0:05

I'm going to be a good girl. Hey,

0:10

Hannah. Hey, Leela.

0:14

Have you ever thought that storytelling

0:16

could be meditative? Meditative.

0:21

Yeah, like if there were ways that we could reflect on a story to help

0:23

us move through something or have some

0:25

clarity in some way. But

0:29

I guess we don't realize we're

0:32

working through something or we're processing

0:35

something. Mm-hmm. We're

0:37

just telling a story. Yeah, well, I wanted

0:39

to do something different today. Mm-hmm. Recently,

0:42

someone

0:43

reached out to me and they asked me

0:45

if I had a story that I haven't told before,

0:47

something that changed my life in some way, something

0:50

that could be meditative. Ooh,

0:54

I'm liking this.

0:55

Say more. So it's

0:58

this concept of a podcast called Meditative

1:00

Story, and it combines immersive

1:02

storytelling with mindfulness practice.

1:06

And they interview people like Isabella Allende,

1:09

the writer, or former

1:11

footballer Al Harris.

1:13

Mm-hmm. Okay, so then today,

1:15

Stoop listeners, we're going to do something

1:18

a little different. We're going to listen

1:21

to a story in a different way through

1:23

the lens of meditative story.

1:26

So take some deep breaths

1:30

and take it all in.

1:32

Oh.

1:43

I'm taking you back to Havana in my

1:45

20s, and today we're going to share this very

1:47

special episode of Meditative

1:49

Story. For a story

1:51

that involves hair, Fidel

1:54

Castro, curves,

1:56

dance,

1:58

Cuba. Mm. All

2:01

right, vamanos. ["The

2:05

Stoop"] The

2:18

Stoop. The Stoop. The Stoop.

2:20

The Stoop. Stories from across the black diaspora.

2:23

That we need to talk about. My cousins

2:25

were water and grease girls, and I couldn't

2:27

be a water and grease girl. That's what I'm talking

2:29

about, ballerina in the hood. We be,

2:31

gala geecha, knighted people. When a black

2:33

woman walks up to the desk

2:36

in labor, what

2:38

preconceived notions do you have about her? I

2:41

didn't even know we had a hair sharp.

2:48

The Stoop.

2:51

I'm David Remnick, and each

2:53

week on The New Yorker Radio Hour, my colleagues

2:56

and I unpack what's happening in a very

2:58

complicated world. You'll hear from

3:00

The New Yorker's award-winning reporters and

3:02

thinkers, Jelani Cobb on Race

3:05

and Justice, Jill Lepore on American

3:07

History, Vincent Cunningham and Gia

3:09

Tolentino on Culture, Bill McKibbin on

3:11

Climate Change,

3:12

and many more.

3:14

To get the context behind events in the

3:16

news, listen to The New Yorker Radio

3:18

Hour,

3:19

wherever you get your podcasts. Listen

3:22

to Almost There, a podcast from Emerson

3:24

Collective about turning big ideas into

3:27

lasting social change. Join poet

3:29

and lawyer Dwayne Betts in deep conversations

3:31

with creative problem solvers, from

3:33

architects and doctors to entrepreneurs

3:36

and many more. This is a show for anyone

3:38

who wants to learn about the joyful, messy, and surprising

3:40

journey to build a better world. Listen

3:42

wherever you get your podcasts. ["The

3:46

New Yorker Radio Hour"]

3:54

Havana is just as magical

3:57

as I remembered. At

3:59

night, Crowds linger along

4:01

the Malecon, an ocean

4:03

wall that protects the city from storms.

4:06

As the waves

4:08

crash against it, lovers,

4:11

philosophers, poets, musicians,

4:13

fishermen, and students discuss

4:16

politics and philosophy, and

4:18

they debate about capitalism and socialism.

4:22

I also see how people

4:24

struggle here.

4:25

Really struggle. But

4:28

I feel a confidence in people too,

4:30

and I sometimes just sit

4:33

and observe their laughter, how

4:37

they use their voice, their

4:39

hands. I

4:41

try to soak it all

4:44

up. ["The

4:47

Star-Spangled Banner"] ["The Star-Spangled Banner"] Leela

4:56

Day is an award-winning journalist and

4:58

co-host of the beloved podcast,

5:01

The Stoop. In today's story,

5:04

Leela takes us to a pivotal

5:06

time in her life when living abroad

5:09

in Cuba. There, she

5:12

discovers that having the courage

5:14

to examine our own imperfect stories

5:17

can connect us deeply,

5:19

and how in finding our authentic

5:22

voice, we find our

5:25

authentic power.

5:28

In this series, we combine immersive

5:31

first-person stories, breathtaking

5:34

music, and mindfulness prompts,

5:37

so that we may see our lives reflected

5:39

back to us in other people's stories,

5:42

and that can lead to improvements in our own

5:44

inner lives. From

5:48

way to what, this is meditative

5:51

story. I'm

5:54

Rehan, and I'll be your guide. The

6:21

body relaxed. The

6:24

body breathing. Your

6:28

senses open. Your

6:30

mind open. Meeting

6:34

the world. A

6:51

beam of sunlight shines

6:53

down through the pains of the glass ceiling.

6:57

It's like a spotlight on me. Where

7:02

I sit at my desk in an almost empty

7:04

room. Gorgeous

7:07

plants surround the office lobby. Every

7:12

angle in this room is perfectly

7:15

stylized and meticulously

7:18

curated. This

7:23

place looks like the gateway

7:25

to hipsterdom. I'm

7:28

the gatekeeper. And

7:30

I hate it. I've

7:34

been working as a receptionist at this

7:36

architectural firm in San Francisco for a few

7:39

months now. I'm in my early

7:41

twenties. On occasion I

7:43

answer the phone or I take down a message,

7:45

but mostly I do nothing. I'm

7:48

part of the aesthetic. I

7:51

suspect I'm here because my

7:53

bosses wanted a black girl in the front office.

7:56

A man wearing a fleece vest over

7:58

a button-down shirt walking. I look

8:01

up at him and I smile, like

8:03

I'm supposed to. How can I help

8:05

you today? No one cares if

8:07

I'm actually good at this job. One of my main responsibilities

8:10

is making coffee, and I don't even know

8:13

how to use the coffee maker. I

8:16

just sit here and look a certain

8:18

way. The

8:20

token black girl. I'm

8:23

deeply uncomfortable in this role. I

8:25

barely speak to anyone in the office.

8:28

But

8:28

I remind myself that I'm young, and

8:31

it's good money for my first job out of college.

8:35

When I think about it, my

8:37

appearance has always been something

8:39

that people openly judge.

8:43

Not necessarily my body,

8:45

but my blackness. I

8:50

think back to growing up in

8:52

Las Vegas when I'm 11, studying

8:55

ballet. I

8:57

stand tall in a black leotard

9:00

and pink tights. The studio

9:02

space is brightly lit, almost

9:04

sterile. My teacher tells

9:06

my whole class to lie down, with

9:09

our backs flat against the gritty studio

9:11

floor. She shouts out,

9:14

there shouldn't be a gap between your back

9:16

and the floor. And I try

9:19

so hard to press my lower

9:21

back as close to the hard wood

9:24

as I can. But my body,

9:26

it curves. I have hips

9:29

and a booty. I look to my left

9:31

and I see that the white girl next

9:33

to me, she looks at ease.

9:36

I can feel my ballet teacher's

9:38

eyes on me as I struggle.

9:42

Then I hear a voice

9:44

call out. Our bodies

9:47

don't do that. It's

9:49

the other black girl in the class. And

9:52

she's upset and she speaks up. And

9:55

she's right. Our bodies

9:57

don't do what our teacher is asking.

10:00

And I think, wow, I

10:03

wish I could snap back like that. I

10:05

wish I had that confidence. I

10:08

wish I could be her, but

10:11

I'm not. Instead, I

10:13

start to believe ballet just isn't

10:15

possible for me. As

10:18

a young black woman, I hear people tell

10:20

me, why are you sticking your butt out

10:22

like that when you walk? I'm not. Be

10:25

humble, cover up. You're

10:27

acting too fast. I hear

10:29

these messages from family, from

10:32

my community, at school. There's

10:34

so much attention on my body, I'm

10:37

constantly toning things down so I don't

10:39

stand out. The curves, the

10:41

sway in my back, the way I move.

10:44

These are things I don't grow up feeling proud

10:46

about. I develop a real

10:49

self-consciousness. I retreat into

10:51

myself. Back at

10:53

my desk, my boss

10:55

comes out to greet the man in the vest. They

10:58

disappear back into the well-manicured office,

11:01

and I'm left alone. I

11:04

feel lonely in San Francisco.

11:08

I feel lonely in America. Everyone

11:11

around me is trying to tell me who I am,

11:13

and I don't have the space to figure it out for

11:15

myself. The

11:19

last time I truly felt alive...

11:25

was in Cuba. I

11:28

lived there for three weeks in college, studying

11:31

Spanish. I

11:33

fell in love with the people,

11:36

the culture. The

11:38

values feel different. It's

11:40

more organic, more

11:43

free. In

11:46

Havana, people are so outgoing.

11:58

Strangers engage with each other on the street. the

12:00

street in San Francisco.

12:04

Life feels so insular. Sitting

12:07

at my desk as the hours roll by,

12:10

I run the math repeatedly

12:12

in my head. If

12:14

I just work this job for eight months, if I

12:16

save up everything I can, then maybe I

12:19

can go back to Cuba. Maybe

12:21

that's where I need to be, to feel

12:23

more like me, to really

12:26

figure out who I am. Okay.

12:36

Uno. Dos. Tres.

12:40

Zennetti counts the beats.

12:42

There's no music. He just

12:44

sounds it out. Ah, ooh, ah,

12:46

ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh, ooh, ah.

12:49

I wear my black biker shorts and

12:51

tank top, zennettis and blue

12:53

jeans. We're both

12:55

in our socks. Dancing.

12:59

We're in a basement studio in Havana.

13:02

I've moved back. The

13:04

first thing I do is take Afro-Cuban

13:06

dance lessons. The

13:08

floor here is a little sticky, and

13:11

the space smells like stale booze.

13:14

In the evenings,

13:16

it's a jazz and salsa club. The

13:19

energy from last night's party still

13:21

lingers in the air. Today,

13:24

Zennetti shows me movements connected

13:26

to the orishas, the Yoruba

13:28

spirits that represent the guardians

13:30

of human destiny.

13:33

He tells

13:33

me to channel Yamanya,

13:36

the goddess of the sea. We

13:38

move together, rolling

13:40

like the waves, spinning

13:42

and bending. I

13:46

kick my leg high up in the air, and I arch

13:48

my back. We've combined

13:50

Afro-Cuban, modern, ballet,

13:55

everything into this moment on

13:57

this sticky dance floor. Zanetti,

14:00

I must say, is very good

14:03

looking. Beautiful even.

14:05

Really dark skin, bald,

14:08

beautiful white smile, a dancer's

14:10

body, totally

14:13

chiseled. You'd

14:15

think that after a few weeks here, I

14:17

would have fallen madly in love with him,

14:20

but I don't. I'm just in love

14:22

with the way he teaches me to

14:24

dance. Zanetti's

14:27

always trying to pull me out. I

14:31

know you're in there, he says. I

14:34

know you have something to say. Feel

14:36

it, Lila. No tengas miedo.

14:41

Don't be afraid. His

14:44

words remind me to

14:46

stop toning it down. I can't do

14:48

this dance half-assed. Even

14:53

with the most subtle moves, there has

14:56

to be a confidence in it. I

14:58

feel my heart open through Afro-Cuban modern dance.

15:03

The steps exist in the world. I

15:07

feel my heart open through

15:09

Afro-Cuban modern dance.

15:12

The steps accentuate everything

15:14

about my body, my hips,

15:17

my curves. I

15:19

connect so deeply with the African roots and

15:22

the modern moves. I

15:25

feel so beautifully

15:27

black and proud

15:31

and so alive. I

15:34

feel that a lot since moving back to Cuba.

15:39

Havana is just as magical

15:41

as I remembered. At

15:43

night, crowds linger along

15:46

the Malecon, an ocean wall

15:48

that protects the city from storms. As

15:51

the waves crash against it, lovers,

15:56

philosophers, poets, musicians,

15:59

fishermen, and students

16:01

discuss politics and philosophy

16:04

and they debate about capitalism and

16:06

socialism. I

16:08

also see how people

16:10

struggle here, really struggle.

16:14

But I feel a confidence in people

16:16

too. And I sometimes

16:18

just sit and observe

16:20

their laughter, how

16:23

they use their voice, their

16:26

hands. I

16:28

try to soak it all

16:30

up. The Malecon in Havana,

16:33

the basement dance studio,

17:02

these are places of self-expression

17:04

for Leela. Where

17:07

in your life can you go to be

17:09

with others and be more

17:12

of who you are? Whether

17:15

that's through conversation or

17:17

through movement. And

17:21

if you're not sure, how about

17:23

being open to discovering such

17:25

a place where you find

17:27

space to examine your own

17:30

beliefs?

18:11

On a summer afternoon, I sit

18:13

in my chair in my apartment with a towel

18:15

draped around my shoulders. I

18:19

look out through the big wooden doors onto

18:21

my terrace. Children

18:24

laugh and play on the street below. My

18:28

friend Rodrigo stands over

18:30

me holding a pair of scissors. You

18:34

ready? He asks. I

18:36

am, I say. He

18:38

reaches down to the back of my head and

18:41

starts to cut. I

18:44

hear the scissors slice through my hair. Sections

18:48

of hair float to the tiled

18:50

floor. I

18:53

stare blankly. Rodrigo

18:56

tells me, it's looking beautiful.

18:59

Let's do this mulatta. Rodrigo

19:02

always calls me mulatta. Most

19:05

Cubans call me that. The

19:07

relationship with race is so

19:10

different in Cuba. There

19:12

are interracial couples everywhere and no one

19:15

cares.

19:16

Everywhere I go in Havana, I'm called

19:18

mulatta. Meaning I'm

19:20

mixed race, some combination of black and Spanish.

19:24

I have brown skin and I straighten my

19:26

hair with relaxers. Oye

19:28

mulatta, vena ca, my friends would say.

19:30

Or if I'm being singled out in a room, preguta

19:33

la mulatta. Hasta mulatta. Back

19:36

home, having your race called out repeatedly

19:39

might be uncomfortable. But

19:41

here it feels common, direct and

19:44

without baggage. I haven't

19:46

been here long, but it seems

19:48

like the racism and judgment that I felt

19:51

back home in America hasn't

19:53

followed me here. Getting in

19:55

touch with my body and my roots through

19:57

dance, I'm slowly feeling

19:59

more more comfortable in my skin. I

20:02

usually straighten my hair with relaxers, but

20:05

they're imported goods and difficult to come by,

20:07

so eventually I decide, screw it.

20:09

I don't need to straighten my hair anymore. It's

20:12

something I've done my entire life. Since

20:15

I was six years old, whenever my kinky

20:17

roots would grow out, my mom would take me

20:19

to the salon, they would slap on the chemicals,

20:22

and I'd silently cry because it

20:24

burned.

20:25

I've never known my hair any

20:27

other way. But now it's breaking

20:30

off and it looks a mess, and I'm not

20:33

feeling cute. As

20:36

Rodrigo snips away, our friend

20:38

Juan Sol comes into the room to watch. And

20:41

he cheers me on.

20:44

He's Chilean like Rodrigo. They

20:46

see this as an act of resistance,

20:49

which it isn't. Juan holds

20:51

up a fist, see, see, see.

20:54

Finally, Rodrigo steps back. Yeah,

20:58

finito, he says proudly. I

21:01

go into the bathroom and I look in

21:03

the mirror. He's done his job.

21:06

My straight hair is gone and

21:08

a thick, woolly-proof rests

21:11

on top of my head. I

21:13

touch it like

21:14

it's a sea urchin and feel

21:16

how it

21:16

bounces back. I pull

21:19

at the coils, I try

21:21

and fail to run my fingers through

21:23

it. This is

21:26

my afro. I

21:28

grab my purse to look for some lipstick. I

21:30

swipe the red color on my lips. I

21:32

find some big earrings. This

21:35

new look, it feels liberating

21:38

and sexy. I feel great.

21:41

Juan and Rodrigo approve. This

21:45

is a win. I am grateful

21:48

to finally be in a place where I can

21:50

embrace my hair, my body, my

21:53

style, my culture, where

21:55

I can feel empowered to discover who I

21:57

am on my own terms.

21:59

and embrace new experiences

22:02

without being limited by the racial lenses

22:05

and judgments of others. The

22:07

things I would hide in America, I flaunt

22:10

here.

22:12

Look at me. At

22:15

least, that's how I feel

22:17

at first.

22:22

Why did you cut your hair? You

22:25

look negra now. This

22:28

question catches me off guard. A

22:31

group of us are standing together outside

22:34

on a warm Havana evening. My

22:36

friend's husband is the one who asked.

22:39

He's from Havana. He's considered a white Cuban.

22:42

And he's looking at my hair

22:44

with a snarled lip. He

22:47

hates it. His question

22:50

hangs in the air. Why'd you do that? You look

22:52

negra now. He

22:54

means that without my long,

22:57

straight hair, I don't look mulatta anymore. Negra

23:00

is the word people use in Cuba to refer

23:03

to someone who's black. And I never

23:05

thought it had any negative connotation here. But

23:08

maybe that's because I've been

23:10

called mulatta until

23:11

now. But

23:13

the way my friend's husband is asking this,

23:16

it sounds like looking negra is a bad

23:18

thing.

23:20

As if there's a hierarchy with blanco

23:22

at the top and then mulatta or

23:24

mestizo and negra at

23:26

the bottom. I feel embarrassed

23:30

and suddenly less attractive. I

23:33

mean, the comment feels racist, but

23:35

I second-guess myself. This man

23:38

is married to a black woman. I

23:40

can see that he doesn't think anything of what

23:42

he said. Neither does his wife.

23:45

No one else in the group seems to either. These

23:48

comments are normal in Cuba. I

23:50

just hear them differently.

23:54

And

23:54

the months after my new haircut, negra,

23:58

not mulatta, is what people use. call

24:00

me when I go out on the street.

24:03

It's always said with a certain

24:05

tone. I never

24:08

thought how much one small thing

24:10

can change people's entire perception

24:13

of you. With

24:15

my new hair, my natural

24:17

hair, I have what's called here in Cuba,

24:20

pelo malo, bad hair.

24:24

This doesn't feel right. I

24:26

thought I found a place where I feel safe.

24:30

And Cuba does celebrate blackness in many

24:32

ways and takes pride in

24:34

its mixed culture. I still

24:36

love it here.

24:38

But I realize now,

24:39

I've been ignoring certain problems. Some

24:42

of the same problems that exist back in the U.S. At

24:45

first, I just want to shut down

24:48

and retreat into myself again

24:50

and become that person nobody

24:52

realizes is in the room. But

24:55

Cuba has helped me find my voice.

24:58

So instead of covering up, I

25:00

start to ask questions.

25:03

I start to examine how I feel about

25:05

this subtle prejudice. I ask

25:08

my friends, what do you mean when you

25:10

say I'm acting like a negra?

25:13

Why would you say it like that? I

25:16

also reflect inwards. I

25:18

choose to interrogate my own flaws. Why

25:22

did I feel better when I was called mulata?

25:25

How much of that invisible hierarchy

25:28

have I internalized? How

25:30

much have I benefited from it? Cuba

25:36

isn't perfect, but

25:38

I'm not perfect either.

25:42

One evening, I invite a group of my friends,

25:44

women of all shades over to my apartment,

25:47

to help me examine

25:48

my beliefs.

25:51

They sit on my green velvet couch, and

25:54

we drink Havana Club rum and coke from

25:56

little glasses with flowers on them, and

25:59

I listen to their story. I hear

26:02

their perspective. They tell

26:03

me, yes, they too

26:06

have felt shame sometimes when people call them

26:08

negra. They tell me stories

26:10

of their childhood. Things

26:12

that happen at university. They

26:15

talk about interracial relationships and

26:17

the emotional toll that was inflicted. They're

26:21

open and

26:22

they're honest and they snap their fingers

26:24

and interrupt each other.

26:26

Everyone has a story. At

26:33

the end of these heated conversations,

26:36

we turn on the music and

26:38

dance. We dance in a

26:41

living room to salsa, taking

26:43

it down to the ground and back up again. When

26:45

we do all these moves that make us feel free

26:48

and happy and sexy and

26:51

alive, I

26:53

decide to write about all of this. My

26:56

whole hair saga. In an article

26:58

for the national newspaper. I've

27:00

been doing occasional stories since I've

27:03

moved here, mostly about my experience

27:05

as an American living in Cuba. And

27:08

I call this new article,

27:10

Pelo Mallow. Bad

27:12

hair. When

27:15

my piece is published, I receive

27:17

heaps of letters in response.

27:20

They come from all over the country,

27:23

even from really small towns. People

27:26

share their experiences with me and

27:28

they tell me how they relate to what I wrote.

27:31

It really fills me up. Writing

27:34

about my experience, admitting

27:37

I ignored this undercurrent.

27:41

It feels vulnerable,

27:43

but it also feels true.

27:46

I have that same sense I

27:49

have in the dance studio. Like

27:52

my true self is being pulled

27:54

out. It feels powerful.

28:00

What is the truth? Leela

28:16

grows in her truth here, through

28:19

exploring her experiences and expressing

28:22

them in words. In

28:25

an echo to what Leela is doing, bring

28:28

to mind an experience that you haven't

28:30

had the space to fully process yet.

28:35

Now soften. Be

28:38

with it. Don't

28:40

judge it or yourself.

28:58

See if you can find a moment

29:01

to reflect or journal about

29:03

this experience this week. It's

29:07

about being honest, not

29:09

perfect. The

29:27

backs of my arms brush against the soft

29:30

red velvet of the auditorium

29:32

seat. The theater is

29:35

abuzz with attendees from Havana's

29:37

International Women's Conference. From

29:40

where my friends and I sit in the theater's upper

29:42

tier, I look down to the

29:44

lower level. Every

29:47

seat in here is filled.

29:50

A hush falls over the audience. The

29:53

next speaker is about to take the stage. There's

29:56

a moment of quiet and

29:58

then a... Deafening Applause

30:01

breaks out as Fidel Castro,

30:05

Cuban revolutionary and president,

30:07

walks up to the podium.

30:10

We don't always know when he'll show up at events like

30:12

this, but

30:13

he's here now.

30:15

When the applause dies down,

30:17

he starts to speak about unity

30:20

and what keeps Cuba strong and

30:22

undivided as a country. He

30:25

says he recently read an article that

30:28

discussed perceptions around

30:30

good hair and bad hair. The

30:33

things that divide us.

30:35

My friend elbows me and gives me

30:37

a little squeal. The article he's

30:40

referencing is mine.

30:43

Pei Lomalo. My

30:45

jaw drops. Oh my

30:48

God. Oh my God. Fidel

30:50

Castro is talking about my story.

30:54

My friends are going crazy. They

30:56

start high-fiving me and grabbing my shoulders.

31:00

One of my first thoughts is, I

31:02

won't be able to really tell

31:04

this story to my friends back in the States. Fidel

31:07

Castro is seen so differently

31:09

there. But here in Cuba,

31:12

my friends, they suddenly think I'm a celebrity.

31:15

On stage, Fidel Castro continues saying

31:18

that it doesn't matter what type of hair you

31:20

have. It doesn't matter the color of your skin.

31:23

We should all come together as Cubans

31:25

and the audience hangs on his

31:28

every word. Sitting

31:32

back in my auditorium seat,

31:34

I feel a swell of

31:37

emotion. I feel so proud. This

31:40

article is authentically

31:43

me. It's

31:44

my voice, and it's connecting

31:46

with people across the spectrum, from

31:48

the tiniest village to the office

31:51

of the president.

31:54

Growing up, I feel powerless

31:56

in the face of huge systemic problems

31:58

that exist in America. American society. The

32:01

racism, sexism, objectification

32:04

of black bodies, I want to run away

32:06

from it all, become reborn

32:08

in a way that

32:09

isn't even possible.

32:12

I think going to Cuba is the solution,

32:15

but I find different problems,

32:16

different limitations.

32:18

I don't become a different version of me

32:20

by just soaking up what's on the outside.

32:23

It's only when I stop looking

32:26

outwards for answers that

32:28

I start to understand how powerful

32:31

a voice, a story,

32:34

can really be.

32:35

Cuba teaches me that I

32:37

want to help other people find

32:39

their power through

32:41

stories that speak to individual experiences,

32:45

stories that examine our imperfections

32:48

with vulnerability and honesty,

32:51

regardless of how uncomfortable it

32:53

might be.

32:55

These stories connect us to each

32:57

other. They allow us to be honest

33:00

and true.

33:01

They let us hear other people more

33:04

clearly because we

33:06

have taken the time

33:07

to learn to listen to

33:10

ourselves. It's

33:12

a lesson I now always carry

33:14

with me. Through

33:16

our authentic voice comes

33:19

our authentic power.

33:46

Thank you, Lila. The

33:50

theme of Lila's story that most struck me

33:53

was how examining our beliefs can help

33:55

us learn more about who we are. And

33:59

I also loved how we saw Leela express

34:01

herself in two different but

34:04

connected ways. Through

34:06

the body in dance and

34:08

then through words in her writing. Both

34:12

took effort and support and

34:14

were hard won. And

34:17

both share the taste of

34:19

freedom. So

34:22

let's take Leela's lead as we do

34:24

our closing meditation together. Taking

34:28

on her curiosity, spirit

34:30

and energy. Let's

34:33

first turn our awareness to

34:35

the body. Letting

34:38

the body express itself how

34:41

it wants to. That

34:45

might mean letting the belly soften

34:47

and flop out if it wants to.

34:52

It might mean lifting the spine

34:54

a fraction to re-energise

34:57

if that's what feels right. Seeing

35:04

if you can notice any details of

35:06

how the body is expressing itself

35:09

in this moment. Being

35:12

curious about what you

35:14

may discover. Now,

35:25

when Leela was learning dance in that basement,

35:28

her teacher Zanetti encouraged her

35:30

to be as expressive as she could, without

35:33

fear. To move with

35:35

confidence and do everything, even

35:38

the smallest movements fully.

35:43

If Zanetti was a meditation teacher, he

35:45

might say something similar. Know

35:48

the body, the

35:51

sensations within the body,

35:54

the sense of the body as a whole,

35:56

as fully as you can. your

36:01

awareness and your body, one. So

36:06

let's do that ourselves. What

36:09

is your personal experience? Leela

36:25

examined her beliefs by exploring

36:27

her experiences, working

36:29

through them with friends,

36:31

writing them down.

36:35

One of my favorite ways of examining

36:37

beliefs in meditation

36:39

is doing what's called inquiry.

36:44

In this technique, or family of techniques

36:47

really, we ask ourselves

36:49

questions. Then

36:52

listen out for what answers arise. And

36:55

perhaps most importantly, notice

36:58

how we react to those answers. So

37:03

here we go. Taking

37:05

a moment to let the mind be

37:07

calm and settled, and

37:12

dropping in this question, what

37:16

am I? Dropping

37:20

in the question, what am I? And

37:23

noticing the answer, or answers

37:25

that come up.

37:29

And watching how our mind responds

37:31

and comments on the answers that come up.

37:37

What am I? Resetting.

37:52

And again, we'll drop a question

37:54

into the relative quiet of the mind. Noticing

37:59

what responses. The response arises and

38:01

noticing how our mind moves around

38:04

that response. So

38:07

with mind quiet, the

38:09

question we're dropping in is... Who

38:14

am I? Resetting.

38:29

And our final question to drop

38:31

into the quiet mind is this one... What

38:38

is knowing this experience

38:40

right now? What

38:44

is knowing this experience right now?

38:54

Thank you Leela for your story,

38:56

for your work, for your wisdom.

39:01

And thank you. Go

39:03

well. I

39:13

love that. And I mean, I

39:15

must say that was a different way

39:17

to hear a story. Guiding

39:19

through intention. And Leela,

39:22

that was a lot that I hadn't known

39:24

about. I'm glad you shared that story. I'm

39:27

glad I did too. It was definitely

39:30

something that's worth

39:33

remembering. And

39:36

that's the stoop. You can hear more stories

39:38

like this one on the podcast, a

39:42

production of Wait What?

39:59

Nia Humanities, a nonprofit partner of

40:02

the NEH. Find them at calhum.org.

40:05

And special thanks to the NPR Story

40:08

Lab. And we love to hear from

40:10

you. It really helps us when

40:12

you rate us and leave a review. You

40:14

can do all that at Apple Podcasts.

40:17

And make sure to follow us on social media,

40:19

Twitter, and Instagram

40:21

at the Stoop Podcast. Bye.

40:24

Bye. Radio

40:30

to Media, from

40:37

PRX