I remind myself to stay curious, to be aware when I interact with someone from another culture —whether from another state or another continent —because chances are I’ll never hear (my alphabet doesn’t capture it) or see parts of that person’s identity.
Cracked and shining. Even in our imperfections, we can shine and share our light.
In that balance of love and concern and holding space for loving them no matter what, another stoic lesson helps me: your self-interest is outside of me, outside of my control.
What is a history you have lost? What history can you never imaging losing? How did or will the loss impact you as you move forward?
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