On repeat today, during the first good rain in a long while, is Draw You Out by Noah Kahan, produced by Aaron Dessner (king of intimate recordings!) from the upcoming Hunger Games film. He nestles this into a verse, and it is stunning:

See the rain over the valley’s edge /

Won’t be long until the whole world’s wet //

Made even more powerful by the fact that I am currently reading the corresponding book Sunrise On The Reaping by Suzanne Collins. My favorite one of hers so far. I grew up on her books, and her ability to capture human truths in high stakes environments that eerily mirror the present is truly prophetic.

I took my dog Jack for his first IV treatment yesterday. Because of his kidney disease and heart murmur, while he was on the drip for hours, I held my breath the whole day. But boy what a day of hydration and recovery can do to the pep in one’s step! I feel incredibly blessed to be with him daily after almost 16 years together. The look he gives me when he catches my eye as he rounds every corner is love itself. I owe him everything, beyond words. As I read at The Penny Hotel in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY via Gertrude Stein: “I am because my little dog knows me.”

I have witnessed people feel this feeling when taking care of an aging parent. Jack went from being my baby to my elder in the span of my early life. As Noah croons:

No one tells you just how long you’ll last /

Some go slowly, and some far too fast /

I’ve got time I never planned to have /

I got years and years of it //

Ah, lyrics. Doing what they do best. Reader, I have found great perspective in not taking anything or anyone for granted, and being grateful for every second of time we have. In that way, every tear has been worth it. Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping in theaters November 20th.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Happy Fall and happy Dolly Day! I just treasure how clever humans can be: September 25 > 9/25 > 925 > 9 to 5 (her feature film debut and legendary song). Dolly’s Songbook was the first coffee table book I ever bought for myself.

Dolly knew herself. She bet on herself. She got to know people, and she bet on ‘em. Dolly sure gave the most throughout her time on Earth. May we all continue to learn a lot from her spirit. Her fairy dust is still all around. I sure feel it.

Last week was the first week I’ve skipped writing for this newsletter because I simply knew I had nothing to say last week. I’m learning to trust that awareness. I have always had deep respect for people who are kind + very intentional with their words, speaking only when they really have something to say.

Silence can be a beautiful thing in our noisy times, a far cry from emptiness, and I’m of the belief that it is not made to be unnecessarily filled.

I just finished reading Theo of Golden by Allen Levi. I’m fascinated by Levi’s life story. He’s lived as a songwriter, attorney and judge, land caretaker, and now author. I was in awe of how this first book of his resonated with so many people. Reading it revealed to me a deeper truth about us all: we crave being known.

In the novel, the main character Theo is a well-travelled old man from Portugal who makes his way to a small town in Georgia (for a few reasons, we learn in the end), and, in his time there, he buys portraits of local people by a local artist that have been hung up in a coffee shop, bestows them upon the subjects of the portraits, and deeply listens to their stories and offers words of encouragement all along the way.

I find that we can be loved without being known.

I find that we can love someone without really knowing them.

And I find that we can really know someone without the circumstance calling us to love them, at least not with the love society usually references.

Another in-tune example of this was in the new film adaptation of Ali Hazelwood’s (another multihyphenate, a neuroscientist-romance author) The Love Hypothesis on Prime. The main character Olive closes the story with this gem, and it shone so brightly I had to screenshot:

Bonds form only when being together—being known, being loved, or those exquisitely rare experiences of being both known + loved—is more stable than being alone.

I’ll always bet on the bond of loving + knowing. Head and heart alignment. Is there any stronger human force?

To going beyond the surface,

Anjali

On repeat this morning is Ezra Collective’s new album Here Because of Hope. Please shimmy those shoulders to it as you make coffee/brekkie/lunch/dinner.

Today marks 25 years since 9/11. My thoughts and prayers are with those who lost their loved ones, the heroes, and for a city that is recovering to this day. The 9/11 Memorial in Lower Manhattan is quite a meditative, special place.

My mom used to tell me about where we were when it happened. She had the old TV on in Texas, doing morning laundry as a month-old me required her attention.

Then a boom, and a few subsequent more, went off through the TV.

I have not lived in a world where the remnants of 9/11 — both literal and figurative — are not everywhere we turn. I don’t know what boarding a plane looked like before September 11th, 2001. I don’t know what the feeling of trust in each other felt like before an event that shook our belief in the good and left us untethered from one another while also having to cling to each other for survival.

There are worlds I simply arrived too late for. A pre-9/11 sense of ease and trust. And medicine before it became a business.

In my exploration of healing and prevention over treatment, I am currently reading Next Medicine by Dr. Walter Bortz II — a physician who dedicated his life to the science of aging, longevity, and reclaiming medicine’s nobility of service to humanity. His granddad told him: “make yourself necessary.” He seems to have done that tenfold. I have always been fascinated by people who intentionally choose to spend their time on Earth way differently than the majority of people. Bortz did. One of the greatest benefits of serving others as well as being served is PERSPECTIVE — the chance to see people from a vantage point you otherwise wouldn’t.

Bortz was privileged to witness the Golden Age of medicine that saved humanity from polio and smallpox. He quotes Sir William Osler: “Medicine is a science of uncertainty and an art of probability.” Published in 2011, his book feels exponentially relevant today. He writes that the commentary on medicine’s decline has mostly been about baby steps — and you can’t baby step over a chasm. He describes himself as an optimist and idealist who delights in wandering far outside his own discipline.

Here is the perspective shift I keep coming back to: what if we weren’t born too late for the good times? What if we were born exactly on time — to be the renaissance? To be the leap across the chasm? To reclaim the trust, the nobility, the belief in the good?

Here Because of Hope isn’t just an album title. It might be the whole assignment, and Ezra Collective understood it.

Holding space for grief today. And holding space for the art of probability in the science of uncertainty — and the opportunities to rise from the ashes.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,
Anjali

I feel the tide changing.

The September winds are bringing in a fresh point of view.

I’m writing to you today from a cozy nest called Bird’s Bookstore in the Preston Hollow neighborhood of Dallas. The owners are a young couple — one left private equity to make something beautiful. This shop is now a legacy for their young daughter. Part of the beautiful revitalization of the indie bookshop scene in North Texas.

Another woman-owned gem revitalizing wellness here: Zyana Yoga. Owner Zoe and her whole team genuinely care about giving people connected, grounded, healing experiences — heated workouts, sound bowls, and more. HIGHLY recommend Restorative Yin and Slow Flow.

As a globe, we are burnt out. Famished and thirsty for genuine, authentic experiences and togetherness. It doesn’t come as a shock then that when communities went online, we felt no lasting sense of community at all, and we yearn for spaces to just be and be together for real. This so often happens to be successful within the walls of small businesses. Where strangers become friends. I’ve made a few just by being in the aforementioned spaces.

The hunger for real togetherness doesn't only live in small spaces. Last weekend, Olivia Rodrigo and team proved this at Daisy Chain Fields music festival in Irvine — the small business ethos at scale: intimate, generous, community-first, tens of thousands deep. A massive experience that still felt like a gathering. And our Dallas girl Melinda French Gates matched every dollar raised. Women multiplying success. WOMEN + MUSIC + COMMUNITY might just be the most iconic combination of all time.

A question worth sitting with: are you missing what only a “small” context can provide? If so, go support your local small businesses.

Chances are they’ll give you way more than you asked for. Small businesses embody everything I'm working to capture here on BEYOND THE SURFACE — unreasonable hospitality as heartbeat, storytelling through space and service, and health measured through community. It isn't easy. But they show up anyway.

If there is a storyteller in you, perhaps there is also a small business owner in you. And it’s looking like a higher calling to be one. I can’t wait to meet ya.

If you are a small business owner who wants to tell your story here, reach out — let's make something beautiful together!

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

If you were in the eastern or central part of the US, you probably caught sight of a special lunar eclipse last night.

I took it in from a reclining chair in a backyard and watched the crimson red moon take shape, whittle down, wane in peace at its own slow pace.

And what a perfect pace it was to remind us that we are really just living on a rock in space.

John Crowley made a film called We Live In Time that shook me to my core through the passage of years, but you know what, We Live In Space, too, and that moves me equally.

We live in an attention economy, where reels are meant to say and capture everything in split seconds. But we are not machines. I suggest we let machines do what they do, and allow ourselves to do what we do best. In this environment, how do we reel in the kind of ideas that only we can make a reality?

In the words of biomimicry experts, nature’s R&D has been happening for 3.8 billion years. Great things will always take time, space, and iterations. Time. Space. Iterations. The recipe and receipts for zooming out. For fishing for the right ideas (shoutout DreamWorks logo — we welcome a partnership soon!), the ones that don’t come around too often.

I hope you reveled in the eclipse last night. I believe these are God + science’s way of showing us how minor we are in the scheme of everything.

And when we internalize that, the fact that we get to be here and have experiences at all, together, is incredibly major.

Wishing you an over-the-moon weekend, zoomed way out!

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Late summer has a particular kind of light.

I can feel the sun setting a couple minutes earlier each day. It’s interesting to hold what feels like an ending when we’re being increasingly blanketed by deceptive heat.

The best things I made this week required a sense of play in the heat. Just intuition, micro adjustments, and trusting timing. Starting with an ahi tuna marinade: minced garlic, freshly ground ginger, a full lime, sriracha, tamari brewed soy sauce, and pepper. No recipe, just whatever was in the kitchen.

Divine, if I do say so myself.

A good marinade is really just a series of shifts in the landscape of patience. A little more of this. Pull back on that. Taste as you go. Trust that waiting is a part of the dance. Don’t let the change trigger you, let it open you up. I’ve been thinking about how much of life is exactly that — no perfect recipe, just the willingness to keep adjusting until it tastes right.

I watered the garden at noon, making rainbows in every direction as it turns out. The sun, prisms, the water from the hose, the angle of the light — all conspiring. Instantaneous wonder, made by my own hands. It stopped me in my tracks. You can make your own rainbows.

Lately, I have been gathering books I want to pass on to (God-willing!) my children. In this pursuit, I found a children’s book in my collection that my preschool teacher — still a dear friend — gave me at my preschool graduation. It’s called “I Knew You Could!”

Reader, this book hits significantly harder at 25 than it did at 4 (as far as I recall). I told my friend, my old preschool teacher, who has been working in brain health research ever since. She said it made her day. Some things need their season to reach you.

Timing is everything. There are seasons for everything. There’s the season you’re in, and then there’s the season you’re planting for (the one you may never see). But, for now, the one I’m in is asking me to be willing to keep shifting, keep watering, keep going.

What’s yours asking of you?

With much love & to going beyond the surface,
Anjali

This week, I read a profound newsletter by Will Guidara, master and champion of unreasonable hospitality (the remarkable power of giving people more than they expect), and saw an exceptional show by Megan Park, one-of-one actress-turned-writer-director.

Once in Will’s childhood, he uttered the words “I can’t.” This led his dad to put little slips of paper everywhere that said, “failure comes in can’ts; success comes in cans.” He would find those little pieces of paper in his backpack, in his shoes, on his toothpaste, etc. “I can’t” became a curse phrase in their house.

Success comes in “cans.”

And ever since then, the culture and world Will endeavors to create is one where people are empowered to try. Where we can do something to make the people we serve feel seen and heard, whether in our homes, businesses, places of work, or communities. He signs off every newsletter with “have a good service.”

It turns out that being truly seen and heard might require some version of unplugged no service, and loads of paying attention.

I kept thinking about that while watching and being moved by Megan Park’s new series, Sterling Point.

I’m a long-time fan of Megan’s work, but there is something a little extra tender about this show that reminded me why I have loved filmmaking all my life. The score is palpable. The pacing breathable. A lens into the unfiltered feelings we hold.

From some of the first moments, the Muskoka lake region of Canada just reels you in. There is nowhere for the characters to hide, and somehow, nowhere for the viewer to hide either. The young characters actually feel like young people today: nuanced, masking being wounded with nonchalant, flippant humor; yearning; grieving; lovers of alone time; lovers of togetherness; lost, found, well-adjusted, and untethered all at once.

They grapple with their identities when everything they thought they knew about themselves is challenged. It’s raw. It’s relevant.

Young people are often seen as uncomplicated, burden-less, worry-free, linear, inexperienced, delusional. I believe quite the opposite.

And the show does too.

Megan is doing through storytelling what Will does through hospitality: she is paying attention to people. She pays attention to the parts of people that are easy to overlook. The contradictions. The awkwardness. The grief underneath the jokes. The desire to be alone and the simultaneous ache to be known.

She doesn’t flatten them into a type.

She lets them be people.

And maybe that is a kind of service, too.

We tend to think of service as something we do for another person. We serve a meal. We answer a question. We make someone comfortable. We create an experience.

But maybe service begins much earlier than that.

Maybe it begins with noticing. With being present enough to actually see who is in front of you.

Sometimes, that might mean being connected. And sometimes, it might mean losing service altogether.

We tell stories to remind ourselves we’re alive.

We serve for the same reason: to pay attention to another person’s aliveness. And both require us to be present.

Maybe going beyond the surface isn’t about looking harder. Maybe it’s about being present enough to notice what was already there.

With much love & noticing what is already there,

Anjali

Today I wandered through the Mary Kay Museum. I didn’t expect a cosmetics founder and company to get me thinking so deeply about legacy and what imagination is capable of.

Isn’t it magical how the greatest frustrations of your life can turn you into the kind of person who can make the greatest, most generous contribution of your life? Mary Kay Ash sure did.

In my birth year, she left her earthly life. She said: “you see, life to me is no brief candle. It’s a splendid torch, and I want to burn it brightly before I pass it on to future generations.” She started the company at an age when most people act like “it’s all downhill from here.” Even her home refused to go out quietly in its statement pink paint.

She believed the greatest gift wasn't a paycheck. It was the ability to create one. She created environments for countless women to become entrepreneurs, financially independent, exceptional at their work — for themselves, their families, their communities. Her women's wins were her wins. For her, building a business was one of the most effective ways to enact change. That profit becomes most meaningful when it's used as a channel for service at scale.

She practiced servant leadership. Hospitality as the heartbeat of her organization. Storytelling in her branding. She wasn't trying to be the only remarkable one. If your success doesn't multiply someone else’s success, I'm pretty sure you're dealing in greed.

The bumblebee is a recurring symbol at Mary Kay. Super achievers earn a diamond bumblebee pin. Engineers once concluded that bumblebees shouldn't be able to fly — their bodies too heavy for their wings. The bumblebee doesn't know what the engineers think. And so they go on flying anyway. Whether or not the story is scientifically accurate almost misses the point.

The symbols we choose to internalize become the stories we rehearse.

Do you truly believe that your life is a brightly shining torch, that you possess the power to create what can outlive you, an impact you can pass on?

Or do you believe that your life is a brief candle, dwindling, burning down, until one day you’re blown out and that’s the end?

You choose what you believe. And belief doesn't guarantee the outcome, but it does change what you're willing to attempt. Mary Kay believed. The bumblebee became the reminder. Look what followed.

Yes, Mary Kay started with makeup.

But first she made up a future that didn’t yet exist.

Reality simply caught up with her imagination.

Your imagination and audacity are some of your greatest assets.

Make it up. Make it all up. Make it multiply.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Today’s letter comes on a Friday instead of a Thursday — perhaps a metaphor as I prepare to celebrate a birthday before the next time I write you. In every ending is a new beginning.

This week, a pivotal career decision has been weighing on my heart. You know when the pressure is on? Your risk tolerance, your values, your past, your future all come into question.

The only cure I’ve ever found for overwhelm is simplify, simplify, simplify. What actually matters to you right now? You are under no obligation to be who you were yesterday. And while there may be intense grief, there is no shame in pivoting.

When I feel this way, I think of my great aunt Lucy, my grandfather’s youngest sister.

She was the first of her family from a small village in the backwaters of Kerala, India to immigrate to America. She became a nurse even when everyone she knew told her it was a “bad profession.” She trained in north India, worked in Mumbai and Kenya, and eventually made her way to Texas — sponsoring what would become four generations of family so we could all have a better life. She retired from the same Dallas hospital that hired her first.

She had no idea what would become of any step she took. She simply kept moving forward, doing what she believed to be the next right thing. And we got to celebrate her almost-90th birthday this past week — she was surrounded by the fruits of her hospitality.

Not too shabby for a girl from that village.

Isn’t it wild how a seemingly small choice can change your life and perhaps many more lives? As my mother says: “everything matters AND nothing matters.” We never really know what anything is going to become. Despite what anyone tells us about certainty, there never really is any — in any vocation, any profession, at any age.

I’m learning to move forward even when I don’t know for sure. Especially when the signs aren’t clear and my gut isn’t telling me hell yes or heavens no.

The only rule of the game is to keep playing. And your real game likely isn’t what anyone else is playing. The only rule of your game is to keep playing your game.

Godspeed, my friend, one foot in front of the other.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

I got to play the piano for my dear friend Diane’s “lift-off” ceremony today. I got to play some of the same songs I played for my grandmother’s lift-off ceremony 10+ years ago, on the exact same baby grand piano. On Eagle’s Wings, Be Not Afraid, Song of Farewell.

If you’ve been a reader of this newsletter for a while, you’ve heard of Diane. The queen of little S’s (surprises). Letter-writer extraordinaire. God with skin on.

Diane lived a life well lived. This was especially evident by how she was surrounded by love today: her darling Bob, generations of family, friends, and community members she had poured into for many decades. She practiced hospitality through deep present moment awareness, quality time, and spotlighting beauty at every opportunity.

I have some special voice memos from Diane. No one wields language quite like her. Bless your ears and heart — take a listen:

The way will open. Always have joy, even in, as yet, undisclosed destinations. Lift your arms and hands, as though reaching for the sky. Dancing is a beautiful expression of the soul in motion.

Diane taught me so much, but, most profoundly, she showed me what it really means to have confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. To live for the hope of it all!

Heaven is opening up for her. As Diane’s granddaughter Grace says: cheers to dancing to eternity!

I feel tremendously blessed to have known her, loved her, and to have been loved by her in this life.

For Diane & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

I remember thinking as a child that life must get easier at some point, right? I haven’t experienced that it has — been going THROUGH IT for years and years!! Have you?

Cue Adele’s “they say that time’s supposed to heal ya…”

As I near quarter-life, our fig tree is nearing the end of its harvest for this year’s summer season. This tree has been on Earth for about the same amount of time as me. And its prolific output has only been in the last five years or so, during which I’ve gotten to pick some baskets full of ripe figs.

Sweet, taut, mushy, fibrous, a flower grown inwards, sure of itself. And the fruit has never tasted better than it does today.

I gaze at the tree in wonder thinking about how it is never ruminating or plotting about making an orange, a lemon, or an apple. It is made for fig-making, for flowers blooming inward, that’s what it knows, and that’s what it does. And in its inward-blossoming, it creates a naturally beautiful outward spectacle for us to be in awe of, especially in the summertime.

The Obamas and Anne Hathaway are some people who have been inspiring me a little extra lately. They’ve managed to do some of the most meaningful work (in impact and volume) of their lives as they’ve gotten older. The Obama Presidential Center for the community. Five era-defining and genre-defying films in a year.

May the most prolific days and years of your life be ahead of you, and even if it never gets easier, may your capacity expand to exceed the challenges. And may the good times not only be a FIGment of your imagination, may they be realized. May they be filled with the fruit that only you can make. May you give yourself the time, because no one and nothing else will.

As the World Cup comes to its end this weekend, I hope we as a human race can keep the joy that abounded during the tournament in our lives and communities all the days of our lives, especially when it’s peak hard.

I see that joy and hardship grow from the same pitch, the same turf.

May we make joy the goal, relentlessly. That’s the kind of goalkeeper I want to be.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

If you’ve been celebrating the World Cup, happy quarterfinals! We’re gettin’ down to it.

Have you been whale watching? If not, DO IT. I got to witness whales in their natural habitat for the first time in the Salish Sea off the coast of Vancouver. Shoutout to the Prince of Whales crew — they embodied attentive hospitality from the dock to the open seas and back!

It was a chilly, rainy day on the water — a welcome change from our currently sizzling summer. Our boat cut through the waves. Sheets of rain painted the windows with fervor. Our eyelashes fluttered fast on the open deck.

As we ventured deeper, there they were. A family of orcas. A whole pod. Mama Tasu, son Rocky (apparently an eligible bachelor), and his younger siblings.

Orca pods are matriarchal. The oldest female leads — she is the living memory of the pod. She knows the migration routes, the feeding grounds, the other pods worth trusting. Her children travel with her for life, until the end (jusqu’à la FIN). Sons never leave. Daughters eventually lead their own pod. When the matriarch goes, the pod feels it in ways science is still trying to measure.

Soon, we got to see them delightfully meet a different pod for the first time. Some serious social bonding ensued!

The road is long, the seasons swimming with rough waters and smooth sailing — either way, you’re gonna need and want your pod around you. If you’re with your pod/people/team, it’ll be safe to explore and come up for air when you need, always.

Orcas seem to answer the question of 'to stay or to go?' no biggie. They illustrate that the pod is the point. The only constant is change. Stay and go together, and you will be successful in every place.

Migration patterns are also interesting because they require pods to travel far, instinctively. And whales just do it. Constantly adjusting, making changes, making the move to find the right temp, food source, and environment. Every summer, orcas migrate to the Pacific Northwest. The water tells them when. The salmon tell them where.

The ocean is far, wide, deep. So is the story of your life. The truth is you haven’t even met all the people who will love you and all the people you’ll get to love YET. I treasure the openheartedness, the hope in that.

What a gift it is that we get to live, love, and explore alongside our Earth’s exceptional creatures. Grateful for marine biologists’ wise perspectives on life through their continual study — all you marine experts, feel free to expand upon anything shared in this letter.

If you know of a human equivalent of echolocation, please let me know. I am always on the lookout for kindred spirits in the wild!

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Tidings for the beginning of the second half of 2026. May it bring you love and tailwind!

Hiya from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada! I'm writing this on Canada Day (like our 4th of July) in Canada. The spirit is spiriting! I'm here exploring opportunities in front of and behind the camera through the extensive film/TV projects filming here. It's an exciting step in this long-awaited part of my creative career.

This landscape, majestic mountain ranges and immaculate bodies of water, holds stories worth telling, so it's no surprise to me that projects made here are finding global success. You just feel it when you land. I sure did.

It's an extra joyful time to be here because, as a host city for the World Cup, Switzerland faces Algeria tonight at BC Place. Outside my hotel, watch parties elicit earthquake-levels of cheer. Flags, vendors, whole diasporas’ hopes in their players. Not a theory of togetherness. Togetherness itself, on a Tuesday.

Vancouver is a thoughtful city. Everything is intuitive. Cozy SeaBus ferry, smooth SkyTrain, you can walk everywhere, you can bike everywhere. To my great pleasure! Speaking from experience, bike Stanley Park and the Seawall for at least half a day AND walk the entirety of the Spirit Trail in North Vancouver for a Pacific Ocean sized flood / North Shore Mountains sized peak of happy hormones!!

British Columbia is the most real and idyllic place. Spot prawns, pulled that morning, sold by the person who caught them. No middleman, no fluff. Just the prawns and the human who caught them. That's this place in one plate. A man in a suit stopped mid-stride on the Seawall, laptop bag still on his shoulder, and just gazed at the mountains and the sunlight glimmer on the sea.

Locals seem to have a built-in compass — the natural world always in view, recalibrating what matters most.

So, I ask you: what are you really working for? And for you, what cannot be sacrificed for the sake of so-called productivity?

I think we'll find good living in the answers.

Wishing you soft landings, high altitudes, and a cool breeze driftin' on by, just like a BC seaplane and like Vancouverite crooner Michael Bublé singing to youuu.

With much love & to going beyond the surface, Anjali

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Nature is THE host.

We read three novels cover to cover by the banks of a flowing river. The rumble of cicadas echoed and bounced off the trees like a perennially roaring engine on a soundstage, even overpowering the rush of the water. My pup Jack found a swimming hole that’s easy on his joints — he’s a natural swimmer and a very happy camper when he gets to dive in.

We also became acquainted with the underwater treadmill. Have you tried one? The action mimics those of a wading bird and it is a sight to behold.

What got me thinking beyond the surface (literally!) about underwater treadmills is NOBODY ELSE REALLY KNOWS THE GROUND YOU WALK ON. Whether it’s moving or not. Whether it’s whiplash fast or painfully slow. Only you do. They only see you going about your life waist up, rarely with any context. So don’t discount how much you’ve had to navigate under the murky water/under the radar!

Perhaps this means that we can assign more importance to trusting our inner compass regarding our own lived experiences rather than relying on external directions. Similar to how judgement is now the skill differentiator in this age of AI’s technical/systems prowess. I believe this is why I have been so passionate about stories all my life. Storytelling and making art are the processes of humans trying to empathize and understand ourselves and each other, failing often, and using our sharpening senses of judgement to find ways forward.

Today is my grandmother’s 10th death, or “lift off,” anniversary. She was a profoundly courageous doer with the most unshakeable faith. Someone who served everyone with unreasonable hospitality, no matter the shifting ground she walked on, with judgement that surpassed earthly preoccupations. Cicily was the only grandparent I had, and I think about how we might’ve been more like friends if we had gotten to spend time together as the versions of ourselves that we are today. And boy oh boy have there been iterations.

I feel that if Cicily were here today, she’d tell you and me: JUST KEEP SWIMMING.

Only you know the ground you walk on.

Use it.

Propel.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

P.S. A summer snack I’m loving: sliced figs + goat cheese + a drizzle of honey + a sprinkle of rosemary sea salt. ENJOY!

I felt rich this week.

Not because of the ever-fluctuating stock market. And not because of the things I bought (I managed to buy no thing).

But because of the way I spent time. The rituals I prioritized.

One evening, I went in for a simple combo massage featuring reflexology and traditional Chinese modalities. My masseuse had healing hands. In our out-of-touch times, touch almost feels like luxury. It’s actually feeling like the epitome of luxury.

My pup Jack went in for some light PT. He was blessed with some healing hands as well.

Luxury used to be found in brand names. Now, I believe it really is becoming how well you take care of your body-mind-spirit and the communities and ecosystems around you. I'm finding incredible luxury in meaningful rituals, as I always have, but even more so as I get older.

I got to host a dinner party on Sunday night in my childhood home with my dear childhood friends. Cue Olivia Dean crooning “I’ve seen it dance with friends around the table / in Eleanor, Rosie, and Louise…” (from “I’ve Seen It”).

My friend Maria made World Cup pomegranate paloma cocktails. We mused our way through an oil pastel free-draw session, color lathering itself all over our hands. And it felt like a reminder that there are roots that we have been naturally growing all our lives, roots that we don’t have to strain ourselves to belong to.

In terms of our collective wellbeing, I think there’s nothing more directly nourishing than a daily somatic practice + weekly dinner party + monthly massage.

Luxury is being redefined right in front of us. Luxury is meant to be experienced. And I am experiencing true rest in the form of rituals. Rest seems like the real luxury, a salve for the overstimulation everywhere. I’m also finding that rituals are giving me what I need to live more lightly, live with less resentment, and live with more space to create.

What rituals are making you feel rich today? And if you’ve hosted a dinner party recently, please share the menu and tablescape — I am always looking for ideas!

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Have you noticed that the little surprises, the little moments always have the most profound, lasting impact? When you are on the giving AND receiving ends?

A knowing glance you send or catch across a room you can recall years later.

Someone making food for you or you feeding someone else when that’s what would serve them.

A welcome surprise visitor who you would’ve never guessed you would encounter that day.

My friend Diane calls them “little S’s".

And I’m a diehard fan of em. And of her and her surprised face. I surprised her with some dahlias and zinnias this week for her home full of simply beautiful things. And she wrote me letters for two years. She mailed them to me. She’s been doing this ritual for many people in her life for 7+ decades. And through it, she makes us feel seen in ways very few people are able to. I think we’ve both been here before and known each other in a previous life.

If you step back, you may find that life really is about all those little S’s. I find that they keep the garden alive just as much as consistent necessities. And if we get lost in the tediousness of all else, we might miss em.

The World Cup kicked off today in North America.

The NBA Finals are at their height. When it comes to sport, we actually don’t know what will happen next. We want to be surprised, to believe in what we can’t imagine yet. I can’t get over how inspiring and SURPRISING the Knicks’ comeback last night at Madison Square Garden (The Garden, MSG) was. Honestly, goosebumps. Wherever you are, no matter how big the stage, no matter how down, there is always an opportunity to trust in your resilience that much more.

There are so many beginnings that came to their endings. So many endings found new beginnings. They seem to be inseparable, committed to each other in the most breathtaking way. Beginnings and endings hold the greatest stakes. Thus, they make for the greatest stories. Beginnings seem to have an NDA and no prenup, eh?

The reality is that the people we look up to will no doubt let us down and the people who look to us will be let down by us, at some point or another. Can we be surprised by people, in the good and the ugly, and be better for it?

In the comebacks, in the endings, in the let-downs — it's always a “little s” that turns the tide.

Wishing you whatever comeback you need. You are capable of it, with the right team and a heart open to all the little surprises you can give and receive throughout your story.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

There have been quite a few rain showers for it being June. Have the heavens been opening up where you are?

I’m a thinker. I’m thoughtful and thought-full. If you’re here, I can only imagine that you are too.

Frankly, I’m completely exhausted being this way all the time. My new word for the rest of the year and beyond (because, yes, you can pivot whenever you want, nobody cares) is DO. Nothing is more fulfilling than doing, making, creating. Thinking alone can only get you so far. You can just do things. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you can’t.

I’m a planner. I plan short-term and long-term. I own a Papier custom planner. The humbling reality is that the majority of my life’s plans so far have not gone according to plan.

I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t think or plan. In fact, please do keep doing those things. I’m just fully realizing that we don’t have to always be the way we’ve always been, if it’s not serving us or anyone else anymore.

This past weekend, I got to celebrate my cousin and his wife at their baby shower. It’s a girl! And it got me reflecting (I’m a thinker, okay!) on the world I want this baby girl to grow up in.

Shocker! It’s not the one we’re living in right now. And, no, I don’t mean that we should go to Mars. I want her to grow up in a world where she sees every woman around her going for it, trying, failing, pivoting, winning, leading, being celebrated, being herself.

A straight-talkin’, clear-minded friend said to me this week: DON’T DELAY WHAT YOU REALLY WANT TO DO. It really struck me because I’ve never given what I really want to do full permission to run the show. I’ve been putting it on the shelf, and what I thought I put away actually just stares me in the face every day. And truth be told, that’s no way to live.

The shelf isn’t a certain place to leave something. It can collapse any second. What we’ve got is what is in our hands right now — don’t hang it up. Don’t leave it on the shelf. There is no “later.” There is no longer certainty where we used to seek certainty. We each still have a part to play, a relay leg to run, in this changing world to grow ourselves, and, as a byproduct, change the world.

Channel the sprinter’s mind. Don’t delay what you really want to do. I think that’ll make the world a better place via billions of ripple effects we can’t even quantify — there’s no way that we won’t feel the collective positive difference.

Pour into whatever it is that is in front of you. Treasure the beings in front of you. The next steps will unfold. And I’m typing these words because I need these words too.

And by the time our baby girls are of age, perhaps we can all be proud of the world we’ve built for them, the stage we’ve set for them to live in love, the intentional lives and the beautiful world (the batons) we get to pass on.

On that note, I was also reunited with THE queen Janet this past week. A dear friend. A treasured mentor. A writer. A reader. A contemplative. A doer. A thespian. A teacher. A fierce advocate for women everywhere. An inspiration who I was blessed to have had write the foreword to my book six years ago. Hopefully the sight of her can bring you joy. She told me that if we don’t use our voices, no one will know just how intelligent we are. I left our reunion reminding myself of the mantra to use in good and bad times: WWJD, or What Would Janet Do?

And though I know she is one-of-one, I hope you have someone like Janet in your life. And I hope you get to spend time with babies and expectant mothers. What a way to zoom out. What a way to realign with what really matters to you.

And I hope that what matters is aligned with what you really want to do. And godspeed, my friend. May you have the resilient gusto to find a way to do it now, the only time there is.

What sparked joy this week: Pride month lighting up Dallas’ skyline + the Reunion Tower in a week full of reunions and Timbra the piano designed by Edelweiss and Kelly Wearstler! What sparked joy for you?!

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

I test drove electric vehicles for the first time this week.

I was an early enthusiast but a late adopter of them. I have avoided driving EVs because I love my rugged Subaru. But times have taught me to lean into the times. There’s no other time in history in which people drove and needed to drive electric vehicles at this scale. So I’m making a choice to lean into anything good I can do for our planet. Making a choice to lean into technology that matters.

My uncle who let me drive his Tesla Model Y said something fascinating that I think applies to a multitude of contexts. In gas-powered vehicles, there are 1000+ moving parts, so there is a higher chance of something going wrong or something misfiring. In an EV, there are 30ish moving parts, so there is less of a chance for things to go wrong.

If you look at it from a probability standpoint, it is about mitigating risk. But if you look at it from a life-lesson standpoint, it is more about doing more with less. Cleaning the slate. Clearing the cache (as dear Adriene Mishler says!). Being in a vehicle and being THE vehicle that allows you to experience freedom of space and mind to reach the higher self — the one who creates. We need simplicity. We crave it, especially as we get further away from it and can’t find our way back to it.

The electric vehicle drives shocked me. The silence, the weightlessness, the ability to really step on it and ACCELERATE, the way to brake without slamming the brakes (regenerative braking), the wheel being smooth under my hands. It felt like I could actually think about the next level, not just about getting from point A to point B. What a freedom — don’t even get me started on Full Self-Driving (Supervised)!! Going faster with less effort, less baggage. Slowing down to speed up.

And simplicity doesn't mean absence of detail. For example, Adidas bringing ruffles to their Sambas’ stripes is a stroke of genius. Feminine-sporty is Summer 2026. World Cup North America is in the air!!

Some nature moments that go beyond words this week:

Joni Mitchell once said: "Freedom to me is a luxury of being able to follow the path of the heart, to keep the magic in your life. Freedom is necessary for me in order to create, and if l cannot create I don't feel alive." And I think we’re all really obsessively looking for what is real. If you stay true to what is real for you, what sends currents through you, the power you and only you can supply, I think you’ll have lived the life that is yours.

What sparked more joy this week: Maisie Peters’ new album Florescence and Hiroshima-style Okonomiyaki. What sparked joy for you??

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Next week: do tell, what should we get into?

I stumbled upon two sets of double rainbows this week. TWO. TWICE. Both times, when I walked toward them, I felt as though I was walking into them. In some spiritual traditions, double rainbows represent the merging of the heavens and earth. This would be as good a time as any, innit?

Double rainbows can also be experienced as abundance on the horizon. While that can sound like a fortune cookie, I send a song into the universe for abundance for the ones who need it especially right now.

Everything that’s on our hearts tends to come to the surface when we are faced with something much greater than ourselves. And then we go beyond the surface, we zoom out. Shoutout Beyoncé — we’re part of something way bigger.

I got to spend some time at a world-class Heart Hospital this week. What pulled at my heartstrings the most was how such high-stakes work can be done in a way that creates such a peaceful environment for patients, patients’ loved ones, and employees. The HOSPITALity was on point. :)

I’ll be the first to say that I’ve spent most of my employed life around work that has felt high stakes but is objectively not. It’s made to be high pressure for the sake of productivity. But it hasn’t been high stakes in the sense of life or death. At the Heart Hospital, it felt real good to immerse in the world of vital healing, in acute care and in the ambience created. To be surrounded by teams of people who genuinely want those entrusted to their care to be well. To wield innovation for what matters most. To better the business of care. I experienced many green lights aka tailwind there. I’m making moves to bring my creative sensibilities and strategic thinking to spaces like this hospital that are dedicated to the greater good. I’m on a quest for balance between doing what lights me up, being of service, and creating value.

Someone did invest in me significantly this week. With their capital. With their sheer belief. And it has me LIFTED!

There’s the euphoria of being believed in, and there’s humility in not knowing.

Life is short, but the road is looooong. There is so much to do. There are ways in which I want to do it all. There are days I want to do it all, there are days I want to do nothing. There are curveballs waiting in the wings. There are incredible, like-minded, kindred-spirited people I haven’t met yet. And that is extremely exciting.

And I may not see every step clearly, but I’m gonna walk with purpose in the direction I’m going. There’s not much else I can control.

Life’s not all sunshine and rainbows. But sometimes it is. Sometimes it really is.

I’m trying my darnedest to never forget that.

What sparked joy for me this week: 72-hour sardine diet, Jack letting me easily put on his grip socks, working out with friends, sunset views through the window as I leg press at the gym, my baby niece playing the pan like a drum, ranunculus, wildflowers, and novel-to-screen adaptations + the wisdom in our generation depicted + The Foundations’ jam “Baby Now That I’ve Found You” (I melt to the verse lyrics: baby, baby, since first we met / I knew in this heart of mine / The love we had could not be bad / I played it right and bide my time) in Louisa Levy’s new series Off Campus. What sparked joy for you this week?

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Next week: what do you wanna get into?

Mother’s Day came and went. As the magnolia trees bloom all around (cue Leon Bridges’ song “Magnolias”), I’m reminded of the magnolia bouquet my mom handmade for me for prom 7 years ago. I viscerally remember feeling great joy at the sight of her making and doing something she loves. I’ve experienced the most love from my mom through what she makes and does with her hands. My prayer this week and always is for her great health and that she gets to spend the rest of her life doing what she loves. Perhaps you share this prayer for your mother.

This week, I’ve been bringing together fresh cut magnolia blooms for a kitchen vase. They die after one day, so I bring them back to the Earth. I learned that even though magnolias and lemons share a strong citrus scent, they are not, in any scientifically proven way, family.

Is scientific proof what makes a family…? Debatable.

I went pretty analog this week. It felt real good.

I have to say that this platform is, for me, the most peaceful platform on the entire internet. It feels as though we’re connecting typewriter to typewriter. It does not feel like we’re placing our value in or centering our lives around the attention economy. I’ve come to believe the internet is mostly a placebo. A placebo for connection, for productivity, for meaning, for purpose.

There is no real answer that has ever come to me by spiraling within the confines of my limiting mind or through the glowing box of a screen and its ceaseless information. And trust me, the screens promise me answers I seek intensely these days, but I’ve never really found them there.

Information is not the cure — of that I’m convinced. Before I’ve even gotten to quarter-life, I’ve taken in more information than a person even really needs across their entire lifetime. Answers are not the end all be all. Because everything changes.

My best ideas have often emerged on long walks in quiet and bustling places, when I’m of service to other people and creatures, when I immerse in the creative, non-linear process of making art, when I wake from sleep, or when I ideate on the back of a napkin at a function.

I saw the recent Prime Video series Young Sherlock this week, and though it is set in the Victorian era, it felt eerily relevant to the human condition we experience glaringly everywhere today. Innovation, spare no cost. Innovation over love. Power, spare no cost. Power over love. I did screenshot some subtitles. You can sense that observation and wonder live in these characters’ bones which leads to curiosity which leads to solution-finding. In that way, I find our callings live in our somatic experience.

We are not above nature. Regardless of the dystopian times we’re living in.

Speaking of awe and curiosity, I’m an aunt to a 10-month-old baby girl. My dog Jack got to meet her this week and she got to meet bubba Jack.

One creature with endless wonder, one creature with endless wisdom. She squeals and reaches for him, launching herself into a trust fall. He lets her hold him close, which for her tiny hands results in intensely gripping his fur. Their full capacities for love were on full display. So much goodness behind the squeezes.

In an effort to access the wonder of a baby and the wisdom of an elder dog, I danced bachata last night, two cha-cha-chas included. Nothing like footwork to remind you you’re alive and that your own movement + the rhythm of another can move you profoundly. I believe dancing is one cure for the plague that is “othering.”

The breeze of grace is ever-blowing. Catch the waves.

What sparked true joy for me this week: Jack’s arthritis symptoms reducing enough so that he could run like when he was young. Stephen Sanchez’s new record LOVE, LOVE, LOVE top to bottom. Belt singing again. Quilted jackets. Mary Jane flats. Lotus Foods ramen with bok choy, toasted sesame oil, tamari, ginger, garlic, and lime.

What sparked joy for you this week? I care to celebrate that with you.

With much love & to going beyond the surface,

Anjali

Next week: dancing through the next chapter of my story !!