acceptance, activism, African American women, Anger, black lives matter, Change the world, Clarity, Community, compassion, Consciousness, culture clash, deflation of ego, ego, end war, energy, eracism, Fear, Frans Stiene, highly sensitive person, human kindness, humanity, inner peace, judging others, judgment, know thyself, law of attraction, live and let live, meditation, memoirs, Mindful parenting, one human family, one human race, one humanity, positive thinking, racial bias, racism, Reiki, Self acceptance, self awareness, Self care, self hate, Self-love, shame, spiritual awakening, spiritual journey, The Inner Heart of Reiki, transformation, unity, Utopia society, woke, world peace

Wabi Sabi: The Beauty of Imperfection


On my journey of self-acceptance, I’m trying to embrace the concept that we are all the same. I am no better and no worse than anyone else. I am human, perfectly imperfect. This concept usually comes up for me when I start getting super hard on myself for my mistakes.

I’ve mentioned before that I have issues with timeliness. I mean, this dates back to grade school for me, and I really have to plan things out and focus, to make it on time to just about anything. It’s so bad, that my kids don’t know what to do with themselves when we actually get somewhere early and have to wait. We’re usually rushing in at the last minute and barely making it on time, or just late. Like most people, running late gets me really anxious and worried.

I’ve started incorporating some of the Reiki precepts I’m learning into my morning meditation time. The prayer that I’ve learned from Reiki goes like this, “Just for today, do not anger, do not worry, be thankful, do what you are meant to do, be kind to others.”

I recently had the special privilege of asking a prominent Reiki teacher about these precepts and the focus on anger and worry embedded in the prayer. I have been learning about the law of attraction and the power of my words and thoughts to manifest what I speak and think. I questioned the use of “anger” and “worry” in relation to this concept of attraction. I had even gone as far as to create my own “positive” version of the Reiki prayer. 😂smh. I guess this tells you what kind of student I am. Anyway, I’m really glad I was able to ask this teacher my question because his answer gave me a whole new understanding. He explained that unlike affirmations, the Reiki precepts were more like guiding rules for life. For example the precept, do not anger can be a reminder for me when I feel anger coming up to question that anger. Where is it coming from? Why is it there? Does the anger serve me? And then to be able to let the anger go. This is different from an affirmation which may help me in the moment to turn away from the anger, but may not allow me the space to examine and release the source of the anger. I was able to apply his explanation the very next day.

After spending my morning meditation focusing on mindful breathing, Reiki precepts and grounding, I got my kids ready for school. Needless to say, the time management just wasn’t there this particular morning and we were running late. The problem for me is not getting up on time, because I’m actually up very early, it’s more of a focus and time management issue. I’ve been really good recently with getting my son to school on time using positive affirmations. I literally say “We are going to be on time to Ms.__’s class today,” about 50 times from the time they wake up until I drop him off at school. And it’s been working. We’ve been on time every day for quite a while now. But this particular morning we left extra late. I still used my affirmations and it worked! There were almost no cars on the road and I pretty much drove like a maniac the whole way there.

But, on the way home as I thought about the collateral damage of our morning commute, in flooded the feelings of self-condemnation. Thinking about the Reiki precepts helped me work through the guilt I was feeling. I felt guilty because I spent the entire 25 minute (normally 35 minute) drive to school filled with worry and anger. When my kids tried to talk to me, I told them I couldn’t talk to them because I needed to focus on the road and get there on time. I also drove pretty crazy, which I know scares my kids. I even honked at a lady for fluffing her hair in the mirror instead of driving. My kids, like me are both highly sensitive, so I’m sure that they were very affected by the worry and anger energy I was emoting. My son even asked me, “Who do you love the most God, other people, or yourself?” I told him, “I don’t know, I can’t answer that right now, I have to focus on the road.” Theses were the guilty feelings I drove home with, wondering how my children were handling their school experience after all that negative energy. Wondering if my son would ever ask me that question again and care about my answer.

It was during this time that I started thinking about how I had prayed earlier “do not anger and do not worry”. I started to ask myself why I was worried. I was able to acknowledge that the worry did not serve me at all. I could have made it to school on time without any worry or anger and I could have given my children a different start to their day (and the lady I honked at). And myself…. that worry and anger hurt me most of all.

As I examined the source of the worry, I realized it had nothing to do with my son and his needs. The truth is that I was worried about being judged as a parent by people at the school and I was worried that their negative opinion of me would lead to negative actions against me. I was giving these people more power over my life than my Higher Power.

At the end of it all, I was left with my feelings of guilt and shame. This is where compassion for myself has to come into the picture. It’s easier for me to offer myself compassion when I can remember the Japanese concept of wabi sabi, the beauty of imperfection. It reminds me that being an imperfect human is what makes me perfect. My imperfections accentuate my humanness and the acceptance of my own humanness allows me to love and honor the humanness in others.

I am no better or worse than anyone else, and the same can be said for us all. We are all perfectly imperfect in our own way.

This gives me hope for humanity. Just as I can reach across the aisle and change my mind about someone or love someone who seems to be an enemy, so can everyone else.

If we can see and accept our own imperfections, there is hope that we can have compassion for the imperfections of others.

We can stop seeing each other through the eyes of judgement and allow ourselves to be surprised by beauty that exists in every living being. I know this begins with me.

I want to be surprised.

compassion, Dallas, inner peace, judging others, judgment, one human family, one humanity, peace, racism, Self acceptance, self hate, world peace

The Cycle of Judgment and Hate

The cycle of judgement and hate

It goes round and round
It’s mine
It’s theirs
It’s connected to that ball of pain in my chest
Sometimes it move to my stomach in knots
Or spreads to my shoulders pulling me tight
Does this cycle protect me?
Is that why it’s so hard to let go?
Where did it come from?
So long ago
A baby doesn’t judge or hate.
But this runs so deep
So to the core

This judgment and hatred of me.


acceptance, black, black lives matter, Mildred and Richard Loving, mixed race, one human family, police, racial bias, racial profiling, racism

I’m Mixed, I’m Black 7/10/16

Interracial marriage became legal across the United States in 1967.  My parents, a black man and a white women were married in 1974.  I was born soon after. Their marriage was short lived, and they were divorced when I was a one-year old.  I don’t have memories of them together.  They both remarried people from their own race. 
In a time of intense racial divides between black and white, somehow, neither my mom’s side of the family or my dad’s side of the family held any animosity or racism towards the other side.  I never once heard a negative word said about my mom or my dad by either of them or by their families.  Instead, it was the opposite.  My grandfather on my white side always talked about the respect he had for my dad.  Even with the divorce, there was never hatred or criticism stated or implied.  I didn’t realize growing up how unusual that was.  I did, however, experience racism and prejudice from some of my step parents and their families throughout the years.  At times, it has been difficult for them and for their families to accept me and my other race.   I’ve also experienced racism, prejudice and discrimination from white teachers and students in school.  As an adult, I’ve been racially profiled and followed by police, followed by security members in stores, and given the cold shoulder in business establishments in areas that were mostly white.  This racism and discrimination scares me, especially when it comes to the police, our legal system and the political climate.  
I identify myself as a woman of mixed race black/white, a choice I made a couple decades ago because I wanted to challenge white people’s tendency to use the one drop rule when it comes classifying non-whites.  It felt like some of the white people that I encountered were overlooking the fact that I’m half white, something that black people never seemed to overlook.  But, even though I use this mixed race classification now, in my heart I feel black because of my experiences.  What else could I be??  Since as far back as I can remember, I’ve been black.  My parents and my family told me I was black.  I was black on the playground at my all white grade school, when white kids circled around me and got my only friend (a boy) to punch me in the stomach while the ring leader girl yelled “Punch her, punch her!”  My friend later apologized while he and I sat in timeout for “fighting”.  All of the other kids involved had no consequences.  I was black in my 4th grade class when one girl would stand behind me in line ever day and sneer the n-word in my ear.  She’d tell me I was so ugly and ask me why my braided ponytails looked like poop.  When I told the teacher, she did nothing.  When I got my white grandmother (who I was living with at the time) involved, she reached out to the girls parents and we went together to their house.  With my grandma sitting next to me, and the girls parents sitting next to her, I directly confronted her for what she was saying to me.  Her parents seemed shocked and verbally scolded their daughter in front of me.  However, within the school faculty, there was no support for me.  I don’t remember my teacher even asking me about it at all.  When my grandmother questioned the school on what they would do about it, the school’s solution was to move me to another classroom mid-year.  Even now, when a police officer or a security guard follows or watches me, I don’t get the vibe that he sees me and thinks, “Ohhh, she’s mixed race.”  I think he sees me and thinks, “black” and all of the negative stereotypes and stories playing in his head at that moment apply to me. 
I was black when I had two police officers walk up on me in my own garage in my own car.   At the time, I was inside the gated parking garage of my apartment building.  It was early in the morning and I was dressed for work wearing a skirt and blouse.  I was standing outside my car with the driver’s door open bending into my car looking for something.  I was parked at the far end of the garage, furthest from the entrance, and it was very quiet in the area by my car.  All of the sudden I heard a footstep behind me and felt someone’s presence.  I jumped and turned around to see two men less than 10 feet away walking silently towards me.  I thought they were going to attack me and I must have turned pale; I was so startled.  They froze too when I jumped and both of them put their hands inches away from their guns on their sides.  By this time I realized that they weren’t thieves or rapists;  they were cops.  I just stood there frozen in silence.  When I think about the incident now, I’m not scared, I’m pissed!!   I think how dare you sneak up behind in me in MY garage and not identify yourself.  It’s like they already had an assumption that I was stealing.  But of course, I stayed silent.  They said they got a call about a disturbance and asked if I’d seen anything.  I hated them so much in that moment for making me feel like crap in my own garage when I was doing absolutely nothing wrong. 
Oh yeah, and I’m definitely black to my Asian in-laws.  
(Sigh) All that being said, I know that being black isn’t just about being discriminated against, it’s also not about how you speak, how you act, what music you like, or who you marry.  I’m not saying that I don’t have very real privileges by being half white, that my full black sisters (I’m talking about my step sister and my half sister) do not have.   I do agree that it is very different to experience the world as a mixed race person versus a person with parents of the same race. There is no question about that!  But, I don’t understand all of the hatred and pushing people away when we share so much of the same struggles, passions and dreams.   My son may be mixed with black, white and Korean, but when he walks into a classroom, store or park he is seen as a black kid by most non-black people.  
My very real experiences of racism have fed my heightened sensitivity to even the smallest slights.   When I’m out in public with my husband or kids, I get a lot of ice from all sides, Asian, white and black.  Instead of acceptance, there is often rejection, and it hurts to receive judgment from all angles.  My husband grew up in the United States as a second generation Korean American.  Growing up, my husband and his family lived in a white neighborhood.  They all moved back to Korea when he was in middle school and high school.  He and his family returned to the United States after high school.  Prior to meeting me, my husband built many significant friendships with African American men during his college years and after.  
Even though my family has experienced racism from many angles, I would love to be able to say that we feel welcomed and supported by the black community at large.  Unfortunately, I can’t say that.  Recently, we needed to find a new barber for our 5-year old son.  One of our African American friends gave us a reference to the barber shop where he takes his own son.  When my husband and son entered the shop, instead of feeling welcomed as customers they were met with confused and questioning looks, as if they were aliens.  My son, who is very comfortable with his black family and our black friend, felt so uncomfortable by the way they were being treated that he asked his dad if they could leave.  I love my black community and my black culture, but how can I show solidarity and support when I and my family are pushed away?
I’ve been hurt by the way I’ve been sidelined by some black people in my life.  I’ve been treated like I’m a threat, like I’m a disgrace, like I’m a joke, and like I’m an outsider.  But in the end, I will never turn my back on my own blackness or on black people.  We have been through too much, and we continue to suffer racism, discrimination and prejudice on a daily basis.  
I know that there are some that are against race mixing.  I believe that anti-race mixing sentiments stem from hate, not love.  I strive for love, to grow in love for myself and for others.  Let’s face it, people fall in love with who they love, regardless of race or societal pressure.  So, there will always be mixed race people.  Look at Romeo and Juliet or Richard and Mildred Loving.   Why do we let our fears and prejudice keep us from loving and accepting others?  I guess what I’m hoping for is a world where we can love and accept all people regardless of their race — where we can make judgments about people based on the content of their character rather than the color of their skin.

I also realize that I need to be more willing to give love and acceptance even when I feel it may not be deserved.  That doesn’t mean I’ll accept injustice.  No, in fact I will fight against it!  But, it does mean I choose to accept the person as a human being who is just as in need of love and forgiveness as I am.  That is my goal.

Anger, Asian, blasian, eracism, Korean black family, Magic! Rude, one human family, racism, shame

I Attract Positive Loving People Into My Life

I’m writing today to help me deal with my anger over a look that I got yesterday from an Asian woman with her family at the gym.  I was with my kindergarten age son and preschool age daughter, and we were heading in for my son’s karate class.  He was dressed in his gi, and looked awesome. My daughter was happy and cute with her sparkly dress and wild curls.  And I, for once had on makeup.  We were all happy and smiling as we headed from the car to the front doors of the facility.  As we were about half way down the long pathway to the entrance, an Asian family was walking the same way from the opposite direction.  I’m originally from the Pacific Northwest, so my natural instinct as I pass people is the make eye contact, smile and even say “hi” to strangers.  I’ve learned to tone that way down since moving to Southern California.  But, I guess I’ve become comfortable at this gym, so I tend to let my guard down and slip into my over friendly mode.

As this young family approached, I noticed them because they looked so cool in their super colorful workout gear from head to toe, and sipping on their water bottles (even their very little girl).  I noticed the mother looking or should I say, staring at us, we made eye contact and I was smiling, but in return she just gave me and my kids this look of contempt.  It was like a slap in the face, and it threw me off so much I just immediately looked down.  They reached the front door a little before us and I watched her saunter in in front of us like she was a big boss.  The whole scenario infuriated me.  I held it inside and kept a smile on my face and my voice upbeat with my kids on either side of me.  But inside I was a wreck.  It honestly took me all the way until we got into the dojo before I was able to feel unshaken.  Throughout my son’s lesson, and even after putting my kids to bed that night, I was filled with rage towards that woman.  I was also mad at myself for looking down.  I questioned why this stranger had such a powerful effect on me with only a look and a saunter.  I questioned why my immediate response was to look down, as if I was feeling shame.  Maybe I was feeling shame in that moment.  I’ve felt a lot of condemnation, rejection and shame growing up, so I guess that is a familiar emotional response for me.   But, what I was really interested in, was figuring out the root of my rage towards this random stranger.  It just didn’t make sense to me.  A friend once told me “if it’s hysterical then its historical,” meaning that there is something deeper causing the emotional response.   I realized late that night that her look was the physical representation of what I feel from my Korean in-laws, and many of the Asian strangers that I encounter, especially when I’m with my kids or my husband.  What I feel from them is: “You are beneath me.  You cannot be with us.  We don’t want you around.”  If I had never married an Asian man, I probably would never have noticed this racism, and I certainly wouldn’t have cared so deeply about it.  But now, my children’s grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins are Korean.  My husband is Korean.  My children are part Korean.  As a mom, I’m terrified for the day that my kids start noticing and experiencing some of what I am experiencing.  Maybe they already are.  How does this relate to my title?  Through out all of these many negative experiences, I’ve been surprised and encouraged by a number of Asian people that have gone out of their way to talk with me, be kind to me, and befriend me over this past year.  And they are all positive, beautiful and loving people both inside and out.


Ali Wong: Baby Cobra, black, black Asian family, blasian, blogging, courage, eracism, Fear, isolation, mixed race, multi-racial, one human family, one human race, one humanity, racism, terminal uniqueness


I felt terrified of putting myself out there in this blog after watching a comedy show, Ali Wong: Baby Cobra.  I thought her show was really funny and I agreed with a lot of her perspectives. But, I was again left thinking, “Maybe there just aren’t other people that can relate to me.”  Those familiar feelings of isolation came flooding back in, like I’m the only one who can understand, or even have compassion for my situation.  I’ve heard it referred to as terminal uniqueness.  The fear started to stifle me again.

I kept writing and rewriting, but not posting.  I asked myself, “Why was I so bothered by this comedian’s words, when I really liked her?”….  Maybe that’s why I was bothered.  I liked her, I agreed with her perspectives on feminism and on how Asian men can be underrated.  But, I was really bothered by her comments about racism.  She made a joke about how her mother doesn’t have any black friends, and that “life is not Rush Hour the movie.”  She also said that she thinks people should marry within their own race so they can “go home and be racist together.”  I am married to an amazing Korean man 😘.  We feel the sting of racism from all sides, whether it’s being excluded from family functions or the general ice that we sometimes get when we’re out in public.  I think that Ali Wong’s words struck a nerve because my in-laws’ racism has sometimes been downplayed and tolerated among our family and friends because it’s “cultural.”  When did cultural racism become okay?  I wish that someone Asian would stand up and say, “You know what, it’s not okay!”  

I am half white and half black.  Growing up, I verbally identified myself as black.  That’s how I saw myself, and that’s what society and my family told me that I was.   Back then, being overtly racist against black people was not something acceptable in main stream media or society.  But it seems like something has changed.  Now, it almost feels like being racist against black and brown (Latino) people is seen as acceptable.  That really scares me.  I now identify myself as mixed race black and white.  In college, I began to challenge the label of black, because I am, in fact, half white.  I immediately got a lot of resistance from my black friends.  They couldn’t understand why I would not want to be called black.  In fact, one took offense and said I was trying to be white.  Being white was not what I wanted, I just wanted to be recognized for who and what I truly am, and not be made to fit into someone else’s label of me.

It’s been getting even more complicated for me as I’m filling out forms for my son’s school.  I’m forced to choose one primary race for him and then allowed to add multiple secondary races.   My husband and I decided to go with Korean, since our son is 1/2 Korean, 1/4 black and 1/4 white.  But, Korean is not what he identifies with.  My children almost never hear Korean spoken, I don’t cook Korean food, and my husband’s parents disowned us when we got married.  In fact, The first time I ever spoke to my mother-in-law was after my son was born and we’d been married almost 3 years.  Even after that, neither my son or I were allowed to speak with or meet his grandfather until my son was 3 years-old.    My husband and I continued to send cards and money $$$ to them every Birthday and holiday during the time we were cut off.  Even now, the relationship that we have with his family is rocky at best.

My son also doesn’t look very Korean.  He looks like a handsome African American young man with Asian eyes.  He calls himself brown skinned and part Korean, but I don’t think he would identify himself as Korean, nor would he identify himself as black or white.  This makes perfect sense to me, because none of those labels are what he is.  I am confused by our societies obsession with separating races.  I don’t see the need to choose a race to identify as in the first place.  It seems like an idea that a mono-raced person came up with.  To me, as a multi-raced person, it seems completely nonsensical.  It’s like asking me whether I identify myself as a mother, or a daughter, or a wife.  The answer would be all of the above.  It would be silly for me to have to choose one primary relationship and then list the rest as secondary.😔  Why is our society so race obsessed?

acceptance, African American women, black women, Community, marriage, multiracial, racism, religion, The Jackson 5 ABC, the power of media, world peace

Haunting Words

The words “person of filth,” that I heard on the show, The Mindy Project, came back to me today as I was getting ready.  I thought about how I’m super conscientious of how I look and my hygiene all the time.  I feel like I’m constantly trying to prove to myself, and to others, “See, I’m clean, I’m put together, I’m sharp, I’m hip, I’m (fill in the blank).”  It was a lot easier to keep up that “perfect standard” before I had kids.  Now, with a preschooler and a soon-to-start kindergartener, I’m finding it impossible to keep up that vigilant perfectly manicured look and life.  In fact, it’s the opposite, my house is a disaster, half the time I’m lucky if I can squeeze in a shower before the sun goes down.  Make up, styled hair, wrinkle free clothes… all out the window.  And my life is like that cause I’m a great mom, I choose to put my kids need first… their breakfast, lunch, dinner, clean clothes, clean sheets, lessons, classes, play dates, play time with mommy, cuddles, teaching, discipline, you name it.  I feel like I’m like all of the other moms I see when we’re at karate class, or mommy and me ballet, or swimming lessons, soccer, the library, the beach, or the grocery store.  But, when I see them without makeup, or hair looking just thrown up, or clothes looking mom-ish, I just think, “Oh, that’s just because they’re a good mom.”   I wonder why I feel like I have to fight so hard against being considered dirty or filthy or base.  Don’t all people get dirty?  Why has this label been put on black people? Do some of us have skin that gets more oily?  Are our dead skin cells darker? Do we sometimes need to avoid getting our hair wet to preserve the oils in our hair and scalp or to preserve an expensive or time consuming hair style?  Do those things make us filthy or just different?

I want to live in a world where difference is observed, respected, and even appreciated. I see it like marriage.  My minister called it the ABC’s and 123’s.  That the ABC’s are what you love about your spouse and the 123’s are the things that bother you.  They are the two sides to the same coin.  So in my marriage, my husband loves that I’m ambitious, vulnerable and sexy.  But he gets bothered by the fact that I can be bossy (he calls it my “drill sergeant mode” or “going on a rampage,”) I can be very sensitive and need to “talk” A LOT, and I can take forever to get ready or do my beauty regimes on the weekends making us late all the time.  Of course, he has his ABC’s and 123’s too.  We try to celebrate the ABC’s and manage the 123’s.  But they don’t really go away cause it’s who we are, and it’s a part of what we love.

Can’t we take that a step further to people as a whole, to groups, cultures, races, etc?  I want to live in a world where we love and respect each other enough to try to look past the 123’s and observe, even enjoy the ABC’s.  A world of love, acceptance and community.