insight arising

I'm still in shock about the tragic deaths of Kobe, his daughter, and the remaining victims of the  helicopter crash. Like many, I am surprised by the impact of Kobe's death on my own heart, given that I had never met him. Growing up, being a Lakers fan was everything to me. In a volatile household, the Lakers bonded our family in a special way. As a kid, the moods of my days were dictated by the W or L the night before. Even though my dad was a fan, he was one of those fans...always talking shit about the Lakers, which drove me and my brothers crazy! I poured over newspaper clippings and made several scrap books to document their team journey from my own perspective. Kobe was my first poster. He was still #8, with his mini afro, windmill dunk, with the silhouette of the renaissance man as the background. Kobe was truly renaissance to me. He pushed boundaries. Defied possibilities. He was brilliant on the court. He had a natural finesse. No one's swish sounded smooth...

Most of my beautiful family  It's the Year of the Rat y'all. The inauguration of a new 12-year cycle of animal zodiac signs (holler to my fellow tigers!). The photo above features my parents, both brothers and their families, and my aunt. My mom is notorious for RBF, but she looks quite joyful in this photo. When my aunt texted this shot to me, I felt warmth rise up in my stomach. I smiled at the sight of their smiling faces. I laughed at my brothers and their fancy traditional Vietnamese attire (they don't usually wear these!). The warmth in my stomach took me by surprise. I didn't feel guilty for not being there with my parents. I didn't experience any FOMO. I genuinely felt happy for my family, that they could be together celebrating, even though I wasn't there to join them. This lack of guilt and experience of pure joy for my family stood out to me as a milestone for the self-love I've been cultivating over the past few months.  You see, the lun...

I came into this world soft hearted, tender, and sensitive. From as young as I can remember, I could feel the heart energies and sufferings of others. I cried a lot, from seeing others hurt and feeling my own hurt. But I was told early on by my family,  save your tears for things that matter. I was conditioned to believe that what hurt me wasn't important. I was often called a cry baby. My family had little tolerance for my sensitivities and tears. Many years ago, I was crying during a conflict with my mom and brother, where my mom, in her own distress and pain, pulls out a knife and yells out, do you want me to give you a real reason to cry? In my marriage, my partner, due to his own conditioning, was often numb to and unresponsive to my tears. He just didn't know how to hold them with tenderness. My family didn't know how to either. Throughout my life, I've been told in many ways that a soft and sensitive heart is weak, unappealing, and simply too much. I've gro...

Why is saying 'I Love You' so damn hard? Maybe it's just me who struggles with this. Saying ILY to even the closest people in my life is not so comfortable to do, as I would assume someone who is as feel-y as me, would experience. Doesn't matter the form. In-person, in a text, or in an email. All equally uncomfortable and awkward for me. Anytime I say or write it, there's a pause and a wondering of questions. Is this too much?  Is this needy?  Are we there yet?  Are they going to feel awkward?  Do they feel the same?  Will they say it back?  Can friends say I love you too?  Why is this so uncomfortable?  What am I scared of?  What is it about the practice of telling the people we love that we love them? Is it the fear of rejection? Is it the vulnerability? Is it because we didn't grow up hearing it ourselves? Is it because we aren't used to saying it? Is it all of these things? Whatever it is, I'm trying to come closer to it by ...

I got a new roommate last year. To be honest, I was feeling pretty nervous about her. Mostly because I've had only really great roomies in the past (shout out to Holycon sisters and the Rice Paddy!). So the new roomie had a lot to stack up to. She has a few odd particulars. For some reason, she refuses to have a real trash can in the kitchen so she just piles trash in brown grocery bags. I don't why. After every restroom visit, she leaves a bunch of hair on the floor. She can run the kitchen sink water too much when washing the dishes. In the middle of winter, she chooses to wear lots of layers instead of using the heater. What's the opposite of a green thumb? She has whatever that is, already losing two plants. Not to mention, her whole family is concerned about her ability to cook so she's constantly getting calls at night about what she ate for dinner. Quite disruptive. All complaints aside though, she's been a pretty great roommate. She hangs with me when I am...

My sister and me, circa 1986-1987. Cheeks. Hot salt baths Long walks by myself Long hikes under the sun Rose Bergamot candles Buying myself flowers Toni Braxton, Janet Jackson, Ariana Grande, Yuna, Sam Smith Slow mornings in bed with my soft blue blanket Jazz and blues Sunsets with pink and orange highlights Brightness of a full La Luna Adorable babies on the bus Instrumental Study playlist on Spotify Walking with the spirits at Piedmont Cemetery Third Culture Mochi Muffins Laughing with beloveds Loving on the pups in my life A hot cup of Wildflower Dreams tea Spiritual friendship with new humans Reconnecting with old friends Cuban sandwich at Clove and Hoof Grace & Frankie, Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Contemplating impermanence and its freedom Crying when seeing my own baby photo The smell of Palo Santo (holy wood) Meditation practice in community Reading dharma The tenderness of my therapist Naked hot tubbing with girl friends Check-in texts and handwr...

Sometimes, the Universe provides exactly what you need, when you need it. Sitting at Timeless Cafe, I was browsing through five month's worth of dharma study notes and personal reflections, in search of spiritual strength and perspective. It was the first day of the brand new decade. That morning, I didn't wake up feeling brave or light as I had hoped. Instead I felt somber. For much of the holidays, I had been stuck in this sticky, somber place in my mind. Raw in my heart. Deeply vulnerable. I was tired of feeling the rawness. Tired of longing for love and connection. I watched the somberness with frustration. I observed my mind's resistance. Stay with it, I told myself quietly each time. The Buddha's teachings prove to be powerful. As I combed through quotes, notes, and my own reflections from weeks of classes, I began to feel my mind loosen its grip. I started to feel lighter, freer, and more joyful. As if a cloud lifted from my body. I reached for my phone and s...