A friend asked me the other day how my blog was going, and if I had penned any of my thoughts lately. I told her that it was going well, but that I hadn't written in it in about a month. She responded with a light laugh, as if to say that she understood. Life is busy. And aren't we all just trying to keep up? A true point—yes, but I expressed that this was quite different. I'm really just writing to write, I said to her. It's not about churning out material to keep an engaged audience, nor leaning into what I think my readers want. But about being honest with writing what I'm processing as I'm processing it. It's for me, I said.
In the past, this friend and I have come to each other for entrepreneurial advice and pep talks. How do I monetize x, y and z. How do I grow this to get to that. It felt out of the norm to voice that my mind wasn't actually focused on that. That I—instead of always trying to get somewhere—was leaning into the state of simply being.
The conversation has been making me think a lot about what has shifted for me. Because my life wasn't always like this.
As a child I grew up thinking that it was always about the 'A.' If I got the good grades in school, then that would mean success. As if that weren't enough, as a first-gen Asian child, getting good grades also meant honoring my elders, an ode to how much they sacrificed for me to be in a position with access to opportunity. Unbeknownst to me at the time, these experiences would inform how I chose to move in my post-school, adult life.
As someone who has always had big dreams, I had long understood that dreams were meant to be achieved. So to get there, to make it a reality, I needed to push myself as hard as I could. Sleep less. Work more. Meet the deadlines (even the arbitrary ones). Do it in super human speed. Level up on fumes. But did I get there? What did I even learn?
From birth, we come into this world with open eyes, an open heart. We are creative, deeply feeling, and very clear of what we want and what we don't want. We enter school, and we are evaluated based on how much we share with others, how well we follow directions (or some would argue, obedience) and our ability to get to the answer—the one that we are told is the right one. And so we learn, that if we do this, then we get this. If we don't do this, then we don't get that. This transactional relationship that we have developed with learning leaves no room for the mind to explore outside the lines.
I see this with Lily today, who is the most deeply feeling and creative little creature that I know (if you follow me on Instagram, you know!). I look at how she's learning about the world in school. She knows that if you "make the wrong choice," you sit out at recess. She knows that if you demonstrate good behavior that day, you get a smiley face on your chart. And while it makes sense for a child to learn the core concepts of being a good human being in school, it is becoming so clear to me that they are being conditioned to comply. Learning to reject rest, and learning to always do. Now I have to share that her school isn't the problem. It's the fact that the system hasn't evolved, and we've become comfortable with that. And it makes me wonder—with concern, to be ever so honest—how the status quo is shaping her understanding of the world. How it's shaping her ability to dream, to think of possibilities, to continuously liberate herself. To understand that it's not *just* about getting to the right answer—but to feel empowered to ask the other questions. The ones that might not be in Lesson I, Module II of the curriculum. The ones that release a softness within you, that empowers you to feel comfortable with the art of exploring. The ones that over time, unlocks the unconscious and reveals your undiscovered self.
It has taken me my whole life to get to that undiscovered self. The Adrianne today takes a nap in the middle of the work day if her body is telling her that it needs it. She is not quick to make actionable steps about her dreams—but rather sits with it, curious to see what emerges. She has a deep relationship with her values, and knows that it is the sounded guide in life that she has. She has become comfortable sitting with her softness—and realizes that being soft is sometimes the most radical (and most difficult) thing that we, as humans living in a broken system, can do. She has become spiritual, understanding that social change is indeed spiritual. She has built systems of hope that has woken her up to power and possibility. She just wishes that she had built them earlier.
It has never been more clear to me that it's my number one responsibility to help Lily and Violet, particularly as Brown girls, understand how to move through the world with abundance, intention and care. To help them understand that they're not here in this world to ask for crumbs—they're here to live a life of abundance. And if this is part of my legacy, to set the generational conditions for them to thrive, it requires a constant examination of my own self, and my own inner darkness so that I can be the light that I seek. So that I can continue to commit to a life practice that honors the values that I hope to instill in them. The life practice that I was born to have, and was always meant to keep.
It is a beautiful thing to realize that perhaps all this time your softness was your strength. Perhaps it is all that we ever needed.
Beautifully said! "All we need is rest!"