Meet Kismuth in Bangkok for a workshop on memoir writing

Meet Kismuth in Bangkok for a workshop on memoir writing

KISMUTH IS HOSTING a memoir-writing workshop in Bangkok on Thursday, Oct. 30. Read more and get tickets here.

How to write the story of your life

SUMMARY: Join author Dipika Kohli in Bangkok for a onetime only special: a 2.5-hour workshop designed to help beginners and advanced writers clarify their concept for writing a memoir. 

HAVE YOU ALWAYS wanted to write your life story? Perhaps something…

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Monday village report #24: On arriving at one kind of plateau

Monday village report #24: On arriving at one kind of plateau


It’s been a year now, since we got started. On this adventure, which has turned into a not-adventure-at-all, as you might put it, were you to draw from your Winnie the Pooh-inspired vocabulary.

“Let’s color,” for example. “Because it’s that kind of a day.”

I’ve been trying to wrap my feelings around the idea of what it means to have been gone for a full year, on the road, without…

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'Conversations in the Rainy Season'

‘Conversations in the Rainy Season’

USUALLY IN THIS SPACE I do my best to paint pictures with words, but here’s a different sort of painting. Inkwash, with brush. It’s called ‘Conversations in the Rainy Season.’


What do you think? I have been a little shy about sharing my drawings here, but you know, I talk about all this incredibly personal stufflike surgery and leaving my parents’ house and anguish and fights and hard, real…

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I’m hosting the biggest party of my life, and I think—I think!—-people are having a good time

I’m hosting the biggest party of my life, and I think–I think!—people are having a good time

EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE a designer steps out of her role as a production person and tries to think about what’s more important than pushing pixels.

For ten years I helped people find their brand stories, and I got to work with some of the smartest people I’ve ever met because of it. I wasn’t sure what all that was building to, to be honest, but I think I know now. This. The Cojournal Project. Which…

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Last October: Meeting Kanchenjunga in Sikkim with eyes wide open

Last October: Meeting Kanchenjunga in Sikkim with eyes wide open


A YEAR AGO AT THIS time I was writing to you from a hotel in Gangtok, India. That would be Sikkim. The northeast, up by Darjeeling region. It’s not exactly on the beaten track and if you get there it’s probably going to be by helicopter since it’s USD $60 and a lot faster than the jeeps. I took the jeeps. So did my entourage—I was traveling all around Asia with my partner and our son, wondering…

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'This is Street 63'

‘This is Street 63′

20140930-130517.jpgTHE DOGS are ayap, the breeze is crusted over with exhaust, the bicycles and tuk tuks and whistles from the rush-hour police at intersections are watching every which a way to make sure the pedestrians, trucks, people walking their carts in search of cans and bottles, side shops for clothes and haircuts or whole chickens (headless, roasting) turning round and round on sticks, juice stalls on…

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Final chapters

99b128f93d57fee7fbf0647658d730IT IS THE middle of the afternoon in Phnom Penh. It is warm, but not terribly gross hot like it was when it was “hot season,” and the people who are around are those who made no plans for the weeklong holiday of Pchum Ben. If you know how to pronounce that it means you have been here longer than me, and even though it’s been seven months and I can barely count to ten, I’m feeling like a noob here…

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Among the wildflowers you can find… you

Among the wildflowers you can find… you

TONIGHT I READ at an open mic at Java Cafe, where there are some writers and poets gathering every month who talk about which words are most inviting and engaging to them, at this point in time. Khmer poetry, tonight. Korean, too. This was a mix that I could get into. This was international.

The piece I shared is something I just wrote and this very day submitted for a column I write for a…

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Reconnecting with America

YESTERDAY I GOT back to Cambodia.

I was in California for the last five weeks. Maybe six. I kind of lost track. I almost missed my plane, too, but not because I didn’t have things organized, only because I was completely distracted by the many threads of new and different paths upon which one might traverse to discover the new, the near, and the next. Thank you to the people in the Bay Area who…

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Monday village report #35: The second coming

Monday village report #35: The second coming


SOME DAYS I think it didn’t happen. Not really. Not in that way, like that, with the loose and floating feeling of distance and yet, powerful closeness, too. I see waves and the mixture of burning color and white light, sense the twilight and hope mixed into prayers. Some days, I wish I could close my eyes and not really see it, though I always will. I have it, stored, in my mind’s eye. A…

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Monday village report #34: Sensing and reveling in abundance

Monday village report #34: Sensing and reveling in abundance

20140316-221105.jpgTHIS SUMMER I’ll be in California. And more than usual, I’m guessing, I’ll be thinking about Abundance.

The sense that there is always more. That we are not in boxes, or constrained by the things we think we are. Maybe because loss touched my life early, in childhood, but maybe because of something else, I find the optimism in people to be their brightest beauty. Always more. Always plenty.


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Monday village report #33: Get to it before it gets to be too late

Monday village report #33: Get to it before it gets to be too late

Logic in all its infinite potential, is the most dangerous of vices. For one can always find some form of logic to justify his action, and rest comfortably in the assurance, that what he did abides by reason. That is why, for us brittle beings, Intention is the only true weapon of peace. ― Ilyas Kassam

I HAVE BEEN infusing myself for the last five years with this kind of thought. That if you…

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Thursday Thought: Dear #NorthCarolina

Thursday Thought: Dear #NorthCarolina

KISMUTH, while still Stateside, took Greyhound to Asheville from Durham. This was in North Carolina, a place I used to call home, and the visit that turned out to be so much more than a recreational stepping-away from day-to-day duties of laundry, routine, and minding my small son. It was a few summers ago, when I still had hope that there was something to have returned to North Carolina for,…

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