Category Archives: learning

Related to growth, learning, and insights – the theory/knowledge base of LAS

The Wisdom of Childhood (even at your big age!)

I work with a group of young adults who are aiming to develop their leadership skills, and we were engaging in our daily check in. A check in can be any prompt, any question to take a pulse check, let people know how you’re showing up to the space, and settle into the group for the day. That day’s prompt was: ‘Tell me a fun fact about yourself’. We’d write our answer on a notecard, fold it up and place it in a cup, and then would guess who it belonged to.

I pondered over my fact for a moment. Some ideas popped to my mind immediately: I am a poet; I am a musician. Those seemed to speak to the surface level, as even in the first few weeks they would soon come to find those out. I wanted to go a bit deeper and share another part of myself. So, before I knew it, I ended up writing ‘My favorite playground game is freeze tag.’ Even as I wrote, my eyes lit up remembering the thrill of the game. I folded my paper and handed it over.

As a staff member in this group, I belong in a somewhat liminal space of participation. Often, I participate in check ins as a practice to build trust, community, and accountability, though I have an opt-out button I can press when needed. I was tempted to opt out on this day, the facilitator not having handed me a card initially, but I decided to take a step and put my bid in the bag.

The facilitator began calling out fun facts, and the guessing began. Some were easier to guess, others left the group stumped. ‘I make music’, ‘I’m a pisces’, ‘I have 14 nieces and nephews’, ‘I LOVE pickles, and I even drink the juice’. This last one earned some laughs from the group. Then, the facilitator called out my fact: ‘My favorite playground game is freeze tag.’

The room shifted a bit, then let out some uncomfortable laughter. ‘Who’s is this?’ someone insisted. Another comment, ‘At your big age…’ and another, ‘Right…’ and more chuckling. Then the guessing began, and came denial after denial. One person offered, ‘I didn’t write this, but I do like freeze tag.’ The guesses had made it to nearly everyone, and I knew my time was coming. The facilitator said, ‘Who’s is this?’ and rather than be outed, I made my move. ‘This is mine!’ I spoke up, assuredly shooting my hand in the air and claiming the fact.

We moved on, and the next person’s was ‘I play the Sims… at my big age’ and we knew immediately who it belonged to. She laughed into her hand, and people around began to chime in that they liked the game too, and started discussing game play.

As I sat listening to the facts be claimed, I began to think about the parts of ourselves that we allow to be known, and the parts we cover up or leave behind as we enter different stages and phases of life. This group consists of adults between 18 and 45 years old, still in the earlier parts of adulthood. It makes sense why a tidbit about recess and childhood games might have been off putting – for many, they are coming into their sense of adulthood, not keen on the attachments to childhood. However, I offer, there are benefits to remaining connected to those childhood days. There is wisdom in childhood.

Besides free tag being an ultimate game of collaboration, strategy, physical prowess, and interdependence, there’s plenty more the game has to offer, even though I don’t get to play it on a daily basis as I once did.

When we allow ourselves to remember what being a child was like, we open ourselves to a world of wisdom that our childhood selves may not have been able to tap. Did I see freezetag in the aforementioned terms while playing as a child? Definitely not. And yet, those were the elements that drew me to the game, even when I was not able to name them. By coming back with an adult perspective and a child’s experience, I unlock new dimensions of understanding.

I hope those coming into their adulthood don’t totally eschew their childhoods forever. After all, for most people in that group, the majority of their lives had been spent in the under 18 years, having lived more time as children than adults. We may put away certain aspects of ourselves for a time to mature in new ways, but there is valuable experience in all parts of our lives.

Adults who disconnect from their childhoods ruin the childhoods of other children. Remember how it felt to be a child, and let that inform your empathy as an adult who has the power, access, and ability your younger self may have dreamed of having one day. Be the adult in a child’s life that you wish you had. And how can you do that, unless you remember, unless you stop to consider your child self and their child self.

I proudly nurture my inner child and tend to the parts of myself that wished for different experiences as a child. It has been a very healing experience to re-nurture myself from an empowered place.

In wanting to grow up and escape the confines of childhood, I hope that we don’t move so fast and so far away that we become severed from this important aspect of who we are.

There is wisdom in childhood. Go back and fetch your wisdom. Allow yourself to play. There’s no need to be ashamed! You can be proud of who you are today, and yesterday.

there’s something poetic about

being here at the park, as youth play and dogs sniff around, coaches shout out and mothers carry on watching and chatting, the joggers jogging too, that I can be here, playing duckduckgo with death queries. there’s the icecream truck in the distance. i have two dollars but i thought i had four. or i have four dollars but i can only find two. either way, not enough for ice cream in the city. the kids are cursing. i dont perk up for those old time melodies the way i used to. now just a passive recognition – there goes the ice cream truck. in the city sometimes a paletier will cycle past. maybe i’ll find my other two dollars by then…

here i am, playing footsie with my death, wondering what it would cost to gaze into her eyes, entwine my hands in hers. just for a little while, before life called me onto other things – obligations, aspirations, and whtever else. what’s it all worth? a few moments lounging aside the path…

the breeze carries a chill today, even with the sun and its languishing heat, preparing to set, full in the sky. i mean, the heat feels weak, its a gentle heat for how bright the day is, how clear the sky is….

The icecream truck music got closer. I turned around and it was just across the street. I waved my hand to flag it down. He slowed. There was an African man driving. I barely caught sight of the truck in its old timey delapidated print. I asked him how much. “which one?” “Uh, bomb pop.” My gut churned a bit. A classic. My mom’s favorite. “Three dollars.” A digging in my sac I went.

Two school boys ran up to the icecream truck, wondering the same as me. “we have two dollars…” “I thought you said you had nine?!” “Can you cut us a deal?” “Man….” A digging I went. “Anything for a dollar?” Where were my two dollars? Nevertheless…

I went into the coin section of my wallet, pulled on some quarters. I hate spending quarters unless it’s for the laundry. An adultism I’ve acquired. “Can you count quarters?” “Yeah?!” I hand them 8. “She gave us two dollars! Thank you!” And silently split my two bills among them. “Thank you!!!”

I could return to the bench, but i swift away wordlessly, walking, walking… at least some of us should get ice cream.

Anyway I have ice cream at home.

Artisian vanilla bean, 2.99 at Marianos.

I realize I’m late to my zoom meeting. one i dont particularly want to go to. but I’m only just late for it. And I hear the ringing down here in the kitchen anyway. And my neighbor was nice enough to make sure I had the link, I should at least use it. I guess. One small gesture keeping me preoccupied from her lingering touches…

On days like this I start to narrate my day, a wee bit of separation between me and what I’m doing, a teeny bit of space to breathe past the bullshit. It’s therapeutic in a way. If I’m not me, if I’m not only me, if there’s more than me, maybe I have choices. Maybe I can notice me…

Besides, might as well have a good story to be remembered by. A curious character in the life of another. The vanishing benevolent figure. The stranger of little words.

Before the room clicks into its own mini fire… I suppose I’ll go. I suppose I’ll eat this icecream.

This is my dying.

@

(I passed my neighbor deboarding the bus, unnoticed, unmentioned in return… another neighbor passed by in the kitchen. unsaluted, unmentioned in return…)

“i want to die”

words from the survivors

“i feel death”

how are you? – deathly

better we didnt exchange pleasantries…

@

earlier today at the park, the sitters were playing their tunes. the first I heard was the song ‘lets straighten this out’. what a synchronicity. i wanted to go over to them, to pour out all my woes, to ask advice, for something, some safety while I had this small reprieve. But that would be weird. Disturbing the peace. I didn’t know these people. We were technically probably neighbors in all probability. Couldn’t we share this human moment, just once?

And so I sat with my quiet tears and slouched body, seeking comfort on a nearly unloungeable anti-homeless bench. 

Before I left, a kind and playful demon-esque being shared a few quips that perked me up. “Excuse me? *fist bump* Heyyy baybee… Haaaay baybeee!” A semi-sultry invitation to play, to be bright, perhaps to even smile. Austin Powers meets RuPaul. I can’t recall what they looked like really, but in my recollection I imagine lil Uzi Vert. Imagine, a lil uzi vert look alike semi-catcalling me, and me enjoying it. Even missing this character, mildly lamenting the missed connection. We truly are in alternate timelines. When a stranger is more present and knowing than family, when a well delivered catcall does more healing than anything else that day. So when I went home to my resonant hell dungeon, I played xo tour lliife on repeat, and wrote some poetic lines, and agreed to soothe myself with food. Then I ended up at the park once more. Reminding myself that I could stand to get my clothes a little dirty. I could stand to wear a bit of outside grime and funk. It wouldn’t kill me. Heh.

I think about where I’d even share this little story, this forbidden tryst with her. Probably on my lil blog. Nestled among unread posts. Well, one person did bother to read. That was nice. For some reason, the public obscurity makes me chuckle. For so long trying so hard not to be seen. Trust, it is no small feat to be recognized in this world. Staggering to my feet to check the car alarm that has been blaring a while now. A literal alarm, barely responded to. To think, people daily waking up – in annoyance, dreading the misery of waking life. Why must we be reminded of this existence we trod through. What can I do to get out of this?

I pour the last of my ice cream soup into my spoon, waiting on the logarithmic drips, and lick the last from the inner rim. 

“Ahhhh shit… here we go again.”

Artist’s Journey & Progress: Growth Cycle

Cultivating Liberation Art Space has been a journey – challenging, rewarding, revelatory, and full of fun surprises of fulfillment. As has my journey towards becoming, and more importantly, recognizing and accepting myself as an artist.

When I first began making music, admittedly, I found myself creating for approval, often with an eye towards what other people would like and well receive. These days, I create with a firmer commitment to authenticity and healing – which often means bringing the unspoken to full voice and speaking uncomfortable truths. I’ve found a certain freedom in expressing what needs to be said, rather than what is convenient or pleasing to say.

All the while, I still find nuggets of truth, a certain essence and consistent perspective that was still present even in those early days. Even looking back at high school and earlier, there are some through lines that carry me through my musings to this day.

I start with that essence of me, that which I seek to savor and desire to exude, which for me is unreserved love, playfulness, kindness, which in turn expands into creativity, a wondrous imagination and reconfiguring of possibilities…

From there, I create alternative, demos, prototypes, examples and analogies of what I seek to manifest. As time goes on, my perspectives develop further, I see angles and contours of experience that are revealed only through the layering and interaction. Which is why collaboration has become so thrilling and welcome.

My music coach recently shared that even above my creative and artistic abilities, my capacity to collaborate and make connections really is a fundamental asset to my style. I did not realize this, and the observation has been swirling around in my mind ever since. Collaboration (collabs) come naturally to me. There’s much fun and possibility in merging with another artist, and seeing how a project develops under the co-shaping and mutually navigated decisions.

This leads to healing connection – when artists can be seen, understood, and have space to connect and share in a way that’s full of ease and fulfillment.

All this brings us back to further refining and gathering the seeds of essence that keep the cycle of growth moving.

This is how Liberation Art Space and Ozulé Studios are proliferating. A simple magic, indeed.