Podcast Episode Details
Back to Podcast Episodes
Finding Your People
Dear One,
My mother Caron offered a gift to almost everyone she could. Her level of appreciation for beauty of every kind, let me tell you, was astonishing.
And so I was raised by a woman who saw beauty in everything and called it out. We would be walking down the street and her entire face would break out into joy as she saw different people and places and things, and exclaimed “How beautiful you are!”. How often people were surprised by her showed me just how precious this was.
One of the last things that she shared with us before crossing the rainbow bridge is that "mattering matters" and to never miss an opportunity to let someone know that they matter.
And so today that's what I'm doing with you. Whether you feel like you're my people or not, I'm letting you know that you matter. I spent my morning meditation inviting you to be with your people, to look for us, to see us, to be with us, and to let yourself be seen, to know that you matter…
Finding your people
begins with a decision to be seen,
to be seen in your messiest places,
and also to be seen in your gloriousness
to be seen when you're
putting things together
and also when you're pulling things apart
when you find your people,
it's like
breathing
an air that you knew existed
but weren't sure you'd ever find.
It's a discovery that there are people as strange as you are,
but in completely different ways.
Finding your people isn't just that you like the same songs, although you might
or that eat the same foods although you might,
or that you
want the same things in life.
It's less about affinities toward preferences
and more about a feeling.
The closest way I could describe it is like a groove.
It's like that point in the evening in a concert
where all the popular songs have been worn away
and you're a little bit tired and wondering if you're gonna head home,
and all of a sudden it's the song you've been looking for
and you feel it in your whole body and then everybody's moving.
It's a feeling.
Sometimes I feel it less with individual people and more with whole groups of people, like at
That evening concert
under the Twinkle Lights,
under the moonlight, when the beat is so blue that you feel joyful
and so does everybody else.
It's a wink from an elder with a hat pulled over one eye
and flip-flops, even though it's cold
and they wink at you and you know they see you
and you let them see you.
It's the child running up to you
that belongs to the parents who don't know you and they apologize,
but you have a moment with the child where there's an understanding.
It's this moment
as I'm recording this,
as an unbelievably huge and gorgeous white bird flies over my head
and reminds me
this is my people.
My people aren't just people.
My people are birds.
My people are tigers I've never met.
Of course, they're not people,
but at the same time, when I look at them,
I see myself in them.
It's something from the wild.
It's a remembrance of a time
before this time
it's a call to belonging to something bigger than neighborhood and fashion sense,
and which apps you're a part of in community
and which things you like from everybody else.
It's a call to
a feeling.
It's a feeling that I don't know if anyone on this planet ever escapes
because somehow we're always looking for it.
We think it's a place because we've just been traveling for so long and sometimes you find it in a place
like when I think about the Bay Area,
I think I'm a child of the Bay. It's my place and I like visiting other places,
but as soon a
Published on 2 years, 5 months ago