a small tribe

 Cicely's daughter and the orange dress.

Cicely's daughter and the orange dress.

July 19, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

A small tribe is a meaningful treasure.

A group of female farmers in Rwanda grew my coffee this morning. While the barista poured rich brown liquid into my charcoal gray mug, I read the Starbucks card explaining it. They are known as Hingakawa, a mantra meaning, "Let's grow coffee."

I paused to imagine them and in my mind's eye saw a small tribe of women who support one another in a myriad of ways. It involves a lot more than growing coffee, I bet.

I realized Lucia is like that, too. My weekend was woven with a glistening thread of connection. It touched nearly every woman in my tiny tribe, the muses and heroines who make up this magazine.

There was the Friday morning creative meeting at the kitchen table of our online editor, Sarah, while her daughter corralled the "fat cat" behind couch pillows, drew Olympic mountains on a sketchpad, showed me her solar system, and tapped away at her pink plastic laptop in the window.

There was the tall glass of cold cucumber water in the late afternoon at Cicely's house, one of our contributing writers. We decompressed and discussed aging parents, children, lovers and life while her daughter plucked purple lavender buds which, in contrast to her orange sunflower dress, quietly shouted July.

Saturday came with an early wake up to go walk the "Power Promenade" with Amanda, our editorial advisor. We ventured into the wilds of a hidden urban forest and then, she held the sweetest party at her studio, The Institute of Moves, Muscles and Eternal Optimism. Champagne and laughter sparkled, a story was shared, and her clients gathered to celebrate what she has created. 

Mid-day, Karly, our design advisor, called me from somewhere between Colorado and Utah just to say she is skipping Wyoming in favor of returning home early. We spent ten minutes catching up on each other's emotional status before the signal dropped. We promised each other we would schedule a real call, soon. 

Then I hopped the busy afternoon ferry to Southworth to spend the night and celebrate my mother's birthday on Sunday with waffles for breakfast. We walked the woods with my sisters and niece. I helped care for my Dad as he continues the slow and steady crawl toward recovery.

If I am to share the truth about the creative process that underlies Lucia, it must be said that it has everything to do with a small tribe of women and weekends like this. We did not all sit down together around a conference table. We did not wear hipster hats. We did not shout out ideas in great gusts of inspired enthusiasm. We did not force ourselves onto social media just to have something to post today.

We held each other. We shared found things. There was reverence, awe, laughter, play. We scribbled in coloring books with the children. We moved and walked together. We celebrated one another's accomplishments. We helped. We called just to say, "I'm heading home." We grew the proverbial coffee. We loved, we created, we lived.

Hingakawa. A small tribe is a meaningful treasure.

xo
laura


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.