Over the past few months, my thought life has been consumed by curiosities and wondering as to what my future will hold. While there still is a plethora of questions dancing around my head, I have come to one conclusion: Whatever I end up doing, it must incorporate two things: kids and art.
The above picture was taken at the Elegant Farmer. A few months after I started working at the Milwaukee Rescue Mission, I had the pleasure of serving as a leader for the school's field trip to the pumpkin farm. I was a lucky girl in that I got to hang out with the K5 class all day, and was specifically matched with 3 of the most amazing little girls: Diamond, Azaria and Yanceiyah. I'd only been there for a few months, but in such a short time, I found myself loving these little kids so much... So much that I knew I could dedicate my life to helping them realize their potential, encouraging them to follow their dreams, and being a cheerleader in their lives.
Unfortunately, my life took a different path, and I ended up leaving the Mission despite my love for the kids I came to know. Not a day goes by though, that I don't think about those kids. I have a handful of pictures of them posted in my cubical at work, and am often asked about them. I'm able to proudly tell stories about them, and remember the life-changing moments I had with them... They really did change my life.
In addition to kids, art has always been a HUGE part of my life. As a child, I was always doing stuff: doodling on anything and everything, drawing with chalk, painting, making sculptures out of Playdoh, and more... As a high school student, I took as many art/drawing classes that I could, and I even started out as an art student in college. At some point, in my early 20's, I became really hard on myself and self-conscious about my artwork, and even had a few people crush my dreams about art being a part of my life. I decided to walk away. And yet, that desire to create has always been nagging me at the back of my mind.
So, I've come to a conclusion... My life MUST include kids and art. What that looks like, I don't know just yet. I've considered art therapy, art education, elementary education, and child psychology... I still don't know what path to take... But having this sort of clarity - to know what I'm most passionate about - is such a rad feeling!
Over the next few months, I hope to find opportunities where I can explore this passion, finding practical ways to figure out what path I should take. I hope to take art classes. I hope to work with kids. I hope to learn Spanish, giving me the ability to connect with even MORE kids in Milwaukee. I hope to find more people with the same passions as mine...
I can't wait to see what's ahead...
kids & art
explorer
I’ve recently decided something – I need help. The last year of my life has been filled with very little creative. I realize “creative” is an adjective – describing a state of being, a project, an idea, etc. But my life has been lacking in all those areas – in all things creative. And I’ve realized recently, that unless I get some sort of help, this pattern, this non-creative way of living, will continue to be pattern. Nothing will change unless I actually DO something to make it happen… and in order to do so, I need help.
I’m listening to El Ten Eleven right now. They’re helping.
But more importantly, I was out and about this morning, and came across this book – “How To Be An Explorer Of The World” by Keri Smith. Awhile ago, I came across another book of hers – “Wreck This Journal.” I thought it was ingenious – it’s all about creative destruction (within the journal, of course). However, the book I came across today struck a different chord with me.
The beginning starts out with this list:
How To Be An Explorer Of The World
1. Always be looking. (Notice the ground beneath your feet.)
2. Consider everything alive and animate.
3. Everything is interesting. Look closer.
4. Alter your course often.
5. Observe for long durations (and short ones).
6. Notice the stories going on around you.
7. Notice patterns. Make connections.
8. Document your findings (field notes) in a variety of ways.
9. Incorporate indeterminancy.
10. Observe moment.
11. Create a personal dialogue with your environment. Talk to it.
12. Trace things back to their origins.
13. Use all of the senses in your investigations.
I realized something today as I was flipping through the first few pages of the book, and thinking about how I wander through life. I work as an administrative assistant – my job is noticing and remembering the details. I spend my day making sure I’ve caught every email, listened to every voicemail, caught every spelling error, arranged every meeting, and so on and so forth. 40 hours of my week revolves around DETAILS.
However, as I read this book, I started to realize that life – everything beautiful, wonderful, lovely, CREATIVE about life – is in the details. This book, in a round about way, says to slow down, take it all in – smell it, taste it, touch it, hear it, see it – and notice the things you otherwise would not.
The interesting thing about this book is it feels very elementary. It asks you to do things you did as a kid. Collect things you find on the ground. Spend time looking at them. Analyze them. Write stories about them. Play with them. All of these things I spent hours doing as a kid. But somehow, as I grow older, these types of activities seem like nonsense, and have become almost invaluable.
I love the quote on the back of the book:
“WARNING: To whoever has just picked up this book. If you find that you are unable to use your imagination, you should put this book back immediately. It is not for you. In this book you will be repeatedly asked to… suspend your disbelief, complete tasks that make you feel a bit strange, look at the world in ways that make you think differently, conduct experiments on a regular basis, and see inanimate objects as alive.”
The phrase that sticks out to me is – suspend your disbelief. I spend so much of my time disbelieving – that the world can change, that I can change, that I can do something I love AND get paid for it, that I can find the love of my life, that I can create something worthwhile…
And yet this book, this guidebook to discovering the world, asks me to suspend all disbelief. That is a HUGE request, one I’m not sure I can conquer... at least, not right away.
However, I’ve decided, that if I’m going to be creative – which I believe to be IMMENSELY valuable – that I will need a little bit of help, and I’m hoping, this book can provide me with the stepping stones I need to become more creative… and again, be filled with belief.
So I begin this journey… an exploration.
I'm interested to see where it takes me.
pull me
Pull Me
My voice isn’t strong enough
To call your name
My eyes aren’t clear enough
To see your face
My hands are far too numb
To feel your touch
And my heart is so hollow
That you’ve become lost
They say jump
And I ask how high
They say run
And I ask how far
They say smile
And I ask how long
They continue to ask
And I continue to fall.
You say come
And I continue to leave
You say trust
And I continue to doubt
You say leap
And I continue to stand strong
You say “I love you.”
And I continue to hear nothing.
Come as I am?
How could that be?
Know who you are?
How could THAT be?
I can’t see you,
Can’t touch you,
Can’t hear you,
Can't feel you...
Yet you want me...
You want me to come
With reckless abandon
But I don’t know how
Or if I'll ever make it...
So pull me…
With everything in you.
With all of your might…
If I really am worth it...
Then pull me.
It's been a long time since I've written this way... and tonight, I just sat down and wrote whatever came to me... I've never been good at writing poetry. I never learned meter, and rhyming has always felt so strange and forced to me. What it is that I do write, I'm not really sure even has a category... They're more just thoughts strung along together in some random fashion...
converse in winter
I love shoes. But, I’m not your typical shoe lover. Most women who claim to love shoes collect all sorts of fancy shoes – sexy stilleto heels, shiny patent leather flats, cute summery wedges… Not me though. I love sneakers, kicks, tennis shoes… whatever you’d like to refer to them as. Especially of the low-top Chuck Taylor persuasion. I also absolutely adore flip-flops. I could live in a pair of converse or flip-flops year round, as I absolutely love them. While my converse collection is pretty pathetic (I only have 4 pair), I do rather enjoy them, and always have my eyes open for new colors and styles.
I hate winter. But most of you who live in Wisconsin know why. Too much snow. Sub-zero temperatures. I find nothing fun in those two facts. I’ve lived here for 28 years – why, I’m not entirely sure. But I do know one thing – I hate winter and everything that comes with it. Ok, well, snow ball fights can be fun… I guess that’s one benefit.
However, as I was driving in my car today, with temperatures slowly sinking closer and closer to zero, I realized something – my love for shoes, and my hatred of winter most definitely do not mix.
Obviously, flip-flops in the wintertime isn’t even a consideration – though I did go to school with a guy who ran around all winter completely barefoot. But wearing converse in the winter isn’t completely out of the question – I mean, they are closed toed shoes. They should be good, right?
I remember once when I was in high school, I went sledding not wearing boots, but wearing converse instead. I guess I must not have believed in boots. Until this past winter, I haven’t owned boots since I was a little kid (minus the Dr. Martin phase I had in high school). I went sledding wearing nothing on my feet but a pair of socks and a pair of converse shoes. I remember at the end of my sledding excursion, I couldn’t feel my feet. Literally. I’d wiggle my toes, massage them, and all I could feel was a little bit of pressure, but barely anything else. They were bright red, almost purple. I was so uncomfortable for a couple of hours, and they hurt the worst when they started warming up. And yet, I know for a fact, I didn’t learn my lesson that day. I’m pretty sure I sported the converse sledding attire at other points throughout my teenage and early adulthood years.
Today, I found myself doing the same thing. No, I did not go sledding… But I wore my converse shoes out in 6 degree weather, and while driving in my car – toes near frozen - I came to the realization that trying to force my love for converse and hate for the severe cold is NOT a good idea.
Now, in classic “Tory” fashion, I started thinking more about this idea – the fact that I insist on wearing paper thin shoes out in ungodly temperatures. It made me start to think about how often I force something because of my deep love for it, even if clearly it is not good for me.
Who I spend time with, how I spend my time, where I work, where I go to church – these are all things that I can either love like converse, or hate like winter. If they’re more like winter, I pull a bear-like move, and hibernate – basically, I do my best to hide away from the things I cannot stand.
However, with the things I love, so often, I try to wear the converse when the weather man says to put on your fattest boots and Alaskan parka.
Take relationships… There have been plenty of times where I’ve been in unhealthy friendships, and yet, because of my love for that person – because of the comfort they bring, the attention they give me, or whatever reason they possess that allows me to love them so much, I continue to keep them close. I wear the converse in winter.
Working at the Rescue Mission is another prime example… I loved it there. Those kids were my life. However, I wore converse there for quite some time. I got to a point where I knew my feet would freeze, and I could potentially lose a toe or two if I stayed. It was such an unhealthy environment, and it was not only causing problems for me and my heart, but I’m sure it caused other people pain. There came a time, where, despite my love for the Mission – I needed to give it up. I needed to do what was good for me, and for the Mission. I needed to put away the converse, and put on the boots and parka.
I have a few pair of converse in my life right now during a time of winter. There are a few things that may require me to let go, and put on the boots and parka. There are things where I need to consider my health, my spirituality, and my sanity – rather than my deep love for laced canvas with rubber toes.
The converse are hard to leave behind… But in all honesty, can I truly enjoy wearing them if I’m miserable? If my toes are frozen, a color that resembles bruised flesh rather than a normal rosey peach, what is the point in forcing it? Sure the converse are comfy and look cute, but what purpose are they serving? What good comes of it?
There comes a point in time where wearing converse is well worth suffering for. But there are times where it’s time to put them away, and wear what provides me safety from the dreadful winter looming outside.
toms
I am so stoked.
I am now the proud owner of the shoes shown above.
I just ordered my first pair of Toms Shoes. WOOT!
Last Christmas, my friend Emily (who might I say, is one of the coolest girls I know) sent me a gift certificate for Toms Shoes. I wasn't really familiar with the organizations, but after I read about the organization - that for every pair of shoe purchased, a pair is donated to someone else - I was so unbelievably excited for this gift my friend had given me.
I debated for quite a few weeks, which pair I wanted... I had NO idea which pair to buy. I ended up taking so long, that I eventually forgot about it... Recently, Toms Shoes has come up quite a bit in conversation, and I remembered that I still had a gift certificate. I wondered if it was still good, and indeed, it was.
So, I bought the shoes you see above, displaying one of my absolute favorite quotes.
"You must be the change you want to see in the world." - Gandhi
I'm pretty stoked about the shoes, and think I might even buy another pair (maybe brown, so that I will can wear Toms Shoes to work every day).
Well, that's it for today kiddies... Just thought I'd share my excitement over my new shoes, and the value behind my new shoes. Much thanks to Emily and her creativity in getting me the certificate!
If you're interested in learning more about this organization, please check out:
www.tomsshoes.com
9:42 and thereafter
I woke up at 9:42am. The last train of the morning/early afternoon left at 8:49am. The next train… not until after 6:00pm. It looked like my trip to Chicago would have to wait.
As I drove to work yesterday, I knew in my heart… I need to leave. This happens to me every so often on my way to work in the mornings. It takes everything in me to get off 43, take the Lakefront exit, and actually finish my route to work. There are mornings where the music is too good, the scenery too enticing, and my soul is beckoning to for me to continue driving, letting the V-machine take me where it damn well pleases.
I don’t typically curse in my blogs. Today feels like a cursing day.
As I mentioned, while driving to work yesterday, I knew I needed to leave - that I needed to get away at least for a little while. I find it interesting that nothing of huge consequence happened this week. My car did not break down. Our house didn’t get robbed. I didn’t lose a loved one. I didn’t lose my job. Nothing major happened… And yet, this was probably one of the most emotional weeks I’ve had in a long, long time.
So, 9:42am this morning… I missed the only train I could take, and decided that driving wasn’t really that appealing. The whole point was to have two, uninterrupted hours on the train to read, journal, take photos, and think. I like to think. Most of you know that… But thinking is one of my most favorite past times… and probably one of my sweetest downfalls.
Reminds me of the Regina Spektor song, Samson. “You are my sweetest downfall…” I should put on some Regina Spektor as I write… Mojave 3, which is what is currently tickling my ears (as well as MIA which is currently blaring through the café speakers, and my headphones are failing to drown out) just isn’t cutting it.
Wow... Rabbit trail. Back on track now... no pun intended.
Train to Chicago = not happening.
I got out of bed, wandered downstairs, and while I ate breakfast, I contemplated what my day would behold. After agonizing over a few different options (one of which included staying locked away in my house doing nothing), I finally decided to hop in my car and drive to Madison.
Today was a day that required a fair amount of convincing… I really didn’t want to brave State Street because it seemed as though there may have been a Wisconsin game that had just gotten over as there was a mad swarm of red everywhere. Craziness. After driving around the downtown area of Madison for about a half an hour, I found myself back at the Capitol, with my car sitting in front of a Starbucks. Starbucks? I drove my butt all the way to Madison to go to Starbucks?
After a few minutes of coaxing, I convinced myself to put my car in drive, and continue my quest to find a local coffee shop that had a bit of “flavor” to it. After another 10 minutes of driving, I finally resorted to finding something on State Street. As I pulled into a parking spot and gathered my belongings, I looked up and in front of me I could see “Barriques Coffee Trader.” My heart beamed… I found my place, and it wasn’t on State Street.
I headed inside, and the place could not have provided more delight to my soul. Cast iron artwork all over the place, funky tile, and a girl with dreadlocks serving me my coffee. Could I have asked for a better place to hang out?
I got my drink, and headed to a table on the second level. There’s a bi-level coffee shop in Milwaukee, and I love sitting on the second floor and being able to look down on all the hustle and bustle in the store.
I sat down, and pulled out my journal. I put the pen to the paper… nothing. I was stumped. I could not find the words to write, and I found myself in a place of not WANTING to write. I didn’t want to think about it… I didn’t want to write any words except curse words. And I’m not just talking about the word damn. I’m talking about words you’d never hear me use (except for my roommate Brittany who heard me use them a few times, in our old office, behind closed doors.)
I threw the journal back in my bag, and pulled out my laptop. I distracted myself with reading a couple of emails, and checking Twitter updates. Boring. I can do that at home. After a few moments of wasted time, my heart kept nagging at me… “Write.” I yelled back at it, “No, I don’t want to.” I did this all internally of course, otherwise the lovely couple next to me who is nursing a bottle of wine, and sharing a lovely Saturday afternoon together would have looked at me quite strangely. My heart didn’t stop though… “Write.”
So, I did.
I started writing something lame about how I wish my life had a soundtrack… And I do. I have been listening to so many good tunes lately that I wish they’d be playing in the background as I experience certain moments in life.
However, it was a sad excuse for “writing.” Pathetic, really. I needed to write from my heart – not some stupid junk about how life needs a soundtrack. So, I opened a new document, and started writing this piece…
I’m nowhere near where I should be with writing honestly – writing what I’m really feeling/thinking… what I’m going through, why my heart hurts so much, and about how much I just want to run away from it all.
But it’s start… I will continue to write. I will continue to find the words my heart needs to express. I will continue to explore the possibilities of what could grace (or muddy up) the paper before me.
For now… this is what you get. My journey at a coffee shop to write what my heart really wants to say. More to come, I’m sure…
hug
A bear hug.
A “man” hug.
A side hug.
Hugs are an interesting thing to me… When I was in elementary school and junior high, I hated them… Mostly because I thought all the girls around me were just being silly about hugging each other. However, as the years went by, I came to appreciate hugs more and more. And I’m amazed by the fact that there are so many different ways to hug a person, and that HOW you hug someone, or if you choose not to hug someone, can indicate how you feel about them.
A bear hug may indicate you are incredibly comfortable with someone, and love them in almost a familial sort of way. A “man” hug may indicate that you want to show affection, but it’s not necessarily appropriate to give a regular hug. Rather, you stand at a distance, with a handshake in between. A side hug for those who are friends, but just not that comfortable hugging one another. There are so many different ways to show affection, just through something as simple as a hug.
A few years back, I got into a conversation with a few good friends of mine about love languages. We were on a 16 hour van ride, and had pretty much ripped through every other topic of conversation, that we found ourselves on a more serious topic in hour 14 of the drive. As we were talking about our different love languages, I was certain that I knew what mine were: time spent, and words of affirmation. For me, the two went hand in hand. While someone spending time with me means a great deal to me, if there are no words of affirmation to go with it, the time spent with them feels somewhat empty. And the reverse is true… Someone could tell me they think I’m great and tons of fun to be with… but if they never actually spend time with me, then the words seem somewhat hollow. So, at that point in our conversation, I was CONVINCED that those two were my strongest love languages, at least in the way of FEELING loved. Showing love is a whole different story…
However, I’ve just recently learned something about myself. Until last September, I either lived at home or in a dorm room. As most of you know, college life is FILLED with people. I saw good friends of mine – people who were like family – on a daily basis. Hugs were a-plenty. And while living at home, there was always a hug waiting there if I needed one. However, since I moved out, I realized that hugs aren’t always abounding… in fact, there were times this past year that I found myself feeling hug deprived. There are days, even weeks, when I feel like that still.
It is such a strange feeling… I never in a million years thought that “physical touch” was so strong for me. However, in the absence of being hugged or even getting just a pat on the back, I realize how much those small things mean to me and affect me.
I’ve always heard stories about how children who are born into orphanages, if not touched in any way, will not be able to sustain life. Physical touch – whether it’s being held, having their back rubbed, or their little cheeks kissed – is ESSENTIAL to their survival. How crazy is that? Never would I have thought physical touch – something as simple as a handshake, a back pat, or a hug – would be so significant in life. And yet, we can see from birth, it is essential. Sure, as adults, we won’t necessarily die if we’re not cared for in this way… But I wonder how much it truly effects who we are, how we feel about ourselves, and even our capacity to show love to others.
The other night, I was in the kid’s room at the church I’m a part of. We have a little guy who comes each week who has a bit of an attachment to both is mom and grandma, and has a really hard time being left alone in the children’s ministry. After some assurance to both the mom and grandma that I would be fine with a crying baby, both of them left me and this little guy who was obviously pretty upset he was being left. I held this little guy in my arms – close to my heart – and let him cry for about 10 minutes. I kept whispering in his ear that everything was going to be ok… I walked around the room, rocking him, rubbing his back, and trying to calm him down. Eventually, the little guy got so tuckered out that he reached his arms around my neck, put his head on my shoulder, and fell sound asleep.
And to be honest, I don’t think he was the only one who benefited from our little stroll around the room.
While I walked around the room, rocking my little friend for the next 20 minutes or so after he fell asleep, I thought about how great it felt to have this little guy in my arms – to know that I was providing him with a safe place to lay his head. It was such an amazing feeling to know he trusted me completely, and to know that I, for the moment, was his care.
There’s something so great about hugs – about holding someone you care about close to you. I visited a church a few weekends ago where they are all crazy about hugging. While I don’t know most of them that well, I left that morning feeling more loved than I had in a long time. The other night, I was at church, and was hugged by one of the other members of our church. And I mean, it was one of those good, solid hugs. As this person was hugging me, they said, “I missed you a lot.” I seriously could not have felt more encouraged.
What is it about the combination of words and hugs that are so powerful? Sometimes, I’m amazed that God designed us as physical creatures who desire to be hugged and held. I guess when I think of “being created in God’s image” – that isn’t one of the first things that comes to mind. I don’t think of God as a physical being, or one that is physical with those he loves. Because I cannot stretch out my arms to him, because I can not feel his embrace, it is not an attribute I typically think of.
However, I think it’s awesome that God knew enough to give us other people to satisfy that need. He placed people in our lives to provide us with those “hugs,” even if he is not there to give us one. There are times when I still feel really "hug deprived" but usually, not too far around the corner, there is a hug waiting for me. I think it’s so great that God gave us such a powerful way of feeling loved and cared about…
Hugs are great, aren’t they?
May I be a person who seeks to give hugs, and who loves people as if it is essential to their survival.
