LatinAlice

“I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago.”

hi, everybody. what a moment we’re in. I am held between two big feelings: grief and gratitude.

grief: looking out into the world, seeing sickness and death and panic. cancellations and closures. uncertainty. feeling the distance between us. unable to celebrate life’s special moments by being close.

gratitude: communities coming together online, getting creative, being generous. knowing I’m supported by my team at work, and that I can help. being at home with family, all of us healthy.

there is an overwhelming amount of information out there. I want to give you a place to start. over on my site, I’ve put together some resources. stuff to keep you informed and entertained, and ways we can all do good and be kind during this time.

Laura and I were talking about our relationships to our bodies a while back and she said something I just loved.

See, having a gratitude practice is one of the most effective parts of mindfulness for me. In moments of frustration or self-doubt or shame, taking a moment to be grateful helps me to redirect those feelings in a more productive way.

Laura mentioned that she was trying to appreciate all the things her body can do, and I was nodding along like yep, yep, we're out for a walk right now! And then she said, "Like how my liver filters my blood."

Whoa.

We forget just how many amazing things our bodies are doing all the time to keep us healthy, things we don’t even think about. Reflecting on that for a moment felt humbling.

Our bodies have function. I have hands that can type and hold a pen, arms to hug my friends, legs my cat likes to nap on. My body is the point of contact between me and the world.

With all this said, I also appreciate the side of the body positivity movement that encourages people to feel beautiful in their own skin. I understand why people want to decouple body positivity from “attractiveness.” But I hesitate. I find value in seeing myself as beautiful.

Not to be marketed to. Not to attract a partner. Not to exist for consumption. But because there is an artist in me who sees my body for its colour, its curves. Who appreciates that I can be a canvas for clothes or a new hairstyle or nail art. 

Because when you observe things closely and give them your full attention, so many things can be beautiful, us included. There are few things that demand our attention the way our bodies do.

There’s that lyric from Sunday in the Park with George:

"Pretty isn't beautiful / pretty is what changes / what the eye arranges / is what is beautiful..."

I find that cultivating beauty in everyday things makes my days better. It has utility. Whether it’s baking twisted brioche or designing my Excel budget with a pastel colour scheme, I find joy in that, and that joy improves my life.

So. In the care and keeping of myself, it helps to remember that my liver filters my blood, and it helps to think of my stretch marks as cute, and it helps to be grateful that I can go for a long walk with my friend. That’s my body positivity.

sometimes it’s ASDSKJFLSKJF DID YOU SEE THE TRAILER FOR CATS

sometimes it’s “i know you get off work at nine, but want to come over for a movie after? i’ll pick up frozen yogurt”

postcard collage series 

A couple years ago, when I was sending letters more regularly, I made a bunch of collage postcards and inserts. My elements of choice included: brown craft paper; vintage sheet music, books, and magazines; washi tape; and bronze wax seals.

It’s just the two of us. It’s late, and quiet. We aren’t talking about anything that matters. You’re hurt in a small way and I’m trying to fix it.

Weeks later, this moment will make me cry, because I realize that we will probably never have any moments like that again. I realize that I will probably forget that moment. That’s what hurts. I don’t want to forget, but I will. Unless I do something to make sure I remember.

I want to remember all of our moments. Maybe not now, but later. Years from now, even the smallest moments will be so precious, especially if I’m right and it’s done and they’re gone.

and now, a round of “let’s not be sad” featuring small moments from some of my favourite movies:

alone • june 4, 2018

How lucky am I to be able to run away to the woods and be home by suppertime?

At nine or ten, I was happy to hop a backyard fence or climb a tree to get a better view. Walking after dark at fourteen, the park was a moonlit kingdom. And then those hot teenage afternoons floating down the river...

There are beer cans along the riverbank. There are kids riding bikes on the dirt trails, and some younger ones leaping off the swings back at the playground. 

There is me and my camera. Near people, but alone. It’s quiet in my head, for once. Anger and sadness and loneliness and stress just drift away like so many cottonwood seeds.

My life is reduced to these tiny moments: the gentle pull of the current carrying leaves and twigs down the river, the setting sun glowing yellow-gold through the trees, the surprise snap of a branch beneath my foot.

I’m trying to listen through this year’s Tony-nominated musicals before the awards ceremony next weekend. And wow, this is the standout for me.

The Band’s Visit is transporting. Spend an evening with the Alexandria Ceremonial Police Orchestra and you won’t regret it.

“Answer Me” is the most beautiful thing I’ve heard this year. Here’s what composer-lyricist David Yazbek has to say about it:

Now I know you are the sea And I’m the moon and we will be Tied together by the tide But never by each other’s side...

Here is the story behind this zine:

I sat down at my desk. I wanted to create something. Paper, ink, and words are my favourite tools, and I’d thought about making a black & white zine with my new bottle of sumi ink. I folded & cut the paper to make my booklet. Then I dipped my brush into the ink bottle and wrote the first word I could think of on the cover.

Fear

I was afraid I wouldn’t find a job in my field, afraid that I was cutting myself off from my friends, afraid I wasn’t a real artist, afraid that I was wrong about what I wanted to do with my life, afraid I wasn’t good enough to do...anything.

& Desperation

I was desperate to find that job, to feel connected to my friends and family, to make art, to find my purpose or passion or to at least get good enough at something that I could make a living at it.

There is no way around these feelings. The only way forward is through. And to the voice in my head telling me that this zine is boring and disjointed and dumb and pointless?

Shut up.

download a printable version of this zine 

cut along the dotted border and then fold as per the instructions below (diagram designed by Patrick Fry):