Reflections

Weekly wisdom to level up your creative life in 3 minutes, for free.

A SHORT STORY

In South Africa, they have a phrase called Ubuntu. Ubuntu comes out of a philosophy that says the only way for me to be human is for you to reflect my humanity back at me. Essentially, we cannot be human without each other.

I’ve been thinking about this phrase a lot in the wake of these uncertain times.

Reflecting on the essence of Ubuntu, I find its significance amplified during the holidays. During the darkest time of the year, we light candles and trees to remind ourselves that the light will return. We slow down so we can be around the people that remind us what it means to be human.

And now, it feels like we need this more than ever.

For many, one’s Mother is often your first mirror. In fact, the Dalai Lama often recounts that his Mother was his first teacher of compassion because of the unconditional love he experienced in her care.

I remember how after my own Mother underwent surgery for stage 4 cancer, the first thing she said to me when awakening wasn’t — “I’m in so much pain, woe is me.” No, it was - “I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”

Those were her final words about me - “I love that man, and I’m so proud of him.”

So, as I navigate the holidays, I’m wondering: How can I reflect the best parts of someone back to them, embodying the spirit of Ubuntu in my interactions? How can I be a loving mirror to another’s humanity?

What kind of mirror would you like to be for others this holiday? What is one small action you can do today to become that mirror?

A CREATIVE TOOL

This past week I had an inspiring conversation with poet - Sasha Stiles - on her book, Technelegy. Sasha is one of the leading writers working on the forefront of text and technology - her work has been exhibited at MOMA and Christie’s. We also dive in for a more behind the scenes tutorial on how to train your own AI text model, as well!

A PIECE OF ART

“In a Forgettable Diner, I Fall in Love With Life” by Hannah Rosenberg

This week feels mundane and I wonder how much of life I have tried to wish away. Three more days until. Two more months before the sweet relief of spring. I complain to complain, sit in front of two screens, hold one more to my face and scroll through lives that promise what looks like exhausting glamour. But in a long line of groundhog days I find myself with you. Sitting across from each other at a diner with our usual order. Our regular eggs, our shared pancakes, talking about everything and nothing and it feels like ordinary magic that we’re here, together, if only for a few short moments in the endless eons of time.

Grateful,

Michael