Within hours of arriving in Cusco, I was in an ambulance being rushed to the hospital. Tests showed I had salmonella and a parasite.

What do we do when the world feels so heavy? For me, the answer comes today: Ramadan. It provides a much-needed invitation to reset and refocus, to turn my attention to gratitude, generosity, charity, and prayer.

My overwhelming feeling during this journey was one of awe. I kept wondering, what is each person praying for?

Each year I chose a word to serve as a guiding principle for the year ahead. My word for 2026 might surprise you.

I start my personal storytelling workshops with a ‘six-word memoir’. Then I invite people to share the story behind their six words. This is what floors me every single time. (Also, this is 59!)

But how do you remind someone of the mosaic of their life if it’s their memory that’s fading? 

The most incredible story of kindness and humanity from Gaza.

This series captures the universal language of kindness as it is practiced in different countries and cultures.

For the past three weeks, Mom has been in the hospital… For me, this year has felt harder than the last. Here’s advice from mom’s nurse that is helping me get through.

It all started with a simple thought to honor an origin story by retracing its steps.

While this isn’t a particular wisdom that Dad said, it is one of the most important lessons that I’ve learned from his example …

One of the things that always energizes me is surrounding myself with inspiration—meeting inspiring people and hearing their stories.

Each year I pick a word that sets my intention for the new year. This year I was struggling with my one word, until a gift arrived on my doorstep on Christmas Day.

Over Thanksgiving we had a family reunion: 60 family members, from as far as Malaysia and Singapore, ages 5 months to 87 years, gathered on the Chesapeake Bay for four days of gratitude and celebration. Amir Sulaiman’s powerful poem “You Will Be Someone’s Ancestor” couldn’t have been more poignant.

The night before my birthday, my son asked me to reflect on what memories I’m excited to make in the next 20 years, from age 58 to 78, especially if there are no limitations or obligations. I loved his question as it gave me a chance to dream and wonder.

How we tell our story to ourselves and to the world gives us agency and provides us with the most potent panacea of all—hope.

The traditional way to celebrate the end of a cancer treatment is to ring a bell, but my way is to experience a story… How do people survive such heartbreak, let alone create something beautiful out of it?

But before the process of proton radiation begins each day, I'm always asked one question: What music do you want to listen to?

I have no illusion that these paintings are any good at all. And that is absolutely fine with me.

I’ve always had ‘big hair’—thick, wavy, and full; the kind that hairdressers and aunties always complimented. But what happens when you lose your hair completely.