Meditative Story Podcast Meditative Story Podcast

Your email

Listen to the trailer

Meditative Story combines the emotional pull of first-person storytelling with the immediate, science-backed benefits of a mindfulness practice. Every week, you’ll receive a new Meditative Story from a storyteller who will transport you to a time and place where everything changed for them — a story you might find yourself relating to deeply. As the story unfolds, mindfulness guide Rohan will offer gentle prompts designed to calm your mind and help you connect with your own observations, empowering you to feel restored and refreshed at any moment of the day.

connection

Openness

My funny, feisty, thoughtful brave girl

change

Listen

Despite a lifetime of creative success, Apple Music's Global Creative Director, Larry Jackson, didn't believe in the power of manifestation — until he learned a valuable lesson from Jennifer Hudson and her Pomeranian, Grammy.

Arianna Huffington takes us on her journey from Athens to Cambridge, and shares a lesson she learned from her mother of embracing life’s journey without being attached to the outcome.

Listen

Arianna Huffington

acceptance

Clarity

Listen

CREATIVITY

awareness

Arianna Huffington takes us on her journey from Athens to Cambridge, and shares a lesson she learned from her mother of embracing life’s journey without being attached to the outcome.

connection

Travel to Southeast Asia with writer Pico Iyer as he reveals what happens when we allow ourselves to be pulled forward into the unknown, when we wander and let ourselves experience the magic of the scenes unfolding around us.

My funny, feisty, thoughtful, brave girl

awareness

acceptance

Life and love and the moment

Listen

PICO IYER

change

CREATIVITY

Clarity

Listen

DISCOVERY

To visualize... and then make it so

CONNECTION

Lucy Kalanithi shares a story about how much delight and wisdom there can be — even when we’re surrounded by tragic loss — when we see life and death through the eyes of a child.

To visualize... and then make it so

Pico iyer

Arianna Huffington

centeredness

Listen

About Meditative Story

Openness

Clarity

Your email

acceptance

A home that had been waiting for me forever

Your email

Lucy Kalanithi shares a story about how much delight and wisdom there can be — even when we’re surrounded by tragic loss — when we see life and death through the eyes of a child.

Listen

Arianna Huffington takes us on her journey from Athens to Cambridge, and shares a lesson she learned from her mother of embracing life’s journey without being attached to the outcome.

connection

Clarity

ALL EPISODES

Clarity

LATEST EPISODES

Life and love and the moment

connection

Openness

LARRY JACKSON

Openness

A home that had been waiting for me forever

Listen

centeredness

PICO IYER

LUCY KALANITHI

Listen

LUCY KALANITHI

Listen

Life and love and the moment

Arianna Huffington

Openness

change

Clarity

A home that had been waiting for me forever

DISCOVERY

LARRY JACKSON

Larry jackson

The format invention of Meditative Story

In each of the 26 episodes that form the first season of Meditative Story:

About Meditative Story

A different storyteller uses high-sensory story telling techniques to transport listeners to a time and place where everything changed for them. As the story unfolds, our host and mindfulness guide, Rohan Gunatillake, offers gentle "mindfulness prompts" embedded in line with the story itself, prompting listeners to settle more deeply in story details, and connect with their own observations. The entire experience is elevated by gorgeous, originally composed musical arrangements by The Holladay Brothers, which rides ethereally above the story. Shifting between music and vibration, the innovative sound design brings the story to life, and transforms the listener's state of mind.

Your email

Meditative Story is a first-of-its-kind podcast listening experience that combines the emotional pull of immersive storytelling with the immediate, science-backed benefits of mindfulness practice. Meditative Story is a WaitWhat original series — created by the team who built and led TED's media organization — in close partnership with Arianna Huffington's Thrive Global. The series is made possible with generous support from Salesforce.

As a subscriber, every week you'll receive a different Meditative Story from a storyteller who will transport you to a time and place where everything changed for them — a story you might find yourself relating to deeply. As the story unfolds, mindfulness guide Rohan will offer gentle promprs designed to calm your mind and help you connect with your own observations. Your entire experience will be elevated by gorgeous music gthat rides ethereally above the narrative. Shifting between music and vibration, the sound design brings each Meditative Story to life, with the aim of giving you the headspace to feel restored and refreshed. Some of the great storytellers you'll hear include On Being's Krista Tippett, restauranteur Danny Meyer, futurist Jane McGonigal, author Pico Iyer, ABC Nightline's Dan Harris, NPR's Peter Sagal, Apple Music's Larry Jackson, NASA's Michelle Thaller, transgender boxer Thomas Page McBee and Dr. Lucy Kalanithi, who shares an epilogue to her late husband Paul Kalanithi's memoir "When Breath Becomes Air." From birth to death — from the most profound and singular to the most common, quotidian, everyday occurences — Meditative Story's 360-degree view on life through story will be as evocative as it is action-based, giving listeners the opportunity to restore themselves at any point of the day.

Rohan Gunatillake is the founder of the best-selling app buddhify and author of Modern Mindfulness: How to Be More Relaxed, Focused, and Kind While Living in a Fast, Digital, Always-On World. With his emphasis on combining meditation, technology and design, Rohan is recognised as one of the most creative yet authentic voices in modern mindfulness, and in 2012 Wired magazine named him in their Smart List of 50 people who will change the world. Rohan is currently associate director of a major healthcare technology initiative for the National Health Service in Scotland and he lives with his family in Glasgow. Follow him on Twitter and Medium

Our Host

Your email

About Rohan Gunatillake

Rohan Gunatillake

About the Holladay Brothers

Our Music

The Holladay Brothers

In the same way the printed words in a storybook are embellished and brought to life through visual illustration, the words of the storytellers on Meditative Story are imbued with vibrant color through music and sound design. With a sonic palette ranging from lush string orchestration to modular synthesis and ambient soundscapes, The Holladay Brothers have created a signature musical sound that is more immersive than anything you've heard before in the meditation genre. Notice the evolving tones that precede the very first words you hear, preparing you for the story … or how a flurry of harps is then swallowed by a cascade of choral voices before melting into binaural tones to focus your mind during one of the show's guided meditation prompts. A description of the sleeping quarters on a cargo ship might be accompanied by bellowing horns and meandering woodwinds, while in another episode, the vibrating hum of an analogue drone might set the stage for a long train ride through Japan. And as a story reaches its end, a kaleidoscopic reprisal of the episode's melodic themes elevates the listener and crescendos into a resolving wash that gently returns you to reality. Words and music are two parts of a duet that transport the listener and immerse them in the world of Meditative Story.

The Holladay Brothers

Fostering Connection

Listen

Coming Soon

Making a Small Difference

Change From Within

How often do you move through your day without really noticing the people around you? How often do you give others in the room space to respond? Too often, we move quickly without being mindful of other voices. But it's mindfulness about the people around you that creates space for trust and connection.

Your email

Listen

Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi laudantium, totam.

Listen

Change can be big or even epic, or it can be much more modest. But powerful all the same.

Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi laudantium, totam.

Salesforce is the perfect partner for Meditative Story because of their devotion to storytelling as a platform for change, and culture of offering mindfulness practices for its 40,000 person team. WaitWhat, Thrive and Salesforce all aim to improve people’s lives, and in doing so, mirror the kind of world we want to live in. In each episode, Salesforce introduces a concept about creating change from within themselves in ways that can cascade out to the world. Each concept is then accompanied by an unexpected micro-step — a simple action — that invites you to begin to bring about that change today.

Listen

Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi laudantium, totam.

Making a Small Difference

Listen

LUCY KALANITHI

Dr. Lucy Kalanithi is a Clinical Assistant Professor of Medicine at the Stanford University School of Medicine and the widow of Dr. Paul Kalanithi, author of the bestselling memoir "When Breath Becomes Air," to which she wrote the epilogue. Drawing on experiences as a physician and caregiver, she has interests in health care value, meaning in medicine, patient-centered care and end-of-life care. Dr. Kalanithi is a Fellow of the American College of Physicians and an honoree of Mass General Cancer Center's the one hundred. She serves on leadership boards for TEDMED, the American College of Physicians and the Coalition to Transform Advanced Care.

Clarity

acceptance

Listen

My funny, feisty, thoughtful, brave girl

Lucy Kalanithi shares a story about how much delight and wisdom there can be — even when we’re surrounded by tragic loss — when we see life and death through the eyes of a child.

About Lucy Kalanithi

Episode Transcript

Lucy Kalanithi is a doctor and the widow of Paul Kalanithi, author of the memoir When Breath Becomes Air. Her Meditative Story becomes a coda to his book. She is moved to share it because, as she says: "I try to make life deeper and richer by opening up space to talk about hard things."

LUCY'S MEDITATIVE STORY

From the closing meditation

connection

– ROHAN GUNATILLAKE

LUCY KALANITHI

Lucy Kalanithi

Lucy Kalanithi is a doctor and the widow of Paul Kalanithi, author of the memoir "When Breath Becomes Air." Her Meditative Story becomes a coda to his book. She is moved to share it because, as she says: "I try to make life deeper and richer by opening up space to talk about hard things."

Clarity

Listen

connection

LUCY'S MEDITATIVE STORY

LUCY KALANITHI: Seeing things just as they are has been one of the great lessons of my life. But it’s something that I’ve had to work at consciously for years. The amazing thing about Cady – my funny, feisty, thoughtful, brave girl – is that she does it effortlessly. She doesn’t have anything to unlearn. ROHAN GUNATILLAKE: Lucy Kalanithi is an assistant professor of medicine at Stanford Medical School in California, and the widow of Paul Kalanithi, whose posthumous memoir When Breath Becomes Air, I remember reading shortly after it was published in 2016. The story she shares with us here is very special. It’s about how much wisdom and delight there can be – even when we’re surrounded by tragic loss – when we see life and death through the eyes of a child. Eyes unburdened. I’m Rohan, and I’ll be your guide for Meditative Story. Some of the meditation prompts I’ll share during this story may work really well for you. Others, less so. That’s okay. The body relaxed. The body breathing. Your senses open. Your mind open. Meeting the world. KALANITHI: The drive from my house to the cemetery is less than ten minutes. I wind up the Santa Cruz mountains, and then come down just a little bit on the other side. But it feels like a very different place. The weather is different. This is the windward side of the mountain, and it’s colder and more variable than where I live. But today, it’s sunny and I can see five miles out, all the way to the ocean. My emotions are different here. For me, the cemetery is always a physical place where I can feel my feelings. I can’t always predict them before I arrive. Sadness. Yearning. Gratitude. Remembrance. Today, I feel calm. I was a little stressed on the drive, but the moment I get out of my car and take my first breath of the air on this side of the mountain, my body relaxes. I hear the gentle sound of the wind and the squeaky chattering of the chipmunks. I’ve brought my daughter Cady with me to visit her father. She’s four. There are things that children grow up into. Things like feeling part of a family, belonging to a religion, thinking that reading books is important, loving animals. Cady will grow up into the idea of visiting a grave. She won't remember not knowing it. Paul is buried at the edge of the field, facing down towards the ocean. I walk down the hill toward his granite gravestone. It’s covered in… nature. Spray from the air that travels up from the sea. Grass clippings. Bird droppings. The minerals left behind when water evaporates. I take out a rag and clean Paul’s gravestone until the polish shines. Cleaning a grave always feels so ancient, ritualistic. I sit down in the grass, lean my back against his gravestone, and look out at the water. I breathe. And I think. And I feel. GUNATILLAKE: Breathe. Think. Feel. KALANITHI: My mind takes me to a moment here soon after Paul died. Cady was at the age where I took her everywhere in a Baby Bjorn carrier. Tucked close against my body, she slept, both of us still. The cemetery was the only place I could breathe easily. The first time Cady was able to walk down this hill herself, without falling, was a little under a year after Paul died. She was one and a half. I remember bringing Cady here on Paul’s birthday when she was three. She asked if she could put stickers on Paul’s gravestone. I hesitated briefly, but I let her. It made her happy to stick sparkly hearts onto the gray stone. And it made me happy. A place means different things to different people. We say that we’re going to a place, but it’s remarkable how much we bring to that place without even thinking about it. Seeing things just as they are has been one of the great lessons of my life. But it’s something that I’ve had to work at consciously, for years. The amazing thing about Cady – my funny, feisty, thoughtful, brave girl – is that she does it effortlessly. She doesn’t have anything to unlearn. To Cady, a cemetery is not sad. It’s just a place we go together, like the park or the library. She loves coming here. She gets excited every time she gets to see a deer, or pick up a snail. We lie in the grass. We talk about Paul. We tell stories. One day, I bring some flowers to put on his grave and Cady says, “Can I plant a flower garden?” She picks up each tulip and plants them one by one right into the ground. It’s that kind of place. She knows that her father died, or as grief experts tell you to explain to children, that “his body stopped working.” She doesn’t know that his not-working body is buried a few feet underneath this very ground. She knows about death, because sometimes bees die too and she finds their bodies. She doesn’t know that people think of death as scary, or sad. Things just are, for her. GUNATILLAKE: What just is, for you right now? KALANITHI: One day, Cady’s preschool teacher asks her class to draw portraits of their families. I wonder if she’ll draw the two of us, me and her. Instead, she draws three people and labels them “mom,” “dad,” “baby me.” There used to be three of us together, and now there are two of us. She knows that. She knows she has a dad. But she knows she has to be a baby if Paul’s going to be in the picture. That’s just how it is. Things just are for her. Or things just are not. I wish Paul were here, and I think a lot about what things would be like if he were. I miss his partnership, his counsel raising a kid. I miss him physically; I now have a bed that fits two people, and I’m one person inside of it. For me there’s an empty space. For Cady, Paul is an anchor. She drew that picture knowing that’s where she came from. But at the same time she’s not yearning for a different family. One afternoon, Cady finds a little golden bell on our bookshelf, with a thread on it, and asks me what it is. It’s a party gift we gave out at our wedding, made in India, and it’s really beautiful. I say, “Remember how I told you about how Daddy and I had this big party for our wedding and all of our friends and family came to celebrate when we got married? Well, we gave everybody a present. They all got to take home a bell, like this one.” She immediately asks: “Was I at that party?” She’s a kid centered in her own little world, like all of us, I suppose. I say, “No, you weren’t even born yet. You weren’t even a baby yet.” And she says, “Oh, yeah, that’s because I was dead then.” My mind is blown. Cady knows people are either alive or dead. She doesn’t know that death is often thought of as scary or sad. She knows her father used to be alive and now he’s dead. She knows that she’s now alive but that she didn’t used to be. And she knows that for a brief moment, she and her dad overlapped, as living people, after she was born and before he died. For me, talking about Paul with Cady is part of my job as her mom – for her sake and his. I want Cady to know his story and know it’s okay to ask about him. Every night, we read books before bedtime. I notice that Cady’s developing a keen understanding of the characters – Doc McStuffins, Peppa Pig, Little Pea. One night, I realize that’s what Paul is to her, a character she’s getting to know through stories. For her third birthday, I make her a picture book called “Cady and Her Daddy.” It starts “Once upon a time there was a little boy named Paul Kalanithi. Paul loved cats and dogs, and he loved to read. He wanted to learn new things and help people who were having a hard time. So Paul went to school to become a doctor.” It talks about us getting married, and about Cady’s birth: “Cady has brown eyes just like Daddy. She adores cats and dogs.” In the middle, I describe Paul’s grave, and there are pictures of it. The book says: “When Cady was still a baby, Daddy’s body stopped working and Daddy died. To help remember Daddy, Mommy and Cady visit Daddy’s grave. Sometimes the weather is sunny. Sometimes it’s windy... Sometimes they feel sad. Sometimes they feel happy. All of their feelings are okay.” She knows that she never really got to know Paul. But she’s getting to know him through my stories. The other day, she put on two mismatched shoes and I asked her why, and she said, “This is what me and my dad do.” And she’s right. My favorite memory of our time at the cemetery is when Cady and I visit during the Mexican holiday of the Day of the Dead. This cemetery is relatively new. The people buried here are buried recently, so the graves still get a lot of visitors. It feels like a community. In addition to a lot of Asian Americans, like Paul, there are a lot of Mexican-Americans. When we arrive on the Day of the Dead, the first thing we see is a taco truck, with a line of people. Bright-colored clothing and beautiful outfits. A mariachi band. Adults and children get their faces painted in the traditional fashion, to look like skulls, which is so interesting to see if you’re not used to it. Festive, joyful skulls dancing through a cemetery. It feels totally, totally right. We love community, and we love tacos, and we love being at Paul’s grave. Cady and I get two tacos each. We listen to the music and watch everyone celebrate. We walk over to Paul’s grave, and sit, and picnic. Cady gets a balloon and runs through the cemetery. It’s a real contrast, acting like that in a cemetery, but it feels totally normal and natural to Cady. And I think she’s the one who’s right. I used to think it was me who knew more than my daughter. That I had so much knowledge and so much to teach her. That her understanding was just this little subset of mine, that came mostly from me. But I was wrong. She sees things that I miss. She’s so easily led, and then she leads me. She doesn’t bring as many assumptions to situations, so it’s easier for her to see them as they are. For her, right now, at this age, things just are. I hope I grow up to be more like her. GUNATILLAKE: We’ve reached the end of Lucy’s story. There’s so much to love about Lucy’s story. So much to be moved by. And the aspect that strikes me most, is that it’s not a story about her husband Paul and his not being there, it’s a story about their daughter Cady and how she is. Her instinct to be with whatever shows up and enjoy the freedom of life without the constriction of assumptions and norms. Running free with her balloon through the cemetery. And her wisdom to discern between what it is to be dead, and what it is to be alive. It’s a lot. To start our meditation, let’s take a moment to check in with how we’re feeling. We all have our own relationships with grief and loss and Lucy’s story may have brought up some stuff for you. It’s ok. Trust your instincts. Do what you need to do. And if it feels ok, let’s acknowledge our feelings, just as Lucy did. If you like you can give them a name: sadness, tenderness, blankness, wishing. Whatever emotions are here, just give them a name. And if you think it’d help and it feels ok, why not place a hand on your heart. Feeling your hand there and breathing. Actually, take a few breaths here. Connecting with what is happening for you right now: the emotions, the physical sensations. We all hold assumptions, views, ideas, and it’s through these that we filter the world. It’s just the result of having a mind and living a life. Filters have their value and their place. But the ones we carry around are not the only ways of experiencing things. Let’s be more like Cady. Let’s be more direct. What’s here? For me right now, what’s here is some calm, some interest. What’s not here is sadness. A little while ago, while listening to Lucy’s story, I felt a twinge of sadness. But it’s not here now. What’s here for you? And what’s not here? And can you be ok with it all? Let’s keep connections alive. Is there someone close to you that you’ve lost? And is there a story, something about them that’s made you how you are today? For Cady it’s wearing mismatched shoes. If there’s something like that for you, bring it to mind. And again, if you like you can place a hand gently on your chest, your heart. Things just are. Or they are not. Breathe. Think. Feel. Sometimes we feel happy. Sometimes we feel sad. All of these feelings are ok. It’s all ok.

Every Meditative Story ends in a closing meditation from our host, Rohan

“There’s so much to love about Lucy’s story. So much to be moved by. And the aspect that strikes me most, is that it’s not a story about her husband Paul and his not being there, it’s a story about their daughter Cady and how she is. Her instinct to be with whatever shows up and enjoy the freedom of life without the constriction of assumptions and norms. Running free with her balloon through the cemetery. And her wisdom to discern between what it is to be dead, and what it is to be alive. ”

acceptance

My funny, feisty, thoughtful, brave girl

About Lucy Kalanithi

Every Meditative Story ends in a closing meditation from our host, Rohan

Listen

A home that had been waiting for me forever

Pico Iyer

Episode Transcript

centeredness

Pico Iyer

“There’s so much to love about Lucy’s story. So much to be moved by. And the aspect that strikes me most, is that it’s not a story about her husband Paul and his not being there, it’s a story about their daughter Cady and how she is. Her instinct to be with whatever shows up and enjoy thefreedom of life without the constriction of assumptions and norms. Running free with her balloon through the cemetery. And her wisdom to discern betweenwhat it is to be dead, and what it is to be alive. ”

From the closing meditation

centeredness

Pico Iyer is a travel writer based in Japan. But he wasn’t always – one fateful assignment launched his entire career ... and his life. He’s moved to share his Meditative Story because this moment almost passed him by. He had to make an effort, a choice to listen to his heart. As he says, "The busier you are, the more you have to step away from busy-ness, from speed, to see what’s truly important in life. After all, it’s the open spaces, the moments when you lose yourself, that help you to find contentment, joy, and peace of mind.

About Pico Iyer

“Let’s start by settling your attention into your body. Letting it all come back. Whether you’re sitting, standing, moving or lying down, just let your awareness fill your whole body. Being open to whatever’s happening. Letting it happen. The body breathing in. The body breathing out. How does your body feel right now? Is there agitation or relaxation? Is there tension or a sense of peace? We’re not trying to create anything, we’re just being open to what’s here and noticing it whatever it is.”

Episode Transcript

Listen

Openness

PICO'S MEDITATIVE STORY

awareness

– ROHAN GUNATILLAKE

PICO'S MEDITATIVE STORY

“I couldn’t tell you why but I felt I knew the place. I knew it better than the English road on which I’d been born, better than the apartment where I lived now on 20th Street. It was like a home that had been waiting for me forever." AD ACT I The experience you’re about to have exists because our sponsor Salesforce believes in it — deeply. Salesforce brings companies and customers together, helping you deliver personalized customer experiences on one integrated platform. What you may not know is that equality is a core value at Salesforce. They believe that businesses can be a powerful platform for change. And that change starts inside ourselves. All of us. How often do you move through your day without really noticing the people around you? Without really connecting with them? How often do you give others in the room space to respond? Too often, we move quickly without being mindful of the other voices. But it’s that mindfulness about the people around you that creates space for trust and connection needed to start making change. Later in the show, I’ll share a micro-action you can take to spark this kind of change. Thank you, Salesforce, for being a part of Meditative Story in this most thoughtful way. STORY INTRODUCTION Thirty years ago, the travel writer - [slowly with emphasis] Pico Iyer - booked himself on a trip to Southeast Asia. It was a trip that would transform his life in ways he couldn’t have imagined. Visiting foreign places will often put our senses on high alert. In the story you’re about to hear, Pico reveals what can happen when we wander and allow the world to unfold around us. In this series, we blend immersive, first-person stories with mindfulness prompts to help you recharge at any moment of the day. I’m Rohan, and I’ll be your guide for Meditative Story. At times while listening, you might find that your attention has drifted away. That’s ok. Just bring yourself back. Back to the sound of Pico’s voice. STORY INTRODUCTION (CONT) The body relaxed. The body breathing. Your eyes open. Your senses open. Meeting the world. STORY PICO IYER: It was my first day ever in Southeast Asia. The Japan Airlines jet touched down, and I stepped out into the hot, spiced air, and then into a tiny, very congested airport. The rainy season was thick, impending, and I could smell diesel fuel and perfume and what might have been incense. As I walked out of the terminal, a small man ushered me towards a little minivan, and it rattled six of us through the night into Bangkok. I was 26, and on a four-week holiday from my 25th floor office in Midtown Manhattan. I looked around me as the darkness fell and I saw lanterns shivering in barely-lit alleyways. Open-front shops were selling indigo silks and small Buddhas, bowls of curry. And every now and then, as we wended through the narrow streets, we came upon a golden temple, angel statues kneeling at its entrance, its elaborate roof flying off towards the heavens. This was like nowhere that I knew. I felt unsettled. Intrigued. Drawn closer. Anything could happen now. All my senses were on full alert. GUNATILLAKE: MINDFULNESS PROMPT VERSION B: Take a moment to notice which of your senses is most alert right now? Is it sight? Or maybe it's your sense of smell or touch? IYER: Two hours later I was boarding an overnight train for the cool mountain city of Chiang Mai. Farmers were working in the rice-fields all around next morning as the sun came up over the mountains. And after I arrived in Chiang Mai, city of hilltop temples, I was greeted by a friendly stranger who promised a trip up to see the animists in the mountains. Again that eerie sense of not knowing what I was getting into but being pulled forward by that very sensation. I am glad I was young enough to follow the dare that life was throwing at me. By the time the sun set that evening, after a long day of climbing and climbing through piney forests, looking out over valleys and occasional wooden houses, I was in a tiny village above the clouds. Tribal leaders were pulling out pipes for opium from the darkness of their huts and someone said that what they were cooking up was dog. The foreignness of the scene. Three nights earlier I’d been walking through Times Square opened every sense inside me very wide. It was cold sleeping on the slatted floor, and when we woke up the next morning, we were encircled by heavy mist. And so it went for the next twenty-six days. Before long I was walking around the mildewed, collapsing white colonial buildings of Rangoon, where there was a pair of opera glasses in the dusty lost-and-found case in the empty hotel, and the books on sale, yellow pages falling from their worn covers, came from 1933 or 1894. I took an even more rickety train up to the silent expanse of Bagan. There was just one sleepy hotel along the river, and a man standing with a horse-drawn cart as lightning crackled across the valley. Across the emptiness of the plains there were three thousand temples in all, ivory-white, earth-red, golden. GUNATILLAKE: MINDFULNESS PROMPT VERSION A: Take a moment to notice how the temple lights twinkle. Their yellowy-white flares dance out from the glowing centers. One dims as the other brightens. Can you picture this in the distance? IYER: It really felt as if some door had opened upon a some part of me I had never seen before. I needed to walk through it and see what was waiting for me on the other side. My last week of this unexpected trip, I was full to bursting, and I just wanted to sort through my photos and my memories, share the magic and the romance with my friends. There’s another world inside our own, I thought. There is another world inside ourselves. On my flight back to JFK however, my Japan AirLines itinerary called for a layover at Narita Airport, near Tokyo. It was the last thing I wanted. And the layover was due to last twenty hours. So suddenly, after twenty-eight days of clamorous moments and exotic strangers I was faced with an empty space, nothing to fill it. I had no interest in seeing another airport town, but what else was there to do? I’d never be back in Japan. So I wandered outside—the day was fresh and blue, with the crisp outlines of early autumn—and I waited for the small white van. Twenty minutes later, I got out on a busy street, cars racing past as in New York City, rows of vending-machines outside tall concrete buildings. And then I spotted a small bridge. I walked across it and suddenly I was in a much quieter quarter, intimate human-scaled. GUNATILLAKE: MINDFULNESS PROMPT VERSION A: In these new surroundings take a deep breath [pause], hold it [pause] and let it go. IYER: The houses were mostly wooden, very close together. Shoes were laid outside their entrances and inside were tatami mats, the smell of noodles. Through the back windows I could catch flashes of gold and scarlet, the first colors of the autumn. Instantly I was awake, again, taking everything in. Or at least brought back to that more attentive self that my routine self so often sleepwalks past. I recognized something here, I didn’t need a map. So I made my way through the riddle of narrow streets—I can see and feel them even now, 33 years on—and came upon a vast, white-pebble courtyard. In front of me was a wooden meditation hall. All around were silver gravestones. In front of the hall was a deep black tureen of sorts in which gold-tipped sticks of incense were flaking off into a bed of ash. I slipped off my shoes and I stepped into the hall. There was almost nothing there; liberation. The fewer things there were to distract me, the fuller and the more alive I felt. I was nowhere but this tatami mat, smelling the incense, listening for footfalls. GUNATILLAKE: MINDFULNESS PROMPT VERSION B: How alive do you feel? What can you hear? Let the sounds in your environment just come to you. There’s no need to go out and get them. Just receive the sounds. IYER: I didn’t know then that Narita temple is actually one of the most celebrated pilgrimage sites in all Japan, a magnet for a thousand years. I couldn’t have guessed that the Dalai Lama sent Tibetans to study there. I simply knew that something in me had fallen away—some armor, perhaps—and in the process some window had opened, onto a much larger landscape. I followed a path around to the temple’s large garden, and there I saw a flock of kindergarteners, in pink and blue caps, scattering silently across a lawn, collecting autumn leaves. The air was sharp, clear, but I could feel the first pinch of coming cold and dark. I couldn’t tell you why but I felt I knew the place. I knew it better than the English road on which I’d been born, better than the apartment where I lived now on 20th Street. It was like a home that had been waiting for me forever. Thailand and Macau, Hong Kong and Burma, they’d all quickened me beyond expectation. Each day a greater wonder than the day before. And yet the place that really changed my life was the place I had never wanted to go to. And as I boarded the 12 hour flight back to JFK, all I could think was how? How can I get myself back in to that autumn scene? It felt like a painting with a cardboard cutout. Which was missing one final element. That element was me. It took me three full years to disentangle myself from my job, but finally I did and I quit my 25th-floor office for an empty single room on the backstreets of Kyoto. I’ve been living in Japan now more than thirty years and I never look back at the life I left. Not to have returned here would have meant being in exile for all my life. We all have secret homes I believe and the beauty, the promise of our global world is that sometimes we are able to find them, and thanks to technology, even to inhabit them. The places where we belong, the places that belong to us, they’re not always the ones with which we have official affiliations. They’re the places that uplift and transport us for no good reason at all. GUNATILLAKE: We’ve reached the end of Pico’s story. In just a moment, I’ll guide you through a closing meditation. After that, I’ll share a micro-action that you can take into your day, inspired by the mindfulness practices of our sponsor, Salesforce. CLOSING MEDITATION Let’s start by settling your attention into your body. Letting it all come back. Whether you’re sitting, standing, moving or lying down, just let your awareness fill your whole body. Being open to whatever’s happening. Letting it happen. The body breathing in. The body breathing out. How does your body feel right now? Is there agitation or relaxation? Is there tension or a sense of peace? We’re not trying to create anything, we’re just being open to what’s here and noticing it whatever it is. If you’re eyes aren’t already open, please open them now. How are they feeling? Do your eyes feel tired or do they feel bright? Can you notice how you’re seeing the world right now? Is your sense of sight focused or wide? What’s grabbing your attention? Just being interested in what sight and seeing is like right now. Moving on from sight and switching, opening out to hearing. There are my words coming and going, but what else is there? What sounds can you notice around you? Being open. Letting the sounds come to you, no need to go out and grab them. Finally, the inner world. How are you feeling? Is your mind busy with thoughts or is it fairly quiet? If there aren’t any particularly obvious emotions present then being open and noticing that too. What you notice is not as important as the quality of the noticing itself. The quality of the awareness. [pause] A world of experience always available. A world full of secret homes. All we have to do is be open, and see them. AD ACT II GUNATILLAKE: Earlier, I mentioned how you can bring mindfulness to your connection with others. Our sponsor, Salesforce, practices mindfulness as an essential part of their culture. They’ve asked me to share one powerful microstep you can try — to foster that connection. It’s simple: Once a day, consider someone else’s perspective. Whether it’s someone you tend to pass by, or someone you struggle to feel connection with — thinking about their experiences can help you build a new relationship, let go of a grudge, or expand your own perspective. It can be as straightforward as asking yourself, “What might this person be feeling?” And with that simple action, our gratitude goes out to Salesforce for supporting storytellers who open up something within us, and spark the kind of positive change that cascades out into the world. Powerful perspectives — shared through a story — make change possible. THANK YOU AND CLOSING CREDITS Meditative Story is a WaitWhat original in partnership with Thrive Global. The show is produced at the studio inside SY Partners in New York. Our executive producers are Deron Triff, June Cohen and Arianna Huffington. Our producers are Sabrina Farhi, Dan Katz, Emily Johnson, Marina (KUH-DECK-ULL), and Juliana (JULI-AH-NA) Stone. Our supervising producers are Jai Punjabi and Peter Koechley (KECK-LY). Our curator is Cary Goldstein. Original music and sound design is by the Holladay Brothers. Mixing and mastering by Bryan Pyew. Special thanks to Alison Kreusch (KROOSH), Steven Sherill, Anne Sachs, Danny Shea and Sarah Sandman. And I’m Rohan Gunatillake, creator of the Buddhify meditation app and your host. Visit [slow down here] meditativestory - dot - com to find the transcript for this episode.

A home that had been waiting for me forever

– ROHAN GUNATILLAKE

Embracing the journey’s adventure without attachment to its outcome.

Pico iyer

Every Meditative Story ends in a closing meditation from our host, Rohan

Pico Iyer

Pico Iyer is the author of two novels and thirteen works of nonfiction on subjects ranging from the Cuban Revolution to Islamic mysticism, from Graham Greene to Canadian visions of diversity, from forgotten nations to the 21st-century global order. His books have been translated into 23 languages, and his 2008 meditation on the XIVth Dalai Lama, "The Open Road," and his TED Book, "The Art of Stillness," were best-sellers. An essayist for Time since 1986, he is a constant contributor to The New York Times, The New York Review of Books, The Financial Times and more than 250 others worldwide. In 2019 he is bringing out two new books about Japan ("Autumn Light and A Beginner’s Guide to Japan") and one on Singapore ("This Could Be Home").

From the closing meditation

Openness

awareness

change

Arianna Huffington

– ROHAN GUNATILLAKE

Clarity

Listen

Arianna Huffington is the founder and CEO of Thrive Global, the founder of The Huffington Post, and the author of 15 books. Her legendary career as an entrepreneur and author began with one big, fearless leap into the unknown: her decision to leave her childhood home in Greece and—without knowing a word of English—go to school at Cambridge. And that leap begins with this story, a testament to her mother's warmth, determination and love for her daughter. In telling this story, she says: "I want to honor not only the wisdom of my mother, but the wisdom of parents everywhere."

ARIANNA HUFFINGTON: That’s what kept me going – her conviction that failure doesn’t matter made it easier for me to succeed. There was no Plan B lurking on the edge of my consciousness, distracting me, calling to me. Because life and love and the moment were Plan A and we’d always have those, and so why would you ever need anything else? STORY INTRODUCTION ROHAN GUNATILLAKE: Arianna Huffington grew up in an unassuming one-bedroom apartment above the bustling streets of Athens, Greece. What she lacked in material things, she regained many times over in the rich home her mother created for her and her sister. There, at their kitchen table, Arianna’s spirit of adventure was born. And it was there that her mother taught her the universal wisdom of embracing life’s journey without being attached to the outcome. In this series, we blend immersive, first-person stories with mindfulness prompts to help you recharge at any moment of the day. I’m Rohan, and I’ll be your guide for Meditative Story. Before I hand over to Arianna, let’s see if we can embody a sense of alertness. Soon you’re going to hear about a moment, a period of time which was to change the course of her life. So let’s get ready to meet that story with brightness, curiosity, and attention. For you that might mean straightening out your body a little. Or relaxing your face. Or taking a breath. Do what feels right for you. The body relaxed. The body breathing. Your senses open. Your mind open. Meeting the world. STORY ARIANNA HUFFINGTON: Every time I go back to Athens, I return to the tiny street where I grew up. It was just the three of us, my mother, my little sister Agapi, and me. My parents had separated, so we all shared this cramped one-bedroom apartment across the street from a fire station in the middle of the city. But my mother made it seem grand and full of life. And she’d do this through cooking -- constant, non-stop cooking. For my mother, food was life and life was food. If you were eating, it meant you were alive. Food was a kind of love offering, and she was a high priestess. Her ceremonial robes were a house dress and a food-smeared apron. Our lives in Athens revolved around the kitchen table. Agapi and I would hurry home from school, and even before we’d throw open the door, we’d be coaxed in down the hallway with the smells of dill, mint, sage, rosemary, thyme, basil, and fennel. These smells were her emissaries. She sent them to greet us even before she could emerge from the kitchen and give us a hug. With her cooking, she created a micro-climate of her own that paid no mind to the outside world. Then we’d throw down our school bags and descend on the kitchen table. We’d sit at that table for hours. Eating, talking, doing homework, talking over problems from school, problems from life, and eating some more. And then finally my mother would bring out the thing we loved the most: walnuts and honey. That’s how we’d end each meal, drunk on Greek honey. GUNATILLAKE: From your own childhood, is there a dish or type of food that particularly evokes good memories? Take a moment to bring it to mind. And feel free to smile. Can you picture the food and the people or the place you most associate with it? HUFFINGTON: I remember one particular day, I see a magazine on my way home from school. The cover is a photo of Cambridge University in England. Now, I’d never been to England. In fact, I’d never been anywhere outside of Greece. But that photo catches my eye. It stops me. I get home, fly through the doorway to be greeted by the aroma of my favorite dish, artichokes in a creamy dill sauce. There were other assorted dishes there, too -- spanakopita, hummus, eggplants — those were always around. They got changed regularly, but you never really saw it, they were just always there. So I run in, throw my bag down, open the magazine and spread it out on the table. “Mommy, look at this.” “What is it, honey?” she says. “It’s Cambridge,” I say. “it’s in England.” “I know that,” my mother replies. “But why are you showing it to me?” “Because I want to go there.” “You mean you want to visit there?” “No, I want to go to university there. I love it and that’s where I want to go to school.” I’m probably more surprised than my mother to hear this come out of my mouth. The photo had touched something deep inside me, something I hadn’t really articulated to myself at the time. It was the desire to open up new possibilities, and above all to learn, learn, learn. I loved school and I loved learning – about languages, about history, about other places. Learning, for me, was what food was for my mother. To learn is to be alive. And Cambridge seemed liked the center of the learning universe. By the time I make my proclamation, I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else in the world. Even if it means leaving this love-filled room, and the very table I’d put the magazine down on. So I look up at my mother, not knowing what she’s going to say. She’d never been anything but supportive, but what I’d just said was ridiculous. Teenagers want a lot of things they can’t have. But instead my mother says: “That’s amazing. It looks beautiful. Let’s see how we can get you there.” I’m stunned. Not because of her positive reaction – I should never have expected anything else --but because her taking the idea seriously stopped my giddy reverie and brought me back down to earth. Back to our tiny apartment in Athens. Now, there was one problem with my going to university in England – I didn’t speak English. “No problem,” my mother says. “I’m sure you can learn English quickly.” “Really?” I say. I’m amazed not by her confidence in my learning English, but to the whole thing, the whole crazy idea. “Sure. Maybe we can go visit, just to see what it's like. I’ll see if I can get us some cheap tickets." It’s probably a good thing that neither of us had any clue just how incredibly difficult it was going to be. That’s what her wall of unconditional love and support and optimism and artichokes and spanakopita did – it created an insulating barrier between me and the harsh outside world. A little hothouse where my naivete could slowly metamorphosize into something resembling confidence. Every day for the next several weeks, my mother did research. She never went to college, but she had street smarts. She never doubted that she could figure something out and make it happen through sheer determination. At every meal, she would give us updates on what she’d found out. “So, in order for you to get into Cambridge, you first have to take something called the ‘general certificates of education.’ Then you have to take a special entrance exam, and then a verbal exam.” “Wow,” I remember saying. “That seems like a lot. How are we ever going to do all that?” “Well, I also found out you can take your general certificates of education through the British Council.” “But I still don't speak English,” I say. “I also found this intensive class where you can start learning English,” she says. There was really nothing I could say. She’d figured it all out. She even looked into how to apply for a scholarship. Sure it was all daunting, and there was a lot of red tape and forms to fill out. But my mother could turn anything into a big adventure. My first step into the world outside of Greece was no exception. But the most important thing my mother did for me wasn’t all the research and the planning. And it wasn’t even the confidence she had in me. It was the sense that even if I didn't get in, that that would be okay, too. She didn’t get wrapped up in any particular outcome. We’d just be on to the next adventure. That’s what kept me going – her conviction that failure doesn’t matter made it easier for me to succeed. There was no Plan B lurking on the edge of my consciousness, distracting me, calling to me. Because life and love and the moment were Plan A and we’d always have those, and so why would you ever need anything else? So then it came time to visit Cambridge. My mother got us both tickets – of course she wheedled some cheap seats somehow. And I remember those seats because they didn’t recline... at all. I’d never flown before, but it was fine, because, who knows, maybe Cambridge required extra-rigid posture to keep my mind properly attuned. From the airport, we went straight to London. Of course, it was pouring rain. From there, we took the train to Cambridge. It continued to pour all the way. To the locals it was probably a gray, dreary day, but to me it seemed lush and sultry and green. GUNATILLAKE: Can you picture the scene? A young Arianna seeing through the greyness of the English weather, her mind full of wonder and delight as she explores this famous old university with its striking architecture and inviting lawns. HUFFINGTON: And then finally we were there. It was hard to believe. In most cases, as I’ve learned, a place rarely lives up to what it looks like in a travel brochure. So even on this wet, gray day, it was so much more vivid than I’d imagined. Building after building. There were students all over the place. Cambridge students. Who spoke perfect English. It was thrilling, but also intimidating. Which my mother sensed. “Well, here we are,” she says, as if we’d just arrived at our local grocery store. “Let’s go.” The day itself was a bit of a blur. Even though I wanted to major in economics, we didn’t go visit the economics department. Nor did we go to the admissions office, which might have been the obvious thing to do. We didn’t even talk to anybody. We just walked around Cambridge. All day. Two Greek women who barely spoke English. Like spies doing reconnaissance. But I think what we were really doing was just walking around the place until it felt natural for me to be there. It was a kind of in-person visualization. I’m walking around just like the real students are. In the same buildings. Nothing bad is happening. Nobody is reacting. If I got in, this is what I’d be doing. Maybe it really is possible. GUNATILLAKE: How does the idea of an in-person visualisation sound to you? Arianna explored what it would be like to be her future self by walking around Cambridge as if she were a student there, not a visitor. Are there any experiences for you that you would want to become real? What would your in-person visualisation look like? And the more we walked, the more I loved it. I thought it was gorgeous, the colleges, the libraries, the river. By the end of the day it felt oddly familiar and at the same time ancient. It all reeked of history. A history I ached to be a part of. It was overwhelming, the sort of place that could take over your life. Then we took the train right back to London, went straight to the airport, and took the flight back to Athens. Our seats reclined this time. Did they know I’d been to Cambridge? Reclining seats seemed like something that would be normal for Cambridge students. Maybe it was a cosmic message of some kind. On the way back, we hatched the final part of our plan. Or at least my mother did. The plan was that I would come back to London after taking my General Certificate of Education to prepare for my entrance exam and continue to study English. Around people who actually spoke English. And after all that was done and the entrance exams were taken, there wasn’t much left to do but wait. But I wasn’t riddled with anxiety. And that was because of my mother. Life was still going on, and would go on, one way or another. We weren’t waiting for life to begin, this was life. And then the day came. A telegram arrived. It’s waiting for me when I get home from school. My mother had put it on the table and motioned to it nonchalantly. I tear it open. “Accepted” and granted an exhibition - which is a form of scholarship. I got in. I can’t believe it. It’s just a piece of paper, but it seems more unreal than our actual visit had been. My mother smiles and then hugs me. But she isn’t jumping up and down, as I am inside. Just as she wouldn’t love me any less if I’d gotten rejected, she also couldn’t love me more just because I’d gotten accepted. That’s what allowed me to reach what really should have been an unattainable goal. It wasn’t a journey filled with anxiety and fear. It was an adventure. One always served, like your favorite dish, with unconditional love. GUNATILLAKE: We’ve reached the end of Arianna’s story. In just a moment, I’ll guide you through a closing meditation. After that, I’ll share a micro-step that you can take into your day, inspired by the mindfulness practices of our sponsor, Salesforce. CLOSING MEDITATION GUNATILLAKE: Of all the themes in Arianna’s story, the one that stands out the most - for me - is that of adventure. With her sudden calling to study at Cambridge, she embarks on a series of challenges, all of which she overcomes to finally win her prize. And by loving the adventure, and being loved through the adventure, she’s able to complete her journey without anxiety or fear. I often think about my own meditation practice, and meditation in general as an adventure or a journey. However long you’ve been practising, there are always ups and downs - times of clarity and even exhilaration, often shortly followed by times of wondering why you’re even bothering to do it in the first place. And back again. But what keeps me going is the process itself, for whatever results come about in the long-term, there’s an intrinsic delight and no small amount of wisdom that comes from just doing the practice and sticking with it. And the same applies for a single meditation session as it does for a whole lifetime of practice. Just being on an adventure can be reward enough. So let’s go on one. However your body is right now, this is the vessel we’re going in. So whether you’re sitting down, or walking, standing or lying, do what you need to to embody the qualities you want to express - openness, steadiness, courage. With your mind relaxed, ask yourself the question ‘what’s my next thought going to be?’ and then just wait for it. And when the thought appears, catch it with your awareness. And when you’ve done that just reset, relax and start watching again, watching for the next thought to arise. Alert and ready. What the content of the thought is, isn’t that important. What matters is your ability to catch it. That’s what we’re most interested in. While doing this technique, as with all adventures you’ll likely meet some challenges. Distraction as you get caught into a train of thought or a daydream. Doubt as to whether you’re doing it right. Aversion to the idea of doing it at all. These are all welcome, just characters in your adventure, here to help you come back to your intention and to try again. So let’s try again. Watching your mind for the next thought to appear. And catching it when it does. Doing this just for a minute or so, you’ll have failures and successes. Sometimes you’ll have a nice bright awareness, illuminating what’s happening in your mind in real time. And sometimes doing this technique, it might be a bit foggy and you’ll feel like you’ve not discovered a single thing about the habits and patterns of your inner life. But just like Arianna’s mother, part of you knows that the thing that matters most isn’t the results - they’ll come in time - what matters most is the adventure itself.

Arianna Huffington is the founder of The Huffington Post, the founder and CEO of Thrive Global, and the author of 15 books, including the recent bestsellers "Thrive: The Third Metric to Redefining Success and Creating a Life of Well-Being, Wisdom and Wonder and The Sleep Revolution: Transforming Your Life, One Night at a Time." In May 2005, she launched The Huffington Post, a news and blog site that quickly became one of the most widely read, linked to and cited media brands on the web. In August 2016, she launched Thrive Global, a corporate and consumer well-being and productivity platform with the mission of changing the way we work and live by ending the collective delusion that burnout is the price we must pay for success.

ARianna'S MEDITATIVE STORY

– ROHAN GUNATILLAKE

Every Meditative Story ends in a closing meditation from our host, Rohan

Openness

Episode Transcript

From the closing meditation

Arianna Huffington takes us on her journey from Athens to Cambridge, and shares a lesson she learned from her mother of embracing life’s journey without being attached to the outcome.

Life and love and the moment

Clarity

ARIANNA'S MEDITATIVE STORY

Arianna Huffington

Episode Transcript

About Arianna Huffington

Listen

Openness

change

“There’s so much to love about Lucy’s story. So much to be moved by. And the aspect that strikes me most, is that it’s not a story about her husband Paul and his not being there, it’s a story about their daughter Cady and how she is. Her instinct to be with whatever shows up and enjoy thefreedom of life without the constriction of assumptions and norms. Running free with her balloon through the cemetery. And her wisdom to discern betweenwhat it is to be dead, and what it is to be alive. ”

About Arianna Huffington

“Of all the themes in Arianna’s story, the one that stands out the most - for me - is that of adventure. With her sudden calling to study at Cambridge, she embarks on a series of challenges, all of which she overcomes to finally win her prize. And by loving the adventure, and being loved through the adventure, she’s able to complete her journey without anxiety or fear.”

From the closing meditation

Every Meditative Story ends in a closing meditation from our host, Rohan

Life and love and the moment

Arianna Huffington

Arianna Huffington takes us on her journey from Athens to Cambridge, and shares a lesson she learned from her mother of embracing life’s journey without being attached to the outcome.

CONNECTION

About Larry Jackson

Listen

LARRY JACKSON: It’s funny, because my job as a music producer, an A&R executive, is to go out and find the best material – songs, songwriters, producers – and the best up-and-coming artists, and bring them together, and then will them into success. The job is entirely predicated upon finding things that aren’t yet in their fully realized form and bringing them into existence. I’m literally in the business of manifesting, I suppose. Discovering and unearthing – and again, manifesting. ROHAN GUNATILLAKE: Behind every great artist there are all sorts of people whose own dedication and creativity enable the stars to be the stars. Larry Jackson is one of those people. From his start in the music industry at the age of 11 to his current role as Global Creative Director at Apple Music, there aren’t many people who know more about how great music is made than Larry. In this series, we blend immersive, first-person stories with mindfulness prompts to help you restore yourself at any time of the day. I’m Rohan, and I’ll be your guide on this episode of Meditative Story. From time to time, we’ll pause the story ever so briefly for me to come in with guidance to enhance your experience as you listen. I hope these prompts will be helpful to you. And let’s take a moment now to settle in before we hear from Larry. Letting whatever thoughts and feelings are around be around, letting them be here. The body relaxed. The body breathing. Your senses open. Your mind open. Meeting the world. JACKSON: I’m sitting in a cramped, hole-in-the-wall recording studio in Tampa. I await the arrival of a vocal powerhouse. She’s coming in to record a new song for her upcoming album. I’ve spent a large part of my professional life in state-of-the-art recording studios in Los Angeles, New York, London, Johannesburg, Paris. But our location today is pretty nondescript from the outside – and frankly isn’t much better when you get inside its control room. I’ve arrived early. An hour and a half later, in walks Jennifer Hudson – and she’s not alone. Two young Pomeranians are with her. I’d met one of them before. Its name is Oscar. But the other one, who I don’t recognize at all, is new. Jennifer introduces me to her second dog, which she’s named... Grammy. The pun and deliberacy have gone completely over my head. I ask her with a clueless naiveté why she’s chosen those two particular names, Oscar and Grammy. Very matter of factly, she says: “Well, I won an Oscar already, and now we about to win a Grammy, ain’t we?!” I feel my brow begin to sweat. My body stiffens. And I laugh uncontrollably at what’s being implied. The studio starts to feel even smaller and shabbier than it is. You see, I’m her producer. I signed Jennifer Hudson earlier that year. I’m 27. The stakes are high; and the pressure is palpable. Jennifer’s recording contract had been signed not long after she had captured the country’s heart as a standout contestant on “American Idol”, and right before she won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress in the blockbuster movie, “Dreamgirls”. In my career, I’ve had the great fortune to work with so many incredible artists, ranging from Whitney Houston to Chicago rapper Chief Keef to the national treasure Aretha Franklin, and many more. I’ve forged trusting relationships with the best songwriters in the business as well. So when I started working with Jennifer, I think, okay, no problem. She’s got a remarkably unique vocal prowess and power, so the potential for a hit album is easy to visualize for me. Between her insane talent, the momentum around “Dreamgirls”, and my relationships with the creative community, it feels like this should crystallize quickly. But between that initial optimism and this moment in Tampa, it’s almost been a year and a half of toil and sporadic fruitfulness. Jennifer and I have travelled to London to record with Timbaland. We’ve spent time in Los Angeles, Atlanta, and a few other cities trying to decode this creative Rubik’s cube. Yet we still don’t have a first single to unlock her debut album’s potential. Though I’ll never admit it, it feels like this is a languishing process with no foreseeable end in sight. It feels like we have decent stuff but in many ways we’re nowhere… well actually in this tiny studio, in Tampa, with me, Jennifer, and a yappy Pomeranian who she had the bold confidence to name Grammy. We don’t leave that Florida recording session with our first single. But instead, I have a feeling of a heightened sense of pressure to finish this album – and not leave Oscar as the only one of those dogs who’s lived up to its name. In the meantime, though, a story had just come out in the press that her debut album, which I’m executive producing, had been scrapped by Clive Davis over creative differences in terms of its direction. While the story was a bit of an exaggeration, the struggle that I was experiencing was a very real and arduous challenge. I was feeling the heat and feeling quite daunted. While in London two weeks later, I’m at The Dorchester Hotel struggling deeply with jet lag at 4 am and decide to catch up on some overdue demo listening. At the top of the stack is the proposed demo for Jennifer’s song, titled “Spotlight” written by Ne Yo. I generally pride myself on being a one-listen creative executive. I feel if a song has hit potential after hearing the first verse and the first chorus. After countless days and nights of endlessly listening for needles in haystacks, I’ve honed this intuitive skill to a soulful science. And immediately when I hear this one, I know we have it. The track has the same bark as Aretha’s classic “Respect” and the same bite as her anthemic “Think”. He nailed it. I listen to the demo non-stop until the sun comes up. I can’t believe it. This is finally our first single. GUNATILLAKE: Can you picture the scene? Can you feel the energy and excitement that Larry’s feeling in this moment? Feel the sensation of finally finding what you’ve been looking for. JACKSON: And just like that, I somehow got all the colors to line up on our creative Rubik’s cube. I see it clearly. It unlocks everything. It unlocks the power of that album. Unlocks my waning confidence. Unlocks the future path of the project. Fast forward to September of that year: The song becomes a number one R&B single in the U.S. February rolls around and it’s the 2009 Grammy Awards – no less than a year after my first amusing encounter with Grammy, the moody, mercurial Pomeranian. We arrive late but right on time. Within moments of our taking our seats, Whitney Houston comes out to present the Grammy award for the year’s Best R&B Album. It’s been a great year in this genre and the competition is stiff and tough, to say the least. I’m 28 years old. It’s the first time I’ve ever been on the floor at the Grammys, where all of the decorated nominees are also seated. As it relates to Best Album categories, if you serve as album producer for the project, you win an award alongside with the artist. So as co-album producers, Clive Davis and I stand to take one home respectively that night as well. I’m excited yet nervous. Whitney opens up the envelope and announces the winner, it’s JENNIFER! I can’t believe it. As I stand to applaud Jennifer as she takes the stage to accept the award, all I can think of at that moment is Grammy the Pomeranian. She was right! It’s a celebratory night. The next morning it all hits me what an important moment it is for me personally. GUNATILLAKE: Can you recall an event in your life where you received some good news about a hard-won accomplishment? Can you remember what the space you were in at that time was like? Go there. JACKSON: My childhood helps me understand why the creative journey with Jennifer is one of my life’s turning points. At 10 years old, I was really obsessed with pop culture and our local radio station in San Francisco, 106 KMEL. I used my family’s black touch-tone phone in the kitchen to call radio contests all the time. It didn’t have any fancy features – no redial, no frills, nothing like that. And I was always punching in the numbers as fast as I could with my nimble little fingers as I attempted to be caller 10, caller 106, or whatever number was required to win. I’d push the buttons as fast as I could, and if I heard a busy signal, I’d hang up and start punching those numbers over and over again. I became so fast though and so proficient, so good at winning these contests that they finally said, “Kid, you can’t win anymore but we’d love to have you down to the station sometime soon for a tour and a hang.” That moment afforded me a unique opportunity to put my foot in the door. And slowly but surely I became a fixture there. At 11, my dad buys me my first two turntables and a microphone from Radio Shack. I amusingly created my first DJ booth in my bedroom. Practice, practice, practice. The next two years I was an apprentice at the radio station and practicing in my off-time at home. At 14, I’m a full-time intern now and a board op at KMEL, which by the way, is market number four in the entire country. By 16, I’m hired as the music director of the station, which has fallen to eighth place in the market. By age 17, I’m expelled from high school because I’m spread too thin across academics and work. At age 19, we triumphantly take the station back to its number one ratings position in the market – and then I get a call. The call is from legendary music impresario Clive Davis. If I had to explain it, on the Mount Rushmore of the music business, Clive Davis has got to be someone like George Washington. A legendary New York-based record producer who worked with countless artists ranging from Whitney Houston to Aerosmith to Alicia Keys to Bruce Springsteen and Notorious B.I.G. Clive says, “I hear you’ve got some of the best ears in radio! How about coming to New York for an interview. I’m starting a new record label. I think you’d be a great fit.” That phone call single handedly changes my life. From an early age, I’ve always made a lot of things happen for myself. But before I met Jennifer Hudson and, of course, Grammy the Pomeranian, I’d always been overly superstitious. I often thought that if I didn’t think something would happen, that it probably would happen. But I had it dead wrong. Jennifer showed me that the best way to make big things happen is to believe that they will so much that you name your tiny little dog after them to see them through. It’s funny, because my job as a music producer, an A&R executive, is to go out and find the best material – songs, songwriters, producers – and the best up-and-coming artists, and bring them together, and then will them into success. The job is entirely predicated upon finding things that aren’t yet in their fully realized form and bringing them into existence. I’m literally in the business of manifesting, I suppose. Discovering and unearthing – and again, manifesting. The creative geniuses I work with show me the power of believing. They visualize and then they make it so. Even though I never went to college, I somehow beat the statistics for African-American men who don’t, and willed a life of pursuing my passion based on knowing that I’m supposed to be here. That I belong. All someone had to do was pass me the ball – or rather all I had to do was get on the court and fight tenaciously for it. Manifestation wasn’t how I would have described it in my teens, but it’s clearly what it is. Seeing it blossom powerfully through the lens of another helped me understand how to better harness that power. All my life, I had been trying to visualize the future with my eyes closed. I only used my ears. Speak what you seek until you see what you say. That’s the creed, that’s the mantra, that’s the belief. GUNATILLAKE: We’ve reached the end of Larry’s story. While the idea of visualising future events in order to support their coming about is not so much a part of the mindfulness tradition, there is a related idea: manifesting qualities. No matter how you approach meditation, a good way of understanding what it’s all about is that it’s about growing qualities: qualities of mind and qualities of heart. Concentration, kindness, self-awareness, balance in times of difficulty and challenge – they’re all qualities we can manifest in ourselves. And the best way to do that is not to imagine them in our future but to actually realize them in our present. So if you dream of being an amazing, kind, compassionate person but that feels far away, the way to get there is by being kind now, in whatever way you can. If being calm under pressure or not being pushed around by your own negative thinking is the future you want to manifest, then see what you can do to be like that now. Steadiness, joy, sensitivity, presence with others – these are natural qualities we all have. And if we want to build them up, all we need to do is practice them, to work on those muscles, to reinforce those neural pathways. It’s not magic. It’s training. And we can do some now if you like. Letting your body be however it is. Encouraging relaxation. Relaxing any tension in your face, your hands, your belly. Letting your mind be however it is. Encouraging letting go. Watching any thoughts and ideas come up and drift away. No real need to get tangled up in them or give them any solidity. Breathing. Breathing. And let’s start with calm. We may tell ourselves the story that we’re not calm at all, that our minds are all over the place, flitting from one thing to another. Let go of any stories like that for now and let’s manifest calm. The calmest, most balanced person in the world is only ever just calm in the moment. So let’s be that person and be calm in this moment. Letting your awareness drop into the sensations where you body contacts the ground. Simple, steady. Watching any thoughts that come up on the screen of the mind. Watching them, knowing them, but not getting caught up in them. Manifesting calm. Manifesting calm by being calm. Now let’s try sensitivity. The quality of moving through life with subtlety and depth. The most sensitive person is sensitive now. So let’s be that person. Starting by switching through our senses, noticing what’s most obvious through each of our sense doors. Noticing the physical sense, what is most prominent. Noticing sight, any objects which come to your attention. Noticing hearing, sounds that arise and sounds that fall away. Noticing tastes and smell if there’s anything here, or if it’s quite neutral. Noticing thinking, watching thoughts and leaving them alone. Another aspect of sensitivity is subtlety. So as before, asking yourself the question: What is the furthest sound you can hear right now? Letting your mind be open. And subtle. And sensitive. We all have these qualities within us. We just have to manifest them. To make them real. But ultimately you just have to be that person, moment by moment. Starting now.

Every Meditative Story ends in a closing meditation from our host, Rohan

LARRY'S MEDITATIVE STORY

Larry Jackson

Larry jackson

Every Meditative Story ends in a closing meditation from our host, Rohan

"No matter how you approach meditation, a good way of understanding what it's all about is that it's about growing qualities. Qualities of mind and qualities of heart. Concentration, kindness, self-awareness, balance in times of difficult and challenge — they're all qualities that we can manifest in ourselves. And the best way to do that is not to imagine them in our future but to actually realise them in our present. So if you dream of being an amazing kind, compassionate person, but that feels far away, the way to get there is by being kind now, in whatever way you can."

Life and love and the moment

To visualize... and then make it so

Larry Jackson

Listen

As the Global Creative Director at Apple Music, Larry Jackson has signed deals with Drake, Frank Ocean, Nicki Minaj, The Weeknd and many others. He helped launch Apple Music, the fastest-growing entertainment subscription service to date; for the past three years, Billboard has ranked him on its Power 100. Previously, working with Clive Davis at RCA (where he was head of A&R and president of Arista Records), he produced albums for Whitney Houston and won a Grammy for Jennifer Hudson's debut album. Joining Jimmy Iovine at Interscope, he signed Lana Del Rey and became the Head of Content for Beats Music — all while managing Kanye West.

CREATIVITY

DISCOVERY

LARRY'S MEDITATIVE STORY

– ROHAN GUNATILLAKE

Episode Transcript

To visualize... and then make it so

From the closing meditation

Larry Jackson is the head of Apple Music and a legendary music producer. But despite his success, he felt he didn't really control his destiny. He's sharing his story of how he learned to visualize what he wanted and achieve it: "You can actually manifest your destiny. If you will it to be true, it can happen. And I want other people to believe that too."

– ROHAN GUNATILLAKE

Arianna Huffington

Episode Transcript

From the closing meditation

DISCOVERY

“There’s so much to love about Lucy’s story. So much to be moved by. And the aspect that strikes me most, is that it’s not a story about her husband Paul and his not being there, it’s a story about their daughter Cady and how she is. Her instinct to be with whatever shows up and enjoy thefreedom of life without the constriction of assumptions and norms. Running free with her balloon through the cemetery. And her wisdom to discern betweenwhat it is to be dead, and what it is to be alive. ”

About Larry Jackson

CONNECTION

LARRY JACKSON

Arianna Huffington

CREATIVITY

How to Contact Us:

Rights with Respect to Personal Data:

Security:

The purpose of this Privacy Policy is to explain how Wait What Inc. (“we” or “us”) collects, uses, stores, and protects the information of visitors (“you” or “your”) to our website, waitwhat.com. When we use the term “processing” or “processor” this refers to the collection, recording, organization, structuring, storage, adaptation, alteration, retrieval, use, transmission, dissemination, combination, erasure, or destruction of information. We do not track your browsing activities on our website. You have the option to contact us through our website by providing your name, email address, and a message. If you do so, we may use the information you provide to us to respond to any inquiries from you or to place you on our email newsletter subscriber list. If we do send you any email newsletters, note that each email contains an unsubscribe link, which you can click on if you wish to unsubscribe from our email list. We do not sell your information to third parties. We may disclose your information to companies and individuals who perform business functions on our behalf. Such functions may include hosting the website, analyzing data, and providing other support services. All such parties are required to keep your personal information secure and only process it in accordance with our instructions. We may also disclose your information if required by law. We do not use cookies or other tracking devices when you visit our website. We use MailChimp, a third-party service, to maintain our subscriber list and send out email newsletters. MailChimp uses cookies or other tracking mechanisms to recognize when recipients open emails or click on certain links. This information might then be used to assist us in enhancing your experience on our website and promoting content most relevant to our email subscribers and podcast listeners. You can choose whether to accept cookies by changing the settings on your browser. We retain your information for so long as we have an ongoing legitimate business or legal need to do so. Additionally, you have the ability to unsubscribe from, or opt-out of, our subscriber list for our automated emails at any time, and to disable cookies and other tracking functions through your computer or browser. We strive to maintain adequate technical and organizational security measures to protect your information from unauthorized access, disclosure, alteration, or destruction. We are not liable for unauthorized disclosure of information that occurs through no fault of our own. If we learn of a data breach that is likely to result in a high risk to your rights and freedoms, we will immediately notify you of such data breach and inform you of (a) the nature of the data breach, (b) the point of contact regarding the data breach, (c) the likely consequences of the data breach, and (d) the measures being taken to address the breach and mitigate its possible risks. Although we work to ensure that the information we hold about you is accurate and up-to-date, unless we receive an indication otherwise, we can only assume that the information you provide to us is accurate. If you inform us that any of your information processed through our website or email marketing is incorrect, or if we learn that any such information is incorrect, we will work to promptly correct, or if appropriate, erase, such information. If you are located in the European Economic Area, you have the following rights under the General Data Protection Regulation (the “GDPR”) with respect to information we collect that, alone or in combination with other information we collect, can be used to identify you (such information being “personal data”): Right to Information Regarding the Processing of Your Personal Data: You have the right to obtain the following information: • confirmation of whether and where we are processing your personal data; • information about the purpose of the processing of your personal data; • information about the categories of personal data being processed; • information about the existence of, and an explanation of the logic involved in, any automated processing of your personal data that has a significant effect on you; • information about the categories of recipients with whom your personal data may be shared; and • Information about the period for which your personal data will be stored or the criteria used to determine that period. This Privacy Policy is intended to provide much of the information listed above. Right to Access to Your Personal Data: You may request a copy of your personal data that we, or our third-party processors, collect and maintain. Similarly, you have the right to, when technically feasible, have your personal data transferred to another entity to determine the purpose and means of processing your personal data. Right to Have Errors Corrected: You have the right to rectification of inaccurate personal data. If you notify us that any of your personal data is inaccurate or incomplete, we have the responsibility to, either directly or through our third-party processors, ensure that such personal data is erased or corrected. Right to Have Personal Data Erased or Processing Restricted: You have the right to have your personal data erased when (i) the personal data is no longer needed for its original purpose and no new lawful purpose exists; (ii) the personal data is being processed based solely on your consent and you withdraw your consent; or (iii) the personal data is being processed unlawfully. Similarly, you have the right to limit our use of your personal data when (i) the personal data is no longer needed for its original purpose, but we still need to maintain the personal data to establish, exercise, or defend legal rights; (ii) the personal data is being processed unlawfully; or (iii) the accuracy of the personal data is contested, but then our use of the personal data is restricted for only so long as it takes to verify the accuracy of the personal data. Right to Object to Processing of Your Personal Data: You have the right to object to our processing of your personal data if the basis for that processing is (a) public interest; or (b) our own legitimate interests in doing so. Additionally, you have the right to object to the processing of your personal data for the purpose of direct marketing or statistical purposes. Right to Lodge a Complaint with a Supervising Authority: You have the right to lodge a complaint concerning the processing of your personal data with your country’s independent public authority designated to act as its data protection “supervising authority” under the GDPR. Right to Withdraw Consent to the Processing of Your Personal Data: You have the right to refuse to consent to, and to withdraw your consent to, the processing of your personal data. To the extent we rely on your consent to collect and store your information, when you withdraw such consent we must cease collection and retention of such information. Note, however, we do not require your consent to collect or otherwise process your personal information if (a) such information is not personal data or (b) such information is personal data and we have another lawful basis for processing the information (for instance, processing of such information is necessary for the purpose of a legitimate interest of ours that is not overridden by your interests or fundamental rights and freedoms). Responses to your requests to us regarding your personal data will be provided free of charge (including copies of materials), except that we may charge a reasonable fee for any repetitive requests, manifestly unfounded or excessive requests, or further copies. Similarly, we may refuse to act upon requests that are manifestly unfounded or excessive. We process personal data, whether directly or through third-party processors, as needed for purposes of our legitimate interests, except where such interests are overridden by the interests or fundamental rights and freedoms of our website visitors, podcast listeners, or email subscribers. Our legitimate interests include responding to communications initiated by you, informing you of podcast episodes and other media content that might be of interest to you, and protecting the security of our media property and your personal data. In some instances, we might request your consent to process personal data for a particular purpose and in such instances the lawful basis for such processing is your consent. If you have any questions, concerns or requests related to this Privacy Policy, our practices related to this website, or your information, please contact us via email at hello@waitwhat.com or postal mail at: Wait What Inc. Attention: Deron Triff 395 Hudson Street, 8th Floor New York, NY 10014 If we have reasonable doubts about the authenticity of any request to us, we may request additional information necessary to confirm your identity. We may modify this Privacy Policy from time to time. We encourage you to periodically review our Privacy Policy for the latest information on our policy practices. If we have your email address, we might notify you of any changes to our Privacy Policy when they occur.

Accuracy of Your Information:

Updates and Changes to Our Privacy Policy:

Lawful Basis for Processing Personal Data:

Retention of Your Information: