cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
When life tosses you an unexpected moment, you have a few options. Examine your possibilities, jump ship, or quickly come up with a plan and say yes without dwelling on the potential risks. I tend to live my life aligned with the last one. My good friend Alyssa and I had talked about getting away…
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When I was 17, our church hosted a photographer for family photos to update the church directory. My mom’s handwriting held our family’s date and time on the kitchen calendar. My mom told me that pictures would be taken on Thursday afternoon and that I needed to be ready to go. I made sure to…
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She is all things fierce and has a roar that protects and yells “no” to hatred, oppression, racism, and exploitation. She is bold and tenacious, and justice is woven into her core being. She is profoundly strong and holds the readiness to flip a table that is not reflective of communal flourishing. Though she and…
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I grew up with the names “it,” “thing,” and occasionally “numb nuts.” These gruesome names marked me while simultaneously dehumanizing me within my home. I was given an American name when I was adopted from my orphanage to the U.S. I heard this name used mostly outside of my home by teachers and friends. There…
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When I was growing up, basements were a place to put things that no longer had value. Basements were the place in homes where you spent the least amount of time. They became a container for keeping stuff out of sight and out of mind. The things which once held value would be forgotten and…
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I am not ready to let go. The tears and memories still come to the surface, far too quickly, and for this I hold immense gratitude. I am still holding the glorious faces, stories, words, and brilliant questions of those who went through our institute. The beautiful work was done in partnership and communion alongside…
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I am from a country of more than a billion people From Indian and Pakistani roots I am from a place of many hands and caregivers but no one to call Mom and Dad I am from spices, colorful saris, traditions focused on light From zesty smells of turmeric, ginger, and cardamom I am from…
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I was first a daughter who was born to a beautiful young mother near Sarita Vihar, India. My First Mother loved me deeply, and she called me hers. I was then an Orphan, as I was unjustly separated from her arms. I never knew my First Father’s face or arms, and for that I grieve.…
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“Crown or no crown, you’re still a queen to me.” I read these bold, black words in a small card with a picture of a silver glitter crown on the cover. My friend, Desire—my coworker and fellow sorority sister—left this card for me at our work. It was a sweet gift: we had just learned…
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To my Love during this holiday season, You look down at your belly and place your hand gently on the slight natural curve. You wonder, What happened? What did I do? Why is there no baby inside? You breathe a deep sigh, which leads to a release of salty water welling up in your eyes,…
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