7 Things Sunday

One. Everybody, this is Evan. He is the most adorable wee Scottish lad I have ever met. I mentioned to his auntie that I missed hearing him come into the coffee shop saying, “Tay Tay!”…and then she sent me this. Be still my heart. Waaaahhhhhhh. I want to go back.

 

Two. This week was ArtForceIowa’s Holiday Hustle (I’m so good at naming things, you guys). The youths performed Christmas tunes, gave our visitors tours of the space, sold cards and shirts they designed and made, and exhibited paintings. Several sold their first paintings ever and were so proud! It was adorable. Cookies and hot chocolate were consumed. Snowmen were drawn. Holiday cheer all around.

When I got home my sweet, elderly housemate Norm asked me, “Do you feel like you can be yourself at work?” I love this guy. Who asks that? I laughed and said, “I do! It doesn’t feel like a typical workplace. I get to work with people I consider friends and everyone is very encouraging of being yourself.” And then my heart kind of exploded at the sound of my own words. ArtForce has been such a good family to come home to. I am one lucky lady.

Three. BUT my time at ArtForce is wrapping up. Well, at least my paid time. In January I will be very unemployed, which feels simultaneously like a world of possibility and world of unfortunate impossibilty. But perhaps there are friends out there sprinkled across the US of A who think “Hey, Taylor should come stay with me/us while she looks for a job in this new, exciting place.” Or perhaps not. But you never know unless you ask. So, if you’re such a friend, call me/beep me sometime. I can compensate for hopsitality with a variety of domestic and creative endeavors.

I’ve also been contemplating just working any job that will give me loads of overtime for the next 6 months and saving up to spend the summer back in Edinburgh where I can work the festival, travel, attend my MA graduation, and hang out with the people I miss so soooo much.

#dreamingandscheming

Four. I’m excited for this:

http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/wireStory/mike-birbiglia-man-show-winter-35560500

If you’ve never watched Mike Birbiglia: My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend on Netflix, I recommend it. At least until you get to the part about The Scrambler. Trust me.

Five. Yesterday I was enjoying a cup of coffee, like I do every morning. I’d probably drank half of it when I got this really bad side pain. I excused myself to the bathroom and suddenly felt my face burning. I caught myself in the mirror and BOOM. It looked (and felt) like I had suddenly developed severe sunburn all over my face. Then it spread. My neck, arms, and legs broke out into hives. The backs of my knees were swelling up. I was itchy and hot everywhere. My dad ran to the store for Benadryl. Bless him. And all was fine. But apparently we had started on a new bag of coffee that I had never had before.

So, please do not ever offer me Hills Bros. coffee. I am just thankful I didn’t randomly develop a caffeine or coffee allergy in general. That would make my life so sad and tired. But out of curiosity, does anyone know what could have caused this? I drink coffee…all kinds of coffee…alllll the time. I’ve never had this happen before.

Six. Awhile back my grandmother went through a break-up…so-to-speak. There was a man I called her “companion”. That was the most accurate description I could think of. Calling him her boyfriend felt weird. But they had been doing life together for as long as I can remember. When they stopped, I remember driving in the car with my grandma and she told me, “The other day I was sitting in Jester Park and I saw this deer. Just beautiful. We used to always go and watch the animals there together. I just wanted to pick up the phone and call him but I knew I shouldn’t do that. It’s just hard to change those habits.”

And as she said this, I felt something in my brain move. As if I could feel my own perspective widening. Here was this 70-something year old woman. My grandmother. She was describing her own feelings and life situation. And at the time, they were exactly the same as mine.We were going through the same thing. All of the sudden the 50 year age difference didn’t make any difference at all.

I have also found myself in pretty transparent conversations recently with middle aged women I adore. I feel like I have a lot of moms, which is great. They bring me a lot of joy. And honesty. They’ve opened up about grief, marriage, changes that happen with having adult children, hopes, faith, crises…the whole shebang.

And then when I stay at the Catholic Worker House, two of my house mates are guys in their 60s. And they’ve become dear friends who I admire deeply. Their life stories are already so incredible and they’re still living them. My boss is in his 30s and has an elderly lady friend that he regularly meets up with for oysters and champagne. He says they’ll sit and talk for hours every time. How fabulous is that!?

I don’t know…it’s all just got me thinking about how rare inter-generational living is in America compared to other places. It’s kind of a shame. You learn so much from people of all ages and you can develop wonderful friendships, too. Ones that give you wisdom and preparation for the roads ahead of you. All I know is that my life has felt much richer lately because I find myself spending quality time with people outside my own age range.

Seven. There’s a fascinating exhibition at the Des Moines Art Center. Go check it out and/or read about it here:

http://www.desmoinesartcenter.org/exhibitions/laurel-nakadate

Love,

Taylor

7 Things Sunday

One. Halloween happened. I went to a party in a big, beautiful old house. Pumpkin carving, Harry Potter themed cocktails, a portrait drawing studio, dance floor, and lots of good food shared by friends in killer costumes. The entire cast of the game Clue was present. I literally found Mrs. Peacock in the dining room with the candle stick. Walter White left tiny packets of Blue Magic in some of the food bowls (I think it was rock candy, based on my lack of post-consumption high). I got to quote one of my favorite movies of all time with Hot Rod himself. And I managed to spend $0 on my strawberry costume. I love Halloween.

Two. This work week was CRAZY. In the best way.

• Jane Chu, Chairwoman for the National Endowment for the Arts came to visit ArtForce. She spoke to the participants in Lift Off (a workforce/design program in partnership with Children & Families of Iowa), asking them what they enjoyed the most about being there and YOU GUYS!! Their replies were so perfect and heart warming, you would have thought we scripted them.But they were just simple, honest, on the spot answers. “I enjoy growing with this community,” “I love getting to work with these other artists and hear feedback about my work so my designs get better,” etc. Then Jane and crew were instructed by the youth in screen printing their own tees. Jane is an awesome lady full of positivity and a seriously great southern accent. When she was describing the challenges and benefits of her life as a first generation Chinese American living with immigrant parents, she said that she lived a, “Bok Choy/Corn Dog life”. Lol.
• We received grants from four different organizations/companies in one week.
• We had a poetry night for Creative Pathways on Wednesday and the kids had the option of reading a poem out loud or writing their own and surprisingly, the majority of them wrote their own. And they were amazing!
• We received a mini-van from DART, which will help sooooo much with transporting to and from programs.
• There was a beautiful article by Micheal Morain in The Des Moines Register.
• There was a news spotlight on WHOTV.
• There was radio coverage from Chairman Chu on Iowa Public Radio.
• We did a sub finalist pitch for a grant on Friday and found out that we moved on to the final round! Some Lift Off youth screen printed statistics that were included in John Mark’s speech. They were rockstars. We celebrated with a good ol’ greasy spoon brunch at Waveland Cafe aaaaand the day ended with a staff meeting that included celebratory champagne in plastic cups.

I felt like a proud mama bear all week. And I am really, really thankful for everyone who believes in what ArtForce is doing- whether you previously or currently teach and mentor, serve on the board, sponsor, or participate in the programs. It’s growing because of all of you! Yaaaaaaaay.

Three. A few different people had mentioned this Headspace app to me and I finally downloaded it this week. It has 10 minute guided meditation sessions that you can use on-the-go or lounging at home. I fell asleep the first two times I used it…it’s that relaxing. I blame the use of a British guy for narrating. But the whole idea is that it helps you apply mindfulness to your daily activities, which is supposed to be effective in treating pesky things such as worry, stress, addiction, lack of focus, relationship problems, etc. I’d highly recommend it, especially if you’re an insanely busy person or you work in an environment that can be pretty draining on your headspace.

Four. At the moment, I am all about knitting, Gong Fu’s Scarlett Ginger tea, and reading from a real book (no more of this e-reader screen business).

Five. From the aforementioned book…

“The irony is that we attempt to disown our difficult stories to appear more whole or more acceptable, but our wholeness– even our wholeheartedness– actually depends on the integration of all of our experiences, including the falls.” – Brene Brown

Six. I miss being here so much it hurts.

Seven. I have a roof over my head. My grandparents are lending me their car to drive. I have a part time job that I genuinely like and it keeps me from going completely broke. I have the best friends and family I could ever ask for. I just spent the past year getting a Masters degree in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I have had a full life for only being 25. I have a great life. I know this. But I feel down and out. And when everything…all the changes, unsettledness, transition, heartache, anxiety…when it all catches up to me and I start bawling out of nowhere as I drive down 163… there’s this voice in my head that says,

You have no right or reason to feel this way. You know a lot of people who do have reasons to and you are NOT one of them. This is stupid. You’re being ridiculous. Stop it. 

So, I start judging myself for seeming so ungrateful.

Then I feel guilty for judging myself aaaaand feeling depressed in the first place.

All of which is super effective.

I am a huge advocate for writing down or telling yourself truths on a regular basis. Normally, I find this to be a really helpful way to not let thoughts and feelings derail you. But thoughts and feelings don’t always match circumstances. That is a thing that happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean that you are oblivious to the good that is happening in you and around you. It doesn’t mean you should use your energy to list all the reasons this is the wrong thing to feel. Being depressed or anxious is exhausting enough without having to work through a layer of judgement or guilt first. If you’re falling off the ledge, be kind to yourself. And patient. And supportive.

Love,

Taylor

7 Things Sunday

One. Lambing season is starting and this is basically who I aspire to be:
I have always had a thing for sheep. I don’t know what it is about them. I had a plush lamb toy named Cuddles that I slept with as a child. I also had this polaroid of a sheep running down a hill with it’s mouth open (it was hilarious, trust me) that my grandfather took and I kept it pinned up on my bulletin board for a really long time. I see so many of them in fields whenever I take the train, but I have yet to give one my affection. I want to so baaaaa-d. Word on the street is that I may even be able to assist in the birth of some. Now there’s something to add to my resume.

Two. This week’s feels:

 

Three. When I tell people that I’m working at a cafe in North Berwick, they give me really strange looks and ask why I’m working all the way out there. Well, mostly because out of twenty-some places I applied to, they were the only ones to call me back and give me a job. But I think it was a fate thing. You know when you meet people and you know right away, Yep. I’m going to adore you. You just fit. Some of us who work together, we’re all kind of in the same place, working through some of the same what is my life right now?! stuff. Work shifts often turn into therapy sessions. I know I haven’t been there very long, but the two days a week I spend working have been full of life-giving cups of coffee, a lot of laughing, and some incredibly lovely people. This picture is blurry, but I love it anyway. Here are some of the Steampunk girls at the 65th birthday party for one of our regulars, Graham. Champagne. Stovies. Dancing to oldies. A night to remember, for sure.

Four. Like most people, I listen to music when I go get my sweat on at the gym. But lately I’ve been obsessed with listening to stories instead. I become so engaged in them, I forget that I’m running. Plus I like to think I look less like I’m dying if one makes me break out in a smile or slightly audible laughter. Here are a couple favorites from The Moth:

 

For Cynthia’s full story, you can listen here

Five. Speaking of stories…Today is International Women’s Day! Some of the most inspiring and courageous women I have ever known, I met through ChildVoice International in Uganda. To honor the young women they have worked with, ChildVoice is doing a Kickstarter campaign to fund and publish a collection of their stories.

“Lifted from the rich traditions of storytelling in Uganda, this book seeks to capture the true stories of war, heartache, faith and forgiveness in one community…With experiences and emotions that transcend time and place, this book delivers a journey from darkness to light as told by those who experienced it most closely. 

…Brought together by the work of one organization, ChildVoice, to restore the voices of children silenced by war, Grace and other survivors share their stories as part of their journeys toward healing and spiritual transformation. 

…Through these stories, readers may find strength for personal journeys toward healing, and the courage to face their obstacles. Powerful, provoking, and educational, Enduring the Night invites the reader to join the conversation and be a part of something greater, for in doing so, one cannot helped but be moved to action in support of women worldwide.”

I have never been so confident in an organsation to #MakeItHappen for women in their community. Please consider supporting their cause!

Mama Cecelia telling me some of her story. She is truly the fiercest woman I’ve ever met. She also has my favourite voice to imitate and shared our love for baby bunny Brenda, sheltering her with protection (which is really saying something because Ugandans eat rabbits rather than use them as house pets). 

Six. Every person/place/thing is adapting to new technology and figuring out ways to utilise it. I get that. This is where the world is going. As I start to see more and more art museums adopting digital mindsets, a part of me recoils because I suppose there is a tiny voice in my head saying, Nooooo! Please can this please just be one place that doesn’t look like a Buffalo Wild Wings in terms of screen coverage? Can’t we just put down the digital tools and sit on this nice little bench and LOOK at the art. Take it in. Let our imaginations go wild or give it critical thought. So, when I read about all the ways technology is helping visitors engage and learn more I feel torn and see valid points from all sides. But I completely give in when I read how it can be used for experiences like this.

Seven. This was just one of those weeks, you know? When all the bad news comes at once and you can’t do anything about it except have painful conversations that lead to nowhere. By the end of the week my heart felt like someone had been using it as a stress ball. Here’s to setting an intention for a new week full of great potential to at least be better than the last: Be patient and present (and go on more dates with the sea because honestly…so good for the soul):

Love,

Taylor

Hey Soul Sister

Yesterday I was savoring a delicious breakfast in the company of these two lovelies. We were discussing workplace dynamics, conflict resolution, documentaries, progressive women’s movements, faith, etc. Ya know, the usual…

While sipping my coffee, I stopped to think about what my closest girlfriends do with their lives. I came up with the following:

Revitalizing neighborhoods, community building, leading people in worship, parenting, studying to be a midwife, assisting refugees with urban gardening and childcare employment, researching for child and welfare policy, coordinating volunteers, managing projects and events, serving people onboard aircrafts, teaching America’s youth, leading missional outreaches across the globe, helping homeless families transition into stable housing, campaign management for healthcare reform, and running their own small business.

You know, I think Jesus was spot on when he said that to be a leader you must first be a servant. These women are the most service-oriented people I know and that is one thing that makes them incredible leaders. The occupation part is just a glimpse. They also serve on committees, volunteer in churches, grow vegetables or knit scarves and give them away, teach yoga classes and mentor at-risk kids. THEN, on top of that, they also find time to bring me lunch when I’m sick, take me to the airport at ungodly hours, dance with me, remind me of my self-worth, defend me, let me get snot all over their shirt as I sob into it, accept my flaws and allow me to see theirs. They challenge me to see God in new ways, they inspire me with their intellect and passions and they bring me comfort with their presence (along with a million other tiny and big things).

In the last week some of these friends have told me:

-They were sexually harassed in workplace environment

-They attempted to lead a group at work and were immediately shut down

-They didn’t feel heard or that their voice mattered

Siiiiggghhh. I hate that.

And there’s nothing I can do to fix it or make it go away. I also hate that.

BUT, I just want to say:

Chin up, cookie.

You are courageous for being where you are and doing what you do.

You are lovable for making the world a better place with the work of your hands and the fruit of your spirit.

You are capable of leading one or one-hundred-thousand with your voice and your abilities.

You are valuable because you exist. And good Lord, am I thankful that you do.

Fight for a place at the table. Speak up. Make waves. Cause a ruckus. Practice your Wonder Woman stance.

Love,
Taylor

 

7 Things Sunday

One. I love baking. One, because I love eating…desserts in particular. Two, because I love sharing the goodness. On this dreary afternoon I whipped up a Key Lime Pie with homemade graham cracker crust for Sunday night group. YOU GUYS, I even garnished it with little lime wedges because that’s how into it I was getting. It must have been well received because there isn’t any left. Bye, bye little pie.

Two. Emily took me to see Once at the Civic Center and we loved it. I had seen the movie and owned the soundtrack, so it was really fun to see the stage production. I thought it was incredibly creative, humorous, and the music is brilliant. The set operated as a working bar, so before the show started we got to go up on stage, have a beer and watch the musicians play. How sweet is that?!

 

Three. This week my boss is out of the country on vacation, sooooo I am solely in charge of holding down the fort *gulp*. I’ve never temporarily operated a non-profit on my own. Wish me luck. Send me good vibes.

Four. I really like this:

Five. On Saturday morning I Skyped my friend Melissande (we went to Morocco together). We haven’t reallllly talked in almost a year, which I kick myself for, but we do a pretty good job of exchanging snail mail. I can easily go off on rants about all the more negative ways technology is impacting life, but then it redeems itself with moments like this…when I can have a coffee date with this dear friend who lives thousands of miles away. I can’t wrap my arms around her, but I can see and hear her beauty loud and clear. I realize Skype has been around for years now, but it still astonishes me.

Six. Why did the man not mind being bald?………Because he didn’t want toupee for hair. Hehehehehe.

Seven. The kids I work with love to laugh at how often I have no idea what they’re talking about. And then they make me guess, which apparently becomes the funniest part. I’m hoping that this is endearing for them in some way. In case you were wondering, this week I learned that calling a girl a “thot” means you’re calling her a ‘hoe’ or ‘slut’. A “bae” is the person you call or text ‘Before Anyone Else’. I said they should get me Hooked-on-Ebonics…but then I realized they’re too young to know about Hooked-on-Phonics. So that joke failed. Then I felt awkward.

Love,

Taylor

On Break(throughs)

I just need a breakthrough.

I keep telling myself this.

I need a breakthrough at work, where a barrier crumbles and I’m let in. I’m allowed to swim through the tormented, beautiful minds. Where I’m listened to and asked to listen.

I need a breakthrough in my creativity, where it suddenly ignites as if I were a human sparkler.

I need a breakthrough in friendships, where the awkwardness goes away. Where I don’t feel less than because of the newly missing half.

I need a breakthrough in church or spirituality, where prayer isn’t a homework assignment, but happens with people organically and in the moment. Where there is time for honest questions and room for silence.

I need a breakthrough in therapy, where I learn how to gauge whether I’m doing something caring for someone else or if I’m actually doing it for me (which, for the record, is way harder than you might think). Where I figure out how parts of my personality and character make me wonderfully amazing and wonderfully unhealthy at the same time. Where I figure out how to let go, unclench my fists and foster some sort of pioneering spirit that pushes me forward into God knows what.

Break:

separate or cause to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock or strain

to lacerate; to wound

to put an end to; overcome; stop

to interrupt the regularity, uniformity, or arrangement of

I’m in the process of breaking. In some moments I feel completely broken. We’ve all been there, right? There’s that overly-pinned Leonard Cohen lyric about how cracks are what lets the light in. It’s true, though. Breakthroughs must be like that- never one single break, but rather gradual shifts…tiny cracks that reveal or expose what was once unseen and intangible. And it’s an active process. To continue breaking is an option I will always have. It’s the “through” part that I have trouble committing to. That part is scary. That means I have to find the flaw and see through it. It means that I some point, in order to get anywhere, I have to shift my actions to a forward and through direction.

It means I have to take a break from the internal mind chatter that doesn’t actually benefit me. It means I have to finds ways to make use of the time I spent devoted to all these old habits and ways of thinking. And it means I must stay mindful of all thee above.

While breaking is unpleasant and disorienting, I realize that when we break…newness and freshness floods in. It’s different, but it doesn’t have to be scary. I can lean into that. I can embrace the pain of the cracking if it means I’m breaking for a good sob and surrender. For the most raw and pure form of faith. For new adventures and relationships. For the breathlessness of anticipation. For discovering that I’m capable of this. For sunflowers and sweaty yoga mats. For new eyes and a wiser heart. I can break for those things. 

Away with the notion that breaking is about isolation, gross imperfection, and all things depressing.

Usher in the truth that breaking is about movement, growth, and light. God is in the beauty, sacredness, and humble gratification of the breaking.

Love,

Taylor

Juvie Jamz

I have a severe case of job whiplash (a general life whiplash, to be honest). It isn’t a bad thing. It just is what it is. I took a job at a non-profit arts organization that offers art and workforce readiness programming for at-risk/court-involved youth. So, I basically went from spending all day with the sweetest baby girls to juvenile delinquents. I went from nursery rhymes and pre-school pick up to court rooms and gangster rap. It’s been a weird transition. But hey… I’m excited to have a job in my field! I love what the organization does and am excited about the summer programming possibilities/opportunities. I believe so passionately in the transformative power of art and am driven to see these kids achieve their best in ways that are dignified and fulfilling. I’m honored to be a support, an advocate, a cheerleader.

Granted, I’m only two weeks into this job, so maybe I’m over analyzing all of this…but here’s what’s going on in my head and heart:

I’m just a nice, fairly quiet, middle-class, small town, white girl. I don’t know what its like to grow up in foster care or be initiated into a gang when you’re 6. I don’t know what its like to see your brother get shot or to shoot someone else’s brother. I don’t know what its like to live in fear of getting jumped. I don’t know what its like to have parents addicted to drugs. I don’t know what its like to runaway from home. I don’t know what its like to get arrested. I don’t know what its like to hold so much anger and hate in my body. I don’t know what its like to always be in trouble. I don’t know what its like to have a .1 GPA. I don’t know what its like to experience racism. I don’t know what its like to be really poor.

And I feel guilty for all of that. For the sake of bonding, relating, understanding, being influential, etc…I wish I shared in the experiences. It’s strange to be in an environment where being myself feels hard and awkward. It baffles me how insecure teenagers can make me feel about myself haha isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

“You just don’t get it.” Truth. I don’t. I can’t. But I want to. Is that enough? Or are the all the words from my lips going to be discredited? Will my be attempts at being genuinely interested and invested roll off your shoulders?

“That’s impossible.” I believe that there are ways out of tough situations but maybe that’s because I’ve been afforded options and opportunities my whole life. I believe you can overcome addiction, but maybe that’s because I’ve never had one. I believe you can stop cycles of violence, but maybe that’s because I’ve read a lot about achieving peace.

“I can’t change it.” I think part of every egocentric high-schooler is the inability to see or imagine beyond what is right in front of them. I know I’ve been there before. That said, it has been amazing to me to see how much power the past seems to hold for them. The belief that your past not only influences, but dictates your future. The belief that the past is a much stronger force than the present. Obviously there is a lot about our pasts we didn’t have control of: where we were born, who are parents were, our social and economic status, how we were raised, what we saw and what was done to us as children, etc. There are uncontrollable factors that set us up on involuntary trajectories. Yet, I just have such a hard time believing that the past robs us of change, if we want it badly enough. I might not “get” where they’ve been or what they’ve done, but I want them to look where they’re going. And I feel like I need to expect things from them. You know, bigger, better, brighter things. I don’t know the cost/benefit analysis of something like leaving a gang. I don’t know how difficult it is to jump through systems. Everything is easier said than done, I know. Maybe change or doing the “right” thing means taking a beating or lots of beatings, or losing family, or moving away from everything you know.

Cue: City High ‘What Would You Do’

*sigh*

I’m constantly picking apart every interaction and they probably couldn’t care less. C’est la vie.

In summary: I don’t know anyyythiiinnngggg. But whatever, tough kids…

I’m just going to be there. To help you apply for jobs. To ask you about how you’re going to achieve your goals. To tell judges that you’re involved in something good. To draw next to you. To listen to your free-styles. To read your poems. To be proud of you. I’m going to love you to pieces (but honestly, I will probably never love dirty south rappers or your Nicki Minaj art collages).

Deal.

Without further ado…here is a piece written by one of the students during a free-writing activity we led at the detention center last week. Juvie Jamz might make a semi-regular blog appearance:

“I come from drugs

Where every nigga’ round me gettin’ mugged

Where people catchin’ feelings trynna get snug

When girls in your ear listen to your convos like they planted a bug

Where to the West, them white girls got their Columbias and Uggs

Where sleepin’ under the bridge is better than sleepin’ in the mud

Little girls go from tots to thoughts and every nigga you see endin’ up on the Block”

-Anonymous

Love,

Taylor