The world is once-again in the midst of calamities testing our capacities to be human, our compassion and empathy, our trust in the sources we rely upon, and our resilience from a mental health perspective. All I will say on the subject through this platform, today, is that force is never the answer to anything. I hold out fervent hope for a return to diplomacy soon.

Welcome to Creative Humans, a feature of On Humanity to engage and inspire readers to create new things and share your own creative journeys. Last week I had the opportunity to email-interview Utako Toyama, whom I met this past August at an annual Hiroshima memorial event and peace walk in Boston. In this interview, Utako shares anecdotes from her various lived experiences and collaborations on several continents, reflections on what it means to be a musician in different cultural contexts and on promoting social cohesion, thoughts on leadership styles, advice for composing songs, and musings on personal transformations. I hope you enjoy reading, and feel free to reach out if you’d like to be connected!

If you’d like to be interviewed on anything you do for inspiration — or know someone who might — please reach out by emailing onhumanity@substack.com!

Utako Toyama, an award-winning composer and founder of SkyBridge and co-founder of Songs for World Peace, is based in London, UK. Recognized with prestigious awards like the Hiroshima Award in Music, she holds exceptional talent visas in the U.S. and the UK. Utako is dedicated to promoting diversity, equality, and world peace through her global project band, SkyBridge, collaborating with musicians from 47+ countries, including Grammy awardees Victor Wooten and Mark Walker, and working with musicians from 90+ countries in Songs for World Peace.

1. Was there a particular experience (or more) in early childhood that attracted you to music and, eventually, led you to take on music-making and songwriting? 

I always had sounds playing in my mind from a young age, although I wasn't aware it was a unique ability. I recall my elementary school teacher urging me to be quiet during class when I unknowingly started singing the tunes in my head. It was a challenge to suppress this natural tendency. I also had a good sense for harmony and melody; I often found myself wanting to tweak existing songs to better resonate with my emotions.

My journey into songwriting truly began around the age of 9 when my dog went missing. Writing songs became my way of expressing and dealing with my emotions during that tough time. The realization that songwriting might be my strength struck me in high school. I remember someone wrote a song that, in my opinion, wasn't particularly remarkable—it felt like the kind of song anyone could compose without much effort. However, the reaction from others was surprising; they were either amazed by the song itself or the mere fact that someone had written it. It was then that I started to suspect that not everyone hears music constantly playing in their minds as I do in my daily life.

2. What did you find most inspiring during your time at Berklee College of Music? What galvanized you to found the global project band, SkyBridge?

For me, the most inspiring aspect of Berklee was undoubtedly its diverse community. Berklee felt like a version of the United Nations tailored for musicians. Whether they were teachers or students, everyone I met were passionate individuals from all over the world who loved music deeply. Through making music with these musicians from around the globe, music made friends for me.

Several experiences led to the creation of SkyBridge. One of them was the opportunity to have my song performed by a large audience. One of my goals at Berklee was to translate my cherished composition, "No Rain No Rainbow," into English and perform it with Berklee musicians. Surprisingly, my dream came true much sooner than I anticipated. In my first semester, "No Rain No Rainbow" was selected as one of the songs to be performed at the 9/11 Memorial Concert. With the help of my friends, I translated the song into English and performed it with Berklee musicians. This opened doors for me to perform the song at a middle school in Massachusetts. The students had already practiced the song, and when I arrived, they welcomed me with excitement, saying, "Are you the one who wrote this song? I love it!" We performed "No Rain No Rainbow" together, turning it into a shared anthem of hope.

This song, born from a challenging period in my life, became no longer just my song that day. Each person singing it carried their unique stories, all harmonizing for the same message of hope. Through this experience, my passion became writing songs that bring people together, uniting voices for a shared cause.

Another experience that fueled my motivation was the friendships I formed with musicians from around the world. Despite global conflicts, I often wondered, "If we can become friends through music, why do wars and discrimination persist in a world where information from across the globe is just a click away?" Reflecting on this, I realized that fostering genuine empathy through personal experiences could be the key to a better world. This realization led me to dedicate my strengths in leadership and composition to this cause, whether through SkyBridge or Songs for World Peace. This journey has become my passion, driving me to create meaningful connections and inspire positive change through music.

3. Several years after graduation, you moved to London, UK, and co-founded Songs For World Peace just as the pandemic began to ravage the globe. In this context, are there any striking personal memories from 2020 that you’d like to share? 

After graduating from Berklee, I had been working in the United States on an O1 (exceptional talent) visa, which makes for a total of eight years in the US. In the fall of 2019 when I moved to London, I had plans to start SkyBridge there. However, the pandemic struck, making it impossible to make new friends or perform due to the lockdown situation.

During that time, a friend who knew about my SkyBridge project suggested the idea of co-founding Songs for World Peace (SWP) together. In a time when many musicians around me had idle time, I found myself busier than ever before the pandemic. SWP activities started under these circumstances and have been ongoing since.

Another significant change was my decision to quit all in-person teaching and transition entirely to online, allowing me to work from anywhere in the world. Thanks to this, I was able to organize SWP's music video project in Boston during the summer this year.

While 2020 was undoubtedly a challenging year, it also marked the beginning of SWP due to these changes. I feel that these transformations have created an environment where I can continue musical activities in various places around the world.

4. Have any differences or similarities in the cultures and lived experiences among your various “home bases” (Japan, US, UK) contributed to how you view humanity and human behavior?

Certainly. The most significant impact came from encountering various "standards" outside my home country. Different countries have different ways of showing respect. There's nothing that's universally "given" or understood, so the necessity of openly discussing mutual expectations and effective communication on how we convey our thoughts sincerely became apparent.

It's crucial to understand that nobody shares the same beliefs, and conflicts of opinion are natural. In Japan, there is a tendency to avoid expressing different opinions to prevent conflicts, but what's truly essential in building a healthy relationship is not personally taking the differences in opinions as opposition and learning how to convey your thoughts constructively. I am still learning the importance of non-verbal communication, such as body language, when conveying my thoughts to others.

5. You have also worked in Kenya and Uganda in recent years. Could you share with readers a little bit about the process and the fruits of collaborations with musicians in those countries? 

Certainly. In Kenya, I had the opportunity to collaborate with close music colleagues, including members of SkyBridge, and have visited the country several times. During my first visit, I conducted a composition workshop at a music school in Nairobi. On the second visit, we performed at the Safaricom Jazz festival, and I had the privilege of having Grammy Award-winning artist Victor Wooten join us for a SkyBridge performance. This collaboration was part of the activities organized by the Global Youth Groove organization. That year, I had another program in Uganda, where I was appointed as the music director, so I couldn't participate in all the activities in Kenya. However, during my third visit, I conducted workshops on composition, music production, singing, and also performed.

In Uganda, I went there for a program called African Youth Leadership Experience. Through a music exercise called Spontaneous Composition, which we also do in SkyBridge concerts, I organized activities that promoted physical, emotional, and social growth. By creating a safe and positive environment, I emphasized the importance of making small mistakes to create something better, understanding the significance of how we express our opinions, recognizing individual roles, and practicing effective leadership.

The moment that brought me the most joy was when one student said, "I learned how to dive in even with the fear." When challenging something, completely eliminating fear is nearly impossible. I believe that continually avoiding fear and discomfort leads to missing opportunities for personal growth. Learning to coexist with fear and still bravely trying is a choice the students learned, and for me, this was the most fruitful outcome.

In Uganda, I also had discussions with the director of an organization combating human trafficking, exploring ways to prevent trafficking, protect victims, and support financially impoverished processes. Although the project couldn't take shape immediately due to the pandemic, I hope to contribute in some way during my future visits.

I feel that due to the way many media outlets portray Africa, there's a misconception that it's a place in constant need of help. While it's true that some students had to worry about having food for the next day, and, consequently, some couldn't continue attending school, there are numerous individuals with remarkable ideas and great humanity. Many students and adults are actively thinking about how they can contribute to their community and improve it. How many students in so-called "developed countries" are genuinely considering how they can contribute to their communities?

The reason I enjoy collaborations is because I believe in creating an environment where everyone is equal and can easily learn from one another. Nobody is on the giving or receiving end of help; instead, we learn from each other. I want to continue these activities and feel the need to increase my influence to make a greater contribution in the future.

6. How would you define your leadership style, and how do cultural differences influence your approach to leadership? Are there any roadblocks you had to overcome in the past as you led the various initiatives of SkyBridge and Songs For World Peace?

I would say my leadership style aligns most closely with the Servant Leadership style. Servant leadership is a philosophy where individuals aim to collaborate and empower others.

My approach to leadership has slightly varied depending on the nature of the project, the positions of myself and the participants in the project, as well as the cultural context. In Japan, I've had experiences leading a wind orchestra with over 80 members, a gospel choir with over 300 members, a choir with over 100 members for television, and a wedding musicians team for over 300 weddings annually.

In Japan, there was a relatively shared sense of purpose, and my role as a leader involved creating an environment where everyone could achieve the goals with ease, minimizing resistance in the project. It meant listening to a lot of opinions, finding common ground among everyone, resetting goals, and creating a team and environment with as little resistance as possible.

In the U.S., when it comes to leading, if I apply the same approach as in Japan, I often get asked, "Firstly, what do you want?" Especially in my own projects, it's essential to clearly communicate my vision and then inquire about individual opinions, making the process much smoother.

Effectively conveying my vision through words and actions is crucial. However, I never lead in a way where I am above others, giving orders. As a leader, I work harder than other members and encourage spontaneity in others. Everyone realizes their unique strengths, and I lead not because I'm "great" but because it's my role to do so.

Leadership is complex and inevitably comes with challenges, but I believe it's a lifelong learning process. Creating an environment where everyone can openly and constructively express their thoughts and acknowledge each other is something I value deeply.

7. What goes through your mind when you play a piece you are in the process of composing on the piano? Any particular examples?

When I compose, the main theme often comes to my mind first, and I tend to build the piece around that central idea. The initial inspiration can hit me suddenly, like a natural event. But when it comes to working on the rest of the composition, it requires mental strength, focus, and patience. I deeply involve myself in the music's world, trying to imagine what I can see, hear, and feel there, using all my senses to turn those sensations into sound.

It's a very focused process, like listening to falling snow. For example, with "No Rain No Rainbow," when I heard those words, the entire chorus came to me instantly, but for the verses, I waited patiently, tuning my senses like antennas, observing the rain, walking through it, until the phrases emerged.

Writing about the composition process might sound strange to readers. Although I don't follow any specific religious beliefs, when it comes to composing, I don't deny the feeling of 'hearing sound.' It's there, yet the process of not knowing where it comes from creates a sense of wonder.

8. What advice would you give to folks who are in the beginning stages of their composing (music-making) journeys as adults?

Have you ever hummed a tune reflecting your emotions during a joyful moment? Have you modified the lyrics of a familiar song to express what you truly feel? Have you spontaneously sung your feelings to a cheerful melody? If yes, you are already at the starting points of composing! 

Composing is an extension of these experiences. There are many approaches, but why not start by humming your emotions and singing them out loud? There are no wrong answers, so enjoy the process!

Additionally, analyze in detail what makes your favorite songs so appealing to you. Dive deep, get specific, and pay close attention. If you can say, "It's the jump in the melody here," or "It's the harmony at this point," that's a breakthrough. Incorporate those elements into your own compositions and see where it takes you.

9. Outside of your professional life, based on what you share with your followers, you recently took on daily running (in nature) as a new hobby. How has it changed the way you experience your day-to-day so far? 

Personally, I believe I've entered a transformative phase in my life, and my decision to take up running reflects my intention to embrace the changes I wish to make within myself.

For the longest time, I held this mysterious belief that I wasn't the "runner type." While I don't particularly dislike running, the idea of being someone who "runs in the morning" never resonated with me.

However, I'm driven to transform a part of myself, especially concerning my future career. I aspire to contribute more and give back based on my genuine passions, aiming for a more significant influence. In my previous endeavors, I prioritized motivation and the process over results. I collaborated with like-minded individuals, sharing common goals and working together to achieve them. I don't anticipate this mindset changing in the future. However, I've realized that by expanding my influence and gaining more visibility for my work, I can contribute even more to my colleagues, supporters, and the projects I'm currently engaged in.

In pursuit of this goal, I recognized the need to begin by shifting my mindset. Running has become symbolic of this change for me. I'm shedding the preconceived notions I had about my abilities. When I run, I can sense how easily my former beliefs, such as "I'm not cut out for running," can evolve. Admittedly, I might be the world's most low-key runner at the moment. Nevertheless, my focus lies in altering my perspective, and this journey begins here.

10. Are there any websites or other resources you’d like to share to let readers familiarize themselves with your work?

Certainly! You can find all my musical activities and projects on my website:

https://www.utakotoyama.com/

Feel free to listen to "No Rain No Rainbow" and download the song at your desired price. If you're inspired to sing it, go ahead and share your rendition. Don’t forget to tag me @utakomusic ;) For more details, you can visit SkyBridge Music.

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Please leave a comment, react to this post, or reply directly: any feedback on Utako’s responses in this interview will be shared with her. I’m always happy to connect! -Pavel

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Previous interview: Nicholas Pang

If you’d like to feature your own work or thought process in this publication via a future Creative Humans interview, or you know someone who may, please reach out. Please consider sharing with your friends, family, or neighbors!

In addition, anyone is welcome to serve as a guest or as a host for the Anyhumans podcast. You may interview a friend or sign up yourself using Calendly for a convenient time. Be bold!

If you’d like to be interviewed on anything you do for inspiration — or know someone who might — please reach out by emailing onhumanity@substack.com!

Nicholas Pang is a Postdoctoral Researcher in Computational Social Science at Columbia Business School. In the summer of 2023, he completed his PhD in sociology at Columbia University. In his free time, he enjoys hiking, cooking, and reading a mix of nonfiction histories, magical realist novels, and moral philosophy.

1. What kind of research do you do?

I do sociological research. Sociology is a social scientific discipline that examines things like norms, laws, or group identities as “sui generis” phenomena that cannot be reduced to their individual (psychological or biological) bases. Within sociology, I am interested in how legal codes and judicial systems shape the constitution of social groups, and conversely, how social groups influence the enactment and practice of law. Concretely, my dissertation looks at how racialized understandings of economic failure as about “unfortunate” white men shaped the enactment of American bankruptcy law in the early 20th century. In turn, I show how the subsequent practice of the law - which reduced levels of debt relief for Black Americans - actually served to exacerbate the racial wealth gap. 

2. What led you to the field of sociology in the first place? How have your academic interests changed over the past decade?

I originally became interested in sociology because it spoke to my experiences as a first generation college student at Princeton. In a freshman writing seminar, we read the work of a major social theorist (Pierre Bourdieu). His works provided me with a language to explain how class is not simply about money, but rather about cultural attributes (e.g., classical music, Impressionist painting, speaking “standard” English) and social relationships (e.g., who you know and who they know). Later during my college career, after taking courses in related social sciences and humanities, I decided that I appreciated how sociology was uniquely open to asking a wide range of questions about the world and answering them using a broad toolkit of data and methods, such as interviews, surveys, and archival research. Since college, I have become interested in how sociological insights can be applied back to understanding economic life. Specifically, what type of relationships are even considered “economic”, and how do cultural values and social ties shape the functioning of these relationships? 

3. Knowing (from prior encounters) that your dissertation is on bankruptcy law in the US, can you share with readers some reasons that led you to choose this topic? Feel free to also elaborate on your project’s goals.

My interest in bankruptcy is rooted in my family’s financial struggles during the Great Recession. While no one in my family petitioned for bankruptcy protections during this time, I have strong memories of the stress that my parents were under, and the endless attempts to avoid picking up the phone for debt collectors. Given that this recession was precipitated by a housing bubble and financial crisis, I eventually became interested in why personal lending became such a central part of the American personal economy. More recently, when choosing a dissertation topic, I learned that market credit oriented towards individuals only became common in the early twentieth-century - and the United States did not even have a federal bankruptcy statute until 1898. As such, I decided to focus on how bankruptcy - a legal system organizing debt/asset collection and distribution to creditors - facilitated the expansion of American personal credit markets. 

4. What kinds of data analysis tools do you employ in your work? How would you rate the usefulness of each?

In my dissertation, I employ a range of different data analysis tools, including unsupervised natural language processing (NLP), econometric methods, and qualitative text analysis. Given that many NLP methodologists in the social sciences emphasize that these methods “augment” rather than replace traditional reading, I rely heavily on qualitative readings of a sample of legislative records, trade publications, and media. I do not think that any method is inherently more “useful” than the others. Rather they help to answer different types of questions. I use econometric methods to zoom out to see what type of people (and debtors) filed for bankruptcy protection, while NLP makes it possible to read and classify reams of text about bankruptcy instantaneously. Yet reading remains essential to making sure that econometric and NLP models’ output “makes sense” and aligns with how the bankruptcy system actually functioned. 

5. Do you enjoy more the process of learning and discovering new information, doing data analysis, or synthesizing and writing about your findings? How so?

I always love reading insightful books on my topic, but the moments of true magic are when I think that I figured something out. It might be when I am collecting data, such as when I find a particularly useful document in a messy stack of archival folders. It might also be during data analysis, when I find an unexpectedly promising result. Finally, I find the process of synthesis and (re)writing less exhilarating, but it is satisfying to see loosely connected analyses and facts come together to make an argument larger than the sum of its parts. 

6. Where have you had opportunities to travel in search for primary or secondary sources? Would you like to share any interesting stories or adventures that took place along the way?

I have traveled to access records at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC and the National Archives in Kansas City, MO. Since the National Archives is prohibited by the federal government from owning property, they have increasingly moved records to giant underground caves outside of Kansas City where storage space is very cheap. Most of America’s historical bankruptcy records are stored in Kansas City, so I have spent about six weeks there spread out over five trips. I have no special adventures, though I certainly felt like I was living on the edge trying to walk - rather than drive - around Kansas City. If anyone has a weekend in Kansas City, I would recommend visiting the Nelson-Atkins Museum’s amazing Asian art exhibits and the superb World War I museum (with a cool Art Deco memorial). If you’re a BBQ aficionado, you can try out their special tangy burnt ends, though it’s not for me! 

7. How has the pandemic impacted your research, if at all?

The pandemic reoriented my dissertation towards a focus on how people thought and talked about bankruptcy. The National Archives were closed from March 2020 until April 2022. Therefore, the bulk of my bankruptcy record data collection was postponed from the summer of 2020 to the summer of 2022. While this pushed back my analyses of how people used bankruptcy, it gave me more time to examine (largely online documents) to understand how people thought about credit and bankruptcy during the early twentieth-century United States. 

8. What considerations do you use to determine when a specific chapter or subsection of your work is complete? Is there a point at which you say, “that’s enough!” and promptly conclude the example or case being researched? How do you limit the scope and level of detail in your write-up?

I find it challenging to bound what each portion of my research is trying to say. This is amplified by the fact that I work with observational data where I often need to piece together different analyses and information together rather than analyze a single (natural) experiment. However, I think that it is helpful to iteratively ask myself a few questions throughout the process of completing a project, such as what is my research question? How am I answering this question? What am I empirically arguing? And what are the implications of this finding? This takes a lot of writing, asking for feedback, and rewriting, but once I have good answers for each question and they align, then I figure that I am about done! 

9. What lessons have you learned (from any angle!) while doing this research for the past few years? Any notable discoveries about either yourself or the subject at hand? Anything pertinent to your future goals or vision, professionally or personally?

In the process of completing this project, I realized how much I value historical thinking. In my opinion, the danger of historical research is writing a “just so” story where it is obvious that things turned out as they did. As I became an adult living in America, I learned that people need credit cards and home mortgages. And bankruptcy laws were needed for those who failed. But bankruptcy struggled to be enacted because many people were concerned that it would be a tool for creditors (whether “Easterners” or “Shylocks”) to oppress rural debtors. Furthermore, during this period of industrialization, legislators considered how people could overcome unfortunate life events, like illness or job loss. They proposed options including welfare, charity programs, ethnic or religious mutual aid societies, as well as legalized credit markets. It was through a series of these policy fights, failed experiments, and unintended consequences that credit and bankruptcy became seen as essential to life in America. 

I hope that whatever the future holds for me and this project, I can continue to develop this perspective - of not taking the structures of our world for granted - but rather examining how they came to be. 

10. Where will this work be eventually published? Would you like to share with our readers any papers you might have written on similar research, or links to others’ works that might be helpful in understanding the subject better? Do you potentially intend to turn your dissertation into something bigger, beyond your university’s internal depository? 

Haha, I’m working on it! Beyond Columbia’s repository (which will release my dissertation on ProQuest in a few years), parts of my dissertation are currently undergoing the academic review process at scholarly journals. Ideally, however, this dissertation will be published someday as a book. I hope that this book, through highlighting the debates about and practice of early bankruptcy, can speak to questions that are relevant to Americans who live beyond the Ivory tower, such as when is it appropriate to borrow money, who is at fault (the lender or the borrower) at the point of economic failures, and what costs does each party need to pay in bankruptcy?

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Please leave a comment, react to this post, or reply directly: any feedback on Nick’s responses in this interview will be shared with him. I’m always happy to connect! -Pavel

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Previous interview: Cosmo Zen

If you’d like to feature your own work or thought process in this publication via a future Creative Humans interview, or you know someone who may, please reach out. Please consider sharing with your friends, family, or neighbors!

In addition, anyone is welcome to serve as a guest or as a host for the Anyhumans podcast. You may interview a friend or sign up yourself using Calendly for a convenient time. Be bold!

A year ago, On Humanity’s newsletter section called “Giving Tuesdays” was introduced as a collective mutual support group, organized for and by readers of this Substack. It aimed to be a core building block for the abundance mindset community.

Initially, I proposed a biweekly cadence to sharing requests and offers for help that you would submit via this form. Yet, readership was then relatively small, and such a rhythm was ineffective to sustain. Now that the subscriber base of this newsletter has grown appreciably, I’ve drafted some time ago a “restart” update for the mutual aid process, intended to be posted in September.

However, as life would have it, last weekend I came across a fundraiser created by a classmate from my university days, Dasha Koltunyuk (we attended the same writing seminar almost 12 years ago), who is facing a terrible family emergency:

Emergency fundraiser

Darya (Dasha) Koltunyuk’s mother was attacked by a shark earlier this month. The New York Times wrote several articles about it, which you can access for free via these links:1 2.

Dasha and her husband, Gregg, set up a Gofundme last week to help alleviate the considerable long-term medical expenses that treatment would entail. Dasha writes:

“My beloved, exquisite, and heroic mother, Tatyana Koltunyuk, was the victim of a shark attack while swimming in Rockaway Beach, NY. She has undergone 5 surgeries in the first 8 days since the attack, and will require more. Her medical team has told us that recovery will take several years of intense physical therapy and close medical monitoring, during which time she will have significantly limited mobility. Though the full impact of her injury is not yet known, it has left her with a permanent disability. […]

This fiercely intelligent and passionate woman emigrated to the United States from Odessa, Ukraine with my father and me when I was 3 years old. A few weeks after we arrived, my father died of a heart attack, leaving my mother to raise me on her own in a new country. The language barrier prevented my mom from continuing her career as a marine engineer, but she worked tirelessly to support our family. She made sure that I could take ballet lessons and piano lessons and have the best possible education; she took me to art museums and concerts and theater performances; we walked in every garden and park in the city that we could find. She worked a grueling life to ensure that I could thrive.

She is 65 years old and was eagerly anticipating her retirement, when she could — for the first time in her life — take a break. She talked about swimming in the ocean every day, walking around the city with a new puppy, and traveling with us. My husband and I will do everything in our power to make her retirement as comfortable and enjoyable as we possibly can, but the road ahead will be extremely challenging for her and for our family.”

Support Dasha's Family

Dasha responded to me in correspondence that she would be grateful for this fundraiser to be shared as widely as possible. So if you can afford to help and feel comfortable doing so, please chip in and share this fundraiser with your friends or family!

This also serves as a PSA or warning for any readers planning on swimming in the ocean (e.g., on Labor Day weekend) to be aware that sharks are found anywhere, even in the northern parts!

Long-term mutual aid

The mechanics of a reenvisioned mutual aid process will follow in September (it’d be inappropriate for me to dilute the above message with extraneous details in the same post). In the meantime, thank you in advance for considering supporting Darya and Gregg’s family in this challenging time!

Please feel free to use the thread space as you see fit (all relevant comments to this post will be shared with Dasha)!

Gofundme page

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Until September,

Pavel

If you’d like to be interviewed on anything you do for inspiration — or know someone who might — please reach out by emailing info@abundance.dev!

Cosmo is a software engineering lead based in the San Francisco Bay Area. He majored in Operations Research and Financial Engineering at Princeton, and his “serious” hobbies include strategy games, ballroom dancing, improv comedy, and writing. His essays focus on the mind and the nature of transcendent experiences. His creative maxims are to live courageously and discover who you are.

1. What kind of art are you most passionate about, as a creator? As a consumer? 

While I enjoy many forms of art, the ones that intrigue me the most are those that encourage active participation from the consumer, perhaps challenging them to think radically differently about themselves or the world, or imagine scenarios that put their long-held values to the test. Art forms that most clearly fit this category for me include stories, games, theater, and dance, which I’ve partaken in both as consumer and creator. When done skillfully, I find this kind of immersion puts the individual in a state of flow, in which learning and creating become effortless and blend into each other, resulting in a free and optimal state of being.

2. When were you first inspired to pursue ballroom dancing? Why ballroom in particular?

I happened upon ballroom dancing by a series of chance encounters in my sophomore year at Princeton. After failing numerous auditions for performing arts groups on campus, I was ready to write myself off as an artistic dud. But after watching a performance by a pair of amazing but unlikely ballroom dancers, then being roped last minute into my first competition (as in literally, that very morning!), I had to give this exciting and beautiful path a try. On the one hand, as a beginner, it’s a very structured dance with well-defined timing and steps, which made it relatively easy to pick up (especially for an engineering major like me!). On the other hand, it challenged me in interesting and unexpected ways: musically, socially, athletically, and more. Just like an ideal game, it’s easy to learn, and difficult to master!

3. What approaches or techniques helped you to learn and master the art of ballroom dancing, and do you find them universally applicable? What would you do differently if you were just starting today, knowing what you know today?

One of my favorite passages on mastery comes from The Art of Learning, in which chess prodigy and martial arts champion Josh Waitzkin writes about “making smaller circles”. This concept refers to seeing the macro in the micro, imbibing the most fundamental movements deeply enough that they become intuition, condensed into a feeling that is fluid and universal. This results in an unassailable foundation for adding power, tempo, variation, and style.

Applying that to dance, rather than focusing on learning the steps and names for a ton of fancy moves, I would focus on the few basics that really mattered: posture, alignment, weight transfer, isolation. As these became second nature, I found my performance directly improved and I could pick up increasingly complex figures with ease.

Of course, I was not perfect in this, and I would often discover years later that my improper execution of some technique was hindering my development, and I’d have to spend weeks or months re-encoding the habit. Sometimes this is unavoidable, because we usually can’t recognize the difference between good and bad technique until we try something (usually an advanced figure) where it makes a difference. But often the problem is impatience. So if I were to do it again, I would apply “making smaller circles” early and more consistently, for I now have faith that it’s the fastest path to achieving mastery.

4. What challenges did you face in learning the techniques? How did you overcome them?

The process of learning how to dance can be compared to learning a foreign language. As a beginner, we learn the meanings of some simple unambiguous words, a few common phrases, and some basic rules of grammar. But the road from there to fluency is extensive. When and where do we employ one word or grammatical rule and not another? How do we deal with words that have multiple meanings or no English parallels? What are the exceptions to the rules? How do we pronounce words, construct phrases, and communicate in ambiguous real life settings to give the impression of true fluency?

One particular challenge I faced was in clearly separating the ideals of practice from those of performance, especially in competition. When we practice, we strive for perfection. We zoom in to the smallest details and aim to replicate them precisely because that is how we learn and build habits. But bringing that mindset into performance is a recipe for staleness and rigidity, just like a public speaker reciting their script instead of delivering a speech. To overcome this, we must recognize that the ultimate goal of practice is not to replicate what was practiced but to let it go. Numbers to leave numbers. When entering into competition, I strive to leave behind imitation and step into the role of the creator. This takes more practice in order to be confident, but the results are worth it.

5. How has ballroom dancing affected your level of self-confidence? Were there any notable personal transformations in specific areas of life that you’d like to share with readers? (Having read your recent Medium post, where you mentioned how coordinated movement opens up new channels of neuroplasticity, it would be interesting to hear about specific instances of how this might have played out in your life!)

Well, arguably the core purpose of art is to reveal the world in new ways, to explore what we as humans cannot yet understand rationally. What’s fascinating about dance is that the artist becomes their own instrument and object of transformation, opening up new ways of being by channeling music through their bodies. For example, international Latin consists of five dances (cha cha, samba, rumba, paso doble, and jive) which have very different characters: some are aggressive and showy, others are sensuous and playful, and often these elements can be mixed in various ways throughout a dance. Just as our ancestral shamans would dress as animals to gain their wisdom, dancing has given me insights into ways I can embody these energies in my everyday life.

It was largely through dancing that I discovered the concept of play as exploration, not just of the world but of different aspects of oneself. This is similar to drama, but the effect is amplified by the sheer physicality of dancesport. In addition to being a natural source of positive emotion, studies have shown that physical activity can temporarily increase neuroplasticity, both of which are associated with play. When we play, like children we are naturally flexible and confident in ourselves, and this is the basis for transformation. For me, this mostly came in the form of accepting my role as a leader and developing kindness for others.

6. Do you observe a correlation between ballroom dancing and empathy for others? In what ways? 

There’s a lesser-known law of physics that for every ballroom dancer there is a particular dancing movie that sparked their interest in dance. For me, it was Take the Lead, based on a true story about a dance teacher who motivates a group of delinquent students to develop empathy, kindness, and self-efficacy by training them for a dance competition. The story has served as a kind of North Star for me, a statement about the power and purpose of dancing in making us better humans.

Often a prerequisite of empathy is truly understanding oneself, and the language of emotions that arise in one’s own body and mind. The more we become aware of our bodies through activities like dance, the more fluency we gain over our emotions, and the more readily we can recognize and relate to them in others, both on and off the dance floor.

7. How does ballroom dancing, as a practice, contribute to a sense of shared purpose? If one considers the general framework introduced in my (revised) “gardens” post, what do you see as water and what do you see as purpose within the confines of ballroom dancing? 

One of the more interesting challenges I’ve observed in ballroom dancing is the sharing of responsibility between partners in a dance. Both at the level of the actual dance (with its intervals of lead and follow, interdependence and autonomy), and the training process needed to get there, a successful partnership invites individuals on a journey of improving themselves while understanding their connection to another, in a sense broadening the “self” to encompass the other.

I like the framework of shared purpose here because it connotes both recognizing the needs of another while also respecting their independence. One must resist the temptation of trying to make one’s partner conform to one’s own ideals, even out of a desire to “help”, for this negates their purpose as an individual and often results in failure. Rather, it is our separate but aligned efforts that stimulate the growth and evolution of the partnership. (This is analogous to the concept of water in your post, for each person has their own purpose and the needs that purpose entails can vary greatly, but by contributing to the shared garden we can benefit all).

8. What outlets (projects, groups, etc.) have you channeled your creative expression into over the years? What was your creative “routine” like during undergrad, and how did it change post-graduation, now that a decade has passed?

When I was in undergrad, I was much less aware of the latent creativity present in something as apparently structured as ballroom dancing. My desire for objective metrics often clashed with the freedom to create. My pragmatism was reflected in my choice of major and other activities, but it was paradoxical because I often found much more joy from the “impractical” things I’d do for the team, like organizing school social dances or collaborating with other arts groups for innovative performances.

In life after graduation, I’d occasionally miss the chaos and unpredictability of college, so sometimes out of boredom, I’d pick up an unexplored creative path and run with it for a while. As a silly example, I got into fan fiction writing during the pandemic, and for someone who hadn’t written fiction since 3rd grade it was a great excuse to reconnect with the boundless imagination of the child to produce purely for fun. As a dancer too, although I still enjoy the focus of training with a competitive aim, I also value the freedom of exploring dance as a multifaceted art form and basis for community.

One difference I can point to is that now I am simply a lot more aware of the inherent joy and purpose of creation, and thus I am more ready to set aside time for spontaneous play whenever the inspiration strikes. I guess this is my take on the metaphor of dancing my way through life.

9. Thanks for the insightful conversation! Lastly, are there any relevant links you would like to share with readers, featuring your creative spirit?

Some highlights of my dancing journey can be found on my Youtube channel, and anyone is welcome to read my blog. I sincerely hope readers of all kinds will find interest and value in it!

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Please leave a comment, react to this post, or reply directly: any feedback on Cosmo’s responses in this interview will be shared with him. I’m always happy to connect! -Pavel

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Previous interview: Jennifer Chew

If you’d like to feature your own work or thought process in this publication via a future Creative Humans interview, or you know someone who may, please reach out. Please consider sharing with your friends, family, or neighbors!

In addition, anyone is welcome to serve as a guest or as a host for the Anyhumans podcast. You may interview a friend or sign up yourself using Calendly for a convenient time. Be bold!

Over the past few months, I’ve been journaling more frequently than usual, and yesterday’s group discussion with Sasha Sagan in Cambridge, MA inspired me to share some of my recent thoughts (and less-personal dilemmas) with all of you below. As always, your feedback and comments are warmly welcomed. Enjoy!

One of On Humanity’s aims is to magnify the roots of our discontents — our, both as individuals and as constituent members of society — earnestly and with care. It is to find our calling and strive to be authentic in who we really are as humans. It is to discover how we show up in various facets of our lives, including navigating our interpersonal connections and fulfilling our long-term goals.

We all come from unique seeds in a garden of assorted plants wild and domestic, some flourishing in the sun and some in the shade. We all host variously-sized worms, delightfully munching through our green (or yellow/orange/red) leaves and stems. Some of these worms stay on regardless of circumstances; others are ephemeral. (As long as we retain at least one leaf on each of our branches, there is no need for panic! I am only half-joking.) And just like plants, we all need water for our physical survival.

What is water in the garden of our intellectual desires and needs?

Before we tackle this question, let us turn to rituals and meaning.

Meaning-Making

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to attend a small-group, in-person salon, The Magic of the Everyday, hosted at MIT’s Media Lab1, for a conversation with Sasha Sagan, author of the book For Small Creatures Such as We: Rituals for Finding Meaning in Our Unlikely World and host of the Strange Customs podcast. Her work focuses on the search for meaning in and sustaining communal and personal bonds through rituals, particularly as viewed through a secular lens.

The conversation, as it often does in Interintellect salons, spanned the scope of entire conceptual categories. Facilitated by Thomas Arnold, it flowed through themes like marking the passage of time in different cultures, cherishing the significance of a journey, and the sacredness of home2.

Our pre-attendance homework was to think of and share a personal ritual we partake in. Mine was the ubiquitous Eastern European “sitting in silence before leaving” tradition, a custom every member of my extended family practices — no exception! — prior to any journey or an irregular trip, regardless of who at your residence is departing. (It serves as a moment to reflect on the road ahead and silently wish the departing party — or yourself! — a safe arrival at the destination.) Surprisingly, two participants were familiar with it, through cross-cultural ties.

Others shared common quirks like the universal knocking-on-wood; the one-fact about-yourself at group introductions; donations to organizations on life milestone occasions like birth, weddings, and death; the Western expectation of handwritten thank-you cards for guests at large celebrations; waiting a set time period for a celebration of life after one passes away; the transformation of Halloween into a “global masquerade party” and a chance for social norms to be broken within the law; not filling your own glass of wine at the table in some cultures; a Japanese practice of ‘work dinners’ (or enkai) reinvented on Zoom during the pandemic; and an old Japan-specific tradition of tearing down and rebuilding the Ise Grand Shrine every 20 years.

Comment break: what rituals do you tend to engage in?

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Giving and Receiving

One theme brought up in the midst of the lively discussion and only briefly explored was one I wrestle with profoundly on a regular basis: the intricate balance between giving and receiving. While there was no time to share my experience with this issue at yesterday’s salon due to its complexity, I will attempt to touch on it in this post.

In life, we often take for granted our current state of affairs.

It is arguably not a stretch to say that at any given random moment, unless we are a philosopher by occupation or are otherwise preoccupied with existential questions more than 50% of our daylight hours, we are more likely to focus on reaching one of our goals than on pondering our past journey and visualizing in our imagination the people who contributed, perhaps even subconsciously, to our present level of being.

In other words, we take our past for granted more so than our future. We are willing to fight for our future, but we seldom truly stop to recognize the contributions of everyone who altered our past, especially if it was a change of perspective or a shift in our mindsets. However small these changes may have seemed at the time, without them, our present — especially the hidden iceberg that is the human mind — could be radically different, i.e. the butterfly effect. And due to this gap of perception between the past and the future, we often have trouble either receiving gratitude from others (for our past actions that we feel do not warrant it) or giving sufficient weight to others’ actions for their effect on us, actions that may not have been directed at us but still ultimately had a profound impact on our lives.

Here comes one of my relevant dilemmas, to be expounded below:

How do we properly value the totality of others’ contributions on us and our contributions on others, in practice? How do we practice gratitude mindfully yet exhaustively, while not exhausting the other party/parties with the discomfort they might feel in receiving such gratitude (whatever form it takes)?

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Let me provide context for two kinds of cases I wrestle with in terms of this dilemma: elders and peers.

Case A: Elders

Though I hold a physics, not a psychology degree, this substack-writing journey was in part inspired by my longstanding interest in human behavior. I’ve long been fascinated by the intricacies of human nature and the mechanisms by which people make decisions, even the smallest and, on the surface, inconsequential ones. As someone who grew up relatively introverted, it was in my character — through adolescence, at least — to observe an interaction between others from the sidelines at length, before taking part or joining it at all.

At an early age, sitting at a dinner table, I loved listening to my grandparents discuss subjects of cosmic importance, especially when initiated by my paternal grandmother, a lifelong, voracious reader and book lover, whose open-mindedness and a keen sense of people’s foibles stems from her thirty-five years of work as a high school teacher, before retiring. She has spent the next twenty-plus years as our family’s matriarch (at least informally so), and her life advice is invaluable. (I just had a Skype call with her shortly before writing this post.) Her early influence undoubtedly sparked my tendency to adopt a “bird’s-eye view” approach in any social setting, fostering deep curiosity about natural phenomena.

Many of you might relate to this case, where your role, years ago, had been that of a recipient of knowledge and experience from the elders, leading to this sub-dilemma:

How does one “value” such a foundation? How does one properly give back? What has your experience been like? And whereby your former teachers — not necessarily in the academic sense — are no longer alive, what do you do?

Case B: Peers

There are people in everyone’s lives who act like magnets for one’s intellectual curiosity. Sometimes, these people leave a deep mark on one’s life in ways they (those who left a mark) may not even be aware of. (In fact, it’s more likely than not that in each case of this type that I have in mind — there are at least several — they are unaware of the entire scope their non-directed actions have had on my life.)

At the same time, as one’s peers (give or take), they would undoubtedly feel uncomfortable receiving even a fraction of the level of gratitude they deserve. Meanwhile, one may feel a level of guilt for not extending enough of this gratitude in the forms that one is able to, and more crucially, not knowing how to do so without disturbing their inner peace or, worse, emotionally overwhelming them.

A common substitute for giving back intangibles inevitably relies on materialism, perpetuating our consumer-oriented lifestyle, whilst the goal is to thank someone for their immaterial good and influence and give back on an equivalent level, with dignity.

This leads us to a sub-dilemma for case B:

How do you navigate between material and immaterial types of giving and receiving? What has your experience been like, on either end?

I recall reading a few months ago this essay (by Isabel of the substack) on this exact subject. The entire write-up is very much worth reading, esp. for those of us uneasy with the notion of receiving, myself included. Without spoiling the bulk of her message, here is part of Isabel’s conclusion:

“When we allow ourselves to receive gracefully, we feel more compelled to share. When are fully present and enjoy the acknowledgement of a gift, it fuels us with joy, positivity, enthusiasm, and confidence. The point of the gift is not the exchange itself but the feelings it offers. When we view receiving as an attack on our ego and a threat to our identity and independence, we lose the benefits of the gift. Opening ourselves up to receiving invites in the incredible emotions that come with gifts and wipes away the distracting, egoic feelings that keep us from accepting them.

The path to abundance is paved with receiving gracefully. When we learn to accept love from both ourselves and others, we accelerate our journey to becoming ourselves and sharing our gifts with the world.”

I couldn’t agree more. It is, then, a matter of turning theory into practice. If you would like to ask for help — either for yourself or for someone you know — or offer to help a reader of this substack, submit the mutual support form (in use since last year), and the Giving posts will be shared in the Substack Notes section on demand from now on.

On Purpose

Not knowing how to express gratitude properly, in practice, is only half the trouble. The other side of the coin is purpose.

At the beginning of this essay, I asked,

“What is water in the garden of our intellectual desires and needs?”

Let me try to answer it in the most straightforward way I can here.

To me, water, in the realm of our mind-gardens, is the care we express and the time we spend and the efforts we exert either to resolve an issue bothering our minds, to contribute to a cause agitating our souls, or to give back to our sources of inspiration. Ideally, water flows toward our purpose, where water is the means and purpose is the end. Crucially, water is independent of the end it serves.

In the realm of our life-gardens, we might encounter everyone ranging from the very hydrophilic tomato plants to the very water-resistant cacti. Some of us tend to be drawn to the latter yet have an abundant water supply we wish to give. This poses another quandary:

When we wish to give back to our sources of inspiration, what do we do with our supply of water if we aren’t sure they would welcome our purpose (or our vision of the world, of idealism, of humanity) in the first place?

If we continue to water plants visibly resistant to receiving it, we inadvertently begin interfering with their autonomy, paradoxically serving a purpose more aligned with our personal ego.3 Realigning our purpose, then, to a collective, shared purpose — and watering the soil further away — would indirectly empower the rebel plants and allow all the other seeds to sprout and bloom.

(Calling a plant a rebel somehow compels me to share a link to this English version collab performance of the famous Italian resistance song here, one of my favorites!)

Conclusion

That is the framework I’ll leave here, as a starting point, but you, dear reader, are encouraged to take it further, debate it, or, perhaps, resume building — and sprinkling water on — the elaborate garden of your life.

What is your life purpose? What kind of plant do you embody?

All the above dilemmas are now listed as separate questions in the comments.

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Update: just three days after writing the above essay, I happened to be strolling around Padova, Italy, where I serendipitously came across street musicians playing Bella Ciao:

If you need the help of others or know someone who does, please use the mutual support form as usual, or reach out directly. Please consider sharing with your friends, family, or neighbors!

If you’d like to feature your own work or thought process in this publication via a future Creative Humans email-interview, or you know someone who may, please reach out.

In addition, anyone is welcome to serve as a guest or as a host for the Anyhumans podcast. You may interview a friend or sign up yourself using Calendly for a convenient time. Be bold!

If you’d like to be interviewed on anything you do for inspiration — or know someone who might — please reach out by emailing info@abundance.dev!

Jennifer Chew is a product marketing leader based in New York City, where she has lived with her husband, Nick, for the past several years. She majored in history at Princeton University, and her hobbies and interests over the years have spanned piano performance, dance choreography, volunteering with non-profit organizations, and more. To unwind, she enjoys hiking, trying out new restaurants, and watching indie films.

What kind of art are you most passionate about, as a creator? As a consumer? 

As a creator, I really like to work my mind and my spirit. When I pick pieces of piano music to learn, I’m attracted to pieces that introduce me to new techniques that play with texture and complex harmonic progressions. Last year I learned and performed my first piece by Prokofiev, Sonata No. 3. It’s one of the most technical pieces written for piano. I am in awe at the variety of articulation and dynamics and the evolution of the motifs swirl into a tour de force thriller kind of piece. It was very self-satisfying to perform, and I was pleased that a relatively niche composer like Prokofiev could be a hit among both my pianist and non-pianist friends who attended my performance.

I’ve also always loved playing Bach preludes and fugues. I love seeing how a motif is developed, and how melodies and countermelodies weave together to create a beautiful soundscape. It’s just stunning to study and play.

As a consumer, I’m most drawn to two types of music:

1. contemplative art that explores the meaning of relationships and identity, or

2. all-out celebrations of joy and life.

Sufjan Stevens and Nickel Creek are two favorite artists who fall into the first category; Lizzo and St. Lucia are two favorite artists who fall into the second category. 

How did your interest in playing the piano originate?

My dad was my first piano teacher, an amateur himself, when I was 5 years old - not because I asked, but because my parents thought it would be good for my personal growth and development. I remember my parents saying that learning a musical instrument where I need to use both hands equally instead of just one would make me smarter - I’m skeptical this is scientific truth, haha.

I remember starting formal piano lessons at age 6 and feeling like this was a chore to practice for 20-30 minutes every day. I picked up new music pretty quickly though and enjoyed performing at annual recitals and school talent shows. It wasn’t until I was in middle school, however, that I was very lucky to have a piano teacher who introduced me to the soul of music, how music can represent the highest and lowest points of your life, and everything in between. I spent a summer learning and playing music among other very motivated musicians and was hooked since then.

What approaches or techniques did you use to learn the piano at an early age, and do you find them suitable for older learners? What would you do differently if you were just starting out at your current age from “ground level”? Assuming satisfactory progress in the basics, what compositions would you aim to learn first?

I used some popular beginner books, I remember them having colorful book covers and being published by Alfred’s. A lot of these pieces were just 4-8 measures long and focused on very basic touch, very basic rhythm, and learning how to switch hands and play with both hands together. When I was 6 years old and took a year to play through one or two of these books, the pacing felt right.

I do think that older learners should give themselves at minimum one year (with regular daily practice) to learn basic technique. It sounds like a long time, and perhaps this is why it’s said that it’s easier to learn new skills at a young age, when the concept of time and priorities are not challenged by the multitude of competing commitments of adulthood. But I think this 8-12 month time frame feels reasonable for being able to play simple pieces comfortably, and also having the proper technique to keep learning more intermediate pieces.

I have fond memories of learning “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” “London Bridge”, and “When the Saints Go Marching In” as some of my first pieces that I was proud of. It’s helpful to learn pieces that have a melody you’re familiar with and can sing along to, to ensure you’re playing the right notes. I also think for folks who are aiming to go beyond the basics, they should start learning some etudes by Czerny. He is hands-down the most famous classical music composer for technical instruction and technique and published hundreds of pieces for any level. His beginner works explore scales and classical rhythms - all essential building blocks.

What kinds of roadblocks have you faced in reaching a level of sophistication and mastery in learning piano? How did you overcome them?

A common roadblock I face is hearing a piece that is so beautiful, and then playing it myself, realizing I didn’t have the technique or understanding to replicate the beauty. I like to think that I have a strong musical instinct (and many of my piano teachers over time have confirmed this) and it has just taken my whole life to bring my technique up to par to express the instinct I feel inside. I suppose this is a key motivator of why I keep studying the piano today.

There’s an infinite amount of beauty I want to express, and I want the technique and skills to be able to bring that out. I remember feeling this about some of the pieces I’ve learned recently: Chopin’s Ballades, Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata, and the Prokofiev Sonata I mentioned earlier. Growing up, I heard these on CD recordings and in recitals, and I remember knowing how amazing they sounded, but I struggled for the longest time with how to interpret the notes, how to create music rather than noise, how to develop pieces that were 8+ minutes long.

It takes a lot of focus and discipline and unending curiosity of asking myself, why does something sound a certain why, how can I emphasize it, how can I consistently play it a specific way. It also helps to find piano teachers and mentors who can break down and explain the different elements of a complex piece, whether it be form, technique, style, the composer’s intention, etc.

What outlets (projects, entities, etc.) have you channeled your creative pursuits into while you were in college? How did that change post-graduation? 

When I was in college, honestly I was doing a lot of dancing - both learning and performing dance choreography, as well as choreographing my own works. I grew up studying Chinese traditional dance, ballet, jazz, and modern, and I was lucky to join the dance group Triple 8 at Princeton, which focused on Asian traditional and contemporary dance styles. I enjoyed the social aspect of being part of a dance group, and I really enjoy studying modern dance, all the ways the boundaries of movement can be pushed to create visuals and conjure emotions that may be stilted in more traditional ballet forms.

Post-college, I started getting back into piano, since I finally had an income to afford piano lessons again, and I missed the discipline of studying a very well-documented art form. I love dance as it’s always evolving and brings a certain excitement through physical movement, but due to its historic lack of written documentation, it’s ultimately a more ephemeral art form that is experienced in the moment. Studying classical piano again gave me a way to analyze and appreciate pieces I grew up listening to and could hold onto in my memory and my physical being for the rest of my life. There are pieces I hope I can play well into my elderly age and retain as forms of self-expression.

Has the pandemic affected your output and/or energy level in terms of piano performance or other artistic ventures? In what way(s)?

I started playing more piano because there was nothing else to do! The energy I would have spent going out and exploring New York City’s restaurants, museums, and art scene was funneled into practicing piano 1-2 hours a day. I have to admit that the return to normal in New York has challenged my ability to remain focused and self-disciplined on my own art. I do recognize though that honing my own art gives me the insight to appreciate and savor all of the art around me even more, so I work to strike a balance of practicing 1.5 hours about 4x per week.

Knowing that you had a long pause in piano playing between adolescence and adulthood, was it easy for you to “jump back” into it? Was there an “aha” moment that prompted your return to this passion?

It was very difficult for me to jump back in. I was initially frustrated at how much my piano technique had deteriorated during my 7-year hiatus. To give more context, I performed Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantasie during my high school senior recital. It is one of Chopin’s most difficult pieces, technically and musically, and yet it had enchanted me since middle school. I yearned to play music like that again, but soon after starting piano lessons again, I accepted that I needed to be patient with myself to recover my technique. In addition, I had to overcome my trained mindset to be competitive, to be the best, as I grew up in high-pressure education and home environments.

It took me about 3 years of resuming piano lessons in adulthood to realize that it wasn’t about being the best at this moment (and that to be honest, I would never be one of the best pianists out there), but that it’s about my personal journey to self-discovery and satisfaction of what musical gifts I personally wanted to share with my friends and loved ones.

It was also difficult knowing that as an adult, I would not be able to dedicate 3 hours/day to practice like I did in high school, so progress would also have to come more slowly. My piano teacher, Nelson Ojeda, has been such a wonderful mentor though, being able to nurture and bring out my potential despite my constraints as an adult learner. After 5 years of studying with Nelson, I am so pleased at how far I’ve come along, especially in my ability to pick up new technique so many years later. I think there has always been a part of me that has felt determined to study the pieces I have loved. It’s reassuring knowing that following this love has opened up even more music that I would have never known. I learned the first movement of Poulenc’s Piano Concerto last year and have been hooked on Poulenc since then.

Have you given any recitals or performed publicly in recent years? Would you like to share any links to these recordings with readers?

Yes, I have been performing in an annual studio recital for the past 5 years. I shared a piano recital with a fellow student last year, where I performed pieces by Bach, Chopin, and Prokofiev. I have posted some recordings that I’m particularly proud of on my YouTube channel. Here are a couple from my 2022 recital:

1. Chopin’s Ballade No. 3 in A-Flat Major

2. Bach’s Prelude and Fugue

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Previous interview: Jamie Wong

Please leave a comment, react to this post, or reply directly: any words or questions about Jennifer’s responses in this interview will be shared with her. I’m always happy to connect!

If you’d like to feature your own work or thought process in this publication via a future Creative Humans interview, or you know someone who may, please reach out. Please consider sharing with your friends, family, or neighbors!

In addition, anyone is welcome to serve as a guest or as a host for the Anyhumans podcast. You may interview a friend or sign up yourself using Calendly for a convenient time. Be bold!

Over the past 14 days two unrelated Substack authors unexpectedly gave personal shout-outs to this publication in their posts (here and here). I’m grateful for their kind words about our correspondence, and I’d like to draw your attention to each of them: (by ) and (by ). Both of them recently wrote about certain universal, deeply personal human traits in their lives, and you are encouraged to explore their substacks.

Thank you to all those of you who have engaged with my last post, Friends as family. Since then, the past several weeks were a busy alternation of work and coordinating events.

Last weekend I had the chance to spend two days at a retreat in New Hampshire, a now-annual XC-skiing trip I co-organized, this time, for a group of 10 friends, where we also had a wonderful music “jam session” evening, with several piano, flute, and guitar players sharing their talents with the rest of the group. It was a memorable, eventful trip.

On our way back, I shared with two close friends a deck of cards purchased a few months ago, called Meeting Friends:

Together, we read and discussed some cards, musing on how uncomfortable it might feel to suddenly have some of these questions sprung on even our close friends without much of a notice.

This leads me to open a thread for all my readers to discuss any of these points:

• Have you ever played a similar card game, and what was your experience like?

• What kinds of question(s) would you most like to ask someone you think you know well but are unsure about how to approach?

• How would you play this card game with your friend circle? What rules would you set?

This thread is fully yours to post in: take it away!

P.S. The first full Anyhumans podcast episode will be released in the coming months: be on the lookout! In the meantime, please reply directly to this email if you’d like to be a future guest or host (or editor!). Anyone can be a host if interested in these topics and themes. Feel free to also reply if you wish to be email-interviewed for future Creative Humans or with anything else on your mind.

* * *

This morning I participated in a wonderful poem-sharing salon, co-hosted by and Tanya R. — the first of a three-part Poetic Explorations monthly mini-series — this one on the theme of Hope.

At the tail end of the discussion we all took 10 minutes to write our own poems. While it was a new experience for me, the welcoming atmosphere lent itself to everyone just doing it, even those who are “poetry noobs” (as humbly called himself). I wish I could share with you some other participants’ motivating poems, but for privacy reasons will contain myself to only my own “poem” in the footnote; sharp criticism is highly appreciated.2

* * *

Thank you to the so many of you for sharing your sentence-long answers to this prompt in the past 3 months:

What is the most important lesson you’ve learned this year?

Everyone’s reflections were inspiring, and throughout the year they will be shared in this space one-by-one with my commentary, in no particular order. I’ve also opened up substack chat, a relatively new feature, for anyone to chime in and discuss these.

Lesson #1: Friends can be chosen family

This one is easy for me to comment on. My biological family happens to be scattered across the globe, separated from each other by thousands of miles. And when they do come together at certain points, there is at times no end to disagreements on trivial matters, a feature perhaps intrinsic to families where distance exacerbates unrealistic expectations and creates unhealthy power dynamics.

While everyone remains civil, it is easy to tell when the vibe is off. The issue is likely also a symptom of insecure attachment styles among certain family members, leading to an intermittent breakdown in healthy boundaries. For as long as I can remember, my role has often tended to be that of a mediator in some of intra-family quarrels, sometimes by choice and sometimes out of necessity.

To fill the gap in sufficient familial presence, since 2015 I have tried my best to intentionally create recurring opportunities for my friends — old and new — to gather on different occasions and under varying circumstances, connecting those who do not know each other, and recreating conditions that might in some cases be more common to experience only within families. My sincere hope is that the time and effort expended into planning such events has been worth it for the participants!

I am immensely grateful to those friends with whom I’ve had the opportunity to bond with over global travels and other common interests since graduating from college back in the day, and to grow together ever since. These kinds of ties last a lifetime, and these friends will forever be my chosen family.

* * *

Do you relate to any of the above in your own life? How do you create a sense of family with friends? Chat and comments are for you to discuss.3

Please look out for “Lesson #2” with a similar open discussion space next time.

Exciting community updates are (still) forthcoming: getting closer! In the meantime, please do reply if you’d like to be an Anyhumans podcast guest or host, if you wish to be email-interviewed for a Creative Humans feature, or to share your response to this:

What are you yearning for in 2023, in any context pertinent to you?

Leave a comment, use the mutual support form to respond, or reply directly.

Parting with yesterday’s evening view from my porch steps:

Looking forward to hearing from you, and until next time!

1

J&N were fabulous hosts and prepared over 200 delicious dumplings for their friends and family last Saturday. They allowed me to post our joint photo here:

2

My “poem” was inspired by a collection of owls sitting on top of my bookcase; after staring at them for a minute, I came up with these eight lines. Please be hawkish in pouncing me; how would you alter this skeleton so that it feels more like a good poem to you?

Owls,

   on the shelf

Gazing keenly,

   like hawks

Piercing

   your soul

Kissed gently

   by sunlight

 

Share On Humanity

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1. Download the app by clicking this link or the button below. Substack Chat is now available on both iOS and Android.

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2. Open the app and tap the Chat icon. It looks like two bubbles in the bottom bar, and you’ll see a row for my chat inside.

3. That’s it! Jump into my thread to say hi, and if you have any issues, check out Substack’s FAQ.

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Editorial note: all names are abbreviated to first initial for compactness and privacy (you know who you are), all routine family matters and work-related business are omitted to preserve confidentiality. This therefore accounts for only ~ a quarter of my daylight hours in 2022, but that quarter is a core part of what gave life its meaning.

If you don’t know me personally, please feel free to introduce yourself by replying or leaving a comment: it’d be nice to establish deeper connection with more of my readers. Or, drop me a line to update me on what you are up to: always glad to hear from people I know.

P.S. Before embarking on my post below: grateful to have met or corresponded online last year with authors of these substacks (Anna G., Rika G., Nita J., Irene K., Robert U., Elaine W., Jeffrey Y., Valerie Z.) Please follow their amazing writing:
Looking forward to engaging more with all of their — and your — journeys in 2023!

* * *

2022 was a year that tested many of our emotional capacities for empathy, resilience, and patience. It began like any other one, though with increased vigilance over the rising first wave of omicron variant infections globally. 12 months ago, many believed that this would represent the year’s gravest threat to societal (human) wellbeing.

1.

My motivation level last January to create and to take action outside of familiar daily routines was exceedingly high, as I volunteered to help out with multiple new initiatives, the most memorable of which was the , a community I love. Grateful to its team (A., K., T., etc.) for bringing me aboard for the time span I could contribute wholeheartedly: it felt boundless that month.

There were exciting plans for projects I had waiting in the wings: personal hobbies, new directions for Physics Unlimited, and starting up abundance.dev aggressively.

2.

In early February, a very refreshing cross-country skiing trip with friends in NH (thanks to J. for driving all to/from my “layover” place and others back to NYC, during a snowfall!) seemed to lay a foundation for a solid, fun, tightly-packed year ahead.

Instead, everything changed two weeks later.

Near-simultaneously, two calamities transpired, both hitting home. The health of my maternal grandfather — with whom I had Skyped nearly every weekend for years — began to suddenly and rapidly decline. That very same week, an event that will henceforth be infamously known as “February 24th” struck, out of left field for many, waking up the rest from relative dormancy in the context of just how far unchecked bias (and a scarcity mindset!) can take decision-making bodies.

Bodies. Theory turned into action. Battleground maps turned into red stains on pristine, snow-covered ground. Real, human blood. Action led to reaction, and countless tragic losses ensued.1

As someone who had traveled by train across eastern and southern Ukraine multiple times in childhood with family to relatives in Crimea, stopping in cities that were now constantly in news headlines, I could not assume the role of an uninvolved bystander.

3.

The situation on both fronts continued deteriorating through March, as was my mental and physical capacity to take on new projects or proceed with the overly ambitious goals I had set. The most memorable thing I started in March was this very substack, drafting an antiwar post with recollection of a decades-old episode from life.

Hosting an Area contest for regional Toastmasters clubs served as a much-needed respite from stress in those days.

Nightmares and shock were slowly replaced by a grim acceptance of reality. I could do nothing to alter the course of events, and my grandfather, who could no longer speak discernibly, was now out of reach, with direct flights canceled due to sanctions.

One silver lining of that dark month and next was a Design Your Life book club co-facilitated by two fellow university alumni (J., L.) and I, scheduled before the war. We had a lot of productive Zoom discussions, reflecting on the present and envisioning the future in guided small-group sessions. Thank you to all who participated over those 8 weeks, esp. N. and B.!

4.

In early April, I lost my maternal grandfather.

To say that I felt guilt for not having tried to do more than what seemed to suffice based on lengthy conversations with family, despite weeks of anguish and uncertainty, would be an understatement.

I’m truly grateful to my good friends, J&N, from whose NYC apartment at 4:30 am, before dawn, I was able to act as “host” of the funeral’s Zoom livestream for other family abroad.2

Grateful to all friends who sent messages of support, including K. (thank you for the microgreens!), A., Z., B. (so thankful for your warm card!), M. (likewise!), and others.

Grief was interrupted by another bright spot: coordinating the annual Explorer event for Physics Unlimited, in which teams of high school students from many countries worked on creative, open-ended solutions to a month-long challenge. Grateful to B. for writing up this year’s assignment and to all contributing volunteers!

A drive to Princeton for a weekend lunch with K&E and J&N was soul-healing.

5.

May was even better, marked by acceptance of inevitable human mortality and diluted by many solo walks out in nature and first time in a movie theater since the pandemic.

My old (college freshman) roommate, A., debuted as a main character in Hamlet at the Met Opera: it was fantastic to watch. (Please reach out if you’d like to connect with him or see any of his other numerous performances worldwide.)

In mid-May I joined EK&JK for a splendid day trip to Mystic Aquarium in CT, a chance to see myriad types of fish, turtles, penguins, and other wonders of the sea.

I reconnected with dozens of old university classmates and friends during and after annual Reunions, where it was a pleasure to organize a full-house meal at our former food co-op for its current and past members; thank you to all who joined and helped out. Grateful for catching up with you (too many to list!).

Finally, E.’s picnic the following weekend was a joy to attend, as always.

6.

June brought the first multi-day comfort of the challenging year, post-February, as I discovered and experienced a weekend camp-style atmosphere at the ethnic Eastern European music and song festival in upstate NY, meeting talented, like-minded creatives, guitarists, and songwriters who reminisced about adolescence by campfires post-midnight, singing and reciting poems about peace, love, and hope.

I then drove to help video-record a wonderful piano recital by one of my forenamed friends (J.) in NYC. Bach, Chopin, and Prokofiev pieces were played masterly!

I was surprised to be selected to co-lead, as a VP, my regional (Princeton) alumni association of New England over the next two years. Grateful to R., S., the late B., G., and other board members for nominating me. I promised to do my best.

7.

In early July I publicly announced the overarching goals for the abundance mindset community initiative and set a quantitative goal for the anyhumans podcast.

It was a true delight to attend an Interintellect dinner in Boston and finally meet its founder, A., in-person, after our many interactions online-only, and better get to know several others, inc. T., W., A., M. Thankful for the conversations.

Driving south and visiting a medieval alchemy library exhibit the following weekend at Princeton on invitation by friends K. and A. was enlightening!

I started Middlemarch, the saga I had long-wanted to dive into (thank you to E. for recommending!), taking until November. I also read Red Crosses that month, a timely work of historical fiction, recommended on the radio by Liya Akhedzhakova (see my very short review on Goodreads: let’s connect if you use that platform).

The penultimate Sunday of July set a temperature record in Massachusetts (99°F) and a connections near-record for self: I spent that afternoon in the company of new acquaintances in Cambridge, with rather deep conversations on the human condition and intentionality (grateful to have met A., S., M., E., etc.), and dinner at J&J’s house in Somerville, discussing doing good better with many newcomers from across the U.S.

8.

August was the “travel month” I engineered for myself with less than a few weeks’ notice. Because I cannot fly East, I will fly West, I thought. And so I resolved.

A tightly-packed trip to California, carved from 10 days of my vacation time, entailed:

• volunteering at the inaugural Future Forum in the Bay area for the weekend, an exhilarating adventure in a picturesque setting (grateful to have met and conversed with so many ambitious young minds, inc. a fortuitous, unplanned encounter with T. in-person after only knowing each other online, and forging new acquaintances J., S., K., M., N., and so many more),

• listening to one of my best friends’ (Z.) choir performance (“Music for the Troubled Times”) in Stanford that same weekend,

• hosting an Interintellect IRL salon in S.F. with a view on Golden Gate Bridge (thank you to Z. for driving me around and joining!),

• a 10-hour Coast Starlight scenic train ride to L.A., where my old friend B. was gracious to drive me places and hike together to a nearly-hidden waterfall up a mountain in a national park,

• solo-touring The Getty museum for two hours (enough for only 1.5 buildings),

• being invited by a Physics Unlimited team member, S., to visit her Caltech lab,

• after another 2-hour solo train ride south, strolling amidst cacti in San Diego.

August was also the month I first tested positive for COVID since the start of the pandemic, after all my travels, despite wearing a KN95 in all public indoor spaces. It was an interesting symptomatic progression, and I am very grateful for its mild course.

9.

September brought another joyous reunion with five old friends on Labor Day in NJ.

Trips to several farms in CT and their fresh produce were nourishing in all senses. A “workers’ party” in western CT, helping clean out a huge barn in preparation for a celebration of my friends K&M, ushered in sweet nostalgia for similar childhood memories doing this at my grandparents’ place.

September also brought order and consistency to this substack through autumn, with alternating Creative Fridays text interviews and small-g Giving Tuesdays submissions. (Please check them out, if you have not, for inspiration or for support. These sections will resume soon, alongside a long-awaited new episode release cadence. Schedule a time here if you’d like to be featured on anyhumans, at any degree of privacy.)

10.

October was the month I had to turn the page on my twenties and officially enter the fourth decade of life: the dinosaur decade. I celebrated by hosting events in two cities: Friday night group dinner in Boston and a Sunday picnic in NYC with many friends.3 On a weekend coinciding with our university’s birthday, singing its old anthem together, accompanied by one of my friends’ (J. again) adept sight-reading on my battery-powered piano keyboard in Central Park, was an unforgettable highlight. Grateful to everyone who showed up, despite the rain, and helped assemble the tent!

Earlier that same month, K&M were married on a farm in CT, and all events leading up to it were a joy to partake in, as was their magical big day itself.

Thanks to Q. for connecting me with F., with whom I discussed prospective STEM outreach collaborations in Japan. I look forward to what’s next.

11.

In November, my main “extracurricular” was coordinating Physics Unlimited’s Premier competition, in which 350 students from 20 countries (online and at four international partner sites) submitted work and whose scores were recently released.

I realized that age is no longer just a number, and that maybe hosting a two-hour Zoom session for Europe- and Asia-based students at 3 am in my time zone, followed by another one for North America at noon, is not the most conducive action to take for one’s sleep cycle and overall health. (This made me empathize even more with some medical student friends and their overnight shifts.)

Grateful to all volunteer problem writers (A.,H.,J.,Y.), proctors (B.,K.,L.,M.,M.,S.,S.,S.), and graders who cooperated on short notice and made this multi-dimensional undertaking over a two-month period, with so many moving parts, a success.

My traditional solo viewing of a Boston Philharmonic early season concert, a Dvořák cello concerto this time, was animating and therapeutic. I wish more people joined its livestreams even when they can’t go in-person: the streaming quality is superb.

Late November and early December were accentuated by two remarkable, fun potluck dinners, one in NYC (hosted by E.) and one in CT (hosted by K&M) on back-to-back weekends, both with inspiring conversations and delightful food. Thank you, hosts!4

12.

Grateful to my cherry red tomato plant for hanging on through frost and not dying!

In early December I had the opportunity to pitch the abundance mindset community on a local radio station, WCRN. You are welcome to listen to or read my 5-minute segment or excerpts here. It was a special moment to be a guest inside a real radio station studio for the first time: grateful for the invitation and the host, C.

An annual roast (of me this time, as its immediate past president) at my local Toastmasters club was one of the most laugh-inducing evenings of the month. Grateful to L., P., C., and M. for the thoughtful roasts I enjoyed “rebutting” and K. for the GE role. On that note, I must add that this club has added incalculable value to my growth as not just a better communicator, but also as a more open-minded human being. Highly recommend to anyone looking for a friendly, supportive community.

The long “Christmas weekend” was a time for another round of reconnections with old friends. A dumpling-making party with Z&M in south Jersey, organizing a virtual Zoom holiday reconnect with friends spread across North and South America (thanks to all for joining), and a solo-drive to a “home concert” by the famous bard, Alexander Gorodnitskiy, now 89 and “not feeling old at all” (in his own words), with an unambiguously humanist stance and impeccable sense of humor, marked the concluding full weekend of the quintessentially Tiger-tough 2022.

* * *

Some failures (what not to say!): my comfort with vulnerability is still nowhere near where it should ideally be; I read too few books from my list since last January; my podcast creation rate is still in the abyss; I started learning Mandarin much later than initially planned; my guitar and piano plans are lagging terribly; I am too risk-averse; etc., etc. [This is, of course, scarcity mindset speaking.]

Let me reformulate (to practice what I preach): in 2022 I increased my comfort with vulnerability through multiple amazing communities, as well as via personal outreach; I did read very good books as time allowed; I started taking one-on-one Mandarin lessons through italki, which I absolutely love; I rekindled with a guitar during my summer travels after a 12-year hiatus and vow to continue my adventures with music; my risk tolerance has increased measurably.

* * *

How this year will turn out is anyone’s guess. I have my own resolutions, though am keeping them undisclosed for obvious reasons. I hope 2023 will bring peace, health, and abundance to everyone reading this. Deeply grateful to all of you.

Happy New Year! С Новым Годом! 新年快乐!

How was your year? What are you yearning for next?

There will be exciting new items to share with you early next year, in terms of growing and engaging with the abundance mindset community. In the meantime, in the spirit of the holidays, one new question for you, the reader:

Leave a comment, use the same form to respond, or simply reply to this email directly. Feel free to be as brief or as detailed as you wish. In January your responses will be (anonymously, if requested) shared with the other readers.

* * *

Over the past month I collected several dozen responses to:

Two weeks from now everyone’s answers to this question will be shared here: they are quite different and inspiring, yet with recurring themes. You are very welcome to contribute yours if you have not done so.

Leaving you with a peaceful photo of this very intelligent cat, Agatha, thinking about her goals for next year while resting comfortably on Christmas Eve yesterday:

Looking forward to all your responses, and until 2023!

“Gerald is in intensive care,” she said to my disbelief.

She added that his son will be coming later in the day, so I don’t have to shovel the snow and he will take care of it.

As if snow is even on the radar of my worries, I thought to myself, still digesting the news.

“His lungs,” Claire said, tears filling her eyes.

“We almost lost him, you know, he’s 87.”

I expressed fervent hope that he would feel better soon, and she exclaimed, passionately, that yes, he is in our county’s best hospital, and that the drugs they administer are “very powerful” — so she, too, hopes he will make it.

It was a relief to hear her encouraging prognosis, and I gave her the well-wishes I could muster at that moment.

Moments later, reflecting on what Claire told me, while shoveling snow, I was overcome with guilt. Last week I had heard Gerald’s extensive coughing reaching my apartment (the floor is not fully sound-proof), sometimes during the night. Because it did get progressively louder, I was concerned at the time that he might have COVID.

But what was there in my power to do? He and his wife lived together, and their relatives occasionally visited. I couldn’t have simply texted him, “I’m concerned about your coughing. Would you like me to take you to Urgent Care?”

Well, I could have, but knowing Gerald’s fierce independence — last year, at 86, he single-handedly carried to the second floor and replaced my apartment’s leaking toilet (yes, the entire unit, while I was at work); he has never relied on anyone to fix appliances or to help with household tasks — I tried convincing myself, while driving to work, that he would have absolutely declined my offer to help, as he has in the past.

The guilt of not trying, though, remained.

Today, as I returned home, Claire again came out of the first floor apartment and told me, “Gerald is having an open-heart surgery soon, today.”

I offered to drive her to the hospital, though she declined, saying she didn’t know how long it will take and they’ve already postponed it twice.

She didn’t want to hold me up.

“I will make it there, don’t worry,” Claire added assertively.

Reflection

I do not know how the surgery went yet, or if it was postponed again, but it is clear that when two people live together and depend on one another at an older age, the prospect of potentially losing your partner must be terrifying. Yet, even when they need support from others, so many choose not to seek it, fearing they are a burden.

It is impossible not to think about my own paternal grandparents, who depend on each other and live mostly in social isolation from others in their city apartment, currently dealing with their own health issues and intermittent hospital stays, thousands of miles away from either of their descendants…

* * *

What I do know is that, as of today, I already failed twice this year at trusting my intuition enough to proactively do something about it, or at least try to. The first failure will be a subject of another post. This one, however, compels me to type out the following action items for all of us, including you, dear reader. I spontaneously created this list just now, and any improvements from you are more than welcome.

Action Items

A. Individual

1. Physical needs

   1. Identify an elderly person whom you care about, and consider if they need anything but might be hesitant about asking you (or those in their orbit), for fear of placing an undue burden on others’ shoulders.

   2. Contact them. Just do it.

   3. Express a desire to fill what you believe their need entails, and do not back off if they decline out of politeness. Be assertive.

2. Psychological needs

   1. Think about the socially isolated elderly in your network.

   2. Place yourself in their shoes, and let your imagination do the work to really feel their inner world. Take as much time as necessary for this feeling to permeate as many of your senses as possible.

   3. Send them a warm card or letter, expressing your well-wishes deeply and genuinely. You may spark a new level of connection to cherish for life.

   4. Would you like them to receive cards or well-wishes from strangers, too? Then fill out the mutual support exchange form right now!

B. Collective

(reposting the following from two weeks ago; little did I know how relevant this would be, and how directly this would hit home, literally)

Curing social isolation: send a card to the elderly by Friday, 12/16

There has been substantial research on the subject of social isolation among older adults and its detrimental effects on their psychological and physical health. This CDC publication offers striking findings (on correlation with premature death, dementia, depression, etc.) and explores the issue as a matter of public health.

To brighten up the spirits of concrete people of age in a homeless shelter, every year this holiday season my alumni association (PANE) offers an opportunity for you to send them holiday cards through a nonprofit it partners with (Hearth Inc) in greater Boston. The annual initiative is spearheaded by one of our active alumni who prefers to remain anonymous here. This is what they wrote:

“Seeking volunteers for the Holiday Cards for Seniors - New Year's Edition campaign running through Dec. 16, 2022 - thank you if you can help out!” “Really grateful to anyone who can send some cards - a few or several! Each one we send will brighten someone's winter season.”

The page notes, “Hearth currently has 230 units of housing – let’s make sure everyone gets at least one card.  Since 2020, we’ve sent over 350 cards to isolated seniors – let’s keep the momentum going! Our hope is that volunteers can send two to three cards but more are encouraged!  The cards aren’t to a specific recipient, so we hope each resident receives at least one.  Store-bought & homemade cards are welcomed.  And please take photos to share with us!”

Each of our lives is finite. Grateful to all of you who’ll consider either of the above actions. Which one will you take?

As outlined here, every other week your requests or offers from this mutual support exchange form will be posted to the Giving Tuesdays section of this publication. Submit one anytime! Please consider inviting a friend or more to this publication or to the anyhumans podcast as a guest or as a host.

If your inbox was overflowing yesterday, you’ve noticed that the annual Giving Tuesday has become ingrained in the nonprofit space by now. It seems apt to make an exception in the biweekly cadence of this newsletter and send one today (after last week’s Giving Tuesdays #6), as two new time-sensitive submissions to the mutual support form came in very recently, from two distinct U.S. regions, bound by a theme you may resonate with.

1. Community revitalization (fundraiser open through this Friday, 12/02)

One submission came from Ruth Chang, co-founder of Midstory, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit “dedicated to inform, interpret and inspire in post-industrial communities across the Midwest through multimedia storytelling and solutions-oriented research.”

Here is what Ruth sent in:

“I'm hoping to simply ask for readers to take a look at Midstory as a platform and to take a glimpse at our work since 2018 when my cofounders and I (three of the four are Princeton alum) returned to Ohio. The Giving Tuesday fundraiser goes to supporting our operations that help bring young people back into our area and to support Midwest-centric solutions-oriented storytelling and original media creation. We've worked with young people across the US to change the narrative surrounding the Midwest region, whose communities and culture we believe is in need of a new wave of care and freshness. This kind of care is required, really, for all communities across the world.”

The fundraiser notes, “Our midstory began nearly five years ago as four young people quit careers on the east coast, returning home in the hopes of contributing back to the region that raised them. Since then, we’ve persisted through tumultuous years to inform, interpret and inspire in and for our community — especially during times where misinformation and an overwhelming narrative of negativity make trustworthy research and genuine, authentic storytelling more important than ever. Here are a few of the projects we’ve done, and a few that are in the works — we hope you’ll find resonance with one, a few or all, and will consider supporting.”

2. Curing social isolation (send a card to the elderly by Friday, 12/16)

There has been substantial research on the subject of social isolation among older adults and its detrimental effects on their psychological and physical health. This CDC publication offers striking findings (on correlation with premature death, dementia, depression, etc.) and explores the issue as a matter of public health.

To brighten up the spirits of concrete people of age in a homeless shelter, every year this holiday season my alumni association (PANE) offers an opportunity for you to send them holiday cards through a nonprofit it partners with (Hearth Inc) in greater Boston. The annual initiative is spearheaded by one of our active alumni who prefers to remain anonymous here. This is what they wrote:

“Seeking volunteers for the Holiday Cards for Seniors - New Year's Edition campaign running through Dec. 16, 2022 - thank you if you can help out!” “Really grateful to anyone who can send some cards - a few or several! Each one we send will brighten someone's winter season.”

The page notes, “Hearth currently has 230 units of housing – let’s make sure everyone gets at least one card.  Since 2020, we’ve sent over 350 cards to isolated seniors – let’s keep the momentum going! Our hope is that volunteers can send two to three cards but more are encouraged!  The cards aren’t to a specific recipient, so we hope each resident receives at least one.  Store-bought & homemade cards are welcomed.  And please take photos to share with us!”

As you explore these initiatives, I hope that you have the chance to support them through direct action this week — either by sending out some holiday cards to the elderly or donating to Midstory. If you’d like me to connect you with either of the individuals in charge, please reach out to me, and I’d be happy to do so.

Happy almost-December!

If you’d like your request or offer to be featured in a future Giving Tuesdays section of this publication, please submit the mutual support form or reach out. Please consider inviting a friend or more to this publication or to the anyhumans podcast as a guest or as a host.

Today Substack announced a new feature, Substack Letters, which I found to be an admirable and apt initiative for this space. I’d like to offer anyone reading this the opportunity to host such online letter exchanges on a topic they are passionate about, within the blog’s scope, and you may use the same form (above) to seek and connect with a “pen pal.” The proposed model is very suitable for facilitating civil discourse on the human condition and sharing perspectives on the abundance mindset and giving, constituting the crux of this community and the associated anyhumans podcast.

Now, back to scheduled programming:

One of this blog’s readers, Fred Eder, a writer and full-time creator of Fred’s Front Porch Podcast (an inspiring podcast I’ve listened to since 2019, please check it out!), submitted the following last week:

“My best friend of nearly 14 years has recently been diagnosed with MS. We're doing a GoFundMe to help with her medical bills.

The GoFundMe is here:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-stephanie-manage-multiple-sclerosis”

For full disclosure, I am a Facebook friend of Fred Eder and can sense the urgency of the situation. If you are able to chip in to their team fundraiser for medical expenses, they would all be very grateful for your support!

In the spirit of Thanksgiving week, grateful to all of you for reading and for participating. Please be healthy and safe, and enjoy the holidays!

If you’d like your request or offer to be featured in a future Giving Tuesdays section of this publication, please submit the mutual support form or reach out. Please consider inviting a friend or more to this publication or to the anyhumans podcast as a guest or as a host.

Today we’ll follow a different tune as it is Election Day here in the U.S. For a few moments I’d like to exercise my “moral authority” over this blog and encourage you, dear reader, to take action. If you have a choice to make and possess such a right: please vote for your values. Vote for your principles. Vote for what you believe in.

Empty words? Devoid of meaning? Feeling uninspired?

Imagine yourself in a society where you do not get any say in decisions related to your individual autonomy and rights as a human being. Imagine that such society is now at your doorstep. Wouldn’t you want to change the trajectory?

Irrelevant? False? Can never happen here?

For inspiration, I’d like you to listen to this beautiful song recently created and performed by students at the University of Art in Tehran, Iran on October 29, 2022, in the midst of the ongoing protests:

The above was bravely sung to the tune of the famous Chilean protest anthem, “El pueblo unido jamás será vencido” (music by Sergio Ortega), itself having taken off after the 1973 coup d'état led to Pinochet’s dictatorship. Here is its 2019 rendition in Santiago during “The biggest march of Chile” as part of Estallido Social, which led to a national plebiscite in 2020:

This September 2022, in Moscow, Russia, the bard duo Ivasi, with experience in protest song since their initial popularity in the late 1980’s, organized a monumental and historic “unsanctioned concert” (mastering the use of Aesopian language) with this breathtaking feature song written last year, “We Are Not Zeros”:

Their full concert, called “Eternal Thinker,” was aimed at emotionally re-empowering anyone who lost their place and meaning in life as a result of this year’s absurd events.

I will conclude with a rough translation of “We Are Not Zeros” as sung by Ivasi in Moscow that day. Nothing can change there in the near-term, for obvious reasons. Yet, if you have a right to help affect change here, remember all those around the globe who are fighting for it at this moment in the small ways they can.

Today, on Election Day, be sure to exercise this right. Are you a one…?

“We Are Not Zeros” (composed by Georgy Vasilyev in 2021, my translation)

They shut our mouths, they didn't let us in,
They pushed us and tried to flatten into zeros.
They narrowed the bounds, and they pressed and they pressed,
But they could not destroy us.

They could not flatten us into zeros.
They could not flatten us into zeros.
They could not flatten us into zeros.

Chorus:
We are not zeros, we are not zeros,
You will not drive us with kicks into pens,
We are not zeros, we are not zeros,
We are ones and we are millions.

Who is not afraid to fight off the herd,
Who is not afraid to go through the pain, 
Who is not afraid to think with their own head,
They are a one and surely not a zero.

Who is not afraid - they are a one.
Who is not afraid - they are a one.
Who is not afraid - they are a one.

Chorus:
We are not zeros, we are not zeros,
You will not drive us with kicks into pens,
We are not zeros, we are not zeros,
We are ones and we are millions.

Who volunteers overnight in the hospitals -
They are a one.
Who pushes the limits every day -
They are a one.
Who does not want to pray to the bastard -
They are a one.
Who is not in a hurry to be zeroed -
They are a one.

Chorus:
We are not zeros, we are not zeros,
You will not drive us with kicks into pens,
We are not zeros, we are not zeros,
We are ones and we are millions.

If you’d like your request or offer to be featured in a future Giving Tuesdays section of this publication, please submit the mutual support form or reach out. Please consider inviting a friend or more to this publication or to the anyhumans podcast as a guest or as a host.

If you’d like to be interviewed on anything you do for inspiration — or know someone who might — please reach out by replying to this email!

Jamie Wong is a queer multiracial writer who is currently working on a YA novel about a queer boy, an enigmatic witch, and a moving house. Gods and madness ensue. She is a twin (but not a Gemini), and she enjoys when her girlfriend serenades her with the guitar. She is an alum of the VONA/Voices of Our Nation Writers Workshop for writers of color with Shay Youngblood. Her work has appeared in InQluded and Edible Jersey.

Can you tell us a bit about the murder mystery games you write?

I started writing virtual murder mystery games under the moniker The Daggered Pen at the start of the pandemic as a way to help people connect digitally and build a shared experience together. The online environment requires a bit more structure to flow well, so the games have a scripted portion that are followed up by a more flexible discussion round to allow for that spontaneous interaction that we all miss from in-person communication. So far I’ve written three games: one set at the tavern in a fantasy city, another at a wizard castle, and the final one at an Ivy League institution.

What had inspired you to write these murder mystery games in the first place? Why murder mysteries?

One of my friends loves murder mystery games, and we played one together at the start of lockdown for the pandemic. Then she suggested I try writing one myself, since she knows I’m a writer. And I thought, Why not?

At the time, I thought I would be going to grad school for writing, so I thought I would write these murder mystery games as a small way to make money on the side. Grad school didn’t work out because of the pandemic, but the games are actually a great way for me to stretch my writing muscles in ways I normally don’t. For instance, I normally do not outline my stories, but with these mystery games, I find that I have to impose a lot more structure than usual. It’s also a low-stakes way for me to practice writing humor and planting clues and red herrings, since I normally don’t do funny or mystery in my regular fiction writing.

What does your planning process look like? 

I come up with character names first. I want them to sound interesting of course, but the names are also my only opportunity to make the characters sound non-White without explicitly saying so. Because I don’t know who will play these characters, I don’t want to say “so-and-so character is Black/Asian/etc.” to avoid any instances of people engaging in black- or yellow-face, for example. But I also don’t want it to sound like the world inhabited by the characters is lily white.

Then I’ll come up with connections among all the characters. For example, character A and character B share this secret, and character C and character D don’t get along because of this other thing. Then I make sure to give all the characters a motive for the murder.

I won’t decide who the murderer is until I’ve already written two-thirds of the game.

Do you employ feedback from early players to make revisions to games later? Any memorable examples of changes you had to make in the past?

Absolutely! Feedback and revision are a crucial part of the process, just like with any other kind of writing. I love when my friends come up with great lines off-the-cuff while playing a game. I’ll steal the funniest, snarkiest lines and sometimes even tweak a character’s personality a little if I really liked the way someone played a character in a test round.

How do you publicize your murder mysteries? 

I started a Twitter account (@TheDaggeredPen) to publicize my games, but I have to admit that I’m not amazing at marketing. Coming up with regular content is a puzzle I haven’t yet cracked.

Is there anything else you would like readers to know about The Daggered Pen? What does the future look like for this endeavor? 

The more games I write, the more I’m realizing my niche is fantasy-oriented murder mysteries—which makes sense, since I’m a fantasy writer. I want to write a mystery that’s a riff on the Hero’s Journey, a superhero mystery, and a fairy tale princess mystery. Let me know on Twitter @TheDaggeredPen if you have any other ideas!

Thank you for a great interview!

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Previous Creative Friday: You Li

If you’d like your work or thought process to be featured in this publication in a future Creative Humans post, or know someone who might, please reply directly to this email or share it with others. Please consider inviting your friends or collaborators to this publication or participating in the anyhumans podcast as a guest or as a host.

One new time-sensitive request to help fundraise for an educational cause was submitted last week by Grace (see below; the 5K run is this Saturday), and the documentary project kickstarter by Mauricio to film a Carnegie Hall concert is ongoing. Both end 3 days from now!

Finally, you are encouraged to connect with the individuals from Giving Tuesdays #2: Caroline asked to support a friend’s serious medical expenses; Jeffrey and Emily have networking and coaching-related questions; Nita asks for editing/proofreading and offers health coaching. Please reach out to me; I will gladly facilitate the introduction.

Regardless of your location or level of need, if you are seeking even minor help in anything (or willing to offer to others) — such as a piece of advice on some matter — or a more significant kind of support, please fill out the form for your submission to be featured two weeks from now.

Grace Li (deadline: Oct. 29):

Request: Raising money for The Petey Greene Program: https://secure.givelively.org//donate/the-petey-greene-program-inc/pgp-s-1st-annual-5k-run-walk-for-education-justice/grace-li-7

More info: Grace writes, “Happy autumn! About 11 years ago I started tutoring in Garden State, a prison in NJ, for the non-profit the Petey Greene Program, and my experiences going to the prison on a weekly basis for the next years changed the course of my life... in extreme ways I never expected... such as causing me to run a 5K at the end of this month!”

Goal: “to bring more tutors to improve and individualize learning in classrooms in prison, to provide college preparation programming for brilliant students entering college-in-prison programs, to do the radical work of building relationships between people inside and outside of prisons against the isolating purpose of prisons”

From the fundraiser:

“Who is The Petey Greene Program?

Founded in 2008, the Petey Greene Program (PGP) operates the largest multi-state tutoring program for people who are currently or formerly incarcerated. Since its founding, the PGP has tutored roughly 16,000 students in over 50 correctional facilities and reentry programs. We've recruited more than 3,200 volunteer tutors from 30 universities in seven states and the District of Columbia. The PGP is named after Petey Greene, Jr., a formerly incarcerated 1960s community activist and media personality in Washington D.C., who dedicated his life to advocacy for racial and social justice. The PGP continues this legacy by providing and advocating for the highest quality education for incarcerated and formerly incarcerated people and educating volunteers on the injustice manifest in our carceral system.”

Offer: Advice/soundboarding

Mauricio González-Aranda (deadline: Oct. 29):

Request: Help fund my Kickstarter either by sharing or donating to it! Here's a link to the kickstarter - have a look! There's a trailer in there too: http://kck.st/3E9DzDq

“I'm an indie documentary director in Brooklyn, and I'm kind of pressed against the wall. I need to raise $20,000 by November in order to be able to film in Carnegie Hall the climax scene of a documentary I've been working on for the last 3 years. It's about a cellist who discovers that his great-great uncle used to be a famous composer 100 years ago, and he begins a lifelong project to bring that forgotten music back to life.

And here’s a post where I introduce the project myself, show the trailer, and talk about it afterwards:

Here is a shorter reel:

The Kickstarter has different pledges on it depending on the size of the contribution.”

If you’d like your request or offer to be featured in a future Giving Tuesdays section of this publication, please submit the mutual support form; to be connected with one of the featured individuals, please leave a comment or reach out. Please consider inviting a friend or more to this publication or to the anyhumans podcast as a guest or a host.

If you’d like to be interviewed on anything you do for inspiration — or know someone who might — please reach out by replying to this email.

You Li is a lawyer and poet who was born in Beijing and lives in Philadelphia. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Lunch Ticket, Asian American Writers’ Workshop’s The Margins, THE BOILER, Shenandoah, Poetry South, Scoundrel Time, and elsewhere.

Can you tell us a bit about your writing pursuits?

I write poetry. 

What inspired you to create poetry in the first place, and what keeps you motivated these days? What themes are you most passionate about? 

I’d always loved writing and reading. I was born in China, where (old) poetry is widely taught at a young age. I memorized my first Tang Dynasty poems in pre-school and loved to write my own poems growing up. I returned to writing poems as an adult when I read Michael Dickman’s book End of the West in college. It excited me because it showed that poetry can drive down into seemingly impenetrable cores and explore complex emotions in a revelatory or cathartic way. Those poems were like jewels that refract light in different directions as you turn them and at the same time they were the light that made the jewel beautiful to look at. I write primarily to figure out certain elusive feelings, about family and love relationships, and about the legal system.

What does your planning process look like? Is spontaneity a key element of your poem writing? 

Often, lines or ideas come to me. I keep notes, and later, I build out the poem when I think of or happen upon something else that I want to hold up against the first thing, to see how they relate. Sometimes I write poems that start from “found” texts -- in that case, I explore what grabbed my attention in the text I read and try to explore from there. You can read more about one of these poems here: https://shenandoahliterary.org/thepeak/on-domestic-violence-arrest-white-male-camper-in-cedar-ridge-ii/ 

Do you employ feedback of any kind in your work? What considerations do you use to determine that a poem is complete?

For years I have had a workshop with friends. I’m pretty lucky to have people who can see new pieces in the context of much of my body of work. It’s hard to tell when a poem is complete, but usually when I feel comfortable stopping work on a poem when it is able to show me something new or surprising.

How do you go about publishing or publicizing your writing? Is there a routine you default to or an avenue you have yet to explore? 

I send poems to magazines from time to time. While literary magazines serve an important function and bring brilliant new work into the world, I’d love to reach more audiences who don’t themselves identify as writers by publishing outside of “literary” spheres. 

Has the pandemic affected your creative work and/or output? If so, how?

The pandemic has changed my relationship to time. Having more time in many ways, I expected to take advantage of this period to produce more. Having more time, though, changed my orientation to it. I’m prone to giving more time to letting poems mature on their own, in my head or in the world, while trying out more new things.

Are you currently working on any particularly exciting project(s), literary or otherwise? 

I’ve been working on a project that takes a wide-angle lens look at the criminal legal and prison systems in the United States, in their vastness and depravity. I work, by day, as a lawyer. Through this work, I encounter texts—court cases, interrogation transcripts, and words said “on the record”—that are publicly available, yet obscured from public view by nature of their volume and apparent impenetrability. I incorporate these texts as found material and use my experiences as inspiration in my poems.

How can readers of this Issue help your work(s) reach a larger audience?

I’d love for you to read my poems! And I’d love to hear what you think. I currently use my Instagram (@gentlegrid) to share poems.

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Previous Creative Friday: Kassandra L.

If you’d like your work or thought process to be featured in this publication in a future Creative Humans post, or know someone who might, please reply directly to this email or share it with others. Please consider inviting your friends or collaborators to this publication or participating in the anyhumans podcast as a guest or host.

One new request for help with an inspiring project was sent in this past week, and it’s unlike submissions you’ve seen so far. It embodies a theme of intergenerational memory — a theme, coincidentally, to be separately explored further in this substack.

Finally, you are encouraged to connect with the individuals from last time: Caroline asked to support a friend’s serious medical expenses; Jeffrey and Emily have networking and coaching-related questions; Nita asks for editing/proofreading and offers health coaching. Please reach out to me; I will gladly facilitate the introduction.

Regardless of your location or level of need, if you are seeking even minor help in anything (or willing to offer to others) — such as a piece of advice on some matter — or a more significant kind of support, please fill out the form for your submission to be featured two weeks from now.

Mauricio González-Aranda:

Request: Help fund my Kickstarter either by sharing or donating to it! Here's a link to the kickstarter - have a look! There's a trailer in there too: http://kck.st/3E9DzDq

“I'm an indie documentary director in Brooklyn, and I'm kind of pressed against the wall. I need to raise $20,000 by November in order to be able to film in Carnegie Hall the climax scene of a documentary I've been working on for the last 3 years. It's about a cellist who discovers that his great-great uncle used to be a famous composer 100 years ago, and he begins a lifelong project to bring that forgotten music back to life.

And here’s a post where I introduce the project myself, show the trailer, and talk about it afterwards:

Here is a shorter reel:

The Kickstarter has different pledges on it depending on the size of the contribution.”

If you’d like your request or offer to be featured in a future Giving Tuesdays section of this publication, please submit the mutual support form; to be connected with one of the featured individuals, please leave a comment or reach out. Please consider inviting your friends or collaborators to this publication, the abundance.dev community, or the anyhumans podcast.

“My name is Kassandra Leiva and I am a Cuban-American living in Essex, CT. I received my B.A. in Architecture at Princeton University and my Masters in Architecture at Yale University, and currently work as an architectural designer at Centerbrook Architects. All my life I’ve been an artist. I’ve dabbled in a little bit of everything, but painting has always been my preferred medium. I’ve shown work at Princeton U., Yale U., and at Middletown.”

This is a painting of my recent series. It's titled "Danza de los Zunzúnes" or "Dance of the Hummingbirds" in English.

Can you tell us a bit about your creative endeavors?

I often say that I’m an architect by day and an artist by night. My official profession is as a designer working at an awesome architecture firm in Connecticut. For me architecture and painting come hand in hand. Through my studies in architecture school, my perspective and understanding of physical space has really transformed and shaped the way I portray space on a canvas. Space has consistency. There is color, there is light and darkness, sharp edges and softness. Space is something that can be felt with all your senses, but of course when it comes to painting, it’s primarily visual, maybe tactile. For me color and the rendition of light and shadow becomes key to work of art. Currently, I’m working on a series of larger oil paintings inspired by my cultural heritage, as well as a series of abstract acrylic mini paintings. 

What inspired you to paint in the first place, and what keeps you motivated these days? What themes are you most passionate about?

I’ve been painting since I was very little. It's a way for me to meditate on my feelings, but it’s also a fantastic way to share ideas with the world. Transferring wispy elusive thoughts onto a canvas or a page is one of the most magical experiences out there. Lately I’ve been really interested in playing with color, texture, pattern, and ornament and how these relate to flat surfaces. It’s an ongoing study for sure. 

What does your planning process look like? Do you always stick to the plan when you create a painting? 

My process can be all over the place. Sometimes I just want to paint, so just start adding paint to the canvas and it’s kind of like a dérive… I let it take me where it may. A lot of other times, though, I kind of get this image in my mind and I start sketching it and figuring out how to capture it on paper, and then I transfer it to canvas. Once here I start blocking the different areas out with colors. This is where I make a lot of decisions about color. Although, because of the medium (acrylic or oil paints), I can always change my mind and tweak colors and details whenever. 

Do you employ feedback of any kind in your work? What considerations do you use to determine that a painting is complete?

Sure. Any experienced artist knows they have to be self-critical. And the first step to doing that is stepping back… literally. While I’m painting I step away from my easel every 30 minutes to an hour. When you’re painting you can get very myopic, so stepping back allows you to see things compositionally you wouldn’t see otherwise. As for other feedback, I have always had great critics around me. My mom, my sister, and my partner. They’re all great critics. As for completion of a painting, that is the million-dollar question! I never really decide that the painting is done. I simply decide that I’m done working on the painting, for now. I leave open the possibility that I could always come back to it, and sometimes I do.

How do you go about showcasing or publicizing your art? Is there a routine you default to or an avenue you have yet to explore? 

I showcase my art on my website, my Instagram, and my Facebook page. The latter two are great venues for finding new viewers. I’ve recently gotten involved with the Connecticut Women Artists group, a rather established institution here in Connecticut, and I’m planning on showing some of my work in local shows. 

Has the pandemic affected your creative work and/or output? If so, how?

While I’ve painted all my life, I’m fairly new at integrating myself into the local art scene. The pandemic has made it difficult to meet cool new artists and curators at gallery showings. So I’ve slowly been trying to reach out to people as I develop my work. But as for my creative output, I think I’ve had a wonderful explosion of creativity in the last however many months we’ve had of pandemic-time, and art has been one of my survival tactics. 

Are you currently working on any particularly exciting project(s), painting-wise or otherwise? 

Yes! I’m currently working on a series called “Mitos y Raíces” (in Spanish), which translates to “Myths and Roots”. This series explores my relationship to Cuba, my birth country. A little piece of my soul is still in Cuba, and I want to understand that part of me better. My work shows themes of spirituality, dance, nature, and dreams. I consider the relationship between the human figure, animals, and colors and textures. So far it’s been a joy to work on these!

How can readers of this Issue help your work(s) reach a larger audience?

Check out my work on social media. All my work is for sale, so if you see something you love or think you know someone who will love something I’ve shown, please share! Or if you are an artist and want to talk, I’m always excited to start a new conversation, or even a collaboration.

Please check out my website (kassandraleiva.com), Facebook page (Kassandra María Leiva Art), or Instagram (@kmleiva).

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Previous Creative Friday: Erica Cao

If you’d like your work or thought process to be featured in this publication in a future Creative Friday post, or know someone who might, please reach out or share it with others. Please consider inviting your friends or collaborators to this publication or participating in the anyhumans podcast as a guest or host.