dandelion lessons

Dandelions after dawn, before coffee.

June 13, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

The dandelions I cut from the urban wild spot near Madrona Park on Saturday are already showing me new things. Like any good teacher, they are subtle with what they offer; they show more than they tell.

On Sunday, their bright yellow faces were opened wide to the world like buttons on child's raincoat designed to stand out and cheer.

In the evening after a gorgeous date, he and I sat together on my living room floor, navigating things. It is a tender, delicate dance, this learning how to love. It requires courage, honesty, vulnerability, rootedness, and trust. Trying to find the right words at midnight after a full day of work, life, movement, activity, Italian food, and a sunset was a task my brain could not accomplish with grace. I wanted to listen when I found myself talking. I wanted to talk when I found myself listening. I was tired.

My words seemed defensive, tentative, uncertain and afraid, and I heard myself revert to habits I long to shift and change. That is when I noticed they were sleeping.

Did you know dandelions close themselves up entirely when the sun goes down? They do this every night, even when they are cut flowers in a vase. Not a single bit of yellow can be seen, only tight green buds.

Dandelions do not stay awake analyzing their love, vibrance, or future potential until the wee hours of the morning. They rest when the sun goes down and when they wake, they love more. These tough little flowers do not ask anyone for beauty sleep. They just take it, like lionesses. 

This morning--through the haze of waking, making coffee, and remembering I am loved--I noticed them opening again. Slowly, just like me. 

xo
laura

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Laura Lowery is the founder, editor and publisher of Lucia. She does her best to lead a creative life. Whether triumphant or stumbling, Laura shares daily notes (that are often weekly) here on luciajournal, including stories, behind-the-scenes happenings, little doses of inspiration, and large quantities of curiosity and heart. She is pleased to meet you.

softness is golden

June 10, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

Light is dancing today. Puffy clouds float through the sky and the maples have matured into thick, green adulthood. I am wearing earplugs but can still hear the leaf blowers, and I long for a soft stretch of silence.

Then it comes. A pause in the ruckus next door allows chords from the Spanish guitar on Pandora to strike the foam bullets in my ears, and I feel my heart again.

Is silence truly golden? Or is it softness we treasure and with it the ability to fall in sync with the sound of beauty?

Maybe what's really gold is being softer and lighter on ourselves. It is June and Lucia is now one year old. Bill Gates once said, "Most people overestimate what they can do in one year and underestimate what they can do in ten." 

There is time.

Our small team has accomplished so much in one year, and I feel proud. To brag for a moment...we have printed two beautiful issues of Lucia Journal and won an award for design. We ran a Kickstarter campaign to raise $60,000, and when it ended unfunded we got back up to try again on Indiegogo and raised $12,500. We were written up in Bustle, invited to Seattle's NBC morning show, and offered a blog in the Huffington Post. We are on the shelves of more than 125 stores across the U.S., including selected Barnes & Nobles, Whole Foods, and a growing number of delightful independent creative shops like NICHEoutside and Grapheme. Our team grew to welcome an online editor, who writes stories with lightness and inspiration and is already making great strides in cultivating relationships with talented new voices for luciajournal.com. 

We have accomplished so much! Yet my busy brain fixates on all that is not done yet. When it does, I can grow rigid and anxious and scared.

Issue Three is waiting to be created. There are submissions in my inbox, ideas in my head, and outline after outline scribbled in journals, Word docs, and the notes function of my iPhone. There is a sponsorship program to create, and potential partners to reach out to. There are dozens of incredible independent shops to connect with and invite to carry us. There is a plan brewing for creative fortnightly emails from Lucia. There is more.

Fear likes to loud-whisper in the late afternoon hours when creativity has exhausted herself and can no longer hold the reins. He says things like, "You did this backwards. You should have developed a larger online audience first, before attempting to go to print. You made a mistake by eschewing advertising. You cannot be creative and run a business at the same time. Geez, Laura, what were you thinking?"

I learned long ago to refrain from reacting when fear starts jabbering on about failure. It does get easier, but man does he never shut up.

"Pipe down. Look at what we just did in one year, pal!" I say firmly and loud. The neighbor's gardener, who has finally abandoned his leaf blower in favor of a rake, looks up in the direction of my open door. "You just wait," I mutter, a little softer. "We'll show you what we can do in ten years. Make that two."

I remove my earplugs and hear the steady rise-and-fall swoosh of traffic one block away on Madison Street. The guitar plays on and so I turn the volume up, listening for what is gold.

xo
laura

june beats

June 2, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

I have a date this weekend. The kind with live music and most likely a bit of bourbon. The kind that matters. And also doesn't. Except when it does. I will probably wear boots.

We go around in circles. I think everyone does. Earth flirts with the sun, leaning in a little closer, tipping away, then returning again in June. Love usually comes back around. If we have done our work, if we are willing to be grounded and vulnerable, and if we pay attention, we see the truth: It is always changing.

"What are you noticing in your body right now?" she asks with a soft smile. She holds my gaze and I close my eyes. It always comes down to this. No matter how many ways I weave my mind through a situation searching for words to resolve it into a story I can tell with a beginning and end, the truest answers never come from inside my head.

So I place one hand on my heart and feel it beating. I had not noticed how it was feeling until this very moment. Like touching a spot of flesh so sensitive it can detect the slightest change in pressure, the smallest shift in temperature. The rawness of loving another human is a thing I often find myself trying to either choreograph away from or steel myself to brace against. It is always a relief to be reminded I cannot.

The beat was like this: June-is-here. June-is-here. June-is-here. Life-is-here. Life-is-here. Life-is-here. 

"My heart feels tender," I replied. "I hadn't noticed that before. My belly feels nervous and excited, like butterflies. Somewhere in between these spaces I can feel my own strength. It is centered and upright and calm and assured."

I opened my eyes. 

"So that is how you feel," she mirrored. "That is what is true."

A tear came then, with a broad smile.

June hearts beat true. We must simply pause to listen. Let them be tender, nervous, excited and strong. For we are all of these things and more. We are always changing.

xo
laura