War, Crime, Death, Rising Costs, Angst for Us All

Making it through the cold realities of our day and still finding joy

Not too long ago, I felt as if the world would stop spinning. I catastrophized the big and small things in my life. A sniffle could turn into COVID-19; an investor's delayed response intensified my anxiety; a phone call from back home was sure to be hard news. I was certain all that was familiar would slowly or abruptly slip away.

And then it did. I got COVID, as many of us did. Close friends and family members passed away. I sold one company and partnered with investors to start a new one. My grandmother, Ella Mae, a centenarian matriarch who’d lived through unbearable times in the segregated South when Jim Crow reigned, was laid to rest.

Over the last three years, many of us lost the comfort of familiarity. We lost loved ones, jobs, homes. We lost our center of gravity. And yet, the world kept spinning. One day passed, and then another, and then another. Some days, we crawled forward. Some days, we couldn’t get out of bed or we put ourselves to bed early with the resolve to try again tomorrow. We made big moves on other days that felt like winning despite odds stacked against us. We made it to 2023, perhaps weary, but still here.

These days, I find myself pointed in new directions–– a new company to helm, college considerations for my teenage son, pruning my personal brand to mirror the newness of everything. The pandemic changed us, whether or not we’re conscious of it. If you’re like me, you’re trying to figure out who you want to be moving forward in your work, your relationships, and your spirit. I can’t help but reflect on what was, what will be, and most of all, what thoughts percolate beneath the surface. I’m left with a curiosity about the dissonance between the uneasy hum of my thoughts and my present reality. I’ve become anxious by habit.

This is no revolutionary observation for my Black and Brown brothers and sisters. Our anxiousness is our vigilance in a world waiting for us to misstep. Our worry is often our comfort. It keeps us one step ahead of any explicit or implicit racial biases, combating the notion that we are lazy or incompetent simply because of the color of our skin.?

Still, as life moved forward and new opportunities fell into place this year, I couldn’t help but recognize the incongruence between my reality and my angst. I am blessed to be working with a new team of investors and digital health innovators who understand ideas and missions rooted in achieving health equity take time to incubate. They are encouraging of the early progress my team and I have made during this incubation phase. Reputable universities are courting my son on his own merit. And my family was able to assuage the heartache of losing our dear Ella Mae through a joyous celebration of her life. It all feels too good to be true, and I’m left wondering, why? Why can’t this goodness be true? As a Black man in America striving for that good life, isn’t there always another shoe to drop?? Shouldn’t all of us guard our hearts when hope for the future has become such a vulnerable act??

Even in my peers and colleagues who found their lives unscathed in the wake of the pandemic, I can sense an undercurrent of habitual dread despite the stability in their lives. And there are certainly valid reasons for a disquieted heart. The atrocities unfolding in the wars of Israel-Palestine, Ukraine, and Sudan; the disturbing rise in youth violence across major cities and the alarming increase in youth suicides; the looming uncertainty of another tumultuous presidential election year; and the enduring racial health disparities, further exacerbated by the lingering impact of the pandemic—all cast a shadow over our world.

This inquiry led me back to a familiar place. In my book The Joy of the Disinherited, I borrow inspiration from Rev. Howard Thurman’s teachings on how to free one’s mind amidst the threat of profound social and psychological displacement. In his book Jesus and the Disinherited, Thurman writes:

“A profound piece of surgery has to take place in the very psyche of the disinherited… The great stretches of barren places in the soul must be revitalized, brought to life, before they can be challenged.”

If like me, you find yourself carrying a surplus of worry that is inconsistent with the beauty of your reality, I encourage you to take stock of your thoughts to perform that profound piece of surgery in your psyche. Ask yourself–– is your worried mind clouding your ability to see beauty in your reality? Things may be far from perfect, but can you interrupt the pattern of your anxious thoughts just long enough to embrace the good in your life? This is no easy task these days but I’m finding it is a necessary part of self-care and something I hope to infuse into the culture of my new company.

A new year will be here soon with new reasons for angst, but if we help one another see the beauty that does exist in our reality, we can build the habits of the mind that will result in that intriguing upward spiral from gratitude to joy.