This is NOT a music-related post. (I have to post that disclaimer, as two of the four regular readers of this blog don’t like my musical musings.)
Michelle Zauner is the leader of the band Japanese Breakfast. I’m a huge fan. (Their new album comes out soon!)
But she also wrote a very moving memoir about loss – her book Crying in H Mart. When her mother was diagnosed with cancer, Michelle left her East Coast band and flew back to her childhood home in Eugene, Oregon, to take care of her mom during her final months. And as a Korean-American who lost not just her mom but her connection to her Korean heritage, Michelle feels the grief quite intensely.
I can sorta-kinda relate. I’m not mixed race like Michelle, but my mom was first generation Italian-American. And when she passed away, I lost that connection to the Italian part of my heritage. I was lucky enough to spend some quality time with my Italian aunts (Rosetta and Inez) growing up, but chances are my feelings of “Italian-ness” would be much stronger had my mom not passed away when I was so young.
I hadn’t thought about that a lot, until I listened to Michelle speak about her book at Cincinnati’s Mercantile Library earlier this week.
I found myself getting a bit misty-eyed when she talked about the sense of not just maternal loss but also cultural loss. And I started to think that I’m not just a fan of Michelle’s band, but also a kindred spirit with her.
Then. later in the week, I saw this quote:
It is essential for us to welcome our grief, whatever form it takes. When we do, we open ourselves to our shared experiences in life. Grief is our common bond. Opening to our sorrow connects us with everyone, everywhere.
— Francis Weller
Yes, I’m a kindred spirit with Michelle Zauner. And with you. And with everyone who has suffered loss… which is “everyone, everywhere.”
Grateful Living has a monthly series called “Grateful Gatherings.” As fate would have it, the focus for March is “Grief & Gratefulness.” Here’s another Francis Weller quote:
“Gratitude is the other hand of grief. It is the mature person who welcomes both. To deny either reality is to slip into chronic depression or to live in a superficial reality. Together they form a prayer that makes tangible the exquisite richness of life in this moment. Life is hard and filled with suffering. Life is also a most precious gift, a reason for continual celebration and appreciation.”
Amen to that!
The Grief & Gratefulness resources are here. Should you find yourself crying in H Mart, or in the Mercantile Library, or anywhere, really, they could come in handy.
The Mercantile Library is an absolute gem in the Queen City. It’s been open since 1835, but recently completed a remodel that adds much more cool space to what already was the city’s best haven for “readers, writers, and thinkers” as their website says. Michelle Zauner this past Tuesday, Curtis Sittenfeld this past Friday… with Timothy Egan, Crystal Wilkinson, Ada Limón, Colson Whitehead, Kaveh Akbar, and Lauren Groff still on tap this year, along with several other authors, plus book clubs, poetry readings, yoga, and so much more.
It’s a membership library, but the low cost would be worth it just to hang out in their space, and membership gets you early (and often free) access to the author events.
This post from Scott Galloway is a year and a half old, but it’s worth flagging (again, perhaps). My favorite excerpt:
Add this to the list of ways social media is ruining society: It’s skewing our perception of the relative value of listening vs. speaking. Social media is a contact sport in which “takes” are the game ball. It’s taught us (incorrectly) that all our opinions matter. Worse, that everyone needs to hear and comment on them.
He’s spot-on. You don’t get any sort of clout (or Klout, back in the day) for just reading something and not weighing in.
The delta between hearing and listening is attention, being present. This is difficult in the age of devices, but respect is what makes the other party feel heard.
Scott offers four tips for lending someone our ears.
Not speaking up is easier said (unsaid?) than done. It takes practice. But the payoff for fewer words is more empathy.
The podcast “Literally! with Rob Lowe” is in my regular rotation. I don’t get to every episode, but they’re usually pretty entertaining. The last one I listened to, however, was quite enlightening. Rob’s guest spoke eloquently and intelligently about the origins of makeup in this one-minute clip:
I certainly wasn’t expecting such erudition from this guy:
Yep, the self-proclaimed “God of Thunder” is actually a really smart cookie. And he makes no bones about the fact that he and his KISS buddy Paul Stanley were more interested in success than critical acclaim. But the podcast interview gives a lot more insight into that drive. It came from Gene’s mom, a Holocaust survivor who, at the age of 14, watched as her mother and grandmother were led away to the gas chambers.
Gene’s mom instilled in her only child a drive to make money… but as a means of safety, as some insulation against harm and danger. And Gene talks about how his mom was — and still is — his compass, and the person who gave him some much needed perspective on what really matters.
I tuned in expecting some laughs and funny stories (and the episode has those), but I didn’t expect the history lesson, and the emotional gravitas.
Gene may wanna rock and roll all night, and party every day… but there’s some real substance behind that kabuki makeup.
You can listen to the full podcast here on Podcast Addict (my favorite app for collating and listening to podcasts).
Feeling “stuck” in your job (or your life)? Maybe you need some advice from this guy:
Ralph Steadman’s drawing of Hunter S. Thompson’s car beset by huge bats illustrated Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in 1971.
Yes, noted “gonzo journalist” Hunter S. Thompson would like a word with you:
You have the power to change things up. But don’t just take it from Hunter S. Thompson. Pull up a barstool and listen to this fella:
That’s noted Barfly Charles Bukowski, America’s most infamous poet and a “laureate of American lowlife” (Time, 1986). Here’s what he has to say about making your own breaks:
Just a couple of friendly reminders that life doesn’t happen TO you unless you let it. And if it seems crazy to make a change, then embrace the crazy.
[L to R: Jeff Bezos/Washington Post owner, Sam Altman/AI CEO, Mark Zuckerberg/Facebook & Meta founder and CEO, Patrick Soon-Shiong/LA Times publisher, and the Walt Disney Company/ABC News.]
Here’s Dave Chappelle’s plea at the end of his Saturday Night Live monologue:
A nice sentiment, but likely to fall on deaf ears. And Dave needs to save some “good luck” wishes for the American people who will be harmed by t-Rump’s policies, decrees, and whims.
OK, I’ve had my say. You know where I stand. As best as I can over the next four years, I’m going to try to not give any more oxygen to the dumpster fire. Lil’ Donny the broken boy needs a steady stream of attention, and I don’t want to contribute. I’d rather focus my attention on things that I can change.
“There is no purity for me, no absolute success or failure, and no room for the masterpiece. When I see artists who have made works that are recognized as masterpieces, I see them having to chase those works for the rest of their careers, and I just don’t want that axe to grind. I would rather be seen as an acceptable failure, as the guy that failed consistently and kept going, kept trying, kept exploring. I want to pivot and move and work on multiple things at once, and with that comes a lot of freedom. I think the whole mystery of making art is about choices that are bold.”
Our life can imitate his art. Most of us will never have a “masterpiece.” Which, as Rashid points out, is probably for the best, as having one traps us in a box constructed by others’ expectations.
But we sure as heck can be the person “that failed consistently and kept going, kept trying, kept exploring.”
It’s not the failure that defines us — unless we let it. It’s the keeping going…
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