Why don't we dance around a fire when a loved one dies? How do we challenge our inherited programming around the experience of death? And how can we accept our greatness now, in this very moment, God-willing, long before our own expiration date?

Oh, and if you're Honey, you might also ask, what would Roberta do?

In Season 2, episode 7 of Flowers For Linda, a podcast on grief & creativity, my dearest Honey bee and I sat down when she passed through New York City to celebrate the life of her music momma, Roberta Flack.

Yes, that Roberta. Roberta of Killing Me Softly and Feel Like Makin' Love. Roberta of record breaking Grammy's. Roberta of classical keys and birdsong. Roberta of Donny Hathaways duos. Roberta, the musical mentor. Roberta, the queen, the regal, the matriarch.

Though I knew, of course, that Honey sang with Roberta for over a decade, in this conversation I learned just how fiercely one of the most defining voices of our time uplifted and supported the community around her, particularly those she hand picked for her band, "The Real Artist Symposium." In this beautiful episode, Honey brings us into close relationship with Roberta, sharing stories from the road, the wonderful tale of her first audition, and the wide and deep influence of her musical momma on the person, and artist, she is today.

In recounting, Honey's energy is light and open. Having watched Roberta lose control of her body, including her prized voice, to the degenerative ALS disease, Honey had been privately morning for years. Now, Honey said, she wants to celebrate.

Was the bully voice in Roberta's head loud? It couldn't be to produce the life she lived, Honey said. She had to believe in her gifts. If you asked me who that sounds like, I'd say Honey herself.

Determined to not allow her cultural programming to define her, Honey speaks in this episode about how we can push past our limiting beliefs to reach our highest and most free potential. As a friend, she is constantly challenging me to change the way I speak to and about myself, and I love that you will get to experience this, too. 

As kismet happens, I was searching for the right way to open this episode, and the universe gave me the perfect opportunity. Honey and I found ourselves last week in New Orleans during jazz fest, where she played a showcase with New York family including Chris Rob and Yahazara.

When the band kicked into Feel Like Makin' Love, Honey's dazzling voice filling the air, I flipped the camera on. And that's how we begin, and end. Full circle.

By the end of our conversation, if you listen closely, you can hear the birds outside the window. I like to think it is Roberta asking, Are you willing to accept your greatness?

In reverence,

Caits

How can we stay present to the goodness of life as it unfolds? When is ambition a boon to creativity, and when is it a block? Can regret be a useful emotion? And how can loss give purpose and shape to our creative pursuits—and, often, save our lives?

In Season 2, episode 6 of Flowers For Linda, a podcast on grief & creativity, Alejandro and I sat down on the heels of the release of his debut novel, LOCA.

Inspired by and in tribute to Junior, Alejandro's cousin-brother who took his own life at age 28, LOCA casts their shared interests and identities into possible other-lives, with lovable characters coming of age in rich and thoughtful queer fictional landscapes set in 1990s New York and Santo Domingo.

Before we began recording, Alejandro reminded me that he is succinct, a gift of his I admire, proving that the right words chosen carefully can hold entire worlds. In this 30 minute episode that packs a punch, we start with our favorite conversation: how to stay grounded in an ambition that is motivated by the work at hand, rather than the seductive shine of external validation. 

The answer, I am reminded by Alejando, lies in holding close the great why, the purpose, the drive behind our process, and the feelings and experiences we are alchemizing in ourselves to share with the eventual reader.

I invite you to join us as Alejandro draws a tender portrait of two brothers, and reveals with candor how grieving Junior presented as a depression propelled by self destruction. Interrupting his grief spiral, put simply, writing LOCA saved Alejandro's life. 

When I host these special conversations, I try to remain an open container for the guest, holding space. Here, Alejandro drops one of the most potent metaphors on death I’ve heard, bringing audible tears. I think that says so much about what this episode offers. 

In reverence,

Caits

ABOUT LOCA

It’s 1999, and best friends Sal and Charo are striving to hold on to their dreams in a New York determined to grind them down. Sal is a book-loving science nerd trying to grow beyond his dead-end job in a new city, but he’s held back by tragic memories from his past in Santo Domingo. Free-spirited Charo is surprised to find herself a mother at twenty-five, partnered with a controlling man, working at the same supermarket for years, her world shrunk to the very domesticity she thought she’d escaped in her old country. When Sal finds love at a gay club one night, both his and Charo’s worlds unexpectedly open up to a vibrant social circle that pushes them to reckon with what they owe to their own selves, pasts, futures, and, always, each other.

Loca follows one daring year in the lives of young people living at the edge of their own patience and desires. With expansive grace, it reveals both the grueling conditions that force people to migrate and the possibility of friendship as home when family, nations, and identity groups fall short.

How do we continue to offer agency to those who have passed on? To those who have chosen to exit the embodied experience by their own hand?Does that detail change your answer?  When the world feels dangerous and unpredictable, what feels certain now?

There are secret languages between sisters, between the living and the dead. The grass still grows. Time can move out of synch. Grief is an ecstatic experience.

In Season 2, episode 5 of FLOWERS FOR LINDA, a podcast on grief & creativity, I had the pleasure of experiencing honey-like time, slow and thick with light, in this tender, raw, and honest-as-children conversation with Katrina Goldsaito—guide for the grieving, author, artist. 

Among the energies in the room with us were many teachers: Emily, Katrina's sister who opted out of the embodied earth experiment; Her Samurai ancestor who chose life after defeat; Her prolific haiku writing Grandmother who smiled through language in times of despair; And Katrina herself, of course, with her radiant warmth and a silliness that I recognized as kin.

In our conversation Katrina walks the line between depth and levity with astonishing grace. She talks about the container of the page as a place to hold and explore the wilderness of grief, and that distinct paradox: spiritual awakening—though I'm not sure that is the language she would use—often begins with painful loss. 

I choose to keep the seams of this conversation showing, because Katrina and I are new to each other, but it just felt as if we'd known each other for a long time. It’s not just chemistry, it’s two people meeting with open hearts. You can hear me prompting, intending to take myself out in the edit. But in the end, I kept myself in.

The slowness and openness of this episode, largely untouched, speaks to Katrina’s gift of speaking with crystalline, thoughtful clarity. In the editing process, I often cut out long pauses to make the podcast experience more listenable. But when Katrina takes her time, I think you'll find, it’s worth slowing down to join her pace. I hope the listening will accompany you, the way Katrina calls the creative process a form of accompaniment.

Here, by way of example, is a question she left me with that I hope sits right next to me, breathing invisibly all day: what if it was joyful the whole time?

P.S. I had fun arranging her illustrated bolder of grief into a little poem in the full Instagram slideshow. Check it out: @flowersforlindapod. 

What evidence in our own lives reveal that more lies beyond the material world? Do the purest spirits die younger than the rest of us? What signs show us our beloved dead are speaking?

On episode 2.4 of FLOWERS FOR LINDA, a podcast on grief & creativity, I sat down with Cavalier, poetic MC, creative powerhouse, wickedly engaging storyteller and, as his instagram says, "Obeah Man and Archeologist in a gentrified world."

Attuned to uncanny moments as precious clues, Cav speaks the language of spirit, and in turn, received messages that feel undeniable in their alignment and clarity. We even had a few ourselves during the making of this podcast -- dreams of the beloved dead's homeland, timing of texts, old photographs magically resurfacing.

In this captivating episode, Cav brings two friends into focus: the walking sunshine who is Amy, and the other worldly named Mugadu. Each no longer on this earthly plane, Cav reanimates them with love, wonder, honesty and stories of synchronicities that add to my belief that the material world is just one, quite limited, vantage point in the vast possibility of sight beyond the eyes. Picking up these clues, Cav's beloved dead walk with him through life, art, creativity. 

For something like two decades, Cav has been a creative inspiration and cherished friend of mine He has always been skilled at bringing together people who will love each other in shared space, and this conversation is no exception. I loved meeting Amy, poet, soap maker, baker, clove smoker and bringer of light, and re-meeting Mugadu, a master of visuals and Kemetic yogi, through Cav's compelling storytelling. 

I'm so proud to share them with you. I hope you'll sit with us. You can find this episode wherever you get your podcasts.

Visit Instagram for more behind the scenes and show notes @flowersforlindapod.

What secret selves live behind the selves we wear in the world? How can a memorial celebrate life in a truly embodied way? How can friendship help us navigate big losses?

On episode 2.3 of FLOWERS FOR LINDA, a podcast on grief & creativity, I am joined by Boyuan Gao, woman of many hats that have included music journalist, nonprofit administrator, workshop facilitator, DEI consultant and even once, to my delight, a floral arranger in a Brooklyn flower warehouse. Currently shaping her new adventure, I predict her next title will be "joy-maker."

But enough about B. This episode is about her dad, Fred. 

After growing up at the height of the Cultural Revolution, in 1985 Frederick Gao immigrated to the United States, leaving communist China behind. Earning his PhD, Fred settled into a life of teaching at a local Western Massachusetts prep school. As B has always described him, Fred was a buttoned up man, "constrained and restrained," with an out of reach and mysterious internal life. 

And then, nearing his 7th decade, Fred became a painter.

Springing from his imagination only, without formal training, Fred began to create astonishing detailed oil paintings of the local landscape. Breaking out of his rigidity to display a new personality entirely, Fred produced over 100 works in the four years of his miraculous second act, before he succumbed to cancer. 

In this full of life and laughter, wide-open episode, Boyuan shares the process of creating her dad's first solo show, posthumously, and the vibrant community she brought in to support an active dialogue between his work and local artists. 

I truly love this episode. It models the way friendship can hold grave losses, and it plays like a movie scene. Cheers to Fred, his wild internal life, his beautiful work, his breaking open. Thank you B, for such a profound modeling of memorializing a loved one. I hope you will take a listen.

Visit Instagram for more behind the scenes and show notes @flowersforlindapod.

What visual choices help communicate stories of tragedy and horror without adding sensation? Can art help us grieve strangers? Should a serial killer be humanized?

These are just a few questions that arise in episode 2.2 of FLOWERS FOR LINDA, a podcast on grief & creativity with Maya Meissner, a brilliant photographer with a highly conceptual mind. On this unique episode, Maya tells the paralell stories behind her new astonishing photography book, THE CEDAR LODGE. 

THE CEDAR LODGE tells a disturbing dream-like story of her family’s close encounter with the Yosemite Killer in the late 1990s. The project consists of artistic photographic materials from a variety of sources, such as collages, photographs taken as a teenager, altered family snapshots, and additional new photographs made in and around the hotel where the events happened. Through these varied perspectives, Meissner investigates her discomfort, grief, confusion, and separation from the twist of fate that intertwined her with these events.

With transparency and honor, Maya shares the ten year journey of creating THE CEDAR LODGE, the process behind her thoughtful visual choices, and unravels a haunting tale of grand human failure that stalks the psyche. It is a gorgeous, affecting, and difficult listen, peppered with surprising moments of levity and tenderness. 

As you might have deduced from our names, Maya is my cousin, and a beloved and inspiring force in my life. I am deeply proud to share her mind, eyes and heart with you. 

Visit Instagram for more behind the scenes and show notes @flowersforlindapod.

What is the pedagogy of loss? The alchemical process where pain turns to gold? How do we animate our love of self with inner power vs ego?

FLOWERS FOR LINDA relaunches with Sam Sellers: Wordsmith MC, master DJ, beloved music professor, seeker of the great surrender, and Damn Good Homie. 

Sit with us while we discuss the pedagogies, philosophies, processes and personal journey that led to his new album of glittering mantras, FAKE FLOWERS LAST FOREVER. Between previews of the songs, Sam opens up about the hard inner work that propelled a sonically delicious project full of lesson-filled bangers to elevate your inner landscape.

I love this album, I love my friend, and I love getting to share with you the conversations we've been having for decades. Pull up an ear.

Episode themes include: Rituals, embodied pedagogy, sacred texts, self love, hard lessons, collaboration, unmasking, perspective shifts, liberation and disruption, love over fear, surrender, thought interruption, grief overload, vulnerability, relationship deaths, deaths of self, the dangers of a flattened culture, positive perspectives and more and more.

Visit Instagram for more behind the scenes and show notes @flowersforlindapod.

Poet Cheryl Boyce Taylor talks with tenderness, humor and wrenching honesty about raising, being raised by, and losing her son Malik, whom you and I know as the legendary Phife Dawg from the seminal hip hop group A Tribe Called Quest.

This profound, uplifting, and touching double-length episode offers—through an open conversation between two longtime friends of different generations—Cheryl’s experience of grieving through the holy trinity of poetry, therapy and community; The blessings and challenges of sharing a private loss with the world; Parenting a bold artist as a bold artist; And a series of only-a-mother-would-know stories.

The episode also includes Cheryl sharing poems from her poetic archive “Mama Phife Represents,” (Haymarket Books, 2021) and the episode opens with a collaborative poem recorded live at New York City’s The Bowery Poetry Club by Cheryl and Phife​​—never before released to the public.

Losing her brother unexpectedly as a teen, multidisciplinary writer, storyteller and performer Caroline Rothstein leaned on Jewish ritual to survive. The poetry of her faith now finds its way into every area of her life—inspired by death. In this heart to heart, Caroline introduces us to her brother Josh in his playful spirit form, and she shares two profoundly moving poems that transmute grief into powerful testimonial art. 

The overstory is your first book is a NYT bestseller. The understory is your father’s recent death. FLOWERS FOR LINDA audiozine is (finally!) back with author Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah in this heart-opening conversation about the collision of grief and creative success.