I am sitting on a persian rug that matches the same one in my childhood home, except this is a pale blue. It is familiar but different. The sun is rising over the city quickly. I have been up all night but as always, waited till the last moment to pray.

And all of a sudden, I am overcome with emotion. I start weeping. From sadness? No, from gratitude. I always say I’m grateful but in that moment I realize how even in this fleeting life, Allah has taken care of me. Through human and non-human means, I have always felt watched over. So I started to weep. I weep and weep because I don’t understand it. I can’t fathom how this kindness continues to be extended, especially on days I’ve strayed away from my God. I begin to drift in thought until I decide I needed to play the Adhan. A call to a new chapter. A call to my 30’s.

On a random car ride into the city, my mom once passively mentioned, “When your sister was born, I had your childhood imam come to the hospital room and recite the Adhan in her ear.”

“Amra eta keno kori?” Why is that something we do? - I asked, as I continued scrolling on my phone.

She said something I still remember all these years later.

“It’s the first call to your last prayer.”

In Islam, the recitation of the Adhan at birth is connected to the Janazah, or funeral, through a sense of profound symbolism: the life of a human is as brief as the pause between a call to prayer and the prayer itself.

When a child is born, we call the Adhan, a call to prayer, but no one actually performs it. That’s because when that same person passes away, the Janazah prayer is performed. It’s the only prayer that doesn’t follow an actual Adhan. As if the Janazah congregation were answering that first Adhan.

How fleeting of a life. How deeply beautiful.

I love celebrating every milestone, I am a big birthday person. My friends joke it’s the leo in me. Yet I’m painfully aware how short this life is. How little we can leave behind to our name. This world feels familiar but different. Like I am learning the ropes to a material world that will fade yet I’m yearning for some bigger. Something deeper.

I’m sitting on this familiar rug with the sun rays starting to extend over my living room, slowly hugging my hands and feet. There are little yellow lights dancing on my cream walls. And I’m sitting here wondering if somehow, amidst the day to day, I’m missing the entire point.

Remember when it was easy to conjure up characters in our stories and our first recipes in the kitchen? As a thought experiment, I forced myself to ditch the airpods and find inspiration around me as I sit inside a coffee shop in Beacon, NY. And this isn’t a piece on how inspiration is all around us if we only look. Which it is. But a question I’ve been asking myself lately - have we forgotten how to use our imagination?

At some point in our childhood, we lose the imaginary friends (s/o to D.W’s Nadine), the ability to talk to pets and non-humans, the places we visited in our play, the roles we pretend to have. We lose that sense of belief that we could really be anything and do anything. Outside of the occasional shower performance to a front row of shampoo bottles, we have sunk into a monotonous routine of work-sleep-work-sleep. We’ll see friends and keep our social calendars full but I fear we are losing interest in life beyond the material things. 2020 has brought back a resurgence of hobbies but here we are monetizing even the things that give us joy.

Friends, S7E10: Phoebe reveals that as a kid, she never learned to ride a bike, but her neighbor gave her the empty cardboard box their bike came in and her stepdad would push her around in the cardboard-box-bike.

I write this as a desperate call to understand where the inflection point occurs. What’s the cutoff point for our imaginations? Is it school that trains it out of us? Is the solution more creative and vocational curriculum? Or is it peer pressure to seem “mature”? The moment someone scoffed at a childhood dream? Does it come back for those that choose to have children? Or worse, do parents train it out of children?

When imagination goes, so does the ability to dream big. Remember when we thought we could be anything? An astronaut? A businesswoman? A librarian? A cafe owner? Somewhere along the way, many of us have started to dream smaller and smaller. Telling ourselves these are the qualms of reality, living a realistic life. We talked ourselves out of the career we wanted. Even I, who is writing this piece being critical of adults, dreamed of being an astronaut at age 7. Yet I’ve happily downgraded to hoping I get to do space travel at some point. *insert smug look*

This is a reminder to myself first and foremost. I feel like I can’t access my imagination anymore, it’s easy to overthink yet so difficult to envision a world outside what I am met with. So I’m making an active effort to bring more imagination back into regular life.

Here are some prompts to start today:

• make things you can touch and feel: use clay, paint, crayons

• go karaoke with friends, engage the parts of your brain you don’t get to everyday

• play LEGO with your partner or kids

• take an acting or improv class

• roleplay as mysterious characters for date night

• visualize your highest self in meditations

• come up with solutions to problems in your neighborhood

And if it’s difficult to find time to build your imaginative muscle, I have two recs for you. Two apps my brilliant friends are building in this space:

• playdate

  share play ideas & see what your friends want to do

• noomalooma

  incorporate tiny creative acts for busy lives

Bonus video on how this Harlem-based self-proclaimed not-a-chef serves up food based on his imagination:

My friend asked me as we queued in line for breakfast by Place des Vosges. Trees lined the square and the sun kept us warm on a crisp fall morning. The pavilion was home to little art galleries and cafes. We were standing under an arched corridor made of old stone walls, something you come by a lot in Paris.

This was my second time in the city, two trips preceded by a pretentious “ugh”. I too was convinced the entire city was a marketing gimmick. And while I still don’t buy the “city of love” branding, I am fond of the long conversations over coffee and the general laissez-faire attitude towards life here. Once I learned about a Bangladeshi restaurant that’s been serving Parisians for 18+ years, I finally booked my ticket to come back.

I am staying with a dear friend in my favorite neighborhood - Montmarte. I told her to take me to all her favorite places. This included a Sunday market in the 11th arrondissement, a neighborhood coffee shop, a rainy walk by the Seine and this breakfast place -

A little patisserie frequented by both locals and tourists alike. Important to note, Carette, known for their hot chocolate, runs out of croissants by noon. The cafe is in Le Marais, my friend explained it to me in New York terms - it’s the West Village of Paris. I remembered a graffiti I once saw by West 4th - “rent t00,000 damn high”. I wondered if locals here felt the same.

So, am I in sync with myself? It was an interesting question, something I had been toying with in my late 20s. When I finally decided to take a break from full time work this year, my top priority was finding alignment in what I do with who I am. Getting in sync.

I heard my voice get heavy as I spoke - for a long time, I immersed myself in everything. I wanted to learn everything, I wanted to be everything. That’s what my 20’s were for. And I’m so glad I did. Until finally, my brained pulled out a quote from Life of Pi one day:

Having an interest in the world we live in is beautiful. We can have many of these interests. But not everything can be combobulated into meaning. At the beginning of the year, I realized I’ll have many seasons of life. I’ll probably have more interests than I do now. And they will shift and change. But what I could sync myself to are my values.

Be a good human, give back, uplift community.

If you are looking to find your alignment, start with this venn diagram. A friend, Sandy (who just launched his own fund!), shared the Ikigai exercise with me at the beginning of the year.

This may not be the first time you heard about Ikigai but consider this a sign for you to finally do the exercise, if you haven’t yet.

What is your ikigai?

Things to jot down: what I love doing, what I’m good at, what the world needs and what I can get paid for.

I’ll also say the nature of my work has evolved since first doing this exercise but when I look back at my notes, I realize my values have remained the same.

Weird to bare my heart to whoever will read this but the journey doesn’t end there. Then, comes the next part of the question - how do I get in sync with my values? Align my work with purpose?

I told my friend I’m making progress. I am becoming more and more in sync. While I’m not fully there yet and progress isn’t linear, I am using the down time in my sabbatical to start thinking about a five year plan.

I’m doing the mental and physical work, meeting wonderful humans, putting my hopes and dreams out there, and having deep faith that it will all work out. In shaa Allah.

My friend looked at me, her face serious and said, “You seem very centered, different from when I last saw you.” I didn’t think that would be the biggest compliment I would have ever received. But yes, I am finally feeling centered. And it’s nice feeling acknowledged for it.

Warmly,

Aaisha

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Another theme emerged: emotional discomfort is rarely welcome. As I was guiding the workshop, I encouraged writers to introduce a problem. Some complied, some resisted, some said they did not want to disrupt the peace these characters felt. It did not feel right. Some rushed to a solution. It’s human nature to avoid sitting in uncomfortable feelings. I know I have for the longest time.

As you can probably guess, I’m a very open person. I had to consciously train myself in college to keep certain thoughts to myself. Without knowing why I shared so much of myself. I know now where in my childhood it stems from and have since revisited the balance of sharing vs keeping to myself. In the spirit of feeling things deeply and being uncomfortable, here’s how I’ve been seeking freedom in my own work.

I decided to take a sabbatical this year, taking a break from full-time work to understand how to truly fill my cup. In these months, I was forced to come face-to-face with a lot of things - feelings of loneliness, how to feel like I’m (doing) enough, tracking my finances, and most of all - who I want to be when I grow up.

What communities am I a part of?

Bangladeshi, American, Muslim, Woman. Tech. Investing. Writing. Arts. Economics. Government. International. Third culture kid. In my sabbatical, I re-examined how I spent my time outside of work. I was proud of two things that I did - I never let my identity be pigeon holed into my 9-5. And I didn’t go off on a long trip as soon as I could. Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it for two reasons:

• I became self-reliant at a fairly early age. What that meant was - I needed to figure out my finances before anything else. I could not imagine asking for help, for better or for worse. As life would have it, I had already launched my consulting LLC earlier this year and doubled down on working with a client. I did not know then I’d be taking such a long break but hey, that’s just God’s divine timing. I also started teaching as adjunct at my alma mater, Columbia University. And hosting more playful writing workshops. Suddenly, there were other avenues to support myself.

• I felt like there was more to New York. I knew there were so many incredible and interesting people in the city I hadn’t met yet. On my recent trips, I started staying in hostels and became more open to the idea of meeting strangers. So why couldn’t I do this in my own home? I immersed myself in the local scene and came out of it with “a community of builders who were making their corners of the world a less lonely place.” - , Storytell.

  Learn more about community building trends here:

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  6 Community Building Trends From 6 Community Builders

  Last Saturday, I hosted my third Community Builders and Creators mini-conference “C3” this year. I am obsessed with these mini-conferences…

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  2 years ago · 8 likes · 6 comments · David Nebinski

I also started volunteering more frequently and creating genuine connections. Now that I have taken a few months to register and pace myself, I’m finally planning the rest of the year abroad.

What kind of community do I want to build?

When I started building a writing community, I knew I wasn’t interested in teaching the ABCs of writing. Anyone can teach you that. My specialty was getting an audience to feel safe in being vulnerable and engaging in self-reflection. I am building a community of writers who want to understand themselves better to inform their practice and role in the world. In the process of teaching and sharing my love for reflective writing, I am learning how to build an engaging community.

Who do I wanna be when I grow up?

My five year plan is to launch my own fund and invest in founders of all backgrounds. Amidst all the things that make up who I am, my professional background has always been in tech. I’ve worked in big tech and invested in all stages of companies. I am now building a community of LPs (capital partners for a venture fund) who are thoughtful about their impact in the world. LPs that want to match their investment thesis to their own values.

This year gave me an opportunity to redefine my self-worth based on values I’m striving towards: Be a good human, give back, uplift my community.

What are the values you hold close to your heart?

I am assigning a different type of meaning to my work and learning to balance how I invest in work as well as with family and loved ones. I am learning that while my priorities can shift, my values are the only constant.

In community,

Aaisha

P.S. When I think of a freeing experience, I think of a solo trip to the Dolomites. I was paragliding and soared over the tops of Nordic Spruce trees until they touched the back of my thigh.

I have jumped out of a plane before, but for some reason being able to touch the tip of a tall hundred year old tree beat any skydiving experience. It also reminded me of high school Aaisha reading about Bella exploring the Pacific Northwest for the first time.

Ok, that’s it for now!

Bye x

With the ongoing escalation of the student movement in my birthland, I have started to feel powerless from sitting miles away. I can do my bit online and off, but then I sink back into my seat just a little deeper. I recognize the privilege that comes with the following statement as I say it: I am trying to reach the places in my mind that I can derive hope from. And the biggest thing I have learned through the July protests in Bangladesh is we can’t effect change alone.

The roar of a 100,000 people broke my heart into a hundred thousand pieces and in the same breath, brought it back together again.

“এমন দেশটি কোথাও খুঁজে পাবে নাকো তুমি”

Emon deshti kothao khuje pabe nago tumi

You won’t find a land like ours anywhere else.

I didn’t always understand the power of numbers. Or that I could lean on someone else for support. Or that every relationship with a stranger did not need to be transactional. In April of 2022, I found community, or rather - community found me. I spent 10 days in the Andalusia mountains with a spiritual retreat called Azahara. Here was a community of people that was ready to forego the material world and work as artisans, teachers, carpenters, cartoonists, and beekeepers. People that grew their own food and called everyone to the table for dinner. A community that prayed together and celebrated milestones together. This community taught me there was more to life than chasing the next paycheck. I don’t believe in coincidences. I was meant to learn something there and apply it to my life over the last two years. The perfect tee up to my adult gap (half-)year.

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The company we keep

At one of the sermons, a Sufi teacher told us “The way you preserve your heart is by the company you keep. The wrong people will add layers over your heart and harden it. The right people will nourish and expand it.”

How are you preserving your heart?

I look back at my time there and I think it’s the happiest I had been in a while. There was a noor, a glow, that seemed to emanate from everyone. And I came back to New York with a renewed sense of purpose. I was living in Gramercy at the time, I remember trying to find more local businesses to support, getting coffee from the local cafe versus the corporate chains. It was the little things. My trip to Azahara instilled the importance of community in my day to day. And it taught me a few key lessons. I’ll share them in the coming weeks.

Love,

Aaisha, cup half full

P.S. Here’s a video of me shooting a poorly aimed arrow and missing completely, still met with “Yay! You did it! That’s pretty good actually.” And I realize now, that’s the company you want to keep.

P.P.S: I have two last writing workshops coming up in the city before I go on my sabattical.

My Alter Ego, register here

August 18, Drawing Room, Chelsea, 9:30-11:30am

Letter Writing Soiree w/ Chef Tova, register here

August 30, Bedford Studio, West Village, 7-9pm

If you’ve ever drawn a blank while putting pen to paper, this one is for you. This past year has been a rollercoaster of emotions and this past month has only taken a nose-dive. I can feel my stomach drop, drop, drop and it isn’t even over yet.

I used to say writing is my outlet. It was how I processed emotions. But have you ever felt too overwhelmed to write?

Scared of writing the wrong thing, scared I won’t do it justice. And just too tired to write.

At the beginning of the month, I started hosting my family. It was a gentle reminder to set aside time for myself even when it feels like there wasn’t any. While I love having my loved ones close, trying to squeeze four people in a 1 BDR has helped us see the importance of space. Both physical and mental boundaries. And without this space, it proves difficult to reflect and process anything one may be going through. No matter how many people love and care for you, your journey is your own.

But then you step out to find - what in tarnation is going on in the world! Biden is running, then he isn’t. A win is a win I guess. There is a literal assassination attempt on a former president, regardless of your politics - that is insane. Trump picks JD Vance to be his running mate. At first - it seems like a success, the right is rejoicing and then come the couch memes and Vance’s childless cat lady comments. Biden endorses Kamala Harris for the Democratic nominee, and people who wouldn’t vouch for her in the primaries are all of a sudden calling it a brat summer. What a time to work in US politics. Or be Charli XCX’s manager.

I will end by drawing attention to something that’s weighing heavy on my mind today - my birthplace, my first home. There’s 138 of you on here, thank you for giving me the honor of sharing this life’s thoughts with you. I grew up hearing stories of the Bangladeshi liberation, and how we were the only country to have fought to establish our own language, subsequently seeking independence from Pakistan. And it’s only been a little over 50 years since. Some of my early memories of school trips include war museums and circuit houses that were home to various freedom fighters. My mom’s college diaries are filled with political chants and poems. In fact, my first poem that was ever published was about the Bangladeshi flag. I honestly can’t tell what was going on in my 7 year old brain but I can tell you Bangladeshis are a deeply political people.

Peaceful student protests for policy reform and fair employment practice have been met with excessive force by the government, resulting in at least 202 deaths per official count while unverified sources claim the numbers are much higher, accompanied by thousands of injuries and arrests of activists. With unrest and violence spiraling out of control, the government shut down internet and mobile networks, deployed the military and imposed a curfew. The quota issue is the tip of the iceberg of economic and political discontent that lies underneath the surface.

Description: A female high school student on a bike in Bangladesh, carrying a makeshift weapon in her backpack to defend herself.

I think the rise of global movements toward justice and equity in the past few years have stirred something within all of us. I am thinking about what kind of person I want to be in this world. I am thinking what kind of government I want to vote in. I carry the term “third culture kid” with a lot of pride and recently, some sadness. I have no prompt for you right now, I am still trying to process what I feel.

In community,

Aaisha

One thing I’m proud of is my curiosity for exploration. I’ve probably explored as many roles within as many fields as I could in my 20s. I got a taste of big tech, humanitarian relief work, venture capital, education, healthcare, advertising, and writing. I worked in product management and sales, learned how to do due diligence on both early stage startups and funds, set up healthcare for Rohingya refugees with my partner and taught a grad school class. The goal had always been to explore many paths early and eventually pick one. Some of it was driven by the fear of missing out, some of it by pure interest. The formula was to learn things quickly and do just enough to move to the next milestone. It’s what also shapes my belief that anyone, given the access, time and opportunity, can learn anything. But in recent years, I felt more and more like I was a cog in the machine, mindlessly going through the motions. We cruise through degrees and jobs for the paycheck. Most of us invest in things we don’t understand and get a board seat at a non-profit to feel good, like we’re leaving an impact. It’s not a bad way to do life, but I just haven’t found meaning here.

I raced through milestones and while there is much to be grateful for, there is also a sentiment of “Ah, thought it would feel better here.” Humans, as Bezos once put it, are divinely discontent.

Nothing I’m speaking of is new. There have been books, articles and podcasts published about things like imposter syndrome or finding your way in life. This isn’t a revelation, no matter how many people before you have gone down the same path, yours is your own to forge. There isn’t meaning in mindless replication.

I may be harsh but it’s because I have done all of those things. I saw my parents struggle and I knew I didn’t have a backup option nor a safety net. I chose a low-effort major, scoured ratemyprofessor.com and took the easy As, scheduled concurrent classes to work around prereqs and graduated in three years. I thought I was so smart, that I successfully gamed the system and arrived at the real world sooner. I could start earning now. But truly, I learned very little in undergrad. So when I decided to go to grad school, I made sure I was genuinely learning about something that interested me. It made all the difference. While I initially questioned my choice of getting an MS vs an MBA like my fellow colleagues, I am appreciative now because it’s what shapes my worldview and sets my experience apart.

For the first time, I am learning not to chase someone else’s idea of success. And I feel lucky that I learned relatively early on that it’s extremely difficult to derive meaning from it. I did consider having a portfolio career but realized I wanna get really good at one thing. An older man on one of my travels had told me this but I guess I had to find out on my own: I don’t want to become a hoop-jumper. I want to slow down and really understand the world around me.

“The term “hoop-jumper” was coined by writer and former professor William Deresiewicz to describe the behavior of his students at Yale, who seemed more concerned about getting As and adding bullet points to their resumes than using their time at one of the world’s best universities to follow their curiosity.”

A lot can be learned from others’ experience of course, without blindly following in their path. I recently learned of the story of someone who transitioned from investment banking to venture capital in the early 2000s. He had a Wharton degree and an impressive professional track record but something just felt off. He told his boss he wanted to quit, that he wanted to try a different industry. His boss tried to get him to stay with a better offer and additional responsibilities. He thought about it for a couple days but ended up rejecting the promotion and the accompanying bonus. What surprised me was his rationale. He said he wasnt qualified to do what he was being asked. He wanted to learn, and so he took a title hit and a 50% paycut to go do something he was genuinely curious about. It was a high risk move. His wife was pregnant and they just put down a deposit on a house. Now he’s the Managing Director of a well-known VC.

In 2010, Princeton University Nobel Prize laureates Daniel Kahneman and Angus Deaton published a study that found that income increases people's well-being up to a point of around $75,000 per year, after which there is no further increase. Note, this research is dated and newer research has found this income metric has only increased with every passing year. But the idea remains, experienced well-being (people’s feelings of happiness during moments of life) plateaus after a certain amount.

Now I know that we don’t always have the luxury to take a paycut and take on a new role just to learn. In fact, it may not even feel like an option for some. I went to a FirstGen event last week where one of the panelists said

That’s real. The reality is the next generation will likely not be responsible for their parents. And also that we, the current generation, would not be here without ours.

How do we balance our aspirations and care for our families?

I’m not sure. All I know is I’m investing more energy into myself this year. Lucky for me, I’m still exploring *smiles coyly* although it feels like I’m on the tail end of my exploration. I will end with a book rec, a colleague shared The Pathless Path by Paul Millerd and I’m only on Chapter 3, but so far, I can already tell it helps having an author, a friend or a community who gets it.

Warmly,

Aaisha

P.S. If you are in town on July 21st, I’m teaching a class at the Drawing Room on overcoming limiting beliefs. Link to early bird tickets below, excited to see you!

Early Bird Tix - July Workshop

P.P.S. If you need some corporate america humor, watch this.

I think a lot about reciprocity. e.g. what I get is what I give. But then comes this math concept that kind of blew my mind. Intergration is the reciprocal of differentiation. The same way something can be broken a thousand times - the pieces, in theory, can be made whole again.

While I still feel strongly about this form of reciprocity in 1:1 interpersonal relationships, I can’t help but think if the American individualism has gone a bit too far? When was the last time we did something for the community just cause? Not because we were getting paid, or adding something to our resume, or chasing some sad niche clout - but just cause we wanted to make our community whole.

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In calculus, differentiation is understood as dividing a part into many small parts, while integration is a collection of small parts that form a whole. We give even when we don’t get.

It’s very easy to blame something on our childhood or someone else and say “I don’t know how to give in this way because I was never taught it.” But in this concept, reciprocity lies for two opposite extremes, not in their likeness.

As I’ve learned many times in the past, the first step to decisionmaking is identifying and labeling what you are feeling. I recently went to a mentor/teacher and shared the self-doubt that stems from a childhood experience with a relative. How it’s made me bitter and keeps me second-guessing myself. While we can’t go straight to the sources always, sometimes it helps to have a conversation with the part of ourselves that feel that way. She walked me through this exercise:

When you experience X (for example, self-doubt), how do you physically feel in your body?

Now give this feeling a voice. Is this your own voice or someone else’s?

What qualities does this feeling hold? We identified the voice. Does it have a color?

What shape has it taken? What do you think the shape means?

Is it static or in movement?

If the meaning that you have assigned to the shape is negative, can you reframe it in a different way?

The reason we try to understand this feeling is to first humanize it. It’s just a feeling. Yet the feeling can overtake us. And to take bitterness from a childhood memory or a relationship with us into adulthood or a new experience will likely not help the case.

We can’t build communities if we don’t take care of ourselves. We can’t think of the greater good if we haven’t taken a moment to reflect on our own experience and how we show up in the world. Individualism and strict reciprocity will persist in a world we haven’t made amends with the parts of ourselves that feel small.

I personally think there is a lot of value in the western preference for invidualism, we allow for every person to step into their own. And I also believe most things should exist in moderation. When we only think of our needs, we fail to reciprocate as an integrative whole and fall behind as a collective. Lesson to myself first and foremost.

Love,

Aaisha

When I was really little, I thought I was special (like every other kid). Then, upon hearing that not only was the expectation for a child like me not to even reach average, but below par, frankly made me want to act out. And I did, for most of high school. Then, I met my college friends, being around them inspired me to start working on myself. I was convinced my childhood didn’t matter, I could still check X or Y boxes and earn some sort of status quo.

It wasn’t until I was met with the recent thought,

that I realized yes, our childhoods do matter. And yes, it shaped me. And yes, it does not define me.

Before I list what I learned about my childhood - I want to be explicit that there are exceptions. I am operating under general assumptions and will never chalk up any traumatic experience to a simple list. Keeping disclaimer in mind, here are some things we can generally get consensus on:

• Our parents did their best. They only know how to give love the way they received it.

• We are too hard on our parents. The older I get, the more I realize no one knows what they are doing. It’s hard to have it all figured out. We are just out here trying and hoping things work out for the best. In most cases, our parents were younger when they had us than we are today. It can help to not only focus on what went wrong but also what things we are grateful for.

• Societal expectations are tough. South Asian culture is rich with stigma around “broken homes”. I really hope this changes, I hope we allow all kids to feel secure in who they are and not be the reason they act out. I hope random uncles and aunties stop judging little kids, especially when it’s not their own.

• We are bigger than our childhood stories. Whether it is an insecurity that stems from our relationships with our parents, socioeconomic class, birth order, being an only child, or being compared, we can learn and grow from it. The first step is identifying the insecurity. Once we label it, we can regulate it.

• Tend to your needs. Because for so long, I was busy acting out, I did not think to seek out what I truly needed. I would focus on catering to others because that is how I was taught love. It is not too late. Quit being second. You can be kind without shoving your needs away.

I thought love meant taking care of someone, while you put yourself on the bench. Funnily, ambition was my escape route. It was the only time I did not feel selfish, because if I could be successful, it meant I could help my loved ones. The question is - Can love and kindness and ambition and family coexist? The short answer is yes. The world is changing, gender roles and culture norms are shifting, we can unapologetically want it all. Put in the work, and pray for the best.

While we can’t always have the hard conversations with our parents, it can be beneficial, and sometimes even harder, to have the conversation with ourselves. The 8 year old inner child who is buried deep in our conscience, they only come out when we’re angry or sad, just waiting to be heard.

Reflect on ways you deprioritize your needs to serve others, why do you think you do that? What belief does it serve? What would happen if you tried to tend to your own needs?

With love,

Aaisha

There is a line. I don’t know where it is yet. Maybe when the different world view is an unsubstantiated claim or judgement that directly impacts the wellbeing of another, probably even before reaching that point.

There are devil’s advocates and then there are people who simply do not benefit us. They can be good people but not good for you. People who will share their opinions but it will not contribute to anything constructive. To go one step further, there are some people who willingly or unwillingly cause disruption. Julia Cameron describes these individuals as “crazymakers”. While I’m not a big fan of the term, the description may ring true. In Julia’s words:

“Crazymakers are those personalities that create storm centers. They are often charismatic, frequently charming, highly inventive, and powerfully persuasive. And, for a creative person in their vicinity, they are enormously destructive. You know the type: charismatic but out of control, long on problems and short on solutions. Crazymakers are the kind of people who can take over your whole life. To fixer-uppers, they are irresistible: so much to change, so many distractions…. If you are involved with a crazymaker, you probably know it already.

Crazymakers expect special treatment: They suffer a wide panoply of mysterious ailments that require care and attention whenever you have a deadline looming – or anything else that draws your attention from the crazymaker’s demands. The crazymaker cooks her own special meal in a house full of hungry children – and does nothing to feed the kids.

Crazymakers discount your reality: No matter how important your deadline or how critical your work trajectory at the moment, crazymakers will violate your needs. Crazymakers are the people who call you at midnight or 6:00am saying, “I know you asked me not to call you at this time, but…”

Crazymakers triangulate those they deal with: Because crazymakers thrive on energy (your energy), they set people against one another in order to maintain their own power position dead center. 

Crazymakers are expert blamers: Nothing that goes wrong is ever their fault, and to hear them tell it, the fault is usually yours. 

Crazymakers hate schedules – except their own: If you claim a certain block of time as your own, your crazymaker will find a way to fight you for that time, to mysteriously need things (meaning you) just when you need to be alone and focused on the task in hand.” ~ The Artist’s Way

A common question that comes up after this is “Am I a crazymaker?”. While there is generally joint contribution, the best thing we can do to avoid being one is build self awareness. The easiest way to do this is to listen more than you speak.

And to not put someone’s creativity down. To not belittle a side hustle, a hobby, or why everyone has a Substack these days. To ask yourself “What is the goal of what I’m about to say?” If it is not constructive to the other person, it is most likely a judgement.

And if you suspect you are dealing with one such storm center, ask yourself:

Where does your time go?

Take inventory. What are some areas you can pull back from and invest back into your growth?

I’m having an eat, pray, love (yes, eyeroll) year. So spending a lot of time reflecting on quality of communication. I’d love to hear your experiences with communication.

“The essential element in nurturing our creativity lies in nurturing ourselves. Through self-nurturance we nurture our inner connection to the great creator. Through this connection our creativity will unfold. Paths will appear for us. We need to trust the great creator and move out in faith. Repeat: the great creator has gifted us with creativity. Our gift back is our use of it. Do not let friends squander your time. Be gentle but firm, and hang tough. The best thing you can do for your friends is to be an example through your own recovery. Do not let their fears and second thoughts derail you.” ~ The Artist’s Way

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I love that TikTok discovered eating mangoes with your hands. And I’m only half-joking when I say it’s making me appreciate where I came from. Somewhere along the cut-fruit nostalgia, I had stopped peeling mangoes with my bare hands. It’s spectacularly messy and will run down your arms. But it tastes 10x better.

I love an elaborate spread as much as the next person but I lived alone for most of my 20s. I ate a lot of meals over the sink. Straight from the pot even. While initially it was a matter of convenience and washing less dishes, I’ve unfortunately started to romanticize every single bit of living alone. Especially now that the time is coming to an end.

This may sound funny to someone who grew up in Bangladesh but one of my earliest memories of my mom is her fashioning a tool out of a broomstick + bucket to pick baby mangoes from a tree next to our old house. No one really does that…regardless of one’s perception of a third world country. We have bazaars and grocery stores where the average person gets their produce. My mom, on the other hand, managed to make anything an adventure. Our landlord, may he rest in peace, was furious. I don’t think it ever crossed his mind it was a mother-daughter duo who would wait until the last ray of the sun disappeared at Maghrib to launch their mission. On the first day of the season, we’d gather our findings at the table after dinner. Kacha aam and lobon morich on a summer night.

When we moved to America in the early 2000s, we were delighted to find people were growing mango trees in Florida. As well as some were importing from overseas. One evening, as my mom and I were coming back home, our neighbor invited us over for tea. She had twins that also went to my school but we weren’t friends. So there I was, sitting next to my mom, bored like any other 8 year old. Until this aunty made something my mom & I have continued to replicate for the rest of our lives:

Thinly sliced green mangoes, a tablespoon or two of milk, green chilis, salt, sugar and tiny bit of red chili powder if u really want it to burn.

A little appreciation thread for mangoes in every form:

Mangonada, Queens, NY:

Produce Stall, Lower East Side:

Cut up fruit, Guatemala:

Mango bhorta, Queens, NY:

Dried Chili Mango, TJ’s:

Green mango juice, heaven sent:

Local market, Colombia:

Neighbor’s influence:

Fay Da Bakery, NY:

Mango sheets, present from Thailand, consumed in NY:

Lady Wong, East Village, NY:

Pakhi’s mango + lychee, @bakingandmoshkari on IG:

Acai Bowl, DaNang, Vietnam:

Childhood fav:

What is a long forgotten food from your childhood?

As you can see, it can also be a long forgotten way of eating something vs the food itself.

Love,

Aaisha

Go write a poem. Paint a painting.

Draw a squiggly line.

Sing offkey. Plant a garden.

Let the moths have it.

Fly a seaplane. Swim a lap.

Swim another lap. Joke’s on me

because I don’t know how to swim.

Be as bitter as it takes. Be kind.

Be selfless, and be selfish.

Be human. Be flawed.

But care. When we stop giving a rat’s ass,

you know that’s bad.

This weekend, for mother’s day, I asked my mum what she wanted. She told me her and my stepdad were both working the same shift on Saturday and needed me to watch my 8 y/o sister who she was bringing to work. She didn’t want anything for mother’s day - just someone to cover the logistics. So we made a day out of it, I’m writing this as my baby sister runs around the 7th floor Toys R Us.

I started coming to work with my mom since I turned 11. She’d work the register while I roamed around the departments, trying on dresses, taking pictures on my sony camera. It was the age of MSN so I’d take my mom’s phone on her breaks. Sometimes her friends would take me out to lunch. I knew everything about their lives, who they were dating, which boss they hated. My mom’s friends were my friends.

In fact, when I think about detours, I think often about my mum and her friends. I remember visiting her in the summers and we’d share someone’s living room with three other stranger women. They’d each pay $500 for rent. For context, that is little in new york. Now my mom owns a home in Queens. As do most of them.

I asked my little sister what we should get ma for mother’s day. Candy. Of course. We rummaged through It’s Sugar and made a little bag. There, a little girl, probably my sister’s age, was helping her mum close shop for the night. Wiping down the shelves, telling my sister which candy was her favorite. We shared some of the candy with her before we left. Something about it brought me back to the essence of this city. So many mums that have to bring their kids to their work because they can’t afford nannies. It gave me extra appreciation for the detours.

Think about the things that didn’t go as planned. Can we celebrate the detours that make the journey what it is?

On May 28th, and I are hosting a Fail-A-Bration party at the beautiful Drawing Room in NYC. The concept was first introduced by Brad and Kristi Montague to celebrate the successes, the in-between moments and the things that didn’t go as planned. For kids & adults. Read more here. You tried, you missed, you’re invited: https://lu.ma/osty2498

P.S. Thinking of mothers all around the world today.

Nil

I am thinking of how grief compounds into oblivion. Feeling so sad that it eventually leads to desensitivity towards emotion.

Emotional numbness is a psychological phenomenon that can occur when someone is overwhelmed by stress and anxiety. It's a coping mechanism that can lead to feelings of detachment, apathy, and a lack of interest in activities that were once enjoyable. (UnityPoint Health)

If you are reading this and thinking, “I feel numb but there is no real source of stress in my life.” Remember just three years ago, we survived a worldwide pandemic that took 3.4 million lives. [WHO, 2021]

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And then there are those who prefer to leave emotions out. Whether a coping mechanism, a trauma approach or simply a life strategy - it is still valuable to understand the role of emotions in today’s world. The lack of dissociation is also an emotional choice.

Kissinger was in/famously quoted for saying “Realism in foreign policy means careful consideration of all aspects pertinent to the issue, before taking a decision.” All aspects pertinent to the issue cannot exclude the motivations of its people and leaders. No government is run without ethos and pathos, no campaign is successful without appealing to a voter’s emotion.

During my time studying conflict at Columbia, one thing was evident. Emotions have impact on decisionmaking. At individual, national and international levels. I’ve even had people tell me you cannot think emotionally in politics - when the fact is much of power is attributed to society’s longing for interdependence. We try to frame feelings out of the problem. But the feelings are begging to be framed back into the problem. [Patton et al., 1999]

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In efforts to have a “logical” conversation, we leave feelings out. The issue is while you may reach a short term solution, the feelings stay. Your feelings need not be rational to be expressed. Thinking that you shouldn’t feel the way you feel will rarely change the fact that you do.

Feelings lurk under judgements, attributions, characterizations and perhaps the most commonly - problem-solving. I feel stressed and immediately go into problem-solving mode. “A. I feel unheard. B. It’s because we don’t talk as much as we should. C. Here’s a plan - I’m going to block time off our calendars and make time for each other.” Here’s what’s wrong with my approach, that I learned with the help of therapy and some reading:

1. Use the urge to blame to find important feelings. Often there is joint contribution to most problems. What is unsatisfying is, not the failure to express blame, but the failure to express feelings.

2. Describe feelings clearly, avoid venting. Too often we confuse expressing emotions with being emotional. They are different.

3. Share how you feel, without problem-solving or evaluating the situation. Step A is great - you identified what you are feeling. Start by sharing just that.

Think about a recent issue you’ve been facing. What feelings are lurking under the surface that you haven’t acknowledged yet?

P.S. Here is a picture of me in Vietnam, booking flights to run away from my problems. Against my better judgement.

P.P.S. I walked into a Five Guys and got a bag of peanuts and nothing else. The cashier nodded approvingly.

Resource:

Yael’s “Mindfulness for Resilience in Challenging Times”

Unrelated out of context tweet that made me laugh (disclaimer! personally enjoyed Past Lives):

https://x.com/jackslacie/status/1783749555382886686?s=46&t=qw7RC998rgPS5ZX_uNs9Og

One of the struggles with living alone is trying to find discipline about your eating timeline in the day. You could skip two meals and not worry about whether anyone else is hungry. You could not cook for a whole week and eat leftovers from the weekend. There are no rules. It can feel good in the moment and it can feel real nasty after.

This also applies to anyone who has started to adult, and most of your day is taken up by 30 minute blocks on the calendar. You begin to cherish meals with friends more. Or when your mum cooks your favorite chingri mach-mishti kumra & aam daal. Or when you’re competing with a sibling to get the last bite of Uncle Tetsu’s cheesecake.

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We ended last night for a friend’s bachelorette at Soosanghan Pocha. A ktown dig in the back roads of Edgewater. Jersey Koreatown surprised me. When you first step out, it feels like coming upon a sleepy town who had closed shop for the day. But that’s 9pm. By 11pm, there are twenty-something year olds lining the arcade punching machines on their smoke break. Swinging their arms over heavy grunts and missed opportunities to impress the girl in a big jacket holding a cigarette in the corner.

We waited an hour for a table and hopped over to Third Floor Pocha across the street. While we had no luck with tables, the neon and bright lights and the bathroom that looked like it belonged in a club downtown were reminiscent of Wong Kar Wai.

In the mood for love.

My friend and I laughed about the romance of an arcade, imagining being on a second date at the claw machine. You have gotten over the awkward small talk and are comfortable to get down on wings in Koreatown. Neon pink LEDs lighting up our faces while the smell of soju filled the air. I don’t drink but can feel the latentness of people drifting off elsewhere. You find a quiet corner amidst the happy chatters and birthday songs.

The phone finally rang and Soosanghan called us back for a table. In the rush of the night, I couldn’t tell you the names of what I ate. But I can tell you it was one of the better meals I’ve had this week. At one point, I sat back and watched my friends’ hands scurrying over the table. First, a small bowl of tteokbokki, picking up little bites of chewy rice cake with their chopsticks, then a dollop of the lemony fish soup to balance the tanginess of the tteokbokki curry. Finally, topped off with sweet potato croutons. Pretty sure no one eats like that but I put all that in my little bowl and went to my happy place. Smiling and my face beaming as I slurped the last bit of soup.

There is gratitude in moments when you realize it’s not often you get to share a meal with people that make you happy. And when you live alone, it’s that much extra. Maybe that’s why iftars in Ramadan feel that much more special for students in dorms or why food is at the center of every major celebration. Turkey at Thanksgiving, beef at Eid & Christmas, marshmallow peeps for Easter and challah on Shabbat.

Describe the last meal that made you happy - whether through intention or company.

Think about the flavors, the conversation or absence of it, where you sat, or stood over the sink. How it made you feel. Your belly and your heart.

With love,

Aaisha

Ours was a women majority family - my mom, aunt, her two daughters and I lived on the third floor of a house next to a little forest. A little forest where we had sighted both slimy little garden snakes and the first mango of the season.

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As an adult, Eid started to look different. I lost any sense of niceties around holidays. From spending the day doing client lunches across the country to being in transit, the most I could prioritize was a squeezed in trip to New York and a lunch at my mom’s. But in my late twenties, I am realizing how lovely it is to hold onto some of these childhood traditions.

For the first time, I bought henna (S/O azrahenna) and stayed up past midnight to put it on. And woke up my little sister early in the morning to do the same for her. It may not have been the chaos of chand raat with the community that I’ve also grown to love, but something about reinforcing a lost tradition in our household…for the next daughter in the family, felt like closing a loop.

I grew up watching my aunts roll henna leaves into a paste. We’d pick up a little ball with our bare hands and shape them into perfect circles with toothpicks. Our fingertips would stand as testament to the staining process. Something about it was deeply loving.

Henna is an act of love.

As Abeera Kamran puts it, Henna is latent with the sensual, even erotic? But also, most importantly henna affords rest. People with henna on their hands and feet are taking a break from the labor that comes with entertaining guests the next day.

What’s an old childhood tradition you want to revive?

This year we celebrated two of my favorites one after another - Eid & Bengali new year.

Eid mubarak and shubho noboborsho, my dearest friends. We hit a 102 members of this email list, thank you for staying on for my musings and scattered thoughts.

Lots of thoughts. Lots of feelings as I return to my city. Today, I feel a little heavy but there is solace. I’ve been reflecting on how to ground myself when everything is shifting.

Some of us experience moments of happiness daily but not many of us experience true contentment. Contentment that derives from meaning, purpose or a divine connection. Soul to soul. Soul to God.

Imam Khalid Latif spoke about who we are without our worldly identities during last night’s Qiyam: When we enter spiritual gatherings, we leave our job titles, degrees and fancy cars behind. We have no name. We float in and out, not really stripped of our identities, but detached in the moment. What is it that we seek when we come to these gatherings?

I seek a Higher connection, I seek contentment. Nothing fills my cup the same way. While I am yet to experience that fulfillment in its entirety, I have experienced moments of it. A spark, a fleeting feeling, a surge of current. And my soul is immediately recharged.

Most recently, this fleeting feeling was a roaring wind which felt like it came from the heavens themselves. I had just prayed Isha in the nearly 500 year old Baščaršija Mosque and sat down next to my friends, my feet resting on the cool limestone, in quiet dhikr. Suddenly, the leaves rustled over us noisily and you could hear the wind in all its might, everything moved in that second. We looked up, not sure at what. Heavens? But the winds left as quickly as they arrived.

Even when the heart is not at rest, and emotions are high, there is solace.

What is it that you seek?

Solo date idea: this week, find something that fills your cup.

Happy last ten nights of Ramadan, may you find what you are seeking.

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Love,

Aaisha

I remember reading a piece in high school, and I’m not sure I fully understood it then but I kept a cutout of the newspaper in my journal. It read “People come, people go.” Humor becomes a coping mechanism, or an angry text, or a long shower spent transfixed on a block of tiles as your mind races through the what-ifs. You make a sad playlist or set yourself a phone reminder marking the day, the afternoon, a quiet anniversary for the moment. It goes on and on. Or you write this. Despite your own words feeling like the stranger you’ve become to yourself. Warped by emotion, you act out. Now, I’m sitting in bed, writing to you. To you, to me.

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When all else fails, we make art.

The directors of these two movies were once married. Sofia Coppola's "Lost in Translation (2003)" was made to tell her side of the relationship and how he always had to work.

10 years later, Spike Jonze made "Her (2013)" which represents what it was like for him, after the two divorced.

The video shows parallel scenes between the two movies.

Source

You feel deeply, wrap your feet in colored blankets and everything feels a little easier. Your mind has already replayed the words to / ♪ All Night - Men I Trust / before it reaches 0:25. And although people won’t always be there when you are needing- / ♪ Needin’ - Tokyo Tea Room /

Everything feels a little easier.

/ ♪ Threes - Uly /

This week, write about one thing you cherish. One thing that keeps you going.

I hope you keep going.

Solo date idea:

Go to the plant shop or the flower market. And pick out one thing you can nurture over the next week or year. Avoid buying a premade bouquet, take your time, pick up a stem, put it down, pick it back up anyway.

Love,

Aaisha

“Check in with yourself.”

“I find myself writing only when I feel heavy. From now on, I’ll write about the little things, the things we overlook. I’ll write the way 9 year old Aaisha wrote.

Today, I went to the park. Saw a cool leaf.”

Which brings me to my current state. How do you come back to regular life after a trip?

Disconnect before reconnecting. Binge watch One Day, twice, back to back. Have a large pizza topped with mushroom and pina. Go to Emily’s jazz & journaling in McCarren’s Parkhouse. I always reach for a comfort show or a comfort meal to come back to my city.

The second step is then trying to find a remnant of the trip locally. I went on a solo trip to Colombia between jobs a few years ago and came back on the hunt for pandebono and agua panela. I finally found a place in Queens that scratched the itch in the bottomless pit that is my stomach.

Find your friends or mom or partner and snuggle. That’s it. No notes.

Keep moving. I like to ease back into it with a yoga class and lots of walking. I walk to all my favorite corners of the city, almost to make sure nothing has changed while I was gone. Coffee shop still making my latte. Check. Sunny’s still selling petite bouquets. Yes. Sunset over park. Mhm.

I am reacclimating. Haven’t fully processed my emotions from the past trip but also not rushing to. In the peak hours of jetlag, catch the sunrise, clean the apartment, buy flowers from the morning market. I am pacing myself. For now, I am writing about things that feel light, eating jerk chicken and candied yams, binge-watching One Day.

A prompt from Emily’s journaling class was reading a poem by Charles Harper Webb, “How to Live”, and then writing your version of it. Excerpt below.

Eat lots of steak and salmon and Thai curry.

Kick-box three days a week. Stay strong and lean.

Play guitar in a rock band.

Read Dostoyevsky, Whitman, Kafka, Shakespeare, Twain.

Collect Uncle Scrooge comics.

Love freely. Treat ex-partners as kindly as you can. Wish them as well as you're able.

Snorkel with moray eels and yellow tangs.

For today’s prompt:

I invite you to write your “How to Live.”

Solo date idea: Find a workshop or community near you, meet new people. If you’re in the New York area, here are a few accounts to follow on instagram:

@journalingclasses

@artgurl__

@happymedium

@apstudiobk

@storytellnyc

@reading_rhythms

@nycdrawingroom

@asalaromas

Song I listened to while writing today’s prompt here. Shuffled to this.

Gracias mis amores and Shaban Mubarak,

Aaisha

It’s the first law of motion, inertia is the tendency of objects in motion to stay in motion and objects at rest to stay at rest, unless a force causes its speed or direction to change.

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Note a few things:

i. force may be internal/external, a stimuli 

ii. this force impacts either speed or direction or both.

a. speed - it can be a catalyst or cause you to pump the brakes

b. direction - it can shift your perspective

In Newton’s study, we learn there is indeed capacity for change. What keeps some people away from change then, assuming consistency in neuro/physical health?

The mind.

It’s one person’s conviction in unchanging permanence versus another’s belief in the transformative nature of everything. It’s the unsettling feeling you can’t get rid of when you continue as is. The realist side of me understands change isn’t always positive and yet somehow something we cannot escape - for better or for worse.

“l've observed two types of people: those resistant to change, sticking to the idea that people dont change; and those who not only accept change but actively seek constant personal development”, Aziya writes.

Believing you are not capable of change, overall or about one particular thing, is the narrative you tell yourself. Deeply held beliefs subconsciously influence people's behavior. Assess why you hold this belief. Core beliefs are resistant to change, even in the face of competing evidence.

What is one long-held belief you keep about yourself?

Example: I am not a good runner.

Define good. Think about what you have done so far in trying to be “good”, if anything. Challenge it. Can you start with 30 min walks everyday?

Solo date idea:

I promised last week we’d pick up where we left off with our feelings. As a refresher, we identified where we feel each negative emotion in our body. This week, pick one of these emotions and set aside 15 mins to dive deeper into it.

Where do you feel this emotion?

What color is it?

How much space does it take?

Does it move or stay in place?

Close your eyes and visualize the emotion in your body.

Now, I do this in my workshops, but sharing a teaser here:

Write down how that felt and where you felt it. Try to reach it somatically, whatever feels good for your body. Some examples:

• Block in stomach - massage it.

• Tightness in hips or limbs - stretch.

• Heart feels heavy - breathe in 4, out for 6. Repeat at least four times.

Let me know how it goes.

Aaisha

An alert popped up on my phone.

“Breaking News” 3:08 pm.

And later I passed by this cafe sign (great food), that felt dystopian as I received another one:

“Breaking News” 4:36 pm.

My social media feed is pictures of brutalized bodies of Gazan children next to ads for a bright blue fleece jacket. Now every time a notification on my phone pops up, it is accompanied with a bout of anxiousness. I am learning how to deal with these changes in emotion, how to sustain hope amidst feelings of lowness. I am leaning into the discomfort.

A grad school professor said labeling these emotions helps regulate them. Understanding what these emotions look and feel like is the first step in its identification. By now, in life, you’ve probably heard of the seven deadly sins. Probably experienced some of each. So let’s start there. We are going to see how that looks in our body.

Today’s prompt will span the seven days of the week ahead:

Think about the seven deadly sins, and any you choose to add; identify where you feel each emotion.

Gluttony - e.g. stomach

Pride -

Greed -

Lust -

Sloth -

Envy -

Wrath -

Bonus: Emotion X [e.g. anxiety] -

Now that you have identified where you feel each emotion, describing the feeling. If you said gluttony forms in your stomach, does it feel like a block or a tingle?

For this week, watch out for when these feelings appear. Pay attention to which emotion came up the most.

We’ll pick up where we left off next week.

Solo date idea:

Disconnect. Go to a park, leave your phone at home. If you must hold something, hold a pencil and a notebook but avoid writing. Just be. If you prefer to be indoors, lay in bed for a moment and just be. Stare at the wall if you want.

The idea is to let your mind rest, let your subconcious do the talking. When we distract it with reading, listening to music with lyrics, mindless TV or simply doing something - we are not recharging ourselves to take on the next task. Try to do this 10 mins everyday after you close your laptop for the day. This is your separation between your job and the rest of your life.

Favorite park in the city: Elizabeth Street Garden

Cafe of the week: The Elk, Mott st location

In community,

Aaisha