Remember last issue when I shared that I'll be taking French classes to brush up on my fading second language? Well, classes start this week, and I'm legit nervous. This is a fun, good, new and exciting thing I'm about to get into, but instead of rubbing my hands together in anticipation, I'm over here wringing them with low-key agita. Why am I clipping my wings before I've even had a chance to see how high I can fly? It's what we so-called adults typically do, isn't it? Too often we play ourselves small and let fear or apprehension limit our reach. We're almost afraid to truly thrive.
Over the last few years, I've been thinking a lot about this idea of betting on yourself and not allowing what you don't know to get in the way of what you could know, what you could learn. Yet, here I am, allowing nerves to get the better of me. Not cool, Blades.
What's funny is that my younger sister Nailah and I have just returned from the Mom 2.0 Summit in beautiful Dana Point, California. We were part of a social good panel talking about how to use social media to turn your compassion into action. It was our first time at this conference where online content creators, social media influencers and marketers gather to educate and experience and exchange "what we know and don't know,"as well as celebrate one another as a community. Plus, dance in fierce shoes. Because, come on. You gotta dance and rock some fly shoes in this life.
While there, I had a really great conversation with one of my wise and wonderful friends, Karen Walrond, talking specifically about what thriving means. (Spoiler: It's got nothing to do with being exceedingly rich or perfect.) I walked away from that convo so refreshed! But that happens when you're dealing with Karen.
Then, while prepping for our panel, my sister showed me this Facebook video starring my hot boyfriend (ahem) Idris Elba talking about—yep!—thriving. The video is part of a campaign launched by Idris Worldwide focused on fulfilling one's personal potential. Teaming up with a vitamin fruit drink called Purdey's, Elba wants to help adults snap back to the dreamier days of youth when we thought anything's possible and that our reach was never-ending. The tagline for the movement is #ThriveOn, and there is an opportunity to win a grant from Purdey's to lend a hand in making your own dreams a reality.
These "thrive" nods all feel like a signpost in the road that says, in reverse Peter Clemenza-style: Take the trip. Leave the fear.
So I will do just that. I will #ThriveOn—French class jitters be damned!
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On this morning's run, I listened to a great chat with writer Elizabeth Gilbert on the Longform podcast talking about career vs. vocation, ego vs. soul, and her platinum rule in life: "Don't be a dick." Ha.
I've long been a fan of this woman. Her beliefs about creative life, genius, success, failure, and the drive to keep creating and how to thrive in the face of fear—beyond fear—have inspired me and rejuvenated the way I approach my art. She often talks about realizing that a hobby, a job, a career, and a vocation are all very different things. "Your career is dependent upon other people, but your vocation belongs only to you. You can get fired from your career, but you can never get fired from your vocation," she explained in a long Facebook post earlier this year. As it is for Gilbert, writing is my vocation, and I'm so grateful to have discovered that long ago. Knowing it, in my bones, is like a North Star helping me to see where to go, you know?
Definitely find some time and give the podcast a listen, whether you're living a creative life or not. And, if you're interested to go further, check out Gilbert's latest book, BIG MAGIC.
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"When I was a child, I was content to fit the notes to the joy I felt." —SONATA MULATTICA
On certain mornings, when it's damp or grey outside, I like to thumb through a book of poems. Truth told, I don't read stacks on stacks on stacks of poetry. My collection of poetry books is on the slender side. But an in-law—who is a talented poet herself—gifted me with this lovely collection by poet laureate Rita Dove some years back. It's about the life of George Bridgetower, a mixed race virtuoso violinist and friend of Beethoven. Just a few lines, a few pages can totally set my dreary morning right. Which poets do you turn to for inspiration?
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I like to say that books are my Beyoncé. I just love them, and I keep adding more to Mount Nightstand. Sharing excerpts is an extension on this love jones. What are YOU reading? Do tell. Email me your current reads.
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Honestly, it still doesn't feel real. I'm still pretty broken up about the death of Prince Rogers Nelson. I can't even get it all into words. Not yet. Still. I've already watched so many mind-blowing, soul-shaking videos of Prince performing and there always seems to be two or twelve more to catch. I've read the moving tributes and chuckled at the countless, no-way-that's-true-but-it-really-is "Prince stories" circulating the interweb. Listening to his music has helped too.
There are some songs—my deep favorites—that I'm just coming around to listening to now because I couldn't do it before. "The Beautiful Ones" is one of those songs. I watched the YouTube video of Prince performing the song on "Lopez Tonight" while sitting at the airport waiting for my early morning flight. It was almost a full week since the news of Prince's death hit, and I still found myself getting teary as I watched and swayed by myself. I followed that up with this video of Prince performing "Purple Rain" at THE best Super Bowl Halftime Show. Singularly. The rain, the energy you could feel pouring through the screen, that stage, the music, and the man, the legend. (When he sings the Foo Fighters' song? Come on!)
Prince. Man. I truly believed somewhere far in the back of my mind (because his death was never a present thought) that Prince would just die of old age. His body clock would run out of time and he would move on from this earth still looking like he stopped aging in his 30s. I thought we had more time with him.
All I can do, all any of us—his loyal fans—can do is be grateful for his music. As late night TV host James Corden said so perfectly: "What a thing to have been alive when Prince was making music. We are all incredibly lucky."
"Sometimes I wish life was never ending,
And all good things, they say, never last."
— Prince
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