The Grave Moments

In a world that is often struck by tragedy, I am frequently reminded how fortunate I am. Despite the many advantages that society continues to make, the anguish of others is something that remains shocking to me. Considering multiple recent international events which are affecting a number of civilians, innocent people who have little to do with the conflict engulfing their lives, I think it is so important to remain connected to those who are struggling even if it is across the world. It is these connections that remind us of our humanity, our kindness, and our grace which may help prevent these horrific incidents from occurring in the future.

A month ago, the BBC released a striking gallery of refugee stories. From Syrian refugees in a camp to children fleeing the Central African Republic and Sudan, these images cause my heart to ache. The photographers have captured these moments, necessary ones, to make an audience connect to the violence in the world which is affecting millions. The UN recently estimated that the amount of refugees is somewhere near 51.2 million, a figure which has not been that high since the tragedy of WWII. In terrible conditions across the globe, I ardently admire these refugees and their resilience. I admire the humanitarians who continue to work and help others. And as someone who remains interested in photography and the human connection, I admire the photographers who capture these moments. You can check out the BBC Refugee Stories Gallery here: http://www.bbc.com/news/in-pictures-27925660

Looking at this gallery, I was reminded of my trip to Paris exactly a year ago. This was my last big stop on my journey across Europe when I had the opportunity to study abroad. I was immediately struck by the beauty of Paris, the essence which surrounds the city. Gorgeous architecture, amazing culture, and (of course) crepes are everywhere! Most importantly, I was struck by the disparity between the opulence of the wealthy and the strife of the poor. My first interaction with the homeless in Paris occurred when I was exploring nearly a block away from a large opera house. We walked around the outside, the grandiose inside left to our imaginations, and made our way towards a park we could see. Outside the park, a family stood on the street. I captured what I witnessed.

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This family had a mattress inside a telephone booth. A woman squatted beneath a blanket as she attempted to shield herself from the crowd while changing. Another woman, who is the subject here, clutched her baby and scolded one child, as another naked son ran next to her without shoes or pants. I was shocked at their conditions, and I find myself thinking of this family even now.

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Inside the park, I allowed myself to snap pictures of homeless men sleeping on benches. My heart was pounding and I was nervous, afraid that the men would protest and be humiliated by my decision to photograph them. And still I proceeded on, keeping the theme of black and white in order to simply convey the conditions and environment. The contrasting colors and gray bring out the stirring and strong presence of the subjects, in my opinion.

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Here is the last picture I took of one of the homeless of Paris, a man sleeping next to the famous Seine River, where the Louvre was nearby and tourists tend to flock. Houseboats line the river, each in competition for the best view of the Eiffel Tower. And yet, a man slept on the cold concrete with nothing to cover him. He was alone, and there I was strolling around in a foreign country.

Hemingway once of said of his time in Paris, “Wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” It’s hard not to feel guilty when I am so fortunate and others remain suffering in this world, like the homeless of Paris. Honestly, I believe that is why I wanted to take these photographs, despite being nervous that I was intruding on a personal instance of suffering. I think that these grave moments must be captured in order for the outside world to understand that the global community, and even our local community, is not experiencing life the same way that we are. Yet, I will always have these photographs to remain connected and understand. So, I let them speak to you. I hope that my decision, even a year later, makes you feel deep in your soul a passion for the well-being of others, just as they still do for me.

Cheers,

Taylor

Wanderlust: Lost in New England

About a month ago, I made a wonderful trip to New England to visit a friend of mine. My friend Sam is great—she rock climbs, loves carrot juice, and trail runs barefoot. Sam is nothing like me. Last year I was fortunate to meet some incredibly cool people when I was studying in Scotland. When I met Sam, despite how little she and I had in common, we could talk about almost anything. We created an incredible bond and loved traveling together in Prague and Switzerland. After graduating, I decided to visit her in Rhode Island and see more of this beautiful country I’m so lucky to call home.

After traveling across Europe last summer, I thought New England was going to be a piece of cake. Oh, was I very much in for a trip. Upon my arrival, Sam took me to a beautiful seaside restaurant that served copious amount of fish. Because of my love for travel and food, I always try new things when I’m in a different place. Oysters were on the menu for the night, and while I didn’t gain an appetite for the slimy sea creatures, I’m so happy I ventured out of my comfort zone once again. Other fishy adventures included swordfish, smoked bluefish, and halibut which we purchased from a little fish shack called Zeek’s Creek in Jamestown.

I continued the theme of risk taking for the majority of my trip. Sam knew that I was dying to travel while I was in New England, and her mother graciously lent me her car to drive while I was in the area. Throughout my time traveling, I am constantly amazed at the kindness strangers can show me. I was very nervous about driving in a strange place, but I was also dying to see more of the area so I took Sam’s mom up on her offer. In a silver Volvo, I took off to Narragansett which is on the southern shoreline of Rhode Island. Narragansett has amazing beach views (check out a shot I captured at Hazard Rock below), but I can’t use the same description for their cheap beer, unfortunately. I tried a Narragansett Lager and was less than impressed, although their Summer Brew deserves a little higher praise. After exploring the town, I met up with Sam to try out rock climbing for the first time. Sam took me to a gym to meet a few of her “climber friends”, a group of really fun people who taught me that it was okay to be terrible at climbing on my first try. While I definitely could use a lot more work on my climbing skills, it was so much fun to learn more about the sport and I definitely felt accomplished after reaching the tops of certain routes in the gym and attempting bouldering, which are shorter climbs without gear.

Hazard Rock, Narragansett, Rhode Island
Hazard Rock, Narragansett, Rhode Island

One of my big goals for the trip was to explore Concord, Massachusetts which contains a long literary legacy. Once home to Ralph Waldo Emerson, the Alcott family, and Henry David Thoreau, Concord has produced some of the most celebrated literature in America. A few days after my solo trip to Narragansett, I decided to make the 2 hour drive up through Providence and into an entirely different state. Concord is in close proximity to Boston, so I was incredibly nervous about the traffic. An additional problem was my lack of service in Rhode Island. Like any 21st century traveler, I tend to rely on GPS often so I was taking a big chance by using printed-off directions and maps of New England that I could hardly read. I was determined to take the trip, however, so I hit the road feeling a bit fearful. I made it to Concord and had the opportunity to check out Orchard House, which is where Louisa May Alcott lived while she was writing Little Women. After taking an English course during my senior year and writing a 25 page paper about Jo March of Little Women and much of Alcott’s life, I was so excited to check out the historical museum inside the house. I enjoyed the tour and visiting with some of the women who worked there, and I found myself channeling Jo March when I had to bite my tongue keep myself from disagreeing with the tour guide about her Alcott facts. After my visit to Orchard House, I headed to downtown Concord and strolled the district, checking out a few of the antique stores and the book shop. I grabbed lunch at a recommended café called Helen’s Restaurant where I enjoyed a delicious shrimp wrap and a scoop of ice cream afterwards. While there, I realized that this was my first time eating out completely alone, without technology to even accompany me. A number of people who are in my generation tend to eat out with their laptop and cell phone keeping them entertained. I was left with the option of listening to conversations around me and enjoying some peaceful reflection time. In my solitude, I felt very adult-like. Eventually, I finished out the afternoon by checking out Emerson’s home and taking a mile hike around Walden Pond, home to Thoreau’s great transcendental experiment involving self-reliance and a return to simple living in nature. I always laugh when I think about Thoreau’s “great” attempt, though, because he was nowhere near wilderness (two miles within the civilization of Concord actually) and received a lot of help from his mother and sister who would bring him food and clothing.

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Orchard House, Concord, Massachusetts
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Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts

On my way home from Concord is where I hit a bit of trouble. I left around rush hour time and was in stop-and-go traffic for about an hour and a half on the way to Providence where I was supposed to meet Sam at her friend’s home. My phone had very little battery and I didn’t have the location of where I was supposed to meet Sam yet. I’m sure you can see where this story is going, especially when you reflect on my title “Lost in New England”. It gets much worse. My exit to Providence that I was supposed to take according to written directions was blocked off due to a terrible accident. No knowing which where to turn (literally), I took the exit which took me into Boston. To avoid getting too far into the city, I hopped off the first exit, taking a random highway in Massachusetts with no idea where I should be heading. After frantically attempting to call Sam and figure things out, my phone died, leaving me with barely any options. I took a few directions that she and her friends recommended before I lost contact with them, and miraculously made my way into Providence though traffic and turning around a few times. With no idea where to head, I hit an Interstate which I knew I could take south in the direction of her home in Coventry, RI. I stopped at a hotel near the airport and shamelessly begged for directions, which they graciously printed out for my use. Unfortunately, things continued to get worse. It started to rain. The sun set, and darkness started to fall. I got lost and ended up two towns in the wrong direction (all towns run together in Rhode Island, I swear, just like all roads). After two more stops at a coffee shop and a FroYo place with boys who chuckled at my expense, I was sobbing, praying, and dangerously low on gas when I finally recognized a few signs near Sam’s house. I made it home safely and could finally breathe. My mom now jokes that the trip was half brilliance for my bravery at exploring a new place and half stupidity. I’m proud of myself for finding my way around, 4 hours later, but I learned I could not survive in a world without GPS. Even after some traveling experience, I know I still have a lot to learn about myself. It’s so important to keep calm and not be afraid to ask for help.

Other major highlights of my trip were exploring to Boston, taking Sam’s sweet black lab Avery to get ice cream in Connecticut, watching friends rock climb outside, and eating a cannoli for the first time!

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A cruise in the Boston Harbor
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Cuties: Avery and Sam
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Climbing Adventures

I’ll never forget my time in New England and I loved meeting new people there. Their kindness was overwhelming, and I love connecting to people even who are halfway across the country. I would love to go back soon, next time with GPS.

Cheers,

Taylor

Wine in RI

My Sherpas

Today was a day for change. My job at the College of Architecture, Planning & Design came to an end. I have had the opportunity to work as a student for the college over the past two years, so being in Seaton Hall has become a routine for me. During my time there, I had the pleasure of witnessing strong and innovative design from students all around me from programs which ranked in the top 10 in the nation (excuse the shameless promotion.) More importantly, I had the opportunity to work with some amazing people.

I want to share a story about the importance of mentors. Many people in my life have heard about this metaphor before, but in the last few years, I can’t help but return to it again and again. In February 2013, I attended a conference about Strengths, a Gallup based assessment about individual talents. I could go on and on about the benefits of Strengths and will probably save it for a post coming later. More importantly, during this conference, I heard about Sherpas for the first time. Sherpas are an ethnic group located in the Himalayas who are traditionally known as skilled mountaineers. Generations of Sherpas have led numerous expeditions to Mount Everest, the highest mountain on the planet. Recently, the Sherpa people have been making headlines in the news after a severe avalanche in April which killed 16 guides, the worst accident in Everest’s history. After years of little pay, incredibly harrowing conditions, and a culture of suffering, many Sherpas intended to walk away from mountaineering forever.

What does this have to do with me? I’m sure you’re asking that question, just as I was when I heard this story about Sherpas last year. Here’s the thing: Sherpas don’t just exist in the Himalayas. Sherpas are everywhere around us, and today I was reminded of those people who have guided me to my highest peaks and through my valleys of trouble. Despite receiving nothing in return, my guides have taken a risk on my success and placed a great deal of investment in my future. I’m so thankful that the past few years I was able to work alongside with an incredible group of women who have stood by my side throughout my journey.  

Although this phase of my life is coming to an end, I’ve taken some incredible lessons from my Sherpas at the College of Architecture, Planning & Design. I know that I’ll use these for the rest of my life and I’d love to share a few of them with you.

  1. Never underestimate your value. I caught myself multiple times during my time in Seaton calling myself just a student worker. Each time one of my bosses heard this, they immediately corrected me. To me, some of the work that I had been doing, such as stuffing envelopes and directing traffic in the office, was not something to be considered important. But those envelopes were announcements of acceptance into a program. That traffic could involve a conversation with a prospective student. Every bit of work that I did was a contribution, and my bosses always made me feel like an important member of the team.
  2. Listen.  It took me a while to understand the value of listening, probably because I enjoy talking a little too much. No matter where I was, even in a lunch hour conversation, I had something to learn. All it took was opening my ears and observing. From speech styles to lessons in being prepared, I really enjoyed listening and learning from successful women who had perfected techniques over the years.
  3. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. This one might seem a little obvious, but in my first few years of college, I had a hard time approaching my professors or other superiors. When in doubt, I always ask questions now. I would much rather do something right the first time instead of waiting until the last minute with numerous questions.
  4. Be professional, but personable. I think there are some serious benefits to behaving like a professional when in the workplace. However, my bosses could immediately sense if I was struggling or stressed. After establishing a strong relationship, they were able to become an additional support system. I can’t thank them enough for the occasional ice cream trips and study snacks during finals week. Their support and kindness made my days so much brighter.
  5. Ask for help. This might be my favorite lesson learned. As I started to look to the next phase of my life, I had an incredible team of resources available to me. Never had I written a cover letter or a “real life” resume before. But my bosses had. They pored over documents, quizzed me on experiences, and encouraged me to chase after my dream job. If I hadn’t asked my Sherpas for help, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

So, to my bosses, my Sherpas of the workplace, thank you for everything you have done for me in the past two years. Thank you for listening and learning with me. Thank you for spotting the potential in me, even before I was able to actually see it myself. Thank you for guiding me throughout my journey and placing me at the spot I’m at right now. Thank you for never walking away. It was hard to say “see you later” today, but I know we won’t be saying good-bye for a very long time.

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Cheers,

Taylor

Welcome!

Welcome, and thanks for checking out my blog! This is my first post, and I’m looking forward to staying connected and posting more in the next week. In the meantime, check out my “About” section and explore.

For now, I’d like to explain the title of this blog and my aspirations for it. I have always loved writing from a very young age, taking every opportunity to express myself. I believe that this is a great avenue to explore my interests in writing, photography, traveling, and parts of my life. The title of this blog is “Such a Blessed Unrest” and refers to a quote by Martha Graham, an American dancer (1894-1991). Graham has been cited as one of the most influential choreographers of all time, and once spoke of success and creativity in terms of a “blessed unrest”.

“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is on a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”

So, my blessed unrest, whether it be traveling or writing or anything that I really desire, gives me life in this world as long as I remain open to it. I look forward to sharing my journey as I continue to explore!

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Cheers,

Taylor