An Interview with Artist Rae Robinson

LF: How did you start painting?

RR: Like any kid, I always loved painting and drawing. If anyone gave me a crayon and a piece of paper I was entertained for hours. Unlike many kids that went to church or other adult activities and their moms would bring Cheerios, fruit snacks, toys and books, my mom never brought anything; her thing was giving me and my siblings a pen and the church program or paper and that was our entertainment, so I guess I was kind of forced to draw, and I have no complaints there! In high school I also worked at a theatre downtown where I helped build and paint the sets. I loved it so much, but I still didn’t really know how to scale down art or do more academic work until college.

My favorite charcoal drawing, this girl intrigued me. She was in one of my classes and had a little sass about her. Her father is from Kenya and she’s from Texas, she always talked about her roots but at the same time she was the average American teenager. I tried to capture both those sides in this drawing. “Hipster meets Tradition”.

LF: What inspires you the most about art?

RR: Art inspires me in every aspect of my life. I can’t even meet a person without assigning them a color. I often won’t remember your name but I’ll never forget the color I gave you. Art inspires me the most in my relationships with people. If there is one thing I’ve learned in painting it's that every painting and drawing has to go through an ugly stage. At the beginning I’m always excited about the possible outcome of the piece, but I soon find that after many hours the painting has turned sour—the nose might be drooped down to the chin, one eye might be on hair line and the hand is 3x too big… in other words, it’s a disaster. That’s when every artist is faced with a decision: either to snap it in half and throw your brushes across the room (which I have done many times) or to sit down blast the music (Weezer or Passion Pit) get a snack (popcorn) and find a new determination to fix every mistake and patiently let it come together. That’s how I see relationships, they always go through ugly stages and not everything is always perfect with my sisters, dad, mom, boyfriend and friends, but art has taught me to take the second option and work through it. Many artists always show their final piece and have a sense of pride in it but the final product has never been my favorite part about it. My favorite part is always the process that piece took me through (typically an emotional frustrating one) and that’s how life is. It's not about the final outcome, but the process of everyday. Art is everything to me. It’s typically the first and last thing I think about when I wake up and go to bed.

One of the emotional drawings. I didn’t know I was sad or down until I stepped back and realized her position. Later I read my scriptures and realized that of course burdens come and it’s ok, we are supposed to have them. We are all connected to expressing our emotions in some way and God is connected to help us through these emotions in His way.

LF: If you had to give someone a piece of advice around finding your passion, what would you offer?

RR: If I could give anyone one piece of advice about finding their passion it would be to “Date Life.” I know it sounds a bit odd to date life, but my experience has taught me that dates with life are actually the most exciting dates I’ve been on. I had a friend that was expressing her frustration with boys and how she was just so fed up with them. I found myself expressing to her that she just needs to date life, see what it has to offer, and pick and choose from there. There is so much we can’t control around us, but when you date life, you have the power to choose what you are going to do on that date. Dating life is similar to regular relationships, you have to try out many different things to figure out what you like. Maybe a pottery class, hiking, culinary class, foreign films, photography, poetry, badminton . . . you can really start with anything and maybe the first go around is something that you love and you stay with, or maybe it's just horrible and that’s ok—you just try something else. The most exciting dates with life are getting into things that push you, take you out of your comfort level and urge you to develop. Developing talents and passion has made the biggest difference in my life. There was a point in my life (and I’m sure for many others) where I wasn’t in a good relationship which obviously led to many bad breakups, it was hard and brutal, and like so many other things in life that I've gone through, it left me a little helpless and lost. Each time I was left a little more lost, but those were the times I also found myself in art. Being lost and sad, I never wanted to be around people (still struggle), but I would find my own company and a paintbrush entertaining. I would just go paint for hours and draw, sometimes sad and depressing things, but I would draw nevertheless.  Developing a talent pushes us to look beyond ourselves so we don’t just focus on our social status, body type, clothes, followers and “friends” on social media.  It gives us the ability to love ourselves because we love something else that pushes us.

My canvases were always a little creative when I was younger…my little brother Seth was such a trooper. 

LF: Name one thing that you’re hoping to accomplish in the next year.

RR: In the next year I would love to assign more of a style to my work. I feel like that is a never ending search for any artist or person with a passion. Right now I’m in this experimental phase where I just try some of everything, it's fun and I’m enjoying the phase, but eventually I would love to have a style and a medium that I can really master. 

One of my first portraits. I was faced with those two decisions while painting it, but I'm glad I stuck with the second decision to keep working. 

LF: What advice would you have given yourself three years ago?

RR: Three years ago I would have given myself the advice to be patient and enjoy the stage where you just really kinda suck (ha!). Too often I always wanted to be better immediately, instead of enjoying crappy piece after crappy piece. I would also tell myself to not be so dramatic or think the world was over with one bad thing. Wake up early. You only need one or two GOOD friends, not a million. Family and God are the most important things. Finally, be yourself and let yourself change.

Oooh, such delicious words, artwork and advice. Find Rae on Instagram at @raebaebaerob—it's always a beautiful adventure. 

The World's Friends by Caroline Altom

Do you ever feel like the whole world is just… waiting for you? Like it’s whispering (or in my case YELLING), “Hey, you! You wanna hang out sometime?” And then after you hang out a few times, some feelings develop, maybe your hang-outs turn into dates, and then before you know it, the world is ready to introduce you to its friends. “Hey, I was thinking. I want to introduce you to my friends. They’re pretty cool. At first they might be a little intimidating. Because, well, they might be a little different than you. But I promise, if you give them a chance, you’ll love them.” And little did you know, the world was saying the same thing about you to all his friends.

Let me tell you—I got to meet some of the world’s friends, and I LOVE THEM.

When it came time for college graduation, like most (all) college grads, I had a lot to figure out. For sure a “trip around the world” was at the top of my list, like many other grads who want to travel, take risks, and put off responsibility as long as possible. AS WE SHOULD. Sorry Mom. Luckily for me, the day I walked into my “Senior Research” class, it absolutely did not feel right. Which then meant I had two weeks to figure out an internship for after graduation. Best thing that ever happened. Oh and did I mention that for about a year leading up to graduation, the universe, or the Big Guy Upstairs, was sending me messages that I needed to go to Ireland?

So, why not? Why not at least try for it? I had to do, otherwise that would be some major self-betrayal. And I knew I had nothing to lose by going for it. I either stayed and did an internship in the states, or I got to go to freaking Ireland. I saw no negative consequences there, only opportunity. And next thing I knew, I was packing my bags to move to Ireland and work at The Shelbourne Hotel. Can we say “meant to be?” I hate imagining if I hadn’t tried, because cheese alert, this experience changed my life.

As I sit here trying to write about what it was like moving there, I wish there was a way to transfer the warmth in my heart and smile on my face into words on this page. I felt so alive the minute I stepped onto those streets of Dublin. And it was all so exciting. Apartment! International roommates! Immigration office! Social security card! Irish phone and bank account! Different languages all around me! Using Euros! Hopping on the train, not having any idea where I was going! Getting rained on TONS! But most importantly, I met so many new and different and beautiful people, who taught me so much and brightened my soul forever. I’ll have more to say on them, hang tight.

Working was quite the experience as well. I quickly learned that “half-two” really meant 2:30, and that when people say “You’re very welcome,” it’s not in response to someone giving thanks, but it really is a welcome, you know? I’m sorry, but I had the best position at the entire hotel. Don’t get me wrong, there were loads of absolutely exhausting and strenuous days/nights; that’s the service industry. But I had so many opportunities to chat with hundreds of guests and hear their life stories. Like Jerry, the Architect from New York, who had MS and while he sat in the green lobby chairs cheerfully waiting for his wife to return from her adventures, told me of his experiences building the finance building in NYC. Or Michael, the man who had been in Dublin in the 1970’s and while he was shopping, came out to Grafton Street and found the IRA ready to blow up the building across the street. The stories are endless, and I plan on sharing them one day. Oh I was just constantly elated. I believe humans are happiest when they’re learning, which leads to progression, and man, I was in a constant state of learning for the eight months I lived on that breathtaking Emerald Isle. It’s even greener and more beautiful than you imagine it, by the way.

I think it’s clear I could go on about my day-to-day in Ireland. But a large part of my overall experience was when, after saving the tiny amount of money I worked my butt off for, I visited England, Austria, the Czech Republic, and later quit my job early (whoops) to go travel the rest of Europe for a month. This is when I got to meet more of the world’s friends, and wow they really are great. Hungary, Sweden, Denmark, Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, Italy. Incredible places, really. Stunning, unique, tasty, aesthetically pleasing, and each offer something completely awe-inspiring.

But when I look back on that trip, and my whole experience in Ireland, I don’t first think of the things I saw. Not to ever discount the beauty of those places. But those places will always be... places. Dare I say, they’re “re-place-able?” Not in a sense that one is better than the other, or one is forgettable, etc. I’m simply implying that you can leave one place and go to another, always. And majority of the time it will be overly exciting to visit each new place. But for me, it’s the people that make the experience. The people and their cultures are irreplaceable. I will never, ever, forget dancing at a birthday party in the family garage with Shandor, the 70-something year old Hungarian that spoke no English (or I spoke no Hungarian, really). But you don’t need to speak the same language to swing dance do you? Nor will I forget the delicate, pretty old lady who I talked with the whole train ride into Switzerland, who I swear was the most “colorblind,” open minded, loving person I’ve ever met. And of course my Oma for the week in Holland, who is Dutch but lived and married in Israel, and experienced and saw so much in her lifetime, she would do the world so much good by making an “inspirational quote of the day” book.

And what would I have done in Ireland, without my people there? Who welcomed and embraced me with their complete love, and taught me so much about their own culture, their own beliefs, families, political views, goals, dreams, and who are all so different from me and from one another, but who very clearly love sharing our humanity.

There’s no doubt about it, meeting some of the world’s friends was intimidating. And they are different than me in a lot of ways. But hey, since when was “difference” a bad thing? I thought different was just…different? I believe the intimidation comes from the unknown. We often fear what we don’t know or understand. But as you give those unknowns a chance, they become more known, more understood, more loved.

In the end, we are different. But mostly in the superficial fluff that doesn’t matter as much. You see, they’re just trying to figure out how to live their life, the same way I’m trying to figure out how to live mine.

This woman is just as driven, dazzling and energetic as she sounds and we can't get enough of her wild spirit. Follow her on Instagram at @gingerattack.

Painting Ourselves Red by Paul Clonts

High expectations of attractiveness for women and men has troubled me for years. Living with the reality of these standards affects my self-esteem, body image and confidence and has hindered several aspects of my life. And I know I'm not alone in feeling these effects. There are countless times I have heard friends saying, “If I lost fifteen pounds I’d probably have a boyfriend” or “I wish my skin didn’t look this way, (so-and-so) has perfect skin.”

In my perfect world, everyone would be admired and respected for their natural bodies and physical appearance, without modification or cover-up. I personally know many individuals who obsess over having the ideal bronzed skin, flawless make-up, and a perfect body. I know a woman who has overcome skin cancer developed at a tanning salon. I lament her situation; both the reasoning behind her tanning as well as the devastating effects from synthetic UV rays on her health. 

I believe in being physically active in order to have a healthy body, but the amount of money and time spent on a picturesque body is money and time wasted. It saddens me that these expectations and unnecessary pressures stem from fashion, design, and entertainment industries that seem to control the masses’ self-image. I also mourn that generally, we have subscribed to these benchmarks of attractiveness. 

One day I watching the movie Alice in Wonderland, specifically the scene when the Queen’s servants are out painting the roses red, and I saw a fitting metaphor for this concept. The Queen only sees the color red as attractive and beautiful, while the natural color of the roses is white. I had an image in my mind of millions of people painting their faces the way "the Queen" (fashion, design, and entertainment industries) would want. I began writing a satirical song to express my thoughts.

So you want to know true beauty? 

You want to make this garden home?

Come with me 

I'll show you all you must do, 

And who you’ve got to be, 

You're ashamed of your petals of white, 

They're your curse from God, 

It's hard accepting yourself, 

When pale is wrong and red is right 

Chorus: 

She don't care who you are, 

You don't look the way you should, 

She has come to paint you red, 

She's painting all the roses red. 

There is something you should know, 

She will cover all your faults, 

So wear the mask of beauty, 

Let her paint cover your troubled soul. 

She'll paint you red when your confidence is fading in the wind, 

Paint you red when loneliness becomes your only loyal friend, 

If you think you're pretty, she'll still paint you red, she'll paint you red.

 A huge thank you to Paul for sharing his music with Love Force. If you want more of that husky, honeyed voice, you can find Paul's band South Paw here and here.

Passion, Purpose and the Pursuit of Personhood by Jamie Frost

I have always loved to sing. As a child my imaginative play always involved singing in one way or another. Whether I was a pirate/singer, princess/singer, or even a mechanic/singer, the singer part was non-negotiable. In fact, my mother signed me up for figure skating lessons after I was mesmerized at Michelle Kwan’s performance in the 1998 Olympics, but even then I insisted that my figure skating hopes would only be complete if I could skate to songs I myself had recorded. I wrote my first song in the 3rd grade (in which basically I just named any major monument I could think of around a chorus of “around the wooooooorld”); and in the 5th grade my book report on The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler was a seven minute musical review. It never crossed my mind that I would end up doing anything but singing.

Until two years ago.

For me, singing was my freedom, it made me feel strong. It made me feel powerful. It was the source of my self-confidence and the manifestation of my best self. Knowing that I could take any piece of music and sing it, high notes, low notes, whatever, was the ultimate freeing thought. With jazz music, even just listening to certain riffs could make me feel like I was being wrapped in silky sheets of sunlight, and conquering a tough phrase filled me with a giddiness akin to a 6-year-old on Christmas morning. At age 23 I was in the midst of training with one of the top vocal coaches in the country when I met my now-husband.

Let me guess what you may be thinking, that this is a story about how I gave up on my dreams to get married and put myself on the backburner for my husband’s goals. I have to admit I also had that fear sweep across my mind once or twice, but each time, I realized the same thing I am about to explain to you: passions are not always meant to be permanent.

It is possible that their function, instead of being the end-all be-all of our lives, is to teach, to uplift, to inspire, and to guide. When they have taught us all they can, we move on.

As my relationship with my husband progressed, the excitement I had about singing gradually faded. It was no longer appealing to me to be gone on tour for three months at a time, nor was it appealing to have to spend my evenings at gigs or rehearsals. (Notice here that my vernacular changed from the once hopeful “get” to do these things to “have” to do these things.) My husband, a mental performance coach, went to great lengths to make sure what I was feeling wasn’t just burnout, or a case of temporary insanity. I really just didn’t love it anymore. While I still enjoy listening to soulful blues and jazz music, it doesn’t fill me with the same power and groove that it used to. And that’s okay with me.

At first this was very scary. Who was I if not a singer? Could my instincts about myself really have been so wrong as to make me think I was passionate about something I wasn’t? Had I wasted all of that time and effort on something that would never come to fruition?

I decided, however, that fear and stubbornness were not good enough driving factors to continue with something I no longer loved. Letting go of the identity of singer that I had tied myself to freed me up to explore other aspects of who I am. I discovered a love for cooking Italian food, history, languages, and yoga; I am starting a jiu jitsu class within the month, and I discovered I make a pretty decent wife, which is something I never imagined would be the case. I feel that I am closer to the version of myself I am ultimately meant to be than I was two years ago, in large part because I had the courage to abandon what I had relied on for self-validation and allowed myself to just be Jamie; not Jamie the aspiring singer, just Jamie. I was lucky enough to have a support system - my husband - to encourage and console me along my journey of self-acceptance as a person without the need of any other identifiers.

When I think about singing now, I am grateful, but not in the least bit regretful. I learned a lot about hard work and focused practice. I learned a lot about goals, dreams, and passions that I use to empathize and encourage those who are currently pursuing those things. Ultimately, however, the greatest gift that singing gave me was the lesson that I am enough without it. I am enough just being me.

A Letter to My Future Self by McKenzie Bauer

Dear future McKenzie,

Disclaimer: Writing a letter to your future self is a bit strange. I have no idea where my life will be or what what my story will look like. However, I do hope to become a certain type of person and for the most part, I know what it will take to become that.

Anyway, I hope you love your husband even more deeply than you do now because you are crazy about him. As you should be, he’s one awesome guy! I hope that you never take him for granted—not once. Look him in the eyes each night before you fall asleep and tell him how much he means to you and hug him in the morning to let him know that you will always be by his side. Support him and recognize that he has fears and weaknesses, different from your own. You are there to help him overcome them.

Although I am not a mother while I write this, when you have kids of your own, make time to always be a mother, not just a mom. Don’t let problems become more important than your people. Snuggle them. Listen to them. Serve them. Strive to be as much like your mother as possible. And strive to be different as well. Teach them. Love them. And then teach some more. If you’re listening and loving in the right ways, hopefully you will know how to help them.

Don’t be a control freak. This is a problem you deal with every day and it’s a huge (and I mean huge) weakness of yours and you need to get over it. Go with the wind. Breathe and just let things be. Your attitude affects those around you—make sure your attitude is a positive one.

Keep in touch with old friends and make your new friends feel important. Learn from each other. Utilize the relationships in your life to better yourself and others.

Never stop praying.

Take care of your body. Go on lots of walks. Appreciate every sunset. Hug people. Don’t forget to have fun. Hang your kids artwork on the fridge. Stay organized. Keep up on your journal. Work hard.

Have a damn piece of cake every now and then and enjoy every last bite.

Every one of these things (except for the parts about motherhood) are things I am trying to improve on each day and guess what, I fail quite regularly. It’s kind of embarrassing actually, but that's life!

The great thing is, I also succeed. Every now and again I’ll remember to make a phone call to someone whose been on my mind or to say my morning prayers.

Don’t beat yourself up. Ask for help. And be happy.

These are things I am learning now and I hope that you (however you old you are) are also learning these things.

Be kind to yourself and know that I pray for you every day.

I know that God loves you and is looking out for you. He always has been and he always will be. I don’t know what trials you will face or the dark moments that lie ahead but from what I can tell, they always end.

Stay true to who you are but always be willing to accept where you need to change and then execute.

Love,

yourself.

P.S. Love yourself.

This woman is love and light; she's earnest, curious and has one of the biggest hearts I know. Get to know her yourself—find Kenzie on Instagram at @kenzebauer and at her blog here.

Marni Takes New York: 10 Notes From the Subway

Marni took a leap of faith and moved to New York City last July. She recently wrote me, "I write little notes here and there to myself on the train and take notes about everything that has been swirling around in my brain since moving to the city." And that's exactly what this post is—subway notes by Marni Vail.

Note 1

The other day in church I was thinking about how I never want to fall “out of touch,” but that I wouldn’t even remember how to not fall “out of touch” if I was “out of touch,” because it just happens so naturally. Like a ball of yarn unraveling—it falls off the couch, your cat or baby gets a hold of it and you just don’t notice. It happens slowly, never on purpose. And then you wake up one day and have no idea what happened and there’s no clues. So I decided to make a list of things that concerned me at critical stages in my life, so that when I have kids I will remember how it feels. What it's like to be a little kid when you're learning how to tell the truth, how to include people and feel included. What it's like to be a teenager and wonder about boys, or to be in high school and learn how to not get caught up in the caste system, to be your own kind of cool and to love your body. Or how it feels to be in your mid twenties and single, and wonder if you will ever get married or be able to support yourself. I guess this is sort of like that.

Note 2

The snow is falling again. Which means it’s the first day of spring in New York I guess. This city is so strange. Different from anywhere I’ve ever lived. It’s dirty, addicting, expensive, and enthralling. I feel like a full-length mirror here in the city. Reflecting a million tiny dreams in my heart and wanting to be a little drop of everything I see and feel. To write things, act, sing, make short films, create art, dance, perform, do stand up comedy even, befriend strangers and get to the bottom of their hopes and dreams while I try to live out mine. This city is so full of people doing so many different things. Maybe that’s why I moved here in the first place, I couldn’t make up my mind. When I lay in my bed at night and the streets are finally quiet, I feel just like a pair of freshly washed socks tucked in the back of a drawer, stacked safely on top of a whole bunch of other socks. The night sky blanketing me and all the tiny people in the city, making us all one. That's why I think I secretly love emergency situations—we are all one in emergencies—we are the most human when we have no control at all.

Note 3

Leo Tolstoy said in the beginning of one of his books, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." I think at night were all alike. We all rely on the same thing to take us over, sleep. All tucked safely in our beds, and in the morning we break apart again like a 5,000 piece puzzle. There are some things though that no matter how different we are, we all yearn for, and need. Touch. I miss human touch here. So much that when I accidentally run into someone or they run into me, I don't mind at all. In fact, I almost want people to run into me so that I remember I'm not just a ghost haunting the city or something.

Note 4

It's easy to feel like a tiny green pea in New York. People pretend not to see you. You pretend not to see anyone. I really like seeing all the different faces on the subway, I don’t like pretending. Older people studying out of textbooks, I secretly admire them for going back to school. I look at all the hard workers that ride the train with me, some dressed in business suits holding leather bags, others with patches on their jeans, and hard hats and utility belts. I admire them all. I wonder about their families or if they even have family in this country or if it was just a dream of theirs to come to New York, and if its what they expected. I feel love for them. Even this man sitting next to me, falling in and out of consciousness trying to do a Sudoku puzzle. He’s threatening to fall asleep on me and has dry skin and dandruff, but I love him too.

Note 5

I've learned a lot since moving to New York. There are things that New York can teach me, but things only I can teach New York. For example, walking. New York has taught me how to walk with purpose, squaring my shoulders taking up a lot of room on the sidewalk and looking people right in the eye. I heard this once: "If you shut your eyes to a frightening sight, you end up being frightened. If you look at everything straight on, there is nothing to be afraid of.'" Akira Kurosawa, Something Like an Autobiography.

I try to look at most everyone I pass in the eyes, not because I’m trying not to be afraid of them, but because I want to show them that they exist in this world.

Note 6

I used to be afraid of a lot of things. My biggest fear has always been dying before my time. I don’t know why. There’s something just so tragic about it. I used to be so shy when I was a little kid. Even my cousin asked me to have a sleepover once and I just stood there quietly because I was too shy to answer her in front of people. I remember I came out of my shell eventually like most kids do. When I was 19 I read an article about how everyone thinks that the spotlight is on them—when they enter a room, when they are speaking, eating, etc. But if everyone thinks the spotlight is on them, the truth is that the spotlight is never really on you, you just feel that way, and so does everyone else. Long story short, nobody cares. No one really cares that much what you do, how you do it, or if you're still single at 27. There is nothing to be shy or embarrassed about. Ever. This is your life; you’re the only one that knows how to live it perfectly. So do what you want to do anyway. Don’t live under a blanket of fear. Unnecessary fear can sink its claws into you and hold you back.

Shrugging off irrational things is really living your life true to you. I’ve heard that the real reason you flip a coin is not so that the coin will decided for you, it's so that your mind will whisper to you what it is you really want, right when the coin is in the air, or when you get that sinking feeling when you see the coin is landing on the decision you don’t really want. You should never play it too safe. Do what you want and be who you want regardless of circumstance. I miss writing and making movies. Picking a subject and delving in. I miss being in school. I also miss having someone to share my life with. I'm going home to eat dinner now and it will be good but I enjoy so much having someone to share my meals with. Life is most flavorful when shared.

Note 7

Sometimes I find my life is just passing so quickly without me having much say in it. I don't like that. Pause every once in a while and glance at what you are creating. If it’s not what you want, then make a plan, act fast and change. Young people breathe such life into things. Older people add depth, wisdom. The people in the middle, like us, I guess we just try to move things around and make life interesting. Make it all mean something while we can. Write our own stories, move, run, and make big decisions. There really are no wrong answers in life. There are only missed opportunities.

Note 8

In New York people can look grumpy or way into what they're doing but they're not. They're just in their little shells copying what everyone else is doing. So when I first moved here I tried to blend in so I did that too. But I’ve realized how much of my true life I’ve been missing out on being “a stone faced New Yorker.” So I’m not doing that anymore and just being myself. Smiling. Touching. Being honest. The day I made that decision, to look into people’s eyes again and smile, I met this girl Carla at an art store who was deaf. I didn’t know she was deaf at first but I complimented her beautiful smooth skin and awesome hair and then she signaled to me that she was deaf. It made me even happier that I reached out to her. She helped me pick out art supplies.

Note 9

Everyone grows up but doesn't have to grow old. When I’m 100 years old I want to look back and see that my heart grew and expanded in all directions. That I progressed and knew what it was like to be a human. Poor, happy, unhappy, lonely, strong, courageous, bold, loving, afraid, compassionate, emotional, resilient. That I knew the magic of friendship, and how it feels to be human. I’m stretching my heart to stay young not because I fear growing old, but because life happens so fast, I want to experience every feeling like it’s the first time. I think that’s what true youth and beauty is. To be young at heart is to feel things deeply and to feel often. You only have one life to live.

Note 10

My mom says I'm strong to make my life from scratch moving out here without really knowing anyone or anything. And that it’s “so impressive.” But anyone can do that really. What is more challenging is staying true to who you are no matter where you go and to remember not to get whisked away into “the norm." Be your own norm and try not to get whisked away into the current of who you think you're “supposed to be." For me to truly live means slowing down to keep up with who I really am.

Editor's note: Love her yet? I met Marni years ago at an impromptu photoshoot put on by our university's photo club. I remember she was magnetic without even trying to be, earnest and loving simply because it came so naturally to her. Radiant in every way, Marni's authenticity still inspires me to shake off my façades and show up in the best of ways.

Want your day to be brighter? Follow Marni here for weekly bits of wisdom, glimpses of that New York lifestyle and every now and then, a picture or two of that megawatt smile.

(Watercolor sketch by Suhita Shirodkar)

The Answer Is Love: An Essay by Brenda Smart

When our post on violence got over four hundred views in one day, I knew Love Force had touched on a topic that rang significant for a wide spectrum of people. In response, I reached out to social work clinician Brenda Smart, who's devoted much of her life to helping survivors and perpetrators of violence. Read on as Smart shares why she chooses to open her heart to all parties, and how love can be the most powerful force in the world.

While in my clinical social work masters program, I wrote a paper titled, “What About the Men?” I worked in a shelter in Southern California helping women and children get back on their feet after fleeing domestic violence. I saw first hand the damage that these male abusers had on their victims. However, being a mother of four boys, I often thought to myself, “What about the men? Who is helping the abusers?” I know that question can trigger a lot of negative emotions from women; and I understand. Let me clarify.

I listened to woman after woman share their horrific story of abuse. Although I put on my professional face, my heart would sink as I watched the women physically shake, look terrified, and appear broken as they entered the shelter and had to provide me with details of their abuse. I must stop here and explain what I mean when I say the word "abuse". Most people immediately think of physical abuse. And while it is damaging, the majority of the clients that I worked with often reported that bruises, cuts and scrapes could heal, leaving little visible damage over time. However, they explained that the damning effect of emotional abuse is relived over and over, leaving unseen scars that are never healed yet are always present. Words such as, "You're stupid, ugly, worthless" (and many more too vulgar to share) corrode the spirit. These women were left downtrodden and questioning if their existence mattered. I could write much more on my thoughts of "abuse", but I truly have come to believe that anything less than nurturing can be abuse to the spirit of a person.

One day I discovered a little insight to my question, "What about the men?” I remember meeting with this particular abuser as if it were yesterday. He was around twenty-five years old. I was his seven-year-old daughter's counselor and it was court ordered that he visit with me. I had conducted interviews with my client's mother (24) regarding the horrific abuse she endured and my client witnessed. I was also provided a picture of the abuser that showed a shaved head, gun carrying, heavily tattooed and angry man. I will admit that I was scared to meet with him. Because of my love for the men in my life, I went into the meeting with an open heart to try and learn from this man, to hear his story. He came in equipped with excuses, stories, and anything he could to "sell himself as innocent." As I listened, I felt inspired to show him empathy, kindness and understanding. I was amazed what happened next. He took a sucker that I had set out for my child clients, and he proceeded to suck on it as if it was a pacifier (at least it seemed to me that it offered him that same comfort). He curled up in a ball and cried as he shared with me details of his terrible, loveless childhood. He was shaking, and apologizing profusely for crying. He was embarrassed. I reassured him that it took a strong, brave man to show the vulnerability he had. He too was a victim of abuse. 

Abuse is cyclical. I would guess that 90% of the women that I taught in parenting classes and domestic violence education raised their hands when asked how many of them grew up with domestic violence in the home. And the same amount raised their hands stating that they swore to themselves as children that they would NEVER repeat the same cycle of abuse, yet here they were in domestic violent relationships (side note: on average, a women will go back to her abuser seven times). A majority of those who grow up in a home with domestic violence either identify with the abuser (and grow up to be abusers) or identify with the victim (often finding themselves in relationships with abusers). Unfortunately, we fall back on what is familiar. 

I’m grateful that we have made some positive strides as a society in understanding domestic violence, evidenced by outreach programs, domestic violence education, and many classes in helping the survivors. Although I believe law enforcement has a long way to go (still requiring physical proof of abuse before an arrest can be made), they are making strides in taking domestic disputes seriously. However, I believe as a society we are a long way off in understanding the abuser. We raise boys to "man-up", tell them not cry and suck it up, and the list goes on. The anger that we see released in boys is very often penned up emotions that they do not know how to express, therefore it shows up in bullying, fighting, etc. Depression is often masked as anger in men, while women often show symptoms of depression manifested by crying, laying in bed, feeling overwhelmed. Very seldom do men show those same symptoms. Society tells them that they cannot. They are left confused, not heard or misunderstood. 

We need to unite in opening our hearts in empathy and understanding, not condemnation when we hear a story of domestic violence. I am not saying that we should justify any form of abuse, but I believe our hearts must be open to both women and men in these situations. Government gives grants that help support outreach, shelters, classes, etc. for the women. Yet the jails seem to be the only way out for the men. Therapy is offered to both, but the majority of men have been told that they are less-than or weak if they seek help. They are left stranded with uncontrolled emotions. We must remember that there just may be a little boy inside that abuser with a story of pain that none of us understand. 

Parents: please allow your sons and daughters safety when sharing their thoughts, feelings and emotions. Show them physical and emotional love. If they are raised in an environment of love, there is a much greater chance that LOVE will be the familiar that they fall back on when they are in a relationship.

A portrait of love. Brenda currently lives in Hong Kong with her husband Dave, and makes it a point to spend time with her four sons, four [new] daughters and beautiful grandchildren whenever possible. (While counselors in the United States need to be licensed, Smart was preparing for her state boards when they found out they were moving to Hong Kong. Fortunately, a masters in social work is recognized throughout the world.) She currently volunteers as a counselor in Asia.

What the Plants Taught Me: An Interview with Jacqueline Francis

Love Force caught up with the brilliantly dynamic Jacqueline Francis, who talks with us about passion, who she is (and isn't), and how a greenhouse got her heart racing years ago and why it hasn't stopped since.

LF: You’re a floral designer. What led you to that?

I'm a floral designer, I'm a lot of things and people, and I don't know if there's ever one name for anyone other than their own. My little girl taught me that one day when I tried to define her with a description. I said, you are so this and this and she turned to me and said quite matter of factish, "No Mom, I'm Grace." And she is basically right. I'm Jacqueline. That means I'm a full time mom, I'm a daytime law firm staff (seriously I'm doing everything right now #ethical) I'm a florist with bigger dreams than my wallet, and a complete plant nerd. What led me to BEING was what I think leads every single one of us into enlightenment of our truest self– dark, unknown, crummy, unexpected, tough paths. And nature echoes that law. You don't get a rose without a ton of thorns. I've got scars to prove that. And T-Swift sings about it–so it's probably true. 

LF: From an artistic standpoint, how does floral design impact your life and how you see the world?

See above.

LF: You’re incredibly talented at what you do. What would you consider is your greatest strength? Have any of your recent actions demonstrated this strength?

I think my greatest strength is vulnerability. I'm very open with myself and others. It's a source and place that is utterly void of regret. I like to think this is a space in myself where creating is its own live throbbing thing. It is always evolving and always changing. It is affected by everything and everyone I internalize. I draw on that strength every time I design anything. So that's what you see in my work–it is vulnerability. Mostly with flowers I let them do what they do–they do the hard work, I just introduce them to each other.

LF: At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive?

That's easy. And that's two questions. I feel most alive right now. Because I am. And I know what I live for. But when do I feel most passionate? I can't ever forget this, but it began one foggy burnt orange-lit night as a student in the Horticulture program at my university when a fellow student snuck me into the propagation seedling greenhouse and I stood there and knew I was a goner. I mean, my senses devoured that moment like a first kiss, like I would never live again. I looked out over those endless rows of every shade of green you can and cannot imagine and felt small. Small lives and air so clean it hurt your nose. And light so bright you forgot about the sun. And I was hooked. Flowers had me. I spent the rest of the summer pinching transplants from campus and buying every size pot from Walmart that they had–I'm not kidding I filled my vacuum with dirt in less than a month. I knew I'd do anything to make more life. Designing grew from that. Literally. I had to cut the plants for them to grow more. (Another life lesson). 

LF: What are the top five things you cherish in your life?

Five things: the earth, my family, laughter, Grace (all definitions), myself. (Anyone who tells you differently on that last one is lying. We are propelled by the discovery of our own souls).

LF: If you had the opportunity to get a message across to a large group of people (think millions) what would your message be?

Our passions teach us about life. And love. I learned more from the flowers than about them that semester. And I carry that in me.

To drool over Jacqueline's work (and rack your brain for reasons why you need to throw a party with flowers, lots of flowers) visit her floral design website here. To drool over the party that Jacqueline herself is, check out her Instagram account here.