The color of enough

There is a shade of blue that does something to me. Not a specific blue I could name or point to in a Pantone chart. It is more a quality of blue. The ocean on a calm morning before anyone else has arrived. The sky in that particular hour between late afternoon and...

The bread that cannot be rushed

Thursday evening I start the dough process. Not because I have to. Because something in me needs to. There is a particular ritual to sourdough that I have come to understand is about far more than bread. You begin with a living starter. Genuinely alive. Fed and tended...

What are you afraid of

I want to tell you something that took me an embarrassingly long time to understand. The Monday dread we talked about on Day 1 is not really about Monday. The hollow feeling on the audit from Day 2 [what fills you]is not really about the job. The drift from Africa...

What the phone reveals

We tell ourselves we are measured, rational, composed. Then we pick up our phones. On a train recently, watching a stranger scroll, something became clear. Within minutes, her face moved through joy, concern, hurt, and quiet approval. She didn’t notice. No one...

What my handwriting tells me

I used to have decent handwriting. Somewhere between boarding school cursive and my first startup, I lost it. Honestly, I didn’t notice until someone handed me a pen at a signing, and I was mildly embarrassed by what appeared on the page. That sent me down a...