A Lover of Humanity 

Sunday after Thanksgiving, 2000. My last bellman shift at the hotel in Del Mar.

I had about $200 in fives and ones in my pocket, and everything I owned already packed in the back of my pickup truck.

I said goodbye to my colleagues, some of whom were my best friends, got in my truck, and headed north.

Two months previously, my father had died of AIDS, and it shifted my entire world focus. I was no longer interested in riding the perfect wave, drinking the perfect beer, or watching the perfect jump shot on TV.

I wanted more. From my environment. From my friends. From my community. From my career. From myself.

A day later, I arrived in the Bay Area, and I've been here ever since.

Twenty years!

Twenty years as a teacher, a learner, a writer, a reader, a rider of public of transportation, a speaker, a political activist, a friend, a trusted colleague, a father, a musician, a community member, an urban serendipitist, a coach, a facilitator, a leader, a cultivator, an architect, a listener, a thinker, a supporter, an advocate, a lover of humanity.

I've built a career on connecting with myself and connecting with other people. Developing meaningful relationships. Staying curious. Centering trust and empathy, compassion and belonging.

Doing what I know is right. For me and for others.

A Devolving Path of Cognitive Squalor

Back before I knew what mattered to me – what was worth giving my intellectual, spiritual, and psychological bandwidth to – I would get into all kinds of arguments about all kinds of things that didn't matter.

What type of music was better than another type of music, which sports teams were better than other sports teams, which shoe brands were better than other shoe brands, which TV shows you should and shouldn't watch, and other meaninglessness.

Seriously. For like twenty-five years. Bizarre, huh?

To think of the missed opportunities for self-development, for self-actualization, for building relevant relationships, for making impact.

Man, what a waste.

It's all good though. I don't do that shit anymore. Doesn't interest me.

It's easy now to recognize when something or someone or some situation is leading me down a devolving path of cognitive squalor.

And, believe me, there's a lot out there to tempt me – some intentionally, some unknowingly.

All kinds of ideas and people and other kinds of assorted nonsense all vying for my attention.

I used to be tempted, but now, not so much. I'm not saying I'm perfect. Or that I'm better than you.

I am saying that I'm better than I used to be. And I invite you to be better than you used to be too.

You'd be better off. And so would we.

If More People Were More Mindful

I suspect if more people practiced mindfulness there would be less racism.

If more people were in touch with who they are, what they believe, what they care about, and how they want to be in the world. . .

If more people learned to sit still for thirty minutes or twenty minutes or ten minutes or five minutes or one minute focusing on their breath. . .

If more people realized they don't actually have strong opinions on all the things they think they have strong opinions about. . .

If more people intentionally cultivated an inner state of calmness and equanimity. . .

If more people responded instead of reacted. . .

If more people came from a place of stillness and caused less harm with their words and behaviors and interactions with other people. . .

If more people were self-actualized and inherently valued and practiced empathy and compassion. . .

If more people were more certain about what and where and to whom they belong and were more able to help foster and build communities of belonging for others. . .

If more people were not attached to desires and emotions and political identities and circumstances and their ego and the status quo. . .

If more people learned the difference between observation and judgment. . .

If more people were more mindful. . .

Just Not Feeling It

I'm definitely feeling LinkedIn burnout.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the impact The Social Dilemma had on me.

After watching the film, I immediately deleted my Twitter account, and logged out of and un-bookmarked Facebook and Instagram. I haven't been on either since, with no urge to return.

LinkedIn is different. I understand and appreciate the value of LinkedIn to my professional life. I get many new speaking, consulting, and contract opportunities specifically by being active and relevant on LinkedIn.

Especially in the last twelve months or so.

People see what I write, how I think, why I do what I do; they're intrigued; they reach out; we have a conversation; and a collaboration happens.

In other words, LinkedIn is very different from other social media channels. It's not something I can drop as easily.

And, lately I'm finding myself not wanting to be here.

Normally, I look forward to sharing ideas and perspectives, reading what others have to say, and engaging in discussions.

But lately I'm just not feeling it.

That said, I have enough experience to remember that everything is impermanent (yes, everything).

This feeling of burnout will not last forever. Something or someone will spark something somewhere to shift the momentum.

When will that be? Don't know yet.

Conflating Dialogue with Debate

Part of the challenge of talking about difficult topics like systemic racism and racial injustice and White supremacy and other uncomfortable truths is that we conflate dialogue with debate.

We often don't make our intentions clear – to ourselves or others.

When we debate, we try to win the argument, prove a point, establish our rightness and/or our righteousness.

When we dialogue, on the other hand, we aim to introduce perspectives into a conversation, and we invite others to share their views.

In a dialogue, we can still challenge those views, and we can still offer countering perspectives, but we are genuinely interested in learning from the other person, from the interaction, and from the experience of having a dialogue.

We often go into debate mode because we are insecure, or because we lack fluency, or because we're not really interested in the topic, or because we're really interested in the topic.

It's perfectly fine to go into debate mode if in fact we actually intend to go into debate mode.

We just have to know that we will get a different outcome in debate mode than we will get in dialogue mode.

One is not right and the other wrong. One is not better than the other.

We just need to pay more attention to the difference.

Just Because 

Hey LinkedIn,

Just because you don't know how and don't want to engage in difficult conversations about racial injustice doesn't mean it's okay for you to peace out of conversations about racial injustice.

Just because you lack cultural and racial fluency doesn't mean it's okay for you to be culturally and racially biased and prejudiced and ignorant.

Just because you don't understand and can't relate to the lived experiences of people with different backgrounds than you doesn't mean their experiences are any less valid than yours.

Just because someone does or says or thinks something different than what you do, say, or think doesn't make their actions, words, and thoughts wrong.

Just because you choose to use your power and privilege and social capital to continue marginalizing people and groups who are already marginalized doesn't mean we have to respect or cater to you.

Just because you have laws and policies that tell us we should do this and we shouldn't do that doesn't mean those laws and policies are fair and equitable.

Just because you said something was true doesn't mean we believe you.

Just because you are in power now doesn't mean you will always be in power.

Just because you think we will forget how you treated us doesn't mean we won't remember.

I Don’t Really Have an Opinion About That

I suspect the vast majority of arguments would disappear if we realized that we don't actually care about the things we claim to care so much about.

I don't know if it's human nature, or societal pressure, or how we're brought up, or what we're taught in school, or insecurity, or stress, or lack of self-actualization, or carelessness, or immaturity, or ego, or what. .

But it seems like so many of us feel the need to have an opinion on just about everything there is to have an opinion about.

We seem to be averse to responding with:

"I don't know" or

"I don't really have an opinion about that" or

"Hmmm. . ." or

"That's really interesting; please tell me more."

Or any number of non-committal, non-combative, non-egotistical, non-expert, non-aggressive, non-partisan, non-political, non-biased responses that we could choose.

But don't.

Instead we choose to not only have an opinion on just about everything. We have a LOUD, BOISTEROUS, DISMISSIVE, ZERO SUM GAME, CANCELING, SELF-RIGHTEOUS, BULLYING OPINION ON JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING.

It doesn't have to be that way. We just choose to make it that way – individually and collectively.

All this said, I don't really have that strong of an opinion about it.

Just something I've been thinking about a lot, and I thought I'd share.

The Social Dilemma

I recently watched The Social Dilemma on Netflix. It's a dystopian take on how social media is destroying us – individually and collectively.

The addiction, the polarization, the echo chambers, the disconnection.

I took all social media apps off my phone a while ago – including LinkedIn.

I'm not active on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, but still found myself mindlessly scrolling much more often than I would like to (and like to admit).

But the way this film broke it down kind of scared the shit out of me.

Immediately after watching it, I deleted my Twitter account. I temporarily disabled my Instagram, and logged out of Facebook – actions that time will tell if they are non-committal or a step in the right direction.

Now I'm left with LinkedIn.

I like LinkedIn. A place to share my ideas, to stay relevant, to make connections, to learn from others, to be inspired, to get leads and clients.

But now, I don't know, I'm not feeling it. I've told myself that LinkedIn isn't Twitter or Facebook or Instagram – that it's somehow different, better.

Is it though? The vitriol, the devolution of conversation, the censoring of content and ideas.

Do I stay to maintain a professional presence? Or do I stay because I'm addicted?

Should I stay or should I go? A social dilemma for sure.

Don’t Make Me Say or Do Something Racist

I'm not racist, but I'm going to sign this executive order that says it's racist to say that people who are racist are racist.

I'm not racist, but I'm going to invalidate your lived experience as a Black person because I've had a different lived experience as a White person.

I'm not racist, but why'd you get so upset just because I touched your hair?

I'm not racist, but, wow, you are so articulate.

I'm not racist, but talking about systemic racism is just too divisive.

I'm not racist, but I just don't think you'd be a good fit for the role.

I'm not racist, but why do Oprah and LeBron James and other wealthy Black people keep talking about racism?

I'm not racist, but you're really starting to make me feel uncomfortable with all this talk about racism.

I'm not racist, but if Black people just tried harder they would be better off.

I'm not racist, but I've never heard of this redlining thing you keep talking about.

I'm not racist, but how could we live in a racist society when we had a Black president?

I'm not racist, but we're going to remove you from our platform for your antiracist views but keep the racist people who regularly spout racist views.

I'm not racist, but if you keep talking about racism, you might make me say or do something racist.

My Mom the Great Pancake Chef

About ten years ago a friend from middle school reconnected with me on social media.

We weren't close, and to be candid, I barely remembered him.

In his first message, he said something like, "I still remember your mom's great cooking when I spent the night in seventh grade."

Seriously? My mom's great cooking? The same mom whose chicken tasted like a chewy rubber dog toy? The same mom who burned hard boiled eggs by letting all the water evaporate? The same mom who preferred Boston Market to making a Thanksgiving dinner?

He went on: "At first I thought it was weird that she made pancakes for dinner, but they were so delicious it didn't matter."

Yes! My mom did make delicious pancakes. And we often did have them for dinner. Clearly we had them for dinner when he came over.

So what's the point of this story? Not sure.

Maybe it's: "Before you dismiss someone let them show you what they're good at."

Or maybe it's: "People may have different views on the same thing and that's okay."

Or maybe it's: "There's danger in a single story."

Or maybe it's: "Eat whatever you want for dinner if it tastes good."

Or maybe it's: "Don't judge" or "Stay positive" or "Be open-minded."

Seems like there are all sorts of potential takeaways. I'm okay with whatever your takeaway is.

I Wonder What Cameron Thinks

I was a senior in high school and I was looking forward to going to prom.

My dad was teasing me about it, saying there was much more to look forward to than going to a dance in a rented tuxedo.

At age seventeen, I disagreed.

He asked who I was going with, and I said Cameron.

He got excited for a second, and asked if Cameron was a girl or a boy.

I said she was a girl, and his brief happiness turned to a mini frown. "How cliché," he said.

He was joking of course. Sort of.

Only three years previously he told me he was gay. I still wasn't comfortable having a gay dad, although I had gotten used to it.

Thankfully, he lived in San Francisco, and none of my friends (or my prom date) ever met him because we all lived in San Diego.

I went to prom with Cameron. It was uneventful. Dad was right. Like he often was. There was much more in life to look forward to.

Like the ten years after prom that I got to spend with my dad before he died of AIDS on September 29, 2000.

For those counting, that was twenty years a few months ago.

So much of my world view was shaped in those ten years – mostly unbeknownst to me at the time.

I lost touch with Cameron. I have no idea what she's doing now or where she lives. It might be cool to reach out and tell her this story.

I wonder what she'd think.

A Big Difference Between Detachment and Attachment

One of the most powerful recurring realizations I have is remembering that I'm not attached to my views.

Remembering that in any given situation or conversation I have the autonomy to respond in a manner that I choose.

Remembering that I don't have to take it personally if someone disagrees with me or the way I've expressed my perspective.

Remembering that just because someone has chosen to use aggressive language or bullying tactics or be dismissive of me and/or my views that I don't have to match their style or methods or tone.

Remembering that who I am is not the same thing as what I say, think, or do .

Remembering that my goal is not to win an argument or convince someone to change their mind but rather to offer a unique perspective for people to consider if they choose.

Remembering that there's a big difference between responding and reacting, between curiosity and expertise, between empathy and judgment, between equanimity and agitation, between love and fear.

Between self-actualization and insecurity, between confidence and arrogance, between humility and submissiveness.

Between detachment and attachment.

Yeah, sometimes I forget all that. But I try to remember it all as much as possible.

When I do, I get better results.

If We Lived in an Equitable World

Maybe I shouldn't see fighting for equity as a virtue because if we lived in an equitable world, I wouldn't exist.

If we lived in an equitable world, my dad would have come out as gay at thirteen.

If we lived an equitable world, he would not have tried to commit suicide because he couldn't express his sexuality.

If we lived in an equitable world, he would not have married a woman because he was "supposed" to.

If we lived in an equitable world, my gay dad and straight mom would not have had a baby when my gay dad didn't want to.

If we lived in an equitable world, gay men would not have been pathologized, marginalized, and criminalized.

If we lived in an equitable world, AIDS would not have been politicized and stigmatized.

If we lived in an equitable world, people with AIDS would not have been demonized and disenfranchised.

If we lived in an equitable world, people with social and economic capital, power, and influence would treat others with compassion and respect.

If we lived in an equitable world, there would have been more urgency and political will to address the AIDS crisis.

If we lived in an equitable world, my dad might not have died of AIDS.

But we don't live in an equitable world, so I will continue to fight for equity.

And I will continue to see it as a virtue.

Sharing Our Virtues with Candor and Consistency

In this post I am going to virtue signal.

I'm going to signal to you the values and principles I strive to consistently practice.

I'm doing it for three reasons.

1. To be transparent; so you understand the lens through which I view my work and the world.

2. To hold myself publicly accountable; feel free to challenge me, support me, or otherwise engage with me however you'd like.

3. To introduce a new perspective; does virtue signaling have to be bad?

Here are my virtues. It's not exhaustive but it's decently comprehensive.

⇥ Equity – working to level the playing field.

⇥ Vulnerability – modeling authenticity and humility.

⇥ Equanimity – staying calm and centered.

⇥ Empathy – leading as a default disposition.

⇥ Curiosity – wondering why, how, what.

⇥ Detachment – decoupling my views from who I am.

Am I perfect? No. Am I hypocritical? Sometimes. Do my virtues conflict with each other? Often. Am I okay with all of that? Absolutely.

We use the term virtue signaling as an insult, to imply that what someone "signals" is not representative of their true "virtue."

Perhaps if more people knew, embodied, and shared their virtues with candor and consistency, there would be no need to accuse anyone of virtue signaling.

Instead we could be inspired to be better people.

Whatever You Do, Do Not Scratch That Itch

Try this at home.

Sit in a chair reading a book. Other than your eyes moving across the page, and your fingers flipping the pages, sit perfectly still.

In addition to consuming the words, notice your breathing. Also, notice any discomfort in your body – the slight pressure on your crossed ankles, soreness in your hip, an itch on your forehead.

Just notice your body sensations.

But whatever you do, do not attend to them. Do not uncross your ankles. Do not shift your body in the chair. Do not scratch your itch.

Continue to read, concentrating on the book.

Continue to notice the itch, the sore ankles or hips. Notice if it's difficult or easy to not attend to the itch or the soreness.

Notice if it's not really as agonizing as you thought it would be. Notice when it goes away on its own.

As you continue to read, notice your joy when the itch goes away on its own, when the sore hip or ankles are no longer uncomfortable.

Now apply this patient, non-reactive approach to conversations and interactions with your colleagues and clients and customers and family members and social media trolls and people with whom you disagree.

Notice how it changes your entire world view. Notice that you have a choice of how to – or whether to – respond to anyone or anything.

Every single time.

A Poor Facsimile of Wisdom

Most people are not wise. This is not a judgment or an assessment or a reaction to any recent interaction.

It's an observation.

Our lack of wisdom shines when we are put – or when we put ourselves – in circumstances where we are expected to say something profound or clever or inspiring.

But because we have not spent the time over the years to explore and truly understand who we are and what we believe in and how we want to be in the world, we say and do and think things that are not wise.

Things that are stupid or inaccurate or harmful or superfluous.

Because we haven't cultivated equanimity and compassion and empathy, our minds are filled with inauthentic fluff, which leads to inauthentic fluff leaping from our tongues.

This is the norm, the default, what we have come to expect from our friends, our colleagues, our leaders, our celebrities – ourselves.

Because we lack wisdom we are unable to recognize that what passes for wisdom is anything but.

And we are left with a poor facsimile of wisdom that takes us farther and farther away from truth and enlightenment.

Wonder if Black People Will Ever Stop Talking About Race

It doesn't surprise me that Linkedin is censoring, removing, and otherwise algorithmically hijacking Black people's content on this platform.

White people have been doing this type of thing since––well, since they invented "White" people.

It goes like this––>

1. Create a system that suppresses, marginalizes, disenfranchises, and dehumanizes Black people.

2. Wonder why Black people are angry about it.

3. Fight like hell to keep the system in place.

4. Get really angry when Black people make a tiny bit of progress.

5. When Black people make progress, gaslight them, say everything is equal now, wonder why they're still complaining.

6. Get even angrier when Black people point out that racism is still rampant.

7. Find new ways to assert White supremacy and uphold the status quo.

8. Continue to control the system to suppress, marginalize, disenfranchise, and dehumanize Black people.

9. Ride out the next wave of protest, unrest, and claims of social injustice and racial inequity.

10. Wonder if Black people will ever stop talking about race.

It's the same pattern:

Slavery. Jim Crow. Lynching. Redlining. Pay inequity. Mass incarceration. Crack. Subprime lending. Police murders.

And, of course, no matter what, always say you're not racist.

The Vast Dynamism of the Human Condition 

June 25, 1998. Leave Yuma at midnight. Head north along the Colorado.

1986 Mazda B2200 pickup with a shell. Carpet kit with a comforter, bag of clothes, guitar.

Two years out of college. Philosophy degree. Deep desire to explore – myself and the country.

Drive four months. 25,000 miles.

47 states.

The Salmon River in Idaho. Mosquitos the size of woodpeckers in Minnesota. Jazz in the Village. Body surfing in the Outer Banks of Carolina.

Honky-tonking in Nashville. Too much rum on Bourbon Street. Singing with hundreds of new friends at a piano bar in San Antonio. Surreal sunsets in Arches, Utah.

The I-25 freeway where the house where I was born used to be in Albuquerque.

The freedom. The curiosity. The growth. The experience. The learning. The people. The equanimity. The beauty. The stories. The belonging.

The vast dynamism of the human condition.

Now, a mortgage, two cars, two kids, property taxes, a career, responsibility, sore joints, thinning hair, financial security, infinite wisdom and maturity.

All the mod cons. All the middle class trappings.

And the same spirit. The same approach. Friendships. Relationships. Self-actualization. Focus. Freedom from choice. Empathy. Curiosity. Belonging.

The vast dynamism of the human condition. Still.

Now from my basement.

Absorbing the Criticism 

It's important for White people newly entering into the racial justice conversation to remember that you will be criticized.

People will doubt your sincerity, challenge your credentials, question your authenticity, be suspicious of your commitment, dispute your fluency.

They will level ad hominem attacks against you. They will try to cancel you. They will gaslight you. They will be mean and nasty and aggressive and malicious.

People are going to accuse you of all sorts of things. They'll say you're engaging in performative allyship and virtue signaling.

They'll say you don't know what you're talking about, you shouldn't be doing this work, you should shut up and listen, that you can't be part of the solution to a problem that your people created.

They'll bully you and mock you and find quotes to support their perspective.

And, if you're committed, you will absorb all of it. You will consider what's constructive, discard what's not, look up what you don't know, engage in conversations with those who are interested in engaging in conversations.

You will continue to listen and learn and grow and discover who you are, how you can best contribute, and what you need to keep doing to get better.

What you won't do is quit because someone said something mean or untrue about you.

And

"The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.”

– F. Scott Fitzgerald

It's possible to benefit from White privilege and to have grown up poor.

It's possible to have a Black best friend/partner/sibling/parent/child and to be a racist.

It's possible for Black people to be wealthy and successful and to experience racism.

It's possible to understand that some Black people murdered by police were not perfect citizens and to believe that imperfect citizenry never justifies murder.

It's possible to have not experienced marginalization, trauma, racism, oppression, and disenfranchisement and to appreciate that others have and do experience it all every day.

It's possible to value personal responsibility and to appreciate that we're not all starting on a level playing field.

It's possible to be critical and to be compassionate.

It's possible to have a point of view and to listen to others' opinions.

It's possible to do your thing and to know that your norm is not the norm.

It's possible to change and to be authentic.

It's possible to be White and to be antiracist.

It's possible to contribute to a more just and equitable world and retain the ability to function.