At the end of one of my first meetings with my criminal defense attorney, he turned to me and asked if I did any type of charitable work or helping of people in need. The simple answer would have been, yes, I had. I used to volunteer at a women’s shelter that supported sex workers and women who had nowhere safe to be. We served them dinner, collected and offered clothing, provided showers and hygiene products, and had a make-up counter with cosmetics they could use. Instead, I launched into a long-winded philosophical argument about why I thought most charities failed to address issues at their root, and instead just offered band-aids that perpetuated dependency and exploited people’s suffering and goodwill; not to mention how so many charities didn’t even use the donations they received for the causes they claimed to support. He listened and let me finish, and then he said, “Every week I hand out sandwiches to homeless people on the street. Do you want to come?”
I felt a little embarrassed. And my exuberant enthusiasm in accepting his offer might have seemed contradictory to my rant, but it wasn’t. Handing out sandwiches to the homeless was one of my favorite memories with my dad. A few years in a row, after his Narcotics Anonymous (NA) Christmas parties, we would make sandwiches with all the leftovers and hand them out to people on the street. I was around twelve or thirteen. I felt so moved by the connections and conversations we had with people. Sometimes it was as simple as a glimmer of relief and gratitude in their eyes. Sometimes it was a life story. My dad struggled a lot with his own demons, but he was never not generous. Even when he was practically homeless, he volunteered at a shelter to help others who may have been more, or equally, destitute. He found meaning in helping, and that is something I definitely inherited. Nature or nurture, I’ll never know. My dad wasn’t around much and my memories aren’t all so positive, but I’m grateful he exposed me to the things he did and demonstrated that you are never too poor to give.
I couldn’t stop smiling as my lawyer and I walked out onto the busy Manhattan street dragging coolers full of sandwiches and water bottles behind us. I felt like it was some kind of sign from the universe. What are the odds that during the hardest time in my life, after I'd lost nearly everything, I would be offered the opportunity to focus on others and revisit one of my favorite childhood memories? It helped me be more present despite the fear I was feeling with my situation, as well connect with more memories of my dad, who had passed away a year earlier. We walked around the perimeter of Penn Station. There were plenty of people who looked like they could use something to eat. It’s a delicate art, though. You don’t want to offend someone who might just be passing time before their train arrives. I got better at reading people and less shy as the night wore on. Sometimes we would just walk by a crowd of people and yell, “Sandwiches! Water!” We must have handed out at least 100 sandwiches by the time our coolers were empty. There was a lot of, “God bless yous,” and “Thank yous.” My heart was full.
Over the months that I worked with my lawyer, we gave out hundreds of sandwiches together. We’d see some familiar faces. Some people I came to know by name. There were nights when he had to rush home to his family in New Jersey and he’d ask me if I could cover. I gladly did. Sometimes I had conversations with people and listened to their stories. Sometimes I had to walk a lot to find enough people to take all the sandwiches. On colder nights, we’d hand out Kleenex and gloves. For him, I think he felt we were doing God’s work. For me, I felt we were doing humanity’s work. Maybe it's the same thing. Whenever I pass by Penn Station, I think about those nights. I think about all the people who are suffering, and I hope that there are enough people like my lawyer, like my dad in the world that they don’t go hungry. I help when I can. I know it’s not going to solve anything long term, and it’s even possible that the experience helps me more than it helps them, but I can’t help but feel that small gestures of kindness are the seeds we need to be planting to build a better world. And that if more people did them, more people’s hearts would be full, and more people with full hearts would be a good thing indeed.
Hey friends! It's been just over a year since I started this community, so I figured it was time I uploaded a new intro video. I've learned a lot since I started (including how to do my make-up lol), and I've refined my vision of what this community can be. Thank you to everyone who has shared their perspectives and support so far, and especially to my premium members, you rock!
I don't believe in cancellation, only attempted cancellation. They can take your job, your reputation, and your social circle, but no one can take your personal power or principles unless you let them. And I believe that's all that matters in the end. That doesn't mean it's easy or that you need to feel alone in the process. I hope you'll join me on this journey as I make sense of the fallout from my life in NXIVM, advocate for a fairer justice system, and figure out how to build (and rebuild) with my integrity in tact, even while the whole world tries to convince me I'm something I'm not.
There's a lot of wisdom in this short clip, and it's something I agree with wholeheartedly. That's not to say it's always easy to "start over" or be willing to look foolish, but it's worth it 100%. I don't believe we are here to spend our lives seeking comfort or producing consistently "good results." We are here to learn, to grow, and to discover who we are, beyond whatever we were conditioned to believe as children.
We are like Swiss Army knives. We have so much potential and different facets to explore, but most people live their lives as a simple pocket knife or screwdriver. Don't do it! Even if that nail file or wrench is rusted shut, you can pry it open, clean it, and discover a whole new part of you.
I think especially in this "influencer" culture, where everyone is a personal brand and it's all about sticking to a specific niche, we are encouraged to be interested in one thing and discouraged to express about things we are not yet good at. This may help you get more followers,...
I want to make more short “storytelling” videos like this and would love your feedback! Watch until the end 🐢
The Dossier Project is back with a new video about "cults."
Cults have always been a fascinating subject, but lately the term has permeated mainstream culture like never before. Now, brands and celebrities use it with a positive spin, and nearly every group with a defining feature is called a cult at some point. But what exactly is a cult? Are all cults bad? Can cults be good? The women of the Dossier Project share their personal definitions and opinions, and answer the million dollar question: were they part of a cult?
It may not prevent you from getting COVID again, but the difference between my first and second times having it are night and day. Here’s proof:
I got COVID. Again. In a span of under two months. Thankfully, I don’t feel nearly as wretched as I did the last go around, but I was pretty shocked to say the least. I figured I had a window of immunity from having had it, and I’d barely left my house in the last two weeks. I did go to a Farmer’s Market on Saturday and stupidly tasted a sample of plant-based waffle that tasted, as you would expect, like cardboard. But I guess there’s no sense in trying to figure out where it came from, even if I could. And to be quite honest, I’m not sure what lessons I’m meant to take from it either.
My attitude towards COVID has evolved over time, as I’m sure is the case for most people, save the extreme believers and non-believers. Having recovered from it once and being on my second round, I still don’t quite know what to make of it. What I can say is that it’s not “the common cold” or even the flu. What I can’t say is that I believe its dangers have warranted the amount of hysteria, hostility, and ...
