In lieu of actual photo from the night : A photo from a Summer Party around the table, 

It's a new season, and everyone arrived with the same relief of getting back into some sort of schedule and life together.  It's a funny thing, this group of women that has collected around my living room over the past year and half.  The group that always swells over the months and yet comes back to the same core women. 

Strong women who push boundaries in their lives and work.  Women who are young, yet somehow taking on the world one month at a time.  The wine glasses on the most part, were left behind as we got into the meat of things.  The food was enjoyed, yet somehow it was left as we heard the adventures of the summer and the challenges of this new season before us.

An artists trip to Spain, a photographers summer of weddings, an Architects summer challenges and a freshman at the beginning of a theatre degree ... all these conversations lead us to discuss what brought us together to begin with.  

Striving to not just do, but do well and do amazing... it is a challenge this journey of Creative & Innovative, but with each other, no matter what stage of life we are in, student, newly independent artist or new mother to be.  

We are makers.

Heres to another season of making!  

In all it's forms.

In all it's and ways. 

One summer when I was about ten or eleven, my family went to the beach almost every few days.  And during that time I made a friend, a boy about my age, with brown hair and eyes and a gangly body.  My sister about fifteen/sixteen allowed me to amuse her with my energy for running into the waves, diving under the water and feeling the sand hit my face.  I would burst out of the water, take deep breaths and laugh loudly trying to entice her in.  The boy as I had noticed over time, would watch us.  Watch me.  He would swim on his own but always with an eye at my joy over the waves.  Eventually over the days that followed, he began to interact with me, and suddenly I had a friend.  I was young, but not too young to realize that this boy and I had a spark of friendship that perhaps wasn't just friendship.  But of course, that is just speculation now...It was then and there in the waves off the coast of Nova Scotia I settled my heart deep in the ocean.  On the drives home from the beachside that summer, I would daydream about the boy on the beach and the joy I had found there.

To this day, I always remember that boy and our summer beach days together.  I never saw him again, but I think of him fondly.  I remember the dimple in his cheek and the laugh he made when I did something lunatic crazy as I usually did.  

There is something sacred in it.

In the ocean I mean.

The way it moves and swells.  The way it mirrors the sky with all its blue, grey, green glory.  The salt lingers in the air and the waves sound like a song.  A song that changes in rhythm, melody and tune at any given moment.

For those of us privileged enough to be raised by it, we are given to moments of advantage that others do not have.  For our lands do not roll on forever the same.  No.  Our lands are vast and varied by the watery depth of the ocean influenced weather.    The rolling hills, the cliffs and the coves that capture land from sea is something that Nova Scotia is all too familiar with.  I couldn't live without this landscape...I may travel, and still my heart beat aches.  Where is the ocean?  Where is the sea?  Where is the salt in the air that brings my spirit alive again?

I once thought I could leave it all behind.  Heartbreak does that to you.  It makes you think starting over and forgetting would be the best thing... but I have found, that it would be the worst thing.  If you leave your roots behind you in effort to forget and move on, you are denying the honest soul in you. If you move, move with respect and honour to your past.  If you need to start over, start afresh and anew, but do not start without coming to terms with the roots that are deep in soil of the land and hearts you leave behind. 

The ocean is my heart.  It has captured every heartbreak and every sorrow, and it has also captured every good and wonderful thing I have come to know.  This is why I am a bird of the sea.  This is why my wings cannot be clipped for as long as I live and journey through life, I will always need to remember and be reminded of the truths that lie within the sea. 

Everything changes, nothing stays the same, and yet it all moves apart of one story that continues forever.  Nothing is for certain, but like the tides of the ocean, everything is brought in and out of life with a pull that has a purpose and reason.  

"So light a sparkler! Raise your dreams to the sky and watch your endings burst into a dazzling beginning!"

©2013 Nicole Payzant

Motivation became a middle name for me.  It was the rope that dangled down in the dark places offering a lift out.  It was the single solitary coloured balloon that floated in my sky.

Motivation became a way of life, and the more I lived it, the more I lived fully.

Motivation is such an overused word that we often scoff at the notion.

"Heres another Motivational youtube video put together with instrumental music and images of sick children.  Another typical "I beat the odds survival video". "

So I guess, I was the cliché-girl who found herself at the end of a heart break and on the beginning of a motivational kick.

And the kick hasn't left.  Two years later I aim to consistently spew out motivational words and projects.  Because somewhere amidst all that cliche mambo jumbo I found some real stuff.

I found words that weren't just.

"If at first you don't succeed..."

"You can do it."

No, I found brilliant shiny words.

"Love yourself out."

"Blessings can come out of the mistakes."

And so I chew on motivation like a vitamin because I needed it.  Still need it.

Weeks of illness and I claim motivation now more than ever.  This isn't a time for me to crumble and despair.  My life isn't over and my life is so rich and full, that even the weight of sickness cannot stop me.  There is nothing more brilliant and sexy than a woman who values herself more than her fears. 

And my fears have been at war with motivation.

And motivation wins again and again.  Because there is always more words and always more inspiration.  But the fear...it cannot become more if I am staring it straight in the eyes and watching its every move.

Because

I am a sniper for fear and I aim well and strong.

A motivational vitamin on embracing change. "The wounds of your past may actually be the wounds of your present."

©2014 Jeremy Lai

Sometimes I ask myself the question "Why write?  Why write at all?" 

It's a question that comes out from the dark places.  The places I go to when things are not as intentional as I want them to be.  Because, lets face it...I thrive on the intentional.  I get energy, drive and life from inhaling an intention.  

But even intentions get stale and become like bad morning breath that you can't seem to chase away.

So in those moments I ask myself why I do it at all... I know its a dumb question and I know I always and forever will be tripping over audible words in conversation only to quickly go and write it down and find myself there in the paragraphs all precise and clear.

But I have to ask.

And I always come back to.

I was made to be a word/story girl.

I know this.

It has come back to me again, and again.

After a book consumed, a new intention written down, a new story in progress, a new journal it all gives me the biggest rush that only a romance can give.

And thats it

I am in love with words and story.  Head over heels, an addict really.  I consume them like water in dessert. 

I write because if I didn't, I would not be me.  I would not be Amy Grace.  Girl of intentional living with words and story as her harmony. 

There are stacks and stacks of journals from age six onward that prove writing isn't just a hobby for me.  Its a way of life.  It is the way I find myself and reunite with my spirit and soul.  Journals are not for the ones in denial, they cannot lie or tell a story a different way when things go different.  Journals are the historical documentation of every idea, thought, dream, wish and attempt.  These are the books that have helped me work through life one step at a time.  And those gaps of times when I didn't write...when pages glare empty or a journal abandoned too early.  Those are the markings of when I was in denial and recovery. 

It is important to declare and remind ourselves of the reasons we do things.  

Why do anything if we cannot reflect and find anew the intention behind our whys?

Whys are important.

If we can answer a 'why', we are giving ourselves and those around us a better version of us. An honest one.

I write because it is the part of me that always stays true.  No matter what stage of life I am in, what other activities I do, what people are in my life , I will always be writing through those things.

I write, because somewhere inside of me, Amy Grace, is a heartbeat that lives for words and stories.

And right now my heart beats strong and healthy.

Dear Ladies,

Summer is when things mature and grow.

Remember those good old days in school.  The days when September rolled around and you showed up and your classmates looked different?  Some older, some with different trendy hair styles.  Others with teeth missing, or a new piercing.  Things always stayed the same but somehow changed at the same time. 

I am watching you create, be, expierence and take rests in these glorious few months!  I am so thankful to see the photographs linger on my computer screen as I scan the updates.  These are growth moments.  These are the times of experience that will take hold of your work...

Do not doubt the rest or the work that you feel called to do .  Summer is a season to rest in what is.  And what is, is where you are at. 

Be where you are at.  If you have a job, work for the thrill of an artist with a pay check no matter the occupation.  An artist with money in their pocket is an artist with a secret investment to be made.  If you are in that tough spot of scavagening food and money, don't despair.  There are things growing, things that are growing for you.  Work on your craft, rest from your craft, do both as if it was your living.  When you rest.  Rest.

When you work, work.

You inspire me.

You keep me going.

You remind me to do.

Make.

Live.

I cannot do it without the echo of my sisters making along side.  I hope your summer is teaching you.  I hope you are feeling the summer sunlight soak into your pours and revitalize you.  Because, ladies I have to tell you:

There is a harvest coming.  

A harvest that will bless you, encourage you, move you and bring you into a new place.

I hope you are ready for what this Autumn will bring, because after a summer like this, you can only expect to be gathering and harvesting for a very long time.

Amy Grace 2014

So rest in the summer months of the growth of your work, life and experiences.  Don't beg it to grow faster, because it is at the pace it needs to be.

And while you wait, live and do.

Until September when we toast again over a glass of wine and something scrumptious.

Amy Grace. 

I have been spending the summer months teaching a very special group of children.  A new batch come in every week but the feeling stays the same.  

Glee. 

I have one week of teaching left for this Season and I have learned three things:

1.  Creating a sense of wonder is worth it.

2. Staying present is essential.

3. Children can give or drain energy depending on your attitude.

Wonder is worth it because wonder is what creates a sense of hope.  When we have wonder over something, there is a part of our insides that jumps and grows.  Creating wonder for children isn't a hard task.  It happened when I decided to show up to the first day of work (albeit late after a car breakdown in a major intersection) dressed as a fairy and staying in character all week.  It happened when I chose to story tell after all little bodies were tucked in tight and small in a circle with sounds they echoed.  (Once Upon a time there was a girl who bumped into a tiger...ROAR...)  It happened when, after a busy day of learning they all fell on the blanket and with quiet voices talked about magical things.  It happened when fairy dust in the form of glitter was sprinkled over their heads as they wished.  It happened.

As adults we loose that sense of wonder so fast, but I found it.  It happened when I ate dinner on a beach as the sun was setting and the grey clouds swirled above us.  It happened when I tasted the most delicious chocolate peanut butter cup from a local café.  It happened when I stepped into a move with a dance partner that was the most in sync we have been in a long time.  It happened when I covered Little V's toes in a sandbox.

Staying present is what makes all of these things have meaning.  Children don't know how to worry past their next thought.  They may worry on a lost item, or something they just remembered they forgot to do, but mostly...they worry on nothing.  They are present in the moment.  And as one precious four year old who has been taking grammar classes said through a stall door "I didn't quite know it before, but I am going to take longer than I thought.  I need to poop."  and later again said, when asked to sit up.  "Obviously, I am very tired right now."  

How honest.

How true.

May I remember to communicate in a way that is real to the present. 

How is our attitude towards children? 

It is so easy to see how others can be drained by them.  They see "responsibility" "work" "annoyance". I see "freedom"  "play" and "learning".  The days I chose to look at my teaching job with the word "Job", I went home drained.  I went home craving a break.

The days I went to my teaching position with the word "Learning".  I learned.

I hope they did too.

But

I learned 

The most.

I am thankful to have experienced these wonderful life lessons this Summer. 

"I am taking Mondays back!" 

©2014 Jeremy Lai

Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada is a Canadian East Coast treasure.  Growing up just outside the city but always near the ocean I was everything typical of East Coast little girl.  Every Sunday skipping rocks into the oceans surface of the Bedford Basin and spending summers in the almost deserted but still thrumming community of Sandford, Yarmouth, Nova Scotia at an old farm.  The rock beach behind the farm being a treasure trove full of secret pirate notes planted by my grandfather.  I didn't know any different.  The salt water was engrained in me and the waves of an ocean were like the beats of my heart-dreams.

©2014 Jeremy Lai

It took a few formative life changing years to realize the East Coast Glory that I was raised in, is in my blood stream.  The salty tears that stream down my face from time to time are Halifax, Nova Scotia made.

I wouldn't put it past you to think "Halifax...just a small city with some bag pipers and New Scotland history in the mix.  Nothing special to sink your teeth into."

And that would be fine.

But I need to share... this City, this province is a treasure trove.

The city is small yes... in comparison with its East Coast competitors.  Maine, New York City... they are all on steroids... but Halifax, it has gems.

The Nook on Gottingen opened and run by Mark Pavaloski and his glorious partner in crime Katie Roux - two dear friends who show hospitality that will blow you away.

The endless places to eat good food and have a good time with friends.  The Board Room Cafe, Morris East, The Middle Spoon, and there is even a secret Speak Easy along Barrington Street if you can figure out the place and password that changes weekly.

The wind blows through the city streets reminding us to dream and move.  The salt air infiltrates your lungs as you walk and there is nothing more relishing than a moment with your thoughts and the ocean air.

Neptune Theatre whom so dearly trained me for eight precious months sits as a becan of story among a city full of Indie theatre.  

Red Swings litter the core waiting for anyone to take a journey 

Halifax Local stores collaborate together and become a tie...

And East Coast Lifestyle...a clothing company that has boomed through the stores, instagram, online orders and journeyed across roads...stems from this very place.

Halifax is making its way on the map, and my roots are salty and deep here.  My cheek is pressed to the moist dirt with the fog swirling around me.

That endless fog that comes with this east coast city...it is everything refreshing and cool to touch.  

And when I returned to Halifax after an East Coast journey to New York City...I realized the truth of me:

Walking in Halifax City is a look at my heart. 

This East Coast small city girl of Halifax, Nova Scotia decided that an adventure to New York City after eight months of theatre training was a necessary check mark. After all the classes, dedicated early mornings and learning, I felt I had to see this shiny city that spurs so many artists into action.  It was a necessary and exciting journey to take on. 

At first, the plans were with friends.  Lovely travelers who bring life to everything that they do, and I was excited...and yet, we all felt that this trip, although necessary for me, was not necessary for everyone. 

Plans changed.

A family traveled instead.

 And walking in New York City was not less glamorous then it would have been with my best lady at my side.  I felt her presence on my wrist (a key bracelet) as I journeyed the streets she had walked before. 

I walked into Central Park as the first day progressed and with wild-city-wonder took in the nature that contrasted with the sudden city around it.  Birds were loud as if demanding attention.  Music laced with wind this jungle-city-park was full of moments I had to sink into my thoughts and try to find myself within it all.  City.  Nature.  Nature. City. 

I walked through Times Square and felt the hype, the drive for more...and yet my heart wasn't truly wanting 'things'.   It was wanting 'stories'.  Sifting through stores and although easy enough to release money into a cash register to receive clothes I don't usually allow myself, I was not given happiness, nor did I expect it.  I knew the purchase of items was not my bag.  I have a gift of saving and the gift of spending.  I can save for what I need and I can spend for the sheer response of living a life that needs to be lived.  Money is not to be glorified but used, as food is to the stomach, In and out, so money should be.  The ebb and flow of receiving and using.   

I entered "The Strand" and immediately felt at home.  Finally, peace and courage within a simple but complex building of rows and rows of books.  I could breathe easy here, it was inviting, normal, clean of thoughts...like one could blank slate and think from the start.  There was a canvas bag that said it best for me "She has a way with WORDS, red lipstick & making an ENTRANCE. - Kate Spade"....along with four books I took these with me with pride, thinking I had a bit of my own heart to carry back home with me. 

Phantom of the Opera 2014 

Attending a Broadway show...a dream finally realized with the perfect white dress found for such an occasion.  Showering luxioursly and taking my time relishing in the preparation.   "Phantom of the Opera" was even more than I could ever hope it to be.  The Majestic Theatre presented the show with elegance and standard one could only imagine of.  All the mysterious phantom characteristics like a thread that pulled the whole opera together in a seductive and spirit stirring show.  I could barely breathe when they sung "Think of Me" ,  "The Phantom of the Opera" , "Past the Point of No Return" and "Down Once More".  It was an evening of swoon, seduction, surrender and ended with appetizers wine and amazing conversation. 

Then the Zoo with all it's creatures and awaiting secrets of what animals do.  It kept the sacredness of wilderness and space and it reminded me of everything that made it.  The One who pieces life together for us one part at a time.   

I was moved... I was overwhelmed with joy.

And then it hit.

Overwhelmed. 

By a city that didn't give me the time to be me.  Or rather, the pressures that built to see it all, and taste, feel, expierence it all.  I pushed back.  No.  I need time to write this out, time to go back home and figure out what it was that I was feeling.

It wasn't for lack of desire to expierence or overwhelming of the culture of the city.

The city and the hustle and bustle was a lot less than my expectations,  I was met with what I viewed a normal crowded big city.

But.

Something inside me was upset.

Because the big city adventure girl I thought I could be.

I wasn't.

I didn't want this.

The lights, the flickering ads, the sights, the pace... it wasn't me.

And yet, I wanted to want it.

Sure, I was everything dazzled, enraptured and loving the dress up nights and the delicious food at every bite, but there was something missing.  

The time I needed. 

Part of this, the nature of travel, and the other part... the nature of a Halifax girl being exactly that.  A Halifax girl...and she loves her city.  Her family, her life.

It can be disspointing to realize that everything you thought you wanted was not what you wanted at all.  

What you wanted was right in front of you the whole time.

And isn't that the lesson that I find true time and time again.

All that shiny isn't golden.

What is golden is what stays true and real no matter the circumstances.

The real gold is in you.

Amy Grace - a Natural East Coast Girl.

The real gold is what you naturally do without the push.

I write.

I rest the best in my city.

I love short, quick but high risk adventures.

I am a natural east coast girl. 

Motivational Vitamins from New York City. "And don't ever doubt the beat, the pulsate, the rhythm of you."

Dear YOU,

I keep words on mirrors in my home. Words that inspire, words that keep me motivated and ready...because sometimes a soul needs affirmation. Sometimes, a soul needs more than just a 'Good Morning Coffee' to get out of bed and feel alive.

These words in Sharpie marker clutter my mirrors and ye,t their power isn't in their location. I realized, their power is in the voice of them. These words have a place on your lips, they need to be tasted, chewed and understood by your soul-digestive system.

Words have power. If, we say them. If, we hear them. If, we can lift our eyes and see them.

These are my mirror moments to you.

Take them like vitamins.

A bi-weekly motivational kick start!

Ep 1 Motivational Vitamins "This is it, this moment, this very alive moment..."

Dear YOU,

I keep words on mirrors in my home. Words that inspire, words that keep me motivated and ready...because sometimes a soul needs affirmation. Sometimes, a soul needs more than just a 'Good Morning Coffee' to get out of bed and feel alive.

These words in Sharpie marker clutter my mirrors and ye,t their power isn't in their location. I realized, their power is in the voice of them. These words have a place on your lips, they need to be tasted, chewed and understood by your soul-digestive system.

Words have power. If, we say them. If, we hear them. If, we can lift our eyes and see them.

These are my mirror moments to you.

Take them like vitamins.

©2014 Jeremy Lai

When a student goes to school, first they learn the basics.  The fundamentals of what they will eventually be able to accomplish with their work.  They begin with introductory courses on the things in which they will need over the course of their learning.  Students often come to a first lecture with a notebook/laptop and pen/pencil.  They record notes either by hand, keyboard or a recording device.  They will study those introductory classes because that is the beginning and the very foundational basis of their future.  Serious students are studious.  

In rennassaince times the apprentices started out similarly.  Learning the small things and growing on their skill as they went.  There are many similarities between 'Student' and 'Teacher' and 'Master' and 'Apprentice', but a few differences as well.  Specifically, an apprentice slowly learned how to work on their masters art, not their own.  Then, an apprentice wouldn't even touch an 'instrument/tool' until they had learned to take care of the workshop of their master. 

There is a reason for this learned skill of 'taking care of'.

The artist, then and today, needs to be able to gage for themselves their needs and desires.  They need to able to run their own studio, business , life.  An artist does not have a boss leaning over their shoulder giving direction and thus has created the stigma that artists are all the negative things academics or realists believe. (Chronically late, disorganized, informal, unprepared etc.)  Artists have to fight for their credibility every day, and this is something Doctors, Lawyers, Business Men/Women, Teachers, etc never have to do.  Of course, we all have to fight for our credibility and reputation amongst our peers and public, but when does a Lawyer say "I spend my days in the courtroom" and not receive an automatic nod with straight forward respect?

No calling is higher than another.  If anything, back in ancient Greece up to the Renaissance, artists were honoured due to their drive to a higher calling.  It was believed that the "Genius" in an artist was something that came and went.  You never achieved art or success alone.  It was inspired by a higher power and then that inspiration/genius would leave.   

Maybe to come back, maybe to not.  

The success of an artist is how they are dedicated to their work.  How they roll up their sleeves everyday and sink their teeth into projects, whether the 'genius' is there or not.  Whether they feel it or not.  An artist who has the discipline to take care of their work space along with their emotional and physical well being....these are the successors.  

These are the artists who breathe grounded, rooted, aware and ready.

Amy Grace & Jasmine Alexander by Nicole Payzant Photography 

Jasmine Alexander and Amy Grace are adventure women.  They created a friendship out of the loose ends of life and all the bits in-between.  Each of them enjoy collaborating on projects together and both have a passion for the work they do.  

Jasmine and Amy have a history of being a tad goofy, while at the same time stopping mid-laugh to discuss deep and important issues.

Postal Dairies is the beginning of their time a part for the Summer of 2014.  Both artists have a lot going on, and yet both want to stay in touch.  Watch as they work through a new season of adventures, life and work. 

This month was without a doubt, a collaboration of just three minds. 

This is the time of year when artists are coming and going.  They are traveling and amidst multiple different projects.  Ultimatly May was quiet, but three art women sat at a table and started talking.

"What were you going to talk about today?"  One asked.

"Well this... but, it doesn't seem relevant." I indicated at the paper in front of me. 

"Not now, no." She replied.

And thus is the way of collaboration, someone shares, another responds and all of a sudden you are working on a multiple minded project.

This is what the night became.  A conversation of collaboration on 'collaboration'.

"What do you do if collaborating is hard?" I posed

"Where is the commitment to collaborate?" I searched.

These are tough questions and the communication of the answers even tougher.

"Communication." One responded.

"What if communication is disjointed and hard?" I asked

I was throwing questions at two collaborators I hold dear. 

"There are two kinds of people Amy."  this  'photographer-girl-friend' of mine said.  "There are those like you, and those like me."

What she meant:

There are the motivators, the organizers, schedule keeper creatives who spear head projects.

and then

There are the joiners, the sporadic, the follow the muse and follow your nose creatives who join in on projects.

"And isn't that so true." I replied.

"But what happens when you have two Motivators trying to collaborate?"  I wondered

"Two Joiners trying to collaborate?"

And we discussed:

Clear communication on what expectations are, is paramount to maintaing a healthy balance and strong outcome of work.

So this 'Collaberation?' night, became a true and honest "Collaberation" night.

Without these two women, who are both collaborators with me on multiple projects, I would not have come out with a stronger and deeper topic for the month.

Sometimes it is those that join with you, that bring you to that "Titling Project" moment.

"I dont understand why you feel so strongly on collaboration."  one solo artist had said confused.

But I have a better understanding now more than ever.

Collaboration brings a whole new perspective, understanding and expierence.  

Collaboration brings unity, depth and life. 

Collaboration is nothing without honest clear communication.

The struggle of Collaboration is nothing to be ashamed of.  It is a true and amazing journey of multiple spirits working together for an end product.

©2014 Jeremy Lai

A renissance tradition that now influences the field in the study of any art.  

“mentor |ˈmenˌtôr, -tər|
noun
an experienced and trusted adviser
an experienced person in a company, college, or school who trains and counsels new employees or students.”

— New Oxford American Dictionary

“mentee |menˈtē|
noun
a person who is advised, trained, or counseled by a mentor.”

— New Oxford American Dictionary

During the time of Renaissance, a young boy at the age of twelve would begin helping the "Master Artist" at his workshop, work along side him, slowly learning over the years the art and eventually, move on from there to become an artist on his own.

Now, we have girls and boys all capable of learning their art by attending classes and through the education system.  Unfortunately, it is those who are in privileged families who can afford the classes, and those in the few schools who have strong artistic classes that benefit.  Even then, the arts span past the famous writing and painting.  School children do not have every art form under their finger tips, as art has grown more widespread and diverse over the centuries. 

We can agree:

In all fields of work and study it is important to be mentored.  To connect with another who is more skilled/learned/experienced, but also encouraging and wants to see growth into independence and success. 

A real Master

A real Mentor

Is someone who is ageless.  They do not see age or experience, but potential in another.  They do not see limitations or doubts but opportunities and hope.  They are someone who teaches by how they live.  They teach without teaching.  They are those that sit down and cultivate and create rather than ponder, obsess and stew.  

A real Apprentice

A real Mentee

Is someone who seeks wisdom.  They do not get caught up in their unworthiness but that they are worthy enough to receive.  They do not judge quickly, but spend time weighing out advice, methods, and experiences.  They are answer seekers everyday they live.  They learn by asking and listening, listening and weighing.  They are those that sit down and ask, soak and do rather then talk, yell and obsess.

I want to be that Mentee.  I want to be that Mentor.

Shouldn't we all be Mentored, and be mentoring?

I believe we need to seek out those with their hands raised, the answer-seekers and start meeting their needs.  We need to each take responsibility for who we can mentor.

And similarily.

We need to be raising our hands and seeking answers.  We need to be open and ready to recieve when a mentor comes our way.  We need to cultivate communication that we are not above being taught. 

This is the renaissance way, and in 2014, we can do one better.  Men and women, boys and girls of all ages can and should be in the mentoring process of whatever art form / field they are in. 

I am raising my hand.  Do you see me?

I am looking for you.

"I facilitate thinking, I engage minds, I listen to questions, I encourage risk, I support struggle, I cultivate dreams, I learn everyday I teach." - Unknown. 

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©2014 Jeremy Lai

It is curious that the Renissance movement spanned the 14th to 17th Century and yet the origin of the "The Starving Artist" came from the 18th - 19th centuries.  

Why has our culture embraced this belief?  That to pursue the arts is to pursue poverty?

The trades, the academics, the athletics, and the arts.  Why cannot they exist together in possible lifestyles and work to pursue?

All of these things are what make our society move, breathe and evolve.  Without one we are unbalanced.

Why do graduated artists from various art forms decide to stick to a nine to five when their heart beats for something else?  Why do so many say " it's a nice hobby" when a writer says they are going to write?

One hears: 

"How will you pay for bills if something goes wrong?" 

"At least you can always go back to the other career if this doesn't work out." 

"It's a nice thing to do on the side."

All of these things stem from the belief that to pursue art means to pursue a lack of provision.

In the Renaissance, artists were as nesseccary as tradesmen.  They studied and lived the same. They were respected as a person who is pursing a higher calling.  They were hired and used within the community.  They were not always successful or wealthily, but they pursued their work, without the stigma of 'poor'.  They pursued their passion without the belief that it was 'a cute hobby on the side.'

Yes, I have less money now as a storyteller than when I worked as an Interpreter.  It is also true that I am happier now than I was then.  There is a moment of walking into your passions and you realize that provision for work and living happens as you walk in faith.  

I am striving to find the stories that need telling and I will tell them with a passion that surpasses anything I did before.

This striving, has led me to taste the luxiourious real-tastes of a dinner shared with others while truly being present.  This striving has led me to the true enjoyment of the ability to study and learn when the funds are provided.  This striving to live and tell the truth has fulfilled me with a whole new outlook and it this that has fills my pockets.  

Somehow when you strive for more than 'satisfied' you end up with an overflowing.  Tight moments become moments of adventure, and when you see provision you know that you are truly pursuing that higher calling on your life.

So just a note.

I have not starved yet.  In fact, I eat more.

I am striving, in fact, I may have more passion now than ever before.

I am thriving.

Striving