This Holiday Season, Sharing Stories That Unite Us

I’m sitting in a warm cafe not far from an ice cold lake. The sun is white like winter, and the aroma of roasted coffee beans fills the air. I’m putting the finishing touches on some thoughts about (my idea of ) the best kind of holiday gift exchange. 

Elderly man sits with back to camera in open air cafe setting wearing brown ribbed sweater and leaning on left elbow. Coffee cup on table to his right.

Just as I was thinking about this, something else mingled with the comfortable chaos of coffee house sounds.  The volume was turned up on an election-related ‘conversation’ just a few tables away. I threaded my fingers under my hair, discreetly stuffing them in my ears to maintain my own thoughts. But I couldn’t hear them anymore. Not over their conversation. So I simultaneously closed my eyes and rolled them, then sniffed a chuckle at the synchronicity of the moment.

We’ve already seen the national percentages that illustrate our nation’s ideological and issues-based divides. I’m not indifferent. I was reminded of that as I overheard the cafe chatter. I know you’re not indifferent either.

Beautifully set dinner table with colorful salad in large bowl atop lacy white table cloth, orange and brown napkins sitting on plates, with clear crystal drinking glasses.

But this holiday season, what if we turned the spotlight to family stories? Sharing family stories now may be more important than ever, a positive way to dial down the divisive atmosphere of politics stoked by the tense election season.

Think of your gatherings as opportunities for the best kind of gift exchange. It’s old school, it’s time tested and it’s enduring.

If you haven’t already, maybe now is the time to embrace ancient oral storytelling traditions. Maybe now is the time to share knowledge, culture, and ideas through speech, through song, and even through shared silence. Sharing family stories curates a family culture of curiosity and caring. Plus, family gatherings are rare occasions when multiple generations are sharing food, space, and time. What a gift! These moments are ideal for asking questions and building connections.

Elderly woman’s hands folded over a black and white checked cotton skirt.

Watch the eyes of grandparents light up when someone takes a genuine interest in their stories. Then watch them reverse age before your eyes as they travel through story to another time and place. Feel your own eyes illuminate when that grandparent asks about your life then listens with love.

What if we prepare ourselves to be focused on the stories that unite us?

  • Did you know … the currency grandpa used to purchase that land was eggs? 

  • Did you know … she had a gift for learning foreign languages?

  • Did you know … they took only two vacations in their lifetime?

  • Did you know … what games they played as kids? 

  • Did you know … the courage they’ve shown throughout their life?

This holiday season, we have a choice. We can lean into the opportunity to connect.  And we can reach across the table with curiosity through attention, patience and kindness.  

If we try it, maybe it’s a way to make the world a better place, starting right here, right now. It’s a form of ‘think globally, act locally.’

To me, a caring story exchange is the number one, best, favorite, ultimate gift exchange.

Four children outdoors near lake holding hands and jumping in air with hair flying, calm lake and setting sun in distance.

Seven Wishes

On Sunday, May 26th, it’s someone’s birthday. If you read my second book — the one about a special dog with a big dream —you know I’m talking about Bruno. Today he turns seven, in human years.

He asked me to let you know that on account of his seven years of life, he made seven wishes. Get this: They’re not for him.  He made the wishes for you. I know, soooo canine! 

  1. Take a walk today. If you can’t walk, sit outside. Just try to move your body in some way. And smell everything.

  2. Listen well. When someone speaks to you today, really listen. Look, be attentive, and listen like there is nothing else and no one else in the world. Tilt your head a little if you want.

  3. If you don’t understand someone today, get a little closer. Seek understanding. They’ll feel your sincerity. Maybe you can put your paw on their forearm.

  4. May your eyes to light up when you see your people coming. Whether they’ve been away for a minute or a month, let them know you love them by turning on the lights in your eyes. If you want to be like me, you can wiggle your hips too.

  5. Forgive someone. (Maybe it’s you. Maybe today is the day you’ll forgive yourself.) I start every day like it’s all brand new.

  6. If you don’t know what to do, just show up. Sit with someone. You don’t even need to speak. You can rest your chin on their shoulder. Or maybe they want to rest their chin on your shoulder.

  7. Fill your day with enthusiasm! For waking up! For your meal! For the doorbell! For the new person you meet! (Please don’t overwhelm the people like I sometimes do — I tend to spring up and down when I’m excited). But definitely bring your joy!

Abstract painting by Stephanie Himango

To celebrate Bruno, this year I decided to use some pages of the book and create something new: an abstract painting. This is it.

Enjoy your long weekend, have fun and please take care.

Meetup Imagined

I imagine the two of us meeting for coffee today at a medium-sized cafe that has a mix of open spaces and small nooks. There are dark painted walls, mismatched chairs and plenty of high mounted mirrors to reflect the great lighting that a designer caringly curated. Windows frame the rays from the sun, and the air is clean with spider plants and dieffenbachias.

The floors are concrete and there is dried paint splattered there. The cafe’s wooden tables are worn, well-loved and also for sale. (You spotted that detail as you eyed the grilled cheese being enjoyed by a person drinking tea.) I love how you’re so observant.

Maybe the space is lined with black and white portraits and colorful paintings in frames made from metal, wood and twine… cork, seashells and discarded rulers. These glimpses of lives well lived stretch high to the tin ceilings. There are people of all ages and backgrounds here, and we’re inspired by their sense of personal style and the way they love a great coffee house vibe. We exchange smiles with a passerby, and in that moment we notice the gentle vocals from the live one-person show.

As I imagine us meeting in this way — excited to be seeing you, a friend I so look forward to spending time with — I’d want to know how you are, what has been in your heart and on your mind lately and what has been lighting you up inside. I’d want to know about your latest adventures and your latest sticking points too. Maybe we could work through some of it together.

We’d talk about books, for sure. What you have read or listened to lately. Most of all, what you learned or found intriguing. Especially what astonished you.

I’d share what I’ve been reading too. I always have one paperback or hardcover book going along with at least one audio book. I read the book first thing every morning.  And I listen to audio books on almost every walk, car or elliptical ride, and often when I’m cleaning.  I’d share that with you, then we’d come back to the hard copies and what was underlined. I love hearing about what you underlined. And I also love sharing some of my underlined sections.

Perhaps I’ll share some underlined book sentences or short sections with you here until we can enjoy that coffee for real. And then maybe you can share yours back with me in the comments so others can benefit from your findings too. Or share them with me privately by replying to this email. 

As I would in person, I may or may not add context to the underlined parts. Sometimes things just need to sit a bit, sink in, just be there in your psyche. And it can be enough that we find something interesting in the moment we read it. Maybe the why of it will happen later. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter.

If it moves us, educates us, entertains us, expands our understanding of a subject or a person, I think it’s worthwhile. Such as these:

1.

“The trick to overcoming the paralysis of mental entrapment is to ignore the instinct to act immediately. Often the best way to deal with being mentally stuck is to do less.” 

Anatomy of a Breakthrough by Adam Alter, page 61

2.

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.” 

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, page xxiv

Wishing you a fabulously rich first day of May. May you find your way through every challenge and rise to meet it. Rise today. Then, really shine. Until next time.

The Thing About Clouds

I found a small open park near the water tower, spread my towel across the grass, pushed off my shoes and sat barefoot on the ground.  I wasn’t alone — it was me on that stretch of grass along with a number of people who also picked this place to watch the eclipse. People whooped and cheered and clapped and roared when the sun and moon and Earth aligned. There it was: Totality.

A little girl, about five years old, shouted to her mom that it was the best day ever and thanked her for bringing her to see this. I couldn’t help but turn around to make eye contact with the mom and flashed an expression of bursting heart eyes ready to fill with water and sparkles. They were three, a mom and her young son and daughter. The son had a blue-green cast on his arm and I wondered why. Years from now, I imagine those children recalling this memorable day with their mom.

At this place on Earth, it was cloudy, in that blotted gray sort of way. Everyone was here early. When the surroundings brightened, you could push on your paper glasses and faintly make out the moon and the sun juxtaposed in the shape of Pac-Man. Then the clouds concealed the show again.

I started to realize from their vantage point, the mom and her boy and girl could see the sun and moon reveal about a second before I could. One of the kids would squeal in delight: “I see it!” But I couldn’t see it and half wondered if they were declaring it in anticipation or in reality. Then “gleam!” there it was. It was like watching television on a delay — a strange real life latency period.

The thing about the clouds is they added an element of uncertainty. Will we see the big event? Or will it happen beyond the clouds? Will we get what we want? Or will we be denied? 

Throughout the lead-up to the time of totality, there was an ebb and flow of anticipation and witnessing. It felt like a sort of friction. In the unknowing, there was a buildup of energy.

A group of young men somewhere behind me at about 45 degrees provided free entertainment. They were jovial, and two of the more audible ones reminded me of the light and the dark in all of us. 

Totality was just moments away. Everyone had been there for at least an hour feeling the flood of adrenaline as the clouds collected then parted again and again. 

Just before the moment we’d all been waiting for, the clouds started to close again like a curtain of doom.

The seated man shouted: “No! No! No! Don’t do this to us! No! Don’t do it!” His voice was full with earnest pleading and maybe a glint of humor. “Come on! No!”

Eyes fixated and hopeful, I was laughing now. Other people were too. Our collective energy had to go somewhere. Was he right?

The man's friend, who was standing face skyward, answered without looking.  “There’s time! Have faith! You have to believe! There’s still time!” His message seemed to ricochet off the sun and moon and clouds before it hit his friend, and in the process all of us were reminded to keep faith too.

Just then the cloud curtain pulled back again and there was the diamond and the glistening, glorious show reminding us we are all one on this tiny little planet. 

Time really did disappear. Everyone with a view of the eclipse was awash in awe. The earth turned a form of sepia and the old time street lamps flickered on. Night? A blackbird flew to the contortionist tree in front of me, casting an unusual shadow across the lawn. This all looked like a storybook. A dream. Is this all a dream?

In that moment, I imagined the world as in Powers of Ten, the film created by Ray and Charles Eames (https://www.eamesoffice.com/the-work/powers-of-ten/). 

How tiny, how curious we must all look from out there, all these humans dotted around like Earth-bound constellations and star clusters wearing strange paper glasses and turning our faces to the sun. Like a field of sunflowers, humanity was united in a way, standing or sitting in awe of light and power and life.

Lifting their feet deliberately over the grass, the mother and her small kids were going home. As they passed by me, the mother said goodbye, (I’d taken a photo for them earlier) and the little girl turned around and looked at me, her hand still linked to her mom’s, and said, “I love the moon.”

Later I wondered, does she also love the sun? And how about the clouds?

Would the sun and the moon capture our imaginations in the same way, if not for some clouds?


*All photos are stock — not from the day of the eclipse*

The Power of Intention

In the distance ahead of me, I saw the silhouette of a man in a wheelchair. In that moment, my first thought was, “And what ever is my excuse for not getting out here?” 

At my walking pace, and against the significant headwind, I calculated I would soon catch up with this man. Suddenly I felt a familiar anti-social pang to turn around, just so I wouldn’t have to meet another person. But I caught myself, and I did an override. I told myself I would keep walking, and I would at very least exchange a greeting with this person.

Just before I was about to pass the man on his left, I said a bright “good morning!” He smiled a hearty “good morning" back. “Enjoy the sunshine!” I said. He nodded as he pumped his arms uninterrupted and said, “It’s lovely!” 

Walking backward now, I piped up with a grin, “What’s that accent I hear?” 

“London! I’m from London!” he shouted.

I thought to myself, “Oh how much richer life is when I don’t shy away from it. How much brighter life is when I live with intention.” 

Choosing Intention

For some time now, I’ve been living with anxiety. I know many of you can relate. When I realized I don’t like how it feels, one decision I made was to create an intention to engage. And that includes when I go for my walks at the Los Angeles River. Why? Because in the past, I didn’t have an intention. I would just walk.

If I felt open, I’d engage with others. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t interact at all. Some days, I was even blind to the presence of bird varieties seen there, and I’d avoid other humans. With each avoidance, I could feel my emotional constitution getting weaker. But I wanted to get stronger, not weaker. I’m not proud of it, but I would outright turn around if I saw a stranger in the distance up ahead, all in an effort to avoid engaging in any way. I was just totally self-absorbed in the tumult of my inner world.

If there was a gigantic column to hide behind, like we see in the movies, I’d have been behind it. Adrift, I was disregarding and undervaluing the gifts that life was continuing to offer up to me. To live without intention is like a boat without a rudder or a sunroom with the blinds drawn shut.

The man’s long thin arms pumped the wheels of his chair forward in my direction, and I could see his tall frame. One leg tapped the ground with each push, and his other leg was missing. We started walking together side by side, and we had a fascinating conversation.

As I listened, I learned. I realized he was not only kind, he was highly educated and wise too.  I learned when he came the United States, and about the prestigious institution where he studied out east, what he does for a living, what happened that resulted in the amputation of his leg, how he wishes he still had it, phantom pain and why English chocolate is superior (with a special place for Cadbury).

If I wasn’t intentional and if I had not chosen to get over my anxiety of interacting with the world, I would have missed out on meeting this delightful person. Even bringing intentionality to areas of life that are not “high stakes” is decidedly rewarding. 

It’s easier to imagine the cost if LeBron James approached a basketball game without intentionality. Or Lewis Hamilton racing at Formula 1 speeds without it. Or Suni Lee on the uneven parallel bars without clear intention.

Whether we apply intentionality to sport, or to interpersonal relationships or business, no one can argue that it’s unimportant. Maybe the benefits of intentionality won’t always hit the news, but they will always move the needle.

If you’ve read some of my past articles, you already know the ambiance of the Los Angeles River. It’s austere. Its color palette is cold. In many, places it’s dirty. I know what you’re thinking: “Sounds nice, Steph!” 

Occasionally, it’s also graced by a heron, a mallard, an egret. A runner, a biker, a stroller.

It’s relatively peaceful. A person can think there. It’s like walking on a blank canvas and simultaneously imagining your life’s next brush strokes. 

I’ve cried there, laughed there, listened to books and podcasts there. I’ve had Aha! moments and felt lost there. I’ve cursed my strained achilles there, and my knees have revolted. But I keep showing up to walk because I’m acutely aware of the fact that when I move my body, I move my mood.  But, my mood was dictating too much of my worldview. And it needed to change. 

Inside Job 

The longer I work on my inner world and the more I commit to focusing on my health through nutrition, movement, meditation, writing and learning, the steadier I get on the inside. My nervous system isn’t so reactive, and it’s less likely someone else can funk up my vibe. I’m now more interested in elevating their vibe. When I’m steady on the inside, I’m less afraid to engage with the world outside. In fact, I’m excited to affect it.

Now, when I feel that familiar trigger of fearing engagement, I’m committed to noticing it for what it is, then overriding it. It’s shown me how much life we miss out on when we don’t steady our internal world and engage with life. 

As our walk and talk continued, the man told me he has a prosthesis, and that it’s uncomfortable so he seldom wears it. He kept a steady cadence as he shared how he gets out to the river twice day to exercise his body and to get fresh air and sunlight. 

I asked if he had ever heard of a mobility device called the Alinker.  We had written and produced a story about it for Innovation Nation on CBS a few seasons back. Since the invention engineered and designed by Be Alink was new to him, the man asked more and more questions about it.  As I held up my phone, he shaded the sunlight to watch a portion of our story there on the path.

He asked me what I do and told me about a way my skillset could potentially be of value to his friend’s professional life. 

Then he gave me his number so I could send information about the Alinker. And now we’ve established a text conversation.

None of this would have happened if either one of us had shut the other person out and refused to engage.

Let the scoreboard show: Avoidance: 0  Engagement: 1.

And intentionality for the win.

The Dance of Action & Surrender

Waiting to meet a friend in the center of a plaza, I noticed a turtle pond. So I sat down on a ledge near the water to commune with the critters. One of them, perched on a rocky slope above the black velvety water, smiled at me. And in that moment, the other turtles vanished, and one little Turtle had my complete attention.

Turtle Smiles

I've seen your picture

Your name in lights above it

This is your big debut

It's like a dream come true

So won't you smile for the camera

I know they're gonna love it

The Steely Dan song lyrics floated through my mind. My brain produces intrusive soundtracks with random events or even a single word. Turtle smiled and catapulted my mind to Steely Dan. (Do you do this too?)

Meditative to observe, Turtle moseyed from the back of the rocky embankment toward the downward slope. Methodically, each agonizingly deliberate step moved Turtle closer to the water. No longer smiling at me, Turtle’s eyes were fixed on the destination. Turtle would grind out two steps, then rest. Then another. Then rest. Then three steps. Then rest. If you watched Turtle in short intervals, it would seem almost no progress was being made. But from my vantage point, I could see Turtle had covered some ground and was inching ever closer to a breakthrough. I wonder if Turtle knew it too.

Action + Surrender

I can’t know Turtle’s intentions, but I could draw on Turtle’s example to bring clarity to elements of psychological abstraction in my own mind. Turtle was the physical embodiment of the dance of action and surrender. I’ve been thinking about the dance of action and surrender a lot lately. Being mindful of them has made each of my own deliberate steps — sometimes solid and sometimes slippery — more peaceful.

When I shared this dance of action and surrender with a friend, she referred me to an article that illuminated this sentiment in words backed by yoga philosophy. 

First, here are a couple of terms you’ll encounter in the article I’ve excerpted below:  Abhyasa and Vairagya. 

Abhyasa: Effort, willpower, practice.

Vairagya: Letting go, acceptance, detachment.

“Yes!” I thought. “This sounds like action and surrender.” 

In a 2017 article by Gretchen Fruchey, this was written: 

“Becoming more at peace, surrendering, letting go—it actually takes work. Vairagya goes hand in hand with Abhyasa, discipline. We must have the discipline to monitor our thoughts, actions, and choices. Abhyasa is defined as consistent practice. Once we realize what thoughts, actions, and choices are more helpful (more “wise”), we must discipline ourselves to choose them. There is no easy excuse of I didn’t know. When you choose to indulge in anger, resentment, fear, grasping—you will choose your own suffering. This is a lot of responsibility, but it can also be very empowering because if you can choose your suffering, you can choose your ease. It is said that Vairagya and Abhyasa are like two wings of a bird—you cannot fly without both of them working together harmoniously.”

Fruchey goes on to describe the way in which choice is part of this twin coupling of action and surrender:

“We must use Abhyasa to stay aware of our limitless potential, to destroy all ideas of what we ‘cannot’ do, and run with our inner stallion. It takes discipline to remember our raw beauty, to remain vulnerable and untouched by our hurts, to repeatedly see the transient everness of the Universe. Time and again, we have to choose to tap into the sameness, the divine essence of everything. The effort, the practice, is in the choosing.”

Turtle’s Time

Turtle stopped again. Resting? Shoring up courage? Posing for my camera? Just then, as if gravity had been watching Turtle’s commitment, it seemed to say: “That’s enough delay. I see your effort. You’re coming with me!” Splash! Turtle experienced the breakthrough, the reward, the transformative plunge into the cool dark water. 

Watch as Turtle has a breakthrough after exercising action and surrender.

Imagining myself as one of the diving judges I'd met through my years on the diving team, I know for sure Turtle’s dive would generate painfully low scores. But imagining myself as a spectator in the bleachers watching Turtle’s journey, I’d be jumping up in applause as if it was the most spectacular thing ever. 

That’s how I feel about the progress my family, friends and even strangers make. Your progress, your courage and your wins matter. I want you to find and fight for your discipline and your bravery too. In fact, I want that for all of us who want to go into the world with the intentions of peace and love.

Because like you and me, if that was Turtle’s first time to shore up the courage, to take the action and to become the brave heart that could surrender, then there’s no score high enough to measure the importance of that breakthrough.

When you see a bird in flight today, or a turtle too, can you join me in remembering the balancing act between action and surrender? Can you join me in asking yourself what you most need now to close the gap like Turtle did?

When you do it for yourself today, I’ll be cheering you. 

(If you want to share your wins, you can share them with me by replying to my newsletter or emailing me directly at stephaniehimango@gmail.com)

What Can Your Bookshelf Tell You About Yourself?

I’m a journalist, writer, producer and director. I leave the door open to that world, yet I have a new focus: Wellness.

The deeper I dive into my wellness coaching certification training, the more fascinated I am by the subject matter. This is a space where I feel at home.

I should have known this sooner, if I would have only looked at my bookshelf and asked the question, “What do you see?” 

Then, “What is it the owner of these books most wants to learn about, read about, find?”

If I would have asked these questions, I may have had some clarity sooner. 

Does your bookshelf or audible library tell a story about you that you might not have brought to a conscious level?

Q: What do you see?

Q: What is it the owner of these books most wants to learn about, read about, find?

Intuition asks me to look at my bookshelf. 

She asks me which conversation topics light me up. 

She asks me what movement has meant to me in my life.

She asks me what environments and activities bring flow.

She asks about the stories I share and how I shine a light on others.

In the world of hard news, which I covered my fair share of, I also pitched and/or covered stories not only about the resilience of Olympic athletes (I love this type of storytelling), but also shinrin-yoku (forest bathing). 

…And a snowy winter wonderland converted into a snow-shoeing medicine trail. 

…The curative benefits of gathering as a community on the cobblestones of a mountain hamlet to enjoy polenta and red wine and friendship.

…The powerful strides women have made in the world of boxing.

… Students from one high school hosting students from an earthquake-devastated region….building bonds and mending grief-stricken hearts.

The list goes on. 

Books about discipline, drive and defiance stand like soldiers alongside books with pages that take a different approach on how to educate, empathize, evoke, evolve. Pages that empower me to build wealth stand alongside pages that invoke imagination, creativity, health, sound body and mind and how to embrace imperfection.

These books all complement each other. I just had to stand somewhere else to see it.

What does your bookshelf want to tell you?