that moment, I cried even harder because it struck me that love is the container for all things. More in this week's post.

This is the most unusual post I've written in the 17 years of this blog because instead of discussing spirituality or a lesson I'm learning, I want to tell you about my new favorite TV show.

It's been truly strange around my neighborhood for the last few days, and I'm not reacting the way I thought I'd react – or the way other people are predicting I'd react. On Thursday, my friend Michael was standing in the doorway and said, “Do you know that guy?” A young man was hopping the fence that separates my apartment complex from my neighbors. I didn't know him. More in this week's post.

I'm currently in Denmark at an economic conference so it seems only fitting to share this post I wrote in 2009. Many things are different – I no longer work for a magazine full-time or live in San Francisco – but my dreams remain the same. Enjoy.This morning, I had a nightmare the magazine I work for folded. That created a ripple effect whereby I couldn't pay my rent because I have pretty much zero savings.

I'm currently traveling and never have I identified more with the Charles Dickens line, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The lows are low (no clean clothes for 48 hours! Diverted plane! An unexpected six-hour bus ride!) but the highs are also high. More in this week's post. (Oh and the rainbow in question is the picture with this post.)

Many years ago, I had a conversation with one of my closest friends about enlightenment. We compared our approaches – how I live in idealism, fantasy, and move toward the light. He told me his approach is more like crawling down the back of a scaly beast until he comes full circle at its snout. More in this week's post.

As we're approaching the July 4th holiday, a time that supposedly celebrates freedom and independence, I'm wondering, what does it mean to be free? More in this week's post.

So often when I hear or see depictions of marriage, it's about finding a companion to build a life with, someone you'll love forever, your best friend, the person you'll turn to in times of joy and sorrow. However, what I don't often hear discussed is how marriage can enhance spiritual growth. More in this week's post.

I'm editing a fascinating book about judgment. I can't quote from it because, hi, it's unpublished and also not my writing, but I can talk about the general ideas and also quote from others. My client makes the case that when we judge other people, it's often because we aren't tending to the vulnerable parts of ourselves. The parts that need to be met with love and care. For instance, if I say, “He's so lazy,” it's likely there's a part of me that's sad because I long to rest. But instead of holding that grief – that I desire to rest and feel unable to do so – I'm projecting and calling that man lazy. And judgment of any kind, toward others or the self, breaks connection with our own heart, to paraphrase Tara Brach. More in this week's post.

I've had an interesting experience over the past month or so. People whom I thought I'd never see or talk to again have been resurfacing. Not one or two people, either – five. Folks that I haven't seen, talked to, or thought of in one year, two years, three years, five years have been popping up in unexpected ways and places. More in this week's post.

There's a Post-it taped to my bathroom mirror that says, “Remember: Life can be surprising and delightful.” I need this reminder because one of my trauma responses is hypervigilance. I'm constantly scanning for threats and waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. It's a survival strategy, but not a particularly fun one. Saturday was a sweet reminder that life can be surprising and delightful. More in this week's post.

I keep thinking about fantasy, delusion, and reality. A spiritual teacher I like was convinced Kamala Harris would become the next president. When Trump won on election night, she said, “Kamala won't concede! She'll ask that the election be investigated!” What interests me is not the content – people believe wacky things all the time – it's that she kept saying her intuition told her all of this was true.

We are every age we've ever been. That means there's still a 22-year-old, a 12-year-old, a 2-year-old, an infant inside us. Just because we physically age doesn't mean those younger parts disappear. They live within and they need the same things now that they needed then. My inner infant still needs to be held. My 5-year-old still wants to play. And all of my parts still need to be mothered. More in this week's post.

Lately, I'm noticing how the universe is conspiring on our behalf. The right people are showing up at the right time to help my friends. The things that seemed impossible are suddenly possible. And in my own life, this happened in a big way with my novel. More in this week's post.

My therapist told me, “Some things don't make sense, and sometimes suffering happens.” Ouch. Can that not be true? Thanks. It's interesting to notice how much I don't accept this perspective. I want a reason for everything. I want to know why.

In these times where I know we are the “magic wands,” that change happens because we make it happen, my desire to contribute is immense. It feels like if I'm not doing something, I'm letting the fascists win. But, well, my body needs a break. More in this week's post.

A friend sent a PowerPoint presentation about a professor holding a cup. The story goes like this: A professor walked into class one day and held up a cup of water for all to see. The professor asked, “How much do you think this cup weighs?” The students answered, “50g! 100g! 125g!”“I really don't know unless I weigh it,” the professor said. “But my question is, what would happen if I held the cup like this for a few minutes?” More in this week's post.

I didn't attend any of the rallies on April 5th because I panic in crowds. And while I know it's important to take care of myself – and I would have been a liability rather than an asset in that situation – it's bringing up a lot of feelings. Because I care so much about society, I feel like a bad person. What am I doing to fight fascism?!? Do I make a difference in this world even if I can't participate in the way I'd like? More in this week's post.

The other day, a bumblebee landed on my window and it felt like both a message from my Grandma Libele saying, “Hello, I'm here,” and a message of hope. She wanted me to know that joy and sweetness are coming.

One of my core wounds is around belonging. I would say that's a consequence of growing up as the “weird kid” but these days I think everyone has this wound. We all want to belong. To be clear, belonging is not the same thing as fitting in. As Brené Brown says, “Belonging is being accepted for you. Fitting in is being accepted for being like everyone else.”

The most recent eclipse brought up so much for me – I cried buckets and let myself feel grief that had been buried for decades. In general, that happens during eclipses – people are more sensitive and emotional, and things that were hidden get revealed. It can be incredibly painful to look at something you didn't want to look at. It may also feel scary and overwhelming. What to do about that? More in this week's post.

Our society is obsessed with “overnight success,” but if you dig a little deeper, you will find that it usually takes years and years of hard work for a person to be successful “overnight.” I was reminded of that this weekend when I re-watched Mystic Pizza. Did you know Matt Damon is in that movie? More in this week's post.

Lately I'm oscillating between shock, dismay, dissociation, and fear. And I know I'm not alone. My social media feeds are filled with people talking about how to take care of yourself right now. They say things like, “Take a break from doomscrolling” and “connect with your community.” It's great advice and I've asked myself, “Do I also have something to contribute?” Other than what I already have I mean, namely my post from the other week about how we're the “magic wands”? The answer is yes. And here is the video I mention: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YptJ0Asexc.

The title of this post comes from a fascinating article I read in my university's alumni magazine. More than 15% of the global population – about 1 billion people – have been diagnosed with a physical, psychiatric, learning, developmental, sensory, or cognitive disability. And that number is likely to increase due to emerging diseases andnatural disasters. More in this week's post.