Tate Exchange

“A place for all to play, create, reflect and question what art can mean to our everyday”

Does art have the capacity to change lives? And if it does, should it? And if it should, how can it? And if it can, where, where would this even happen?

On the fifth floor of the Blavatnik building within the cultural behemoth that has become Tate Modern, you can find an initiative that is right there, at the crux of those questions, wrestling with the how’s and why’s of art’s role in society: Tate Exchange. Here, one of the most successful arts institutions in the world is creating physical space for art to be functionally in our lives and in dialogue with society more widely. It’s also staking out this territory up North, within the walls of sister-space Tate Liverpool.

We can argue for a while that art does this anyway – that art speaks to our lives. We could even argue that this is particularly the case in the vast cultural campus that has become Tate Modern (also beloved site of my first curatorial job). Yes, there’s the beauty and solemnity of the Rothko room, the drama of the Turbine Hall, the reverie of just wandering through the permanent galleries and the inspiration-making qualities of the rotating exhibitions. Yes, you have probably experienced one work of art that has affected you without that effect being branded. 

But with Tate Exchange, we get to experience that question of art’s relationship to self and society more directly, to play with Impact (that elusive idea thrown around more in tech and non-profit sectors). With Tate Exchange, the organization is confronting the very idea that art has the capacity to affect our everyday lives and to answer to, and maybe also shape, society. The lines that divide life (real time and space, the big and little questions, conversation, knowledge and experience), the arts (objects, materials, storytelling, the big and little themes) and us (as the viewer, person, consumer, maker, activator) are porous. Museums are no longer perceived or positioned as separate from society, they are located, produced by and understood within it. Similarly, as we enter these white-walled spaces, we are not a blank canvas, we’re bringing biases, backgrounds, assumptions, feelings even.

Who are we? Counterpoint Arts at Tate Exchange

ArtLab at Tate Exchange

Tate Exchange is the place where the museum gets to be something different, to morph and adapt and interact in ways that push against that traditional relationship of presentation and display. To pivot on ideas of co-learning, collaboration, production, and yes that wellbeing piece. Here Tate gets to be relational, and vulnerable. To step away from its esteemed baggage. Because maybe it’s here that the museum challenges its very reason for being—not to show, and collect, and explain works of art but to examine purpose, meaning, and relevance in the realm of the arts as they hit the pressing concerns of our modern lives. To bring to the fore questions of can we do this, and does it work, along with other questions around such things as climate change, inequality, technology, the economy, and immigration. 

In its four years, two of which have been headed by socially-engaged art and placemaking advocate Caro Courage, Tate Exchange has taken a deep dive in annual thematics, headliners for life each led by an artist. Tate Exchange has explored ‘Exchange’ with Tim Etchells (2016) ‘Production’ with Clare Twomey (2017), and ‘Movement’ with Tania Brugera (2018). This year, the program is roaming across ideas of ‘Power’ with Hyphen-Labs, an international female collective who explore ideas of technology. 

These themes are played out within a collaborative network of over 80 world-wide associates; cultural organizations, charities, community groups, and health trusts, who draw from the fields of art, education, mental health and community (such as ActionSpace in London and dot-art Schools in Liverpool). This wide network, in turn, shapes the form that these questions take within the spaces: anything from workshops, performances, conversations, prompt cards, reading lists, curated walks, festivals, mood and pattern workshops, reskilling sessions, seed swapping, radical myology, symposia, and even podcasting lessons. It’s all here. 

Tate Exchange isn’t the easiest to explain, because it does so many things; Over the years there have been myriad perspective and platform-shaping ways that its curators, artists, practitioners, students, and associates, have found to raise their voices and engage audiences. Tate Exchange is many things to many people. But it’s all linked by a single thread: it stakes territory for the importance that culture has in our very real, every day, messy lives. It acknowledges that no one checks their lives or themselves at the door when they enter a museum. As we wander its different pathways, we inevitably feel, think, and are something, someone. Tate Exchange returns to us our place to be within museums. 

To find out more: Website and Instagram

The Makerie | In Conversation with Ali DeJohn.

Starting something takes a huge amount of courage and commitment. That’s particularly the case if you are an introvert. We chatted to Ali DeJohn, founder of the Makerie—a beloved roaming creative retreat—about how she overcame her fear and realized her dream of making a nourishing space that puts the emphasis on self-care as much as technique.

Claire: Have you always been a creative person?

Ali: Yes, I have always loved creativity. Ever since I was a child, I found the most joy in making things with my hands. I went to a preschool where creativity was a major focus, and I think that sewed some creative seeds. It’s something that I carried with me all my life. 

Claire: Did you continue your interest in creativity into adulthood? What were you doing before the Makerie?

Ali: I had a career in event planning. I worked for the Chicago marathon for seven and a half years and before that I worked for a small family-owned business doing all types of events. Both were great experiences. 

When I had my children, I decided to stay home. I had always loved the idea of being a stay-at-home mum and I was so grateful that I was in a place where I could do that. As I really wanted to infuse creativity into our home and into our family, I started reading blogs for inspiration, which were booming at the time. There was so much rich content and so many people caring about creativity that I found my community in that world. 

As much as I loved being at home with my children,I remember standing in my mom’s kitchen and bursting into tears because I felt so lost in who I was in the midst of motherhood. I had never really considered myself a driven career woman, but I realized how important it was to still maintain something of my own in this journey of being a mom. 

Claire: That must have been such a powerful realization. I have a young family and I relate to that idea of losing aspects of yourself and not realizing that it’s happening until you realize that it has happened. How did you deal with that?

Ali: Though I loved to make things, it was really hard to do that in the rhythm of a life with two young babies. So, when a creative retreat popped up on some different blogs that I read, I thought well maybe I could go to that. But another part of me said, “well you’re not really an artist, you don’t really deserve to go.” This inner dialogue went back and forth, and finally, there was just this little tug at my heart, which said, “just go, you should just try this”.

So, I went to my one and only creative retreat. I was terrified but what I found was profound. What I was making, the colors I was choosing, the aesthetic I found myself creating, helped bring me back home to myself. I remembered who I was again, and it was such a joyful, powerful experience to discover that. I also really loved connecting with other people who cared deeply about creativity. I came home from that experience so incredibly filled up.

Claire: How did you go from that first taster of a creative retreat to starting the Makerie?

Ali: There was no intention at all at that time of doing my own version, but, maybe unconsciously, I knew that one day I would embark on that journey too. During the creative retreat experience, I wrote down all the things I loved and areas that would have made it feel more complete for me.

I came home and told all my friends about it, as I wanted them to share in this enormous amount of happiness and inspiration that it brought to me. I searched for a similar experience close to home and when I couldn’t find what I was looking for, somewhere that I wanted to take them to, or that I wanted to go to myself, I decided to start my own version.

Claire: What did that look like for you?

Ali: It was a really big step. I spent a year meeting with different people in our creative community to share my idea, and everyone I met with thought it was a wonderful concept, that it would be well received, and encouraged me to go for it. Everywhere I turned I was getting a green light, but I was still hesitant to move forward because it felt scary and vulnerable, on top of me being a quiet, introverted person at heart. 

My husband grew tired of my waffling between doing it or not, so I had to have a heart to heart with myself. Would I rather try and fail? Or move on with my life wondering ‘what if’? At the end of the day, I realized I could live with failing if that’s what happened, but I couldn’t live with never trying and always wondering what could have happened.

Claire: How did you deal with that tension? How did you care for yourself over that time as you were making this big shift in your life?

Ali: I don’t think I did, and I still struggle with that self-care piece for myself. Honestly, I just poured my heart and soul into the first retreat. My kids were so little, and I don’t know how I did it. I just cared so much, and I still do, about creating a sacred and special space for people to practice and prioritize their creativity because it can be so hard to find in our daily rhythm and lives

Claire: You had a very clear vision for the shape of that pause that people could take out of their lives. What were the values that you were trying to bring into that first experience?       

Ali: My main aim was to find a setting that was really conducive to nourishment. The space, the venue, and the environment that people walk into are crucial. For that first retreat, we chose the Colorado Chautauqua, in Boulder, which happens to be three miles from my house. It is an amazing, sacred place with community workshop spaces, cozy cabins, a dining hall, and even hiking trails out the back door. 

It also has an iconic history. There was a Chautauqua movement over a hundred years ago, in which a group of people gathered together to celebrate secondary education, establishing pop-up camps where they would teach art and music and theatre. I felt like the Makerie spoke to the exact meaning of what the original Chautauqua was. 

Claire: How have things changed for you since that first retreat in Colorado? 

Ali: It’s been a huge organic journey that’s still continuing on its own path. The iterations have changed depending on various partnerships, the treasured teachers and artists I’ve worked with, and unique venue opportunities that have come my way. We offer varied retreat models in different locations, and have even hosted two retreats in France. I never dreamed of doing an international retreat so that was such a special opportunity.

Currently I am focused on smaller, more intimate retreats, with at the most 16 people. We feature one artist and a focused creative medium, so students are able to explore it on a deeper level. The model that we started with, allowing the participants to choose a variety of four half-day classes, was able to accommodate a large group and also involved more logistical feats. It was a playful and unique structure and maybe one day we’ll go back to that model. But for now, the smaller retreats are working well, particularly given that I now have two teenagers.

Each year we have anywhere from 3 to 7 retreats that are held across the country, and it changes every year based on different venue opportunities. Looking ahead to 2020, we have some special retreats planned in Boulder; we’re exploring a beautiful studio space in the mountains of Colorado; and planning another retreat in New Hampshire with paper flower artist Tiffanie Turner in the barn where she did an artist in residency. We’ll see what else next year brings! 

Claire: Your teachers are such a vital part of your retreats. What qualities are you looking for in the artists who come to teach at The Makerie?

Ali: It’s important that the artists I choose to work with not only have teaching experience, but have a nurturing aspect to them too. Inviting adults into a creative space requires a teacher that is skilled in nourishing creativity in adults. Our teachers are crucial in making the experience feel encouraging, inviting, safe and warm.

Claire: You also attract high-caliber artists to work with (such as the retreat with Rose Pearlman in Boulder.) There can sometimes be a hierarchy between the kind of artist who has gallery shows and those who do workshops, but here you’ve managed somehow to bring the two together.

Ali: I don’t think of choosing teachers in this way. I find them through various paths and take the time to research what they’re currently doing, the types of workshops they are hosting and explore if a collaboration feels right. I’m grateful the teachers I work with trust me with their gifts and I make a special effort to make sure they feel as nourished as our participants. If they feel cared for, they are going to be able to do their best job. I’ve had so many teachers comment that when they leave our retreats, they feel inspired and filled up, instead of exhausted, and I cherish that. 

Claire: How as a host do you create such a welcoming and accepting space for both your workshop leaders and your attendees?

Ali: For me, every step of the way counts and sends a message. From the second someone registers to walking through the door, I try to create a warm environment and an invitation to be part of something special. I want our participants to feel that they are loved and appreciated from the very beginning. When they arrive at the retreat, they are greeted with a hug and a genuine feeling of excitement that they are there. The teacher plays a big part in the role of creating a safe space by holding the room in a calm, capable and loving way. 

There’s also the sense of entering a space that feels inspiring. When I visit a potential venue, I know within minutes if it’s going to work. There’s not a magic formula other than my intuition and it’s tied to my aesthetic preferences and senses. It’s a similar feeling when you’re looking to buy a house. You can feel the energy and whether or not it’s right.

Claire: Your approach at the Makerie feels very person-centered. You lean into ideas of imperfection, slowing down, being in conversation with the person next to you. I love how you place people right next to craft in importance for how you conceive these events. Why is this hosting/ nurturing aspect such a large piece of it for you?

Ali: Someone once described their experience at the Makerie as coming home to themself. I thought that was so beautiful and exactly what I hope people feel when they come to our retreats. It’s a magical thing to watch the transformation that happens when people take time to nurture their creativity and make beautiful things with their hands. I care deeply about each person who attends our retreats and that’s the heart of everything I do. 

Claire: I have this strong belief that creativity and wellbeing are very strongly linked. My sense is that you do to. Why do you position these retreats within wellbeing and self-care rather than just as a creative workshop?

Ali: Creativity and self-care are almost the same thing. I look at creativity as one of the pillars of self-care, in addition to moving your body, making healthy food choices, taking care of your mind, and finding human connection. 

There are two things at play: One is nourishment from the inside, that people have to give themselves in this process; and then there’s nourishment from the outside, which is what I work hard to create. When you combine the two, it’s a magic combination of whole-body nourishment from head to toe.

Creativity is the cornerstone of what we do and a back door into mindfulness. It’s like yoga for the mind and a way for people to drop into themselves without having to sit in a formal meditation. I love how creativity can take care of your mind and soul in a similar way. 

Creativity can also be a way to connect not only with yourself but also with the person next to you. You can be making something and not even say a word, but someone can look at your aesthetic choices and gain an understanding into who you are and what you’re about. Your creativity speaks for you and you’re able to connect with people on a special level by what you’re creating with your hands.

Claire: Do you think that there’s been a shift in understanding of what creativity can do for people? I get the sense more and more that it’s a tool that’s sitting closer to wellbeing. 

Ali: Absolutely. Just look at the plethora of coloring books for adults. That in and of itself shows you how everyone is craving a quiet mind. The enormous amount of information we’re all being asked to hold in this day and age is impossible to keep up with. We’re all looking for a joyful out and can’t escape it all, but there are many ways to slow down and find quiet in beautiful ways. Retreats of every kind are popping up as more and more people realize how valuable it is to step out of your everyday rhythm of life to nurture something you love. 

Claire: Do you find that people coming to you are first time creatives, who had a similar sense as you that their creativity was somehow dormant and they want to find a way to reconnect with that, or are you finding its people who already have creative leanings that are very much alive who are wanting to develop that aspect of themselves more?

Ali: It’s all of the above, as very few classes require experience. All we ask is a willingness to come with an open heart.

Claire: Do you see yourself as an artist or an amateur? I ask this because often as creatives we take the role of facilitator and it can be hard to hold that space of creativity for ourselves.

Ali: I see myself as a joyful, amateur artist. I dabble in all kinds of creative endeavors - from knitting to embroidery to ceramics to drawing. I just completed 100 days of stitching, which was a fun and challenging practice. I love to try my hand at so many different things and don’t consider myself an expert in anything. I love making anything with my hands. 

Claire: Finally, how has founding the Makerie impacted you? We’ve talked about how setting up something like the Makerie impacts the people who come through the door, but I wonder how it has transformed you?

Ali: It has been such an unexpected journey that continues to teach me more than I ever imagined. Here are some of the many lessons I’m learning:

The Makerie gives me rich personal growth. When someone comes to a retreat, I might not know the underlying reason they are there and I have learned to separate out what I need to hold and what someone else is carrying. I used to absorb everything, including everyone’s collective energy at a retreat, and would come away exhausted and depleted. I have learned to lovingly hold a space for other people outside myself, helping me stay nourished and healthy. 

I’ve also learned that no one really knows exactly what they are doing. We’re all in the same boat of figuring it out as we go and that’s a refreshing thing to remember.

Keep doing things with a pure, heart forward intention. If I make a decision from this centered place, I know it will lead me to positive places.  

Take my own advice to nourish my own creativity. It’s strange how hard it can be to carve out time for something that brings me so much joy. Making by hand nurtures my soul and will always be part of my life. 

 To find out more about the Makerie, check out the Website, Instagram, and Facebook

Re:Mind

“Find Your Calm.
Drop-in meditation classes in the heart of London.”

Re:Mind speaks to a future where mindfulness studios are as common as your local gym. We all now understand the benefits of exercise, even as we procrastinate to get ourselves to that yoga class, or Soul Cycle session, or just out the door for a half-arsed hike. But we’re now coming to understand the benefits of being in our bodies in a different way, in ways that are slower, gentler and much less sweaty than cardio. Breathwork and meditation once meant retreats or a niche happening-over-there kind of thing. They were definitely for other people. Now we strive to bring these self-care practices into our working weeks and everyday attempts to keep it all together.

Re:Mind helps us negotiate that shift in how we see and experience mindfulness techniques. And it does so by removing some of the woo-woo that might have put us off before—incense sticks, tie-dye, those draped curtains. Founded in 2018 by entrepreneurs and wellness warriors Carla von Anhalt and Yulia Kovaleva, Re:Mind is London’s first drop-in healing studio. Bringing a lustrous charm to self-care practices, Re:Mind takes out the intimidation factor around more alternative wellness approaches.

That all starts with the space. It has been designed to hold you in your practice; to be an instant balm as you walk through the doors. The colour palette is soft, more akin to a high-end boutique. Attention has been paid to best practices for air quality, comfort and serenity. An abundance of greenery (including an air-purifying floor-to-ceiling plant wall) and cascading natural light, nature-derived materials liked the covetable buckwheat filled floor mats, and a mandala of Himalayan Salt Lamps (which are having their moment), create the setting for finding your calm. And if something looks this good, it must be good for us, right? 

Actually, right. There’s now study after study to back up the techniques on offer. The intimate studio offers a wide range of equilibrium finding drop-in sessions: There’s yoga, in restorative movement class (Re:Store), mindfulness techniques (Re:Heal), and energizing breathing (Re:Breathe). But there’s also more intriguing sounding offerings such as healing sound baths (Re:Sound), rituals for connection with one another (Re:Connect) and the one we lean towards, bringing in kindness and self-care practice (Re:Caim).

In this serene urban oasis, practitioners are called ‘Calmers’, clients are invited to relax before or after a session with herbal tea, and a small library offers some context (or diversion to those of us who feel less comfortable in new environments). The on-site eco-wellness store is stocked with small businesses who are doing some of the work of sustaining us and our environment, with handmade soaps, flower remedies, chimes and the requisite crystals.

Bringing some Californian lifestyle savvy to the streets of London, this pristine boutique studio for the stressed-out gives both the space and the permission to pause. Here is a place to actually practice some of those concepts that are increasingly talked about as vital tools for navigating modern life; jumping off the pages of a lifestyle magazine or a wellness manual into our real-world. LA would be proud.

To find out more: Website / Instagram / Facebook

When Friendship Saves Us (Part 2) : Our Take On Modern Love

Believe me when I tell you that nothing sounds more terrifying to me than a posh British girl who has just transitioned out of her successful career as a modern art curator to focus more fully on our societal responsibility to address mental well-being. (For reference: I am insane, and 50% of the “art” in my house is from TJ Maxx.) 

But a few months after our second babies were born, it was time for our firstborn children to start Kindergarten, and by some stroke of luck, or destiny (or the fact that there was actually only one school in our town) our children ended up being placed in class together.

I sometimes wonder what these days would have been like if I’d understood at that time who she was…who’d she’d be to me. If I’d have felt less lost? Less alone? If we both would have? But maybe that’s the beauty of friendship? There is simply no rush to force its unfolding, no timetable that stipulates where things ought to be; a freedom that allowed us to bumble through the initial unfolding in spit-up ridden fits and starts, baby slings flapping unceremoniously in the breeze as we realized: being together through all of this was just better than being apart. 

There was a time when I thought of friendship as an immature pursuit, that all of these minor relationships were simply buying time until the real relationships began. Surely I’d outgrow the need to spill forth all of the pieces of my life in the hopes that my poor, unsuspecting friends would put them back together. Surely slumber parties and impromptu ice cream binges would lose their appeal? Surely I’d feel increasingly more inclined to hide who I was in the hopes that I’d remain protected, collected, secure. And maybe that’s true. Maybe we do start holding ourselves together more as we age. We smile and respond “I’m great!”, and we shift our conversations to inconsequential topics and we occasionally pop in to therapy when things get bad…but by and large, more often than not, we choose to suffer alone. As our problems gain significance and gravity and weight, we are no longer confident that our friends can bear their burden, no longer confident that they’ll be able to see us through the wreckage of our flaws. Maybe that’s why, when we find someone who does see us (really sees us) and loves us still…maybe that’s why we hold so tight?

Claire was the first person I opened up to fully (partially because she made me feel safe, and partially because I was breaking down before her very eyes and there was no longer a polite way to brush off her concerns).

• “Yes I babysat your daughter today!” (You’re welcome!)
  Yes, I also stayed at the park the whole time because I thought a murderer was hidden in my attic.

• “Yes, we rode our bikes to school pick-up today!” (What a fun and active mom!)
  Yes, I also believe a bomb has been planted in my car and will explode at any moment in some sort of Speed-esque fashion (but minus the uniformly-sweaty-and-bronzed Keanu Reeves.)

• “Yes, my eyes are very puffy because I’m tired!” (#momLife amirite?)
  Yes my eyes are also puffy because I’ve been crying constantly/hysterically/desperately wondering how to escape the confines of my body.

Due, in part, to a series of traumatic events and in part to a less-than-ideal genetic composition, I’d found myself locked in the jaws of anxiety and paranoia, once again — a constant gnawing that quickly escalated to a violent, thrashing attack. And when everyone else saw the smiles and the bikes and the requisite puffy-eyes…Claire saw the bite marks. When everyone else was happy to accept the ‘I’m fine!’s, happy to accept the facade I’d so expertly constructed (and who could blame them?) Claire was the type of friend who was brave enough to look beyond the poorly-bandaged wounds to the disaster that lay beyond. And when she saw me there (the real and broken me) the ‘me’ who had no jokes or quips or excuse left; when anyone would have been justified in their rapid fleeing ... She stayed.

RISE

“A place to relax, play, work, eat. A place to be together”

Above the entrance is a simple sign that says ‘Rise’. This sets the tone for all that goes on inside: a café, bakery and play space, an active calendar of workshops, events and activities, office space for socially-minded businesses, and a contemporary art gallery that shouts out local and national talent. Here, in a sensitively converted church, are all those components that once made this space so appealing to the congregation it previously housed: community, positivity, hope and connection. 

Three years ago, Io Fox and Ed Roberts, a former teacher and nurse, bought this church, originally built in the early 1800s. It had fallen in recent years on its own hard times. The congregation of the United Reform Church had been dwindling for a while, so much so that the building was put on the market. But rather than shape this space into luxury apartments or private offices, the new owners did something remarkable. They shifted the emphasis to a wider purpose, giving a modern spin to the architecture, history and ideals this church once offered. Through their renovations, they weren’t intent on erasing what had once past, but rather building on it. Everywhere there are traces of what the building was before: etched arched windows, stone plaques, a working organ that dominates the main space. Keeping the look and feel of the place, they acknowledged its abiding history, and even embraced its former community and intent (a couple has since got married here). 

They also did this, they allowed the community in which it sits in Frome, a small town in Somerset known for its creativity, a say in how this project evolved. They kept those long-time hallowed doors open to whoever needed them in maybe a different way, inviting in businesses, practitioners, parents, and charities who were seeking space to develop initiatives of their own. They welcomed everyone, with the aim of similarly nurturing people within its walls, so that Rise could truly reflect the community in which it is situated. And the local people that it served, answered the call, creating a new sense of life in this space, forming and shaping its content, giving this building new and more relevant purpose. 

Three years on, Rise is now a buzzing multi-use space. The central atrium has been given over to Rye Bakery which runs a friendly café incorporating local suppliers, simple food and organic sources where possible. On Friday it hosts community building pizza nights. There’s also a play space (Alfred’s Tower) for the little ones, which has a handmade feel to it, a nice antidote to the bright plastic that usually comes with the kid’s area, and a sweet reading space. Most laudable though is the stunning woven nest space, a semi-private huddle for nursing moms and for smaller gatherings. 

The mezzanine space where the congregation would once have sat, has become an increasingly well regarded contemporary art gallery, The Whittox Gallery, curated by Sara Robson. It shows local and national contemporary artists and designers in an exhibition program that roams across all media.

Sort of behind the scenes, The Old School and The Sun Room, have become spaces to hire by anyone, for private and public events. The downstairs offices and work spaces have been rented out to socially-minded organizations, like OpenStoryTellers, a charity that aims to empower people with learning disabilities and autism.  

Across all these spaces are an active range of classes, workshops and events for all ages, abilities and backgrounds such as yoga classes, wellbeing sessions (like one on unleashing creative genius), exercise groups (see the popular Mojo moves and hoop dances), art and science clubs. A therapeutic choir just started in the space.

Rise is a modern-day church without really being a church at all. It works within that rich history of places where people gather, connect and believe, and gives those very fundamental human needs a thoroughly modern-day twist. In its name and its mission, Rise uplifts those who work here, engage here and play here. There’s a reason churches were once the heart of the community, and there’s a reason why Rise has become a space that local people flock to again.

To find out more: Website / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

When Friendship Saves Us (Part 1) : Our Take On Modern Love

She’s moving back to England and I can’t come. (Obviously.)

Because the thing about friendship is: you don’t plan your life around people that you’re not having sex with. (Which honestly feels a bit barbaric, to me, but ok.)

Finding romantic love has long been considered the gold-standard of human achievement, evidence that we are worthy of a lifetime of devotion, or, at the very least, that we are tolerable enough to withstand for the better part of a lifetime. Romantic love is a precisely choreographed dance, the steps of which will never be revealed; a high-stakes game with loosely-defined rules and a massive potential for loss. On the one hand we’re expected to foster an impossible level of comfort and security. (We hurl forth our hopes and dreams, crossing our fingers that we’ve found someone who will see them and share them and keep them safe … someone who won’t be sent fleeing wildly in the opposite direction.) On the other, we’re implored to maintain a similarly-impossible level intimacy, eroticism and mystery. (If you’re not popping out from behind the dresser in a French-maid costume or developing a new mental health disorder every month, are you even trying???)

Friendship does not exist on this same playing field, or within this same town, or even within this same earthly realm. Friendship is an ever-available gift from the gods. An opportunity for connection and closeness without ever having to talk about mortgages or school districts or pills for sad penises.

Friendship is unburdened by such trite matters. Friendship does not care about flaccidity, or project-based learning or “interest rates we should really capitalize on.”

Friendship offers a purity that is complicated only by the fact that there is nothing legally binding you to one another. Nothing to say, “if you leave you’ve got to give me a house or a boat or half of your grandmother’s jewelry.” Just this love that lingers in space…vulnerable…subject to the whims of men. 

When I first met Claire, she was sailing a paper boat down a stream, giggling with her young son in a fashion that suggested she was probably a nanny and almost definitely a little bit drunk. (She denies both claims.) I fell for her her all the same. Her lightness, her ease, the way she smiled and laughed, the way I could see her walls…the way I knew before she did that they’d start to fall.

We first bonded over the fact that we both had children. Not that they were similar or that we were raising them in the same way or that they even liked each other, just that they existed and that we had birthed them within the same relative time frame. (This, I’ve discovered, is as good a reason as any to develop an adult friendship.)

The unfolding was slow. I forgot her name multiple times and was forced to introduce her to some unsuspecting acquaintance who found himself lingering nearby so that she’d have to tell them her name). We had no real reason to meet so we’d just happen upon each other, at the houses of mutual friends, at the park, by a stream. (Stalker stuff.)

Years later, when it came time for us to produce our requisite second children, both of us managed to hold out for an ungodly 5 years. While the rest of the world went on to space their children perfectly, precisely, methodically, 2.6 years apart, here we were, bucking the norm, starting over after half-a-decade. (Her, because she’d had a successful career and seemingly unlimited ambition…me, because my body wasn’t very cooperative and that I was busy stock-piling mental and physical health disorders.)

The first time I saw her after having the baby, I forgot to ask the baby’s name, or when she’d had her, or if she was so tired she might die. We just sort of stood there on the sidewalk making small-talk, smiling vaguely … each of us pretending to be ok.

The Joy Cafe | A Conversation with Becky Playfair on community

On an unusually hot summer morning in the little town of Boscombe, in England, I was introduced to a friend’s local cafe with a difference. As I stepped into the Joy Cafe, I lit up. In this converted shipping container, there was a hum of friendly chatter amongst families with young children and seniors sat together. The cheerful decor of sunshine yellow and dove gray gave the cafe a warm home-from-home feel. The smell of fresh coffee and sausage sandwiches wafted under my nose as I took in the delightful display of homemade brownies, cookies and cakes. As I ordered, I spotted a Suspended Drinks noticeboard whereby someone can buy an extra drink that gets ‘suspended’ on the board until someone who needs a free tea or coffee claims it. It’s a beautiful way for the locals to give or receive in their local community.  

But the Joy Cafe offers so much more than free hot drinks and an insanely affordable menu of homemade food. It’s the little thoughtful details that reveal the heart and soul of this space, in initiatives that support the local neighborhood in heart-centered ways. The Joy Cafe provides positivity and connection to others through a variety of organized events and activities that bring different members of the community together in fun ways, that support mental wellness and ease loneliness.

Some of these include: Safe & Sound Ladies Craft where women can spend a couple of peaceful hours relaxing over a warm drink while crafting together. Awaken Conversations where guest speakers come and speak about personal development and life skills. Chess Club happens every week and there are regular community dinners for all ages that feature pop-ups from local cooks and food businesses. Local families who use the playground outside are supported with free breakfast mornings and art workshops during school holidays. Dotted around the Joy Cafe you can also find unstructured play opportunities for all ages with plenty of art supplies, books and board games on offer, perfect for rainy days. 

The Joy Cafe was founded four years ago by Becky Playfair who had a vision to turn a rundown youth center in the park of Churchill Gardens, Boscombe (one of the most deprived areas in England), into a life-giving not-for-profit community cafe. From its first iteration as a pop-up bake sale with boxes of hula hoops, frisbees and crafting materials, the project progressed to a lease and planning permission to convert the old youth hut into a café. Key to making this happen was a JustGiving campaign to raise money in which 11 members of the Coastline Missional Community were sponsored to complete a 3 Peak Challenge, climbing the highest peaks in Scotland, England and Wales in just 24 hours!

I talked to Becky about the hard work and determination (with the huge support of the Coastline Vineyard Church and young volunteers) that helped make her dream of a very special community-centered cafe into a reality:

Sophie: How did the concept for the Joy Cafe first begin and why did you believe that it was needed? 

Becky: I first had a dream to open a café when I was 18 years old. I was jogging (not very fast!) around my neighborhood in Birmingham realizing that I had little ambition but desperately wanted some! I wanted (and prayed for!) something to aim for in life. I wanted to dream big, to achieve, to make a difference, to have life goals. So, as I ran, I pondered, and prayed and pictured a café.

In the same moment I just knew that it would be more than your average British high street café. It might be a place where people had not just great food and drink but also got to encounter something more. A little bit of heaven on earth. Where people would feel safe, genuinely known, loved, appreciated and accepted. Where they would be spoken to, listened to, given hope, encouragement, a compliment, a smile, conversation or creative activity. 

After studying Psychology at Exeter University, I moved to Bournemouth, then a year later to Boscombe, the most deprived area of Bournemouth. In the bottom 3% of deprived areas in the whole of the UK, the area was impacted by huge issues with drugs and alcohol, crime, poor housing, and health, etc. I moved into a house known as NO10 (the house number of where we were); we all worked part-time and gave the rest of the week to making a difference in our neighborhood. We opened our doors at NO10 and had all sorts for dinner and mentored in the local schools. Living in a truly beautiful but broken area, made me realize the need for a third space. Most of my neighbors lived in bedsits, they stood outside and smoked with only the rubbish bins to lean on. They were friendly but lonely. The communal space was the pavement. … they desperately needed a café and one that they could afford to buy coffee from! 

Sophie: How did it progress from a pop-up to a proper cafe? 

Becky: I started the pop-up Joy Café a year after moving to Boscombe. The two trestle tables, simple refreshments and kids’ activities were all stored in my hallway and taken in and out every day. We had an incredible first summer… local families loved us and thankfully so did the Council. They could see the transformative potential and gave us a chance. When the hut in the small park in the heart of the neighborhood became vacant, we were given the lease and allowed to renovate, making it fit-for-purpose. We’re been open as a “proper” café since February 2018.

Sophie: What were some of the challenges you found opening the Joy Cafe? 

Becky: Getting the lease then planning permission for the renovations took ages and was beyond me! I would never have managed it without the support of a very wise surveyor from my church. Without his endless negotiations and skills, it wouldn’t have happened. But the toughest thing was definitely project managing the renovations. It took four months and though I had the most amazing team, largely made up of hugely generous and skilled volunteers who gave hundreds of hours to the project, I cried most days! (I was also wedding planning and later found out I had glandular fever… no wonder I was a mess!). I was consistently out of my comfort zone but somehow made it through! I’m now in my element being a barista, chatting with people, and building community.

Sophie: What is the mission of the Joy Cafe and how did you want it to benefit the community? 

Becky: Joy Café is a lush little café with a big heart for building life-giving community (our strapline). We want to create a safe space, a home from home. We want to be the friendliest café. We like to make people’s day. I love blessing people with the occasional free coffee or cake or go out of my way to make something off-menu that they’d love and really appreciate. We celebrate our customer’s birthdays with cards, banners and gifts. We also partner with local people, groups and organizations. We do Suspended Drinks. We love Young Volunteers and have the best and youngest baristas in Bournemouth. We want to try to listen to what our community and neighborhood needs or would like and do our best to make it happen. We have free bike repairs, chess club, creative events, eco-workshops, games groups... all sorts! 

Sophie: How do you want people to feel spending time at the Joy Cafe? 

Becky: Known, valued, accepted, listened to, themselves, joy, at peace, loved, part of a community.

Sophie: What are the ways that the cafe has impacted the local community, you as an owner and your staff? 

Becky: So many people talk about the impact of the Joy Cafe… from local families, individuals, councilors, tradesmen, the police, people who used to live around the area and are now back… People from every area of society have commented on the dramatic and positive impact the Joy Cafe has had on the area and park. It's safer, busier, lighter, has a better atmosphere… because of the Joy Cafe. Yay! 

Sophie: What are your hopes and dreams for the future of the Joy Cafe. And will there be more?

Becky: I love where we’re at and want us to continue growing. I don’t know whether there will be more Joy Cafes but if the opportunity arises then I probably wouldn’t say no!

To find out more about Joy Cafe, head to their Instagram or Facebook. 

826 Valencia

“826 Valencia is a non-profit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6 to 18 with their creative and expository writing skills, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write.”

Yes, you might think you have just found yourself in a quirky pirate store or an octopus’ playground or a secret spy society, but what you’ve done is landed right at the heart of a non-profit organization that exists to support the writing skills of under-resourced kids. Maybe purpose is like medicine and you need some sugar to help it go down (not sure who does that other than Mary Poppins and her charges but it’s an association that’s stuck). For 826 Valencia and its network of storefront chapters across the US, the sugar takes the form of magic and the imagination: each of their much-needed writing centers are fronted by spaces of whimsy and curiosity. 

From its start in San Francisco’s Mission District in 2002, a delightful sense of wonder has been built into how the organization has crafted itself: the first flagship that opened at 826 Valencia Street by educator Ninive Calegari and author Dave Eggers took the form of a pirate store mostly as a workaround for a local zoning issue that demanded some retail component. So of course, pirates need stores too. That model of locating the idiosyncratic in the everyday has inspired further storefront locations across the US; there’s the secret agent supply store (Chicago), a magic shop (Washington), a time travel mart (LA), a robot supply and repair shop (Michigan), a Haunting supply store (New Orleans), a Super Hero Supply Store (NYC), and maybe our favorite the Bigfoot Research Institute (Boston).

The original SF location has since been joined by two more in the city that capture this same spirit of make-believe: the wonderful Enchanted Forest and Learning Center in Mission Bay and the King Carl Emporium in the Tenderloin. In whatever shape-shifting form it takes across the US, 826 Valencia cultivates places of the imaginary and places of very real need, sitting quite naturally next to each other

Photo Interstice Architects

826 Valencia is one of the few places holding space for the imagination on our city streets and in our children’s lives. Think about its latest iteration in the Tenderloin in which a liqueur store associated with drug trafficking and anti-social behavior was converted into a playful apothecary of sorts and a light-filled writing space (also note the brightly colored, game-changing ocean-themed painted exterior). A space that might feel simply enchanting is actually a crucial vehicle for revitalizing a street corner, a community, and a child’s life. 

And it also might do this. 826 Valencia might put a spell on your own. Because you get to come in, not just to purchase unicorn horn’s polish, an eye patch or Lumber Jack Repellant, but to participate, to be one of the grown-ups bringing writing to kids who need it. This is where the magic of a different kind starts to happen. Because the core belief running through all these spaces is that kids benefit greatly in confidence, pride and ability from dedicated, focused time on their writing skills—that’s in obvious ways like crafting a personal essay and helping with homework but in other more exploratory ones like working out how to express themselves in poetry and the written word.

826 Valencia is run on volunteers like you who get to tutor in their writing programs or to donate services such as illustration, design, photography and audio editing in order to create the books, magazines, and newspapers that take the students' words beyond their schools and these storefronts.

With 826 Valencia, we can have magic on our streets again and in our kids’ imaginations. We even get to have it back in our own very grown-up lives.

To find out more: Website / Instagram / Facebook / Twitter

The Museum of Ice Cream

Ok, you probably have your assumptions about the Museum of Ice Cream that has been popping up in locations in San Francisco (now permanent), New York (very new and permanent), Miami, and Los Angeles. We had ours. We imagined it as an Instagram mecca, a hyperreal pink (that’s Pantone 1905C) paradise of shine and shimmer. Froth and frolics. And it was that: when we visited the SF version, we took photos with everyone else against backdrops of floating cherries and giant popsicles, made impermanent messages with pink magnets, crawled into mirrored rooms and climbed pink walls, and swam deep in the famous pit of colors. We hadn’t gone as far as some; we hadn’t coordinated our outfits and we hadn’t posed again and again for the perfect shot. But we had image-laden fun: we consumed a ton of sugar, visual and edible. We laughed and interacted and just spent a silly afternoon with our kids actually sharing in their joy and not watching from the sidelines as is sometimes the condition of modern parenting.

Though we did all this and came away feeling great (maybe slightly sick also), we have since realized we kind of missed the point. And maybe we weren’t, or aren’t, the only ones. See the Museum of Ice Cream is not really about ice cream (though there’s now a Target branded line that includes such things as Impeach-Mint so this argument might get a bit blurry). It’s also not about taking out your phone to capture the perfect image. It’s also not about screeching through oblivious of those around you as you try to craft the perfect time. What we have since learned is that that it is fundamentally about connection. That’s right, this experience, this museum, now handily rebranded by its founders as an ‘experium’,  has been engineered to bring people together, to be a kind of social glue, albeit of the creamy vanilla kind.

It was this episode of Yale associated podcast The Happiness Lab by Dr. Laurie Santos that started to shift our perspective, and as we dug deeper into the motivation of co-founders Maryellis Bunn and Manish Voramotivation, we found more and more that spoke to The Museum of Ice Cream as a counterpoint to our current epidemic of disconnection and the loss of spaces in our worlds that give us the opportunities to just be people together.

Here’s the irony: The Museum of Ice Cream was intended to be so spectacular that we wouldn’t be driven into the world of image-making on our phones, but rather we would be driven away from them. We’d want to immerse ourselves more in this fantasy world, for a short time tangibly all around us, because it was more real, more compelling, than those pixels. We would want to share that experience with those following a similar journey through the joyful labyrinthine spaces, as that would heighten our own experience for us. We’d want to escape our isolation and run into a place of collective joy. 

The Museum of Ice Cream has since pivoted and like all new concepts iterated on its theme. Yes, it’s a huge phenomenon that you may have visited, probably most likely have an opinion on, or are in the process of imitating (see the idiosyncratic experiential museums that it has since spawned), but it’s also still figuring itself out. Like Solo Nights (where you get in free if you turn up alone) and the phone free sessions; the Museum of Ice Cream concept is truly working when people connect within this fantasy palace, when they notice what’s actually around them and each other, and when the conversations started within the shininess go outside its walls, and sometimes that needs a phone-free helping hand.

The Museum of Ice Cream is a pop-up experience that’s meant to last more than the sugar high even as it gives you that high. It’s a careful line to tread, but we’re betting that as long as it's as much about the people it buoys up as the abundance of ice cream (or whatever the framework may become) that is consumed then this will stay a place of comfort that continues to soothe our disconnected lives.

To find out more: Website and Instagram 

Shelf Help | In conversation with Toni Jones

When we first found out about Shelf Help, we felt like we had found our people. It’s a book club, built around self-help books, that also builds community in real-life. Isn’t that the ultimate combination?

OK, you’re hesitating, and we’re guessing it might have something to do with the genre because let’s face it, self-help can be a bit naff. You probably already have your biases, unconscious or otherwise. 

Don’t worry, in the conversation that follows with Founder Toni Jones, we’ll cover that uncool factor and all the other reasons why Shelf Help is something you might need in your own life. Prepare to change your mind.

Claire: What led you to start Shelf Help?

Toni: I had just left my full-time job as a journalist to become a freelance writer, which meant suddenly spending a lot of time by myself. I was 36 and I’d never spent any time alone. It should have been the dream. I’d quit a job that I hated. I was busy and getting work. But it wasn’t that easy being by myself and getting to know myself. I realized I had spent a long time just ignoring my needs, and as soon as the job wasn’t there as a distraction, it was all back down to me. 

I spent a lot of that time not unravelling but definitely in a bit of a mental health black hole. I was transitioning from this high-octane life to having a lot of time to think about whether I had done the right thing. I didn’t know how to deal with any of it. I knew I didn’t want to go back. I knew that wasn’t the right thing to do but I wasn’t sure which way to go.

I just started reading a lot of self-help. I started taking care of myself in other ways too; going to therapy for the first time (which I found really hard and amazing), doing yoga, attending retreats, and participating in a few support groups like Al Anon. I was also writing more about wellbeing because it was a trend that was coming in. In a way, in trying all these things, I was approaching my own life like I was writing a feature.

Claire: What was the first self-help book that you read?

Toni: Paul McKenna’s Change Your Life in Seven Days, which people thought was hilarious and really weird, because you don’t think of him as a self-help guru. To many people he’s that weird hypnotist on tele but he’s well-trained in positive psychology and NLP. 

Because it was the first self-help book that I read, it really resonated. All these light bulbs went off. I read it slowly; I’d read a concept in that book and then I’d go away and research it. I’d go deep into the black hole of a certain author or self-help concept. Suddenly I was learning all this stuff and I literally could not get enough of it. I was devouring all these self-help books. I was fascinated by it particularly when I started reading about positive psychology and neuroscience and things like Dr Joe Dispenza (he talks about the power of your brain to change and it’s kind of the Law of Attraction but with all the science behind it). 

But I was boring my actual friends with it. They were seeing a change in me—and that does spike people’s curiously—but they were like: ‘we get that you are into self-help, but it’s not our thing but good for you that it’s working.’ I started Shelf Help to find new friends who I could talk to about it. Also, as a journalist, I’m the kind of person who, when I find something good, I just want to share it.

Claire: Tell me about the first meet-up. Was it what you expected?

Toni: Shelf Help started as a local book club at a little wine-bar in west London. The first couple of meet-ups were a bit more earnest than they are now, because I started off thinking I needed to be super serious to be able to offer good support, but I’ve learned—as I’ve got better at running groups and also sharing my own story—that you can talk about the big stuff and still have fun.

Meet-ups today cover all kinds of heavy things; purpose, grief, breakups, fertility, friends, fear, careers…but we end up laughing a lot. They are actually really fun! We don’t just sit there and talk about our problems. People do bring up things that are bothering them and things that they are struggling with but there is usually someone in the room who can help them, someone who can say that happened to me and I did this. The idea is that we can all come together because everyone is fragile. We’re probably going through the same old shit and it’s nice to know other people have gone through it and that they have survived. Everyone leaves feeling positive.

Shelf Help has gone from me saying let’s talk about our problems, and that its ok to share, to a place to move forwards. Now I say we celebrate self-help. It’s about inspiring positive change. We advocate that it’s totally ok to not be ok and that people’s feelings are valid, but there’s a lot we can do to feel better, and so we focus on what’s next and how can we help each other.

Claire: As Shelf Help isn’t therapy but is to the side of therapy, how do you create an environment that is safe and purposeful? 

Toni: What I do is create a space to give people tools to empower themselves. It’s self-help, so I’m never saying that I’m a therapist and that I have all the answers. At each meet-up, we use a different book but the same format. I’ll pull out 5-6 quotes or exercises from the book and every host around the world and on-line will use those questions for discussion. That gives us the framework as we’re going through the session.

For instance, let’s take a recent book Designing Your Life, which focuses on working out different versions of who you can be. I’ll say ‘The authors say… ‘ and ‘This is how they say it will work…’ Then I’ll ask, ‘Who has experience of this...’ 

I’m not saying that’s my advice or opinion, though I’ll share something usually based on my own experience. People understand that I’m not trying to direct anyone in any way. If you have chosen to read this book and come along to a meet-up, it’s because you are interested in the topic and meeting like-minded people. I’m pretty sure the attendees aren’t just there to see me or listen to what I have to say about something. I’m just the host: I bring people together and create an environment. But very much people are coming with their own stories to share.

Claire: It sounds like the book itself is giving you the safe container?

Toni: Yes, the expert in the room is the book. Sometimes we have the author there but not always. In a way, it is like a regular book club where you get together to chat about the different characters and chapters and everybody has a different opinion. 

Also, I’m quite clear that confidentiality, kindness and no judgement are our code of conduct. That’s on our printed materials that we put out. Hosts also read out the manifesto at the beginning of each meet-up, which explains what we are and what we’re not. 

We do have different levels of people at different levels of pain or need. Some people have gone to the doctor and they are going to therapy. They are using this as another tool. There are a million experts that people can google but what they are looking for with Shelf Help is a way to connect to others and a way to connect with themselves.

Claire: The self-help genre has been promoted as being so individualistic, as something you do alone. There’s this idea that you read a book alone and have all these epiphanies alone. With Shelf Help what you are saying is that actually self-help is not solitary, but rather it can be in understood as a collective experience and can be experienced in a social environment. 

Toni: My mission with Shelf Help is to make self-help accessible, collaborative and cool. The idea of self-help is a bit of a misnomer. Yes, you do need to do a bit of that work on yourself, but you also need help to take that work forward. It’s much more powerful when we come together. 

If you’ve got used to sitting at home by yourself, with just those stories that go around your head, often just saying something out loud to someone else can give you a different perspective. Shelf Help gives people access to different perspectives, and entirely different life experiences 

When we did Susan Jeffer’s Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway at our meet-up in London, we had an Indian grandma who had the original copy from the 80s that she’d been given when she first moved to London. She was sitting next to a Gen-Z girl, 22 years old, clutching her brand-new edition of the book. Though it’s a bit of a worry that we’re still dealing with the same old stuff, it was amazing to watch them connect over the same material. They probably would never have met or talked to each other otherwise, but these are universal themes that can easily see three generations apart talking about the same eternal topics.

Claire: As an advocate for self-help books, going to therapy and going on this deep dive into personal wellness, how do you negotiate some of the cynicism that can come into play? There’s definitely an undertone that says that stuff you are doing over there, that wellbeing stuff, isn’t credible or serious.

Toni: Yes, I see that. But it started working for me, and for others, and as soon as something starts working, people want more of it. 

My dream with Shelf Help is that people are not scared to read self-help, that it gets people talking about this genre and connecting, rather than thinking you must be a mess because you are reading a certain book. I believe that the audience is everyone and that’s the whole point. I want people who maybe don’t think they are self-help readers to maybe read an interesting quote or a passage on our Instagram and to go, “oh wow, that’s what’s that book is about.”

Claire: It’s interesting to see that shift, that there is a real thirst for it. That people are going towards it.

Toni: What something like Shelf Help does, and what I realize that I do for my friends and my family, is to give them permission to get curious about self-help. Yes, some people do still see it as naff and cringey, but quietly people will come along to a meet-up. They’ll have read the book and they will want to talk to me about it but maybe not in front of everyone. The interest is definitely there.

Shelf Help is all about accessibility. We make it accessible by organizing free or affordable meet-ups and events as well as via the content we share across various social media. That’s why I now call Shelf Help a platform—the book club is always going to be a big part of it—but we can share all kinds of content too. One day I hope we will be creating online courses, better digital meet-ups, and more events, like author workshops—which means you don’t have to have read any of the books to come along. 

The way that people consume content now works to our favor; we don’t necessarily just have to read a book to be helped by self-help. People can also watch a Ted talk delivered by the author, listen to a podcast or follow them on social media and still connect to the strategies and ideas.

Claire: There’s a criticism that I’ll paraphrase here, that 100% of people who have read a self-help book will read another one. This means in effect that they don’t work. But really the point is not that they are buying another one because the last one didn’t work, but that they are buying another one because it is working. 

What you are saying in effect with Shelf Help is that your relationship to yourself and to other people is a life-long one. That people can have a growth mindset around their own learning. That’s something positive that people can sustain in their lives. You are shifting the perception that self-help is failing if you need more to its working if you need more. It becomes a form of ongoing mental nutrition in a way instead of an ineffectual crutch.

Toni: I think the more that you learn the more you realize you have to learn. If you are looking to a book to fix you, you are missing the point because most self-help comes back to the same finding: you need to start with you. All these books and tools will help guide you but ultimately you need to know yourself, to meet yourself and then start that work.

People say to me how can you read all this self-help and not be fixed? They have this idea that if it’s so great you only need one book. But we’re always learning. That’s what we are here to do, to grow. You are never going to be complete and how boring would that be if you were? What you learn along the way is amazing and is probably the best bit. 

Claire: How do you get over self-help overwhelm/ fatigue (you know that feeling where the 11 things to do to better your life feels like 1000 things to do)? How to do you go from reading self-help to actioning it?

Toni: After feedback from members we’ve slowed down the reading process, to one book of the moment (BOTM) every two months (instead of one book every month). These books require that you delve into yourself or peel off these layers. You need to do the exercises and read it at a pace that allows you to process.

Claire: You give a reading schedule?

Toni: Yes, for accountability and so people can follow along with what we’re doing. Everyone is so busy, and I have to appreciate that reading can be a luxury. We need to allocate proper time to get through these books. It’s very much about reading, processing and then acting on it. In Crazy Good, one of the books we have covered, author Steve Chandler says: “Once for information and twice for transformation.”

Claire: Do you choose all the books that you cover? How do you go about that?

Toni: Yes, I’ve done that so far. I’ve gone on books that I’ve loved and that have made a big difference to me and that I know. People seem to like the fact that they are directed to what to read. Not that I know everything about self-help, but I do get a good vibe for what most people want to know about at the moment, whether that’s happiness or habits or purpose. I also get a sense from everything that I’ve read that this particular book is one that we can dissect together. Now, it has to be available globally cause we’re a global book club and we have loads of engagement in Canada and Australia.

Claire: I saw that you are now worldwide, including Amsterdam and Los Angeles. Why did you decide to make Shelf Help a worldwide movement?

Toni: I want to make the conversation as big as possible and to get as many people as possible talking about these subjects. 

I think these things affect you in San Francisco the way they affect someone here in London: Feeling lonely, and just wanting to connect. We’re so connected and so disconnected. People are just looking for things to do that bring them together. I started Shelf Help at a time that I really needed it, but I underestimated how much everyone else needed it as well.

Claire: Shelf Help fits in this cultural moment, this global phenomenon of being disconnected, and searching for something to fill the void. We’re all going through it. For me, Shelf Help covers those universal longings: how do we connect, how do we come together, how do we help ourselves?

Toni: People do want to connect online but people ultimately want to go to or even start a meet-up. We’re able to create this amazing network and that’s what technology is allowing us to do but really its feeding people’s need to connect in real life as well. 

People want to catch-up or go to events with each other. Most hosts are starting to organize social events in-between book clubs where they’ll go for dinner or a yoga class or a workshop.

At the meet-up in Farnham UK, they seem to bond over their love of cake as much as the books they read. In central London, the meet-ups typically focus on purpose, career and burn out. The one in Pembrokeshire takes place at lunch-time because it is made up mostly of mums. 

I want the hosts be as autonomous as possible. If you want to host a meet-up for me and for Shelf Help, then that’s brilliant. We want you on board. We want as many people as we can get, but applicants have to understand that there’s a certain level of commitment (hosts need to commit to a minimum of 6 bi-monthly meetups, and are responsible for the venue and local members, with some support from Toni/Shelf Help). To scale this movement, I know that it can’t be about me; I can’t be everywhere. 

Claire: You don’t have to be the person in the room, you can create the system for it, but it doesn’t have to be you?

Toni: I absolutely don’t want it to me about me. I’m happy to be the figurehead and I’m glad that people relate to my story. I love organizing the events and managing the network of hosts, but, ultimately, I want to empower people to help themselves and build a community that helps each other. 

Claire: You’re 2 years old (congratulations!). How has the idea for and realization of Shelf Help shifted from when you started to where you are now?

Toni: Two years ago, it was just a book club in Chiswick, west London. Now, I talk about Shelf Help as both a platform and community. We’re all about connecting people to ideas through both the books and other types of content that we share. We’re creating spaces on-line and off-line, with lots of events and meet-ups, and an active digital community. The community is a massive part of it

A lot of Shelf Helpers who are assisting with our second birthday party, are people who are either hosts or come to a lot of meet-ups. I didn’t know many of them a year ago. Now they’re really good friends who are all giving up their time for this celebration. 

I’m finding that people want to be part of what we’re doing. They want to do what they can to help us grow. We seem to call on people who can see a huge value in focusing on their mental wellbeing and who then want to share that message. 

Claire: If someone is interested in getting involved, what’s the best way for them to engage with you?

Toni: You can come to a meet-up, an event or a retreat. Or join the Facebook group, follow us on Instagram, sign up to the newsletter or even host your own local book club.  There are lots of ways to get involved.

Claire: And finally, what’s the one message you take away from reading so much self-help.

 Toni: At its most simple, Shelf Help is about helping people to like themselves more. Because I think that too many of us don’t like ourselves enough (maybe don’t even know how to?) and that everything in life can be made better when we improve the relationship we have with ourselves. 

To find out more about Shelf Help, head to the Website, Instagram, or Facebook.

6 Benefits of Sobriety (That You Might Actually Care About)

How Sober-Curiosity Opened the Door to Self-Discovery

When I drank, I liked to imagine that I was unearthing some deeply repressed version of myself. The fun version. The loving one. The one who might jump in a fountain or run the wrong way up an escalator or (expertly) choreograph a dance to Paula Abdul’s Opposites Attract. (Yes, THAT ONE.) This version was also the one who knew the answer to all of your life’s problems, the one who would stay up til 4am crying with you while we redesigned our entire lives, the one who would drunk-dial you seventeen times in one night just to say hello. (Yep, hi, so sorry about that.)

The value I found in this version of myself shifted over time. She was, undoubtedly, more fun than everyday-me (free from the plagues of anxiety, depression, paranoia, self-doubt). But pulling her up, and keeping her there, seemed to become harder over time. The disparity between who she was and who I wanted to be, who I thought I was, seemed to grow further and further apart…the transition away from her, back to me, increasingly more chaotic.

When I decided to leave this version of myself behind, decided she wasn’t worth the heartache, I assumed I’d be leaving behind all of the best things in my life, as well…all of the freedom and the fun and excitement. Real me was safe, made good choices, followed the rules. (How would I ever bear being her, all the time?!) What I didn’t realize then was that everything I’d created in the land of drunkenness, was available to me in the land of sobriety, I just had to work for it. 

In time, it became clear that, with a little intention, I was in complete control of every facet of my life, every experience I had. And when something didn’t feel right? There was no escape. I either had to feel it or fix it, a realization that sat somewhere between extremely overwhelming and incredibly empowering.

Having now made it through one entire year of sobriety, I can only assume that I am the authority on the advantages of such a lifestyle. The following are the Top 6 benefits I’ve managed to work out.

FRIENDSHIP

Ok, this may come as a shock to you, but you have preferences. Yes, your very real need to be loved by every person you come in contact with is still VERY intact. (Gotta work on that.) But now, NOW, you have a chance to curate your company in a more intentional manner. Better still? You’ll have to! Because, eek, you probably don’t like most of your friends! (Whoop whoop!) I will tell you this…there is one sure-fire way to realize who you like to be around and it is to endure the potentially mind-numbing monotony of their company without the aid of alcohol. 

As you may have predicted, everyone seemed much funnier when I was drunk. (Myself included!) The result? One million surface-level relationships that I’d convinced myself were more than they were. (And an entire stand-up routine that would make you cringe very, very hard.) Sober, I’m able to decipher behaviors I appreciate from ones I was simply entertained by. Yes, those friends who entice you to dance on tables and take shots at 2 am are “fun” but have you ever sat with someone you genuinely like and laugh-wheezed your way through an entire season of Bachelor in Paradise without so much as a swig of mouthwash? It’s fucking amazing.

MONEY

You’re likely thinking that I’m referencing the money you’ll save by avoiding nights out, or the mass amounts of money you’ll save simply by not purchasing alcohol (and yes, all that money is yours too—hurrah!) but what I’m really talking about is the guilt-induced online shopping that happens in those wee hours before dawn, those hours when you’re wide awake and tired of googling “do I have a drinking problem?” (Yeah girl, buy that face mask that makes it look like your eyes are about to pop out of your head. You don’t have a problem, you just need a new juicer and fourteen bath bombs. This is the path to salvation. This is the jam.) 

As it turns out, this sort of spending is not novel. As revealed in a recent survey, last year, American consumers were said to have spent a staggering 40 BILLION dollars while drunk. As expected, the bulk of this money (52%) was spent on snacks. (Feels safe to assume that most of that 20 billion went to fries, but that’s more based on personal experience than science.) While the idea that people are spending any money while drunk is entertaining, the more outrageous categories are truly a treat. The breakdown? Somehow, “10% of people surveyed said they bought a ... car while drunk.” (Please zoom straight into this hole in my heart.) “14% caught wanderlust and booked a whole vacation.” (If an escape isn’t the answer then WHAT IS?!) Then “there was the man who reportedly bought a pig, a peacock, and a giant salamander while drunk online shopping." (The three best friends that anyone could have.) And, naturally “the couple who got wasted and purchased the hotel they were honeymooning at in Sri Lanka." (YOLO!)

Whether it’s the relatively innocent, “guess I smoke cigarettes now” type purchase, or the more serious, “I just purchased an entire fucking resort” situation, the jury is no longer out: we cannot be trusted to spend money wisely whilst intoxicated.

THE MORNING

This is no fucking joke, guys. The morning is glorious. It’s like the world’s best kept secret! Beautiful lighting, industrious little birds, infinite possibilities lying ahead. Just wow.

The first morning that I set my alarm for 5am I literally woke up hissing. Who in their right mind would subject themselves to this frigid, inhospitable start to the day? I thought. Is this what it feels like to live in Alaska? Or one of those other places that is dark for like a billion hours a day? (I was not with it.) I struggled to understand why anyone would ever do this to themselves. Didn’t people know they could set their alarms for 15 minutes before they had to leave, put some make-up over last night’s make-up (a gorgeous layered effect) maybe throw on some new clothes and head out?!

It took some getting used to, but soon, being an early-riser transformed me into one of those people who cannot help but tell you about the benefits of being an early-riser, a compulsion so strong that I’d literally risk any friendship just to get the message out. (Please email me hello@ifloststarthere.com if you’d like to talk more about these benefits. I will probably have gotten more done in the infinite hours I’ve been awake than you’ve ever gotten done in your entire life, so should have ample time to talk.)

WORK CLARITY

I’d like to say that in sobriety my workflow has morphed into something admirable and machine-like, but I still fumble through my to-do list like I always have. The difference now is, I know who I am, I know what I want, I know how to get there. (Ok, full disclosure I don’t *totally* know how to get there, but the answers are feeling increasingly more clear as the days go on.) 

There is truly nothing like alcohol to dampen and deaden all of the negative feelings you have about yourself/your life. (A real selling point when things feel shitty, but not so great if you’re actually wanting to make a change and live your best life.) When drinking, I found it easier to stay in undesirable circumstances, accept less-than-ideal arrangements and fall into the after-work drink culture that essentially perpetuates an entire industry. Sober, I’m forced to look critically at the way I spend my days because I know there isn’t going to be an escape later. This same principle seems to crop up over and over again as I work towards actively creating a life that feels good. 

TIME

I’m not just talking about the time you spent drinking/drunk/recovering (which, ugh, huge “ew” to that last one which really seemed like it kept holding on longer and longer as I got older) but also: 

• the time you spent in the middle of the night googling “what is addiction?” or “yoga for beginners” or “Will a pig, peacock and giant salamander fight?”

• the time saved from not having to explain bruises you don’t remember acquiring.

• the time spent wondering what you said/did the night before.

• the time spent wondering if you’ve got a problem.

• the time spent knowing you’ve got a problem but convincing yourself that it’s not a problem.

• the time wondering why you keep spending so much time having the same fucking conversation with yourself.

Lots of time to be saved!

SOBER SEX SOCIETY

Ok, Sober Sex Society isn’t real* but if it were, I would appoint myself president and create a flag and, while I was at it, an embroidered jean jacket and I’d throw them both at every person shopping for La Croix at Safeway on a Friday night. (Ay-o let’s be best friends!)

Truly though, I’m at a bit of a loss as to why the sober community has been holding out on us here. Consistently sober sex is, and I cannot stress this enough, THE BEST SEX! (fr)

Over are the days of half-hearted “ooooo uh-huh”s. Over are the days of inaccurate fumblings and clouded judgements. These are the days of knowing what you want and GETTING IT.

It isn’t as though I’ve never had sober sex (though plenty of people haven’t, and the fear that they feel entering such a vulnerable arena without the aid of alcohol is real and valid and not to be down-played) but when I say “consistently sober sex,” I’m implying that, in a version of your world where escape is not ever-present and readily-available, it is on you to find ways to create your own escapes, to mimic the sensations you were seeking in the first place (preferably in happy/healthy/well-adjusted ways). And in order to do this, you’ve got to know what you want. You’ve got to be able to say it, or hint at it, and, in some cases, articulate it via fast breathing or morse code or well-timed hair-pulling (??) so that you can be in control of your own pleasure and your own body.

There is an inherit complacency that comes along with drunkenness, this idea that simply being in an altered state is the joy. Sobriety, on the other hand, requires a level of intention. What am I actually looking for? And how can I find it? It makes sense then that we’d have a vested interest in figuring this shit out. There is literally no one else watching out for you and your joy and your pleasure. It’s all you, babe. And if we’re going to be left here, shackled to our own bodies, we might as well figure out what makes them feel good.

*Oh my god, but what if it IS real???

Frazzled Cafes

“We live in a time where to have a life crammed to the hilt is considered a success story. But with all this pressure, so many of us have nowhere to go to meet and talk about it. Frazzled Cafe is about people coming together to share their stories, calmly sitting together, stating their case and feeling validated as a result. Feeling heard, to me, has always been half the cure.”

— Ruby Wax

Modern life burn-out is as ubiquitous as M&S but we have this idea that we have to be all in with therapy or medication to deal with it. And we’re not knocking either (we have been and sometimes still are there), but sometimes we just need access to what we see as mental health maintenance, safe spaces to talk it out and talk it over. That’s where the network of Frazzled Cafes come in. They fill that gap between sitting alone with something, with the struggle and the frankly frazzled feelings that infiltrate our lives and our days, and pouring resources like money and time into talking cures, to committing to sessions and schedules. We need both. In fact we need all the different things, the different kinds of spaces and initiatives that might meet us where we are and hold us for the time that we’re there in whatever way we need, without judgment and with compassion.

Frazzled Cafes were launched a couple of years ago by the comedian Ruby Wax, who has recently become known as the popular author of books that include How to be Human, in which she discusses with a monk, and a neuroscientist the fundamentals of how we function as people, and A Mindfulness Guide for the Frazzled, an approachable and funny course in mindfulness. During the tour for her books, Wax had people again and again come up to her needing to talk and that was her lightbulb moment—that we all are running on empty and still finding our way through, and that we all need a way of expressing that feeling while connecting with others who are probably experiencing the same thing. 

On why that word ‘Frazzled’, Wax explains: “A neurobiologist might say that someone is ‘stuck in a state of “frazzle”. They mean that, for this person, constant stress is overloading the nervous system, flooding it with cortisol and adrenaline; their attention is fixed on what’s worrying them and not the job in hand, which can lead to burn-out.”

The genius of the idea though is that Wax reached out to M&S, the widely beloved British High Street institution, to host these talk gatherings. And with that one call, you are in seriously stigma busting territory. If the venerable M&S is in that space of talking about our emotional and psychological lives, then surely that’s ok and allowed. Plus, who doesn’t want to spend time in an M&S after hours where the sessions are held?

Frazzled Cafes now take place in M&S locations across the UK, in their cafes and sometimes community rooms. Recently the idea was also tested at High Street Bakery Le Pain Quotidien. People are invited to RSVP beforehand and some weight is given to those who have attended before. Each session lasts 75-90 minutes and starts with a meditation to bring people into the room and ground their experience. The meetings are run according to the rules of therapeutic spaces, with a set of guidelines that promotes ideas of confidentiality, kindness and support. 

If you interested in joining one of these meet-ups, sign-up for the newsletter which announces dates and venues and will link you to the RSVP for each cafe session. Just note that Frazzled Cafes are keen to point out that this is not designed to replace therapy but rather fills a need that most of us have just to be heard.

In our busy, often overwhelming lives, sometimes all we need is a safe space to talk. Frazzled Cafe is that space. And with that the issue of our mental wellbeing has now hit our high-street. Let’s keep it there. 

To find out more: Website www.frazzledcafe.org / Twitter @frazzledcafe / Facebook @frazzledcafeuk / Instagram @frazzled_cafe

Bite Unite | A cook and share community

“Modern facilities, a fully equipped commercial kitchen, business support, and a neighborhood cafe for foodie folk.”

We’re all now fully on board with the idea of co-working, of sharing work space for our laptop lives, but there’s a new idea in town, for co-working kitchens, shared cooking spaces for entrepreneurs who are happier holding a whisk and making creations of the edible kind.

The concept behind Bite Unite was first launched by amateur chef Patta Arkaresvimunin in Hong Kong in 2014, and four years later she brought it to San Francisco. Her co-working kitchens in both cities respond to a really pressing need: the huge cost barrier to creating commercial food enterprises. The set-up of just the cooking area can be prohibitive and rents, particularly in these cities, are in the make-up-numbers realm.

Bite Unite offers food entrepreneurs the chance to give it a low-risk-go by providing all the things: a licensed, insured and fully-equipped kitchen, as well as crucial software, business and community support to go along with this. 

Kitchen Memberships—which work exactly like co-working ones with full-time, part-time and day pass access (there are even food storage options)—also offer a readymade community in which to test out products, dishes and techniques.

At the SF location, there’s a pick-up service, with chefs making to order options like lunch and cookie sets and anti-inflammatory veg soup, and they get to host community dinners and pop-up events in the space—like Hawaiian food, Borek rolls, and sushi making. Current chef members we have our eye on include Prep School, a wellness cooking club and Kristie Chow of Sip Therapy

But Bite Unite extends its work beyond that of the incubator kitchen: it offers more on the public facing side too, like a pop-up series of eating focused events such as that recently offered by A Hard Pill to Swallow, a roaming dinner series that supports people of color in the culinary space. And Bite Unite functions quite simply as a community café: you can stop by the light filled space for the tastiest of mini-donuts and matcha nitro.

There’s a ton going on mostly behind the scenes but some of it is visible through light-filled windows and while seated at the central farm-table; with Bite Unite you get to choose how far you go on this food journey, all the way from creation to consumption.

To find out more: Website www.biteunite.com / Facebook @biteunite / Instagram @biteunite

The Canvas: Vegan Cafe | Creative Venue | Community Hub

“What started as one woman’s idea has now evolved to become a living, breathing embodiment of all the best parts of humanity: generosity, positivity, kindness, hope and love. This is thanks to the people who have joined The Canvas along its journey, adding their voices, ideas and energy, nurturing the space so that it’s constantly growing and evolving to be something greater.”

Brick Lane’s Canvas Café is part of Action for Happiness’ network of Happy Cafes (yes there are more) throughout the world. In fact it was London’s first. 

But what exactly is a Happy Café? What differentiates it from any other kind of caffeine-oriented place? Well, there’s a clue there—it’s less about the lattes served and more about what this space creates, the connections and the activity that happens here. 

From the outside this yellow splash of a storefront just off Brick Lane is not exactly what it seems. You can just treat The Canvas like any other café—and if you do we recommend the freakshakes, unbelievably a slab of cake perched precariously on top of a ceramic mug of your choice (we chose the cloud/ rainbow one) filled with a creamy, non-dairy milkshake. But there are hints of something else afoot with the invitation to draw on the wall and answer questions like ‘what does community mean to you?’ and ‘what’s your happy place’.

There’s also the pay-it-forward board which invites you to add a drink or meal to your order for someone who might not be able to afford it. And this café is 100% vegan and all the food served is homemade. A mission to do good, to be good, determines everything in this café. All those buzzwords: sustainablilty, local, low-footprint, form the foundations of the Canvas Cafe. This extends to the suppliers that it works with, which includes local coffee purveyor Square Mile Coffee and Pip+Nut which doesn’t use any palm oil.

Beyond its café appearance it’s kind of the dream of positivity, exactly the kind of place that we find ourselves longing for at If Lost Start Here. The Canvas puts people—their ideas, their needs, their lives—at the center of what it does. That means there’s true generosity in how it operates. And if there’s a bit of cynicism there, let’s get that out the way right now. This isn’t some wishy-washy place that makes nice aphorisms and cute branding. It fundamentally operates from a place of living its values and combats such lifestyle nasties as loneliness, mental ill health, and climate change.

This is all encapsulated in the Community Hub, a white-walled blank canvas of a space for individuals, organizations and charities to try out their ideas for positive activitism. Renting space is expensive in London but this one room is offered for free to incubate ideas that can make people’s lives better. In return The Canvas just asks for donations to its Pay It Forward program.

The Community Hub has become a vital early supporter of innovative ideas for those things that we’re now finding we need in our lives to function better. Future events on the schedule include Hugs and Cuddle workshops, free meditation sessions from Inner Space, and improv for life. It already has an impactful history of supporting great causes in their early days: Places like the Museum for Happiness and Mike’s Table (which serves refugees) got their start here. 

Since it was founded in 2014, by Ruth Rogers (not River Café, but the actress and puppeteer) as the blank space for the community and an outlet for both creativity and positivity, The Canvas has flourished. It now has an active program of partnerships. Each month sees 50-60 events with everyone from the perfectly named Revolting Vegans Supper Club—which offers a 6-course menu while taking on issues around food waste and the environmental impact of what we don’t get to eat—to Raining Sessions, where twenty-somethings get to share their stories and receive support. And The Canvas roams off-site too: over the summer they provided free meals and sport and craft activities to kids in Tower Hamlets. 

Exhausted yet? The Canvas wants to do even more. They have just completed a fundraising campaign to renovate the Community Hub space which means more events, more support of great ideas, more people helped, more grass roots beneficial social change. Add another 5-years, we hope, and The Canvas will have brought even more people together in that big ole-city of London around positivity, innovation and creativity. 

To find out more: website www.thecanvascafe.org / Instragram @thecanvascafee1 / Twitter @thecanvascafe / Facebook @thecanvascafeE1

Teatulia | A Literary Tea Bar with A Living Bookshelf

“Teatulia is an organic tea bar in the heart of London’s Covent Garden with a literary twist.”

A blend of fresh mint and lemongrass entices you into a stylish jewel-colored space with a cozy living room vibe. The manager Valentine greets you warmly. At a small curved terrazzo-topped bar hot and cold organic teas are served as well as beautifully executed tea cocktails (and best of all mocktails). A small complimentary food menu of pastries and colorful tea-infused cakes accompanies the selections. A buzzy mix of families and couples fill the mid-century-influenced vignettes. It’s all designed to encourage intimate conversation. This is Teatulia.

Given that my favorite things in life are tea, books and cocktails, you can understand my excitement when I discovered this gem, located in Covent Garden, London. Conceived as a ‘tea shop like no other; a space for conversation and contemplation’, Teatulia delivers. It’s a tea house, cocktail bar and literary salon all rolled into one. And it’s all in the details: Every hot tea is served with an infuser and a timer so you can be involved in brewing the tea yourself, what a novel idea in being present and slowing down.

The piece de resistance of Teatulia’s offering is its ‘Living Bookshelf’, a rotating selection of book titles curated by authors, actors and celebrities. The brainchild of actor Tilda Swinton—who curated their first bookshelf—it was inspired by her own experience: “Reading and tea leaves go together like breathing in and breathing out. Go slow. Take time to brew yourself some harmony. Separate the signal from the noise.” You can hear more from Swinton on reading, tea and her early career on Teatulia’s new podcast, which also features Lionel Shriver and collaborations with Granta Magazine.

Beyond its literary ambitions (writer Elizabeth Day also records her podcast here), Teatulia has an important social justice focus: it’s tea is organically produced by 3,500 women who run a garden in Northern Bangladesh. The tea garden provides jobs, education and healthcare for their workers and their families. 

We know its usually all about coffee, but you know sometimes its needs to be about tea. Definitely treat yourself to this cozy respite, and be sure to check out their literary events and tea pairings while you’re at it.

To find out more: Website www.teatuliabar.com / Instagram @teatuliauk / Facebook @Teatuliauk

Cafes for Life: Are Cafes Good for our Mental Wellbeing?

Last night my daughter Ottilie ended up in the ER. It wasn’t serious. That’s not this story. As we walked off the beach, my son threw a stone at her and though she was supposed to duck behind the boogie board, she didn’t. It punctured her eyebrow and off we went to get it glued and pulled back together. 

This morning, at Kindergarten drop-off, Ottilie wobbled. She was worried about the plaster getting wet, worried about the rain forecast, worried about it being Monday morning and that she would be away from me again.

And I wobbled too. I felt her anxiety—felt it with my own, seeping through my body. I carried all of it into the beginning of my week too: The moment I saw the blood streaming down the left side of her face and my son screaming ‘it’s her eye, it’s her eye’. The fear of what might have happened, of washing away all that red to figure out how serious it was, the anger that my son had caused this and that my daughter was in pain. 

I felt it keenly this morning when I awoke, that long evening in the ER waiting room, with kind doctors and nurses paying attention to this little girl still in her beach wetsuit, trying to stay calm and positive as I wanted to vomit into the trash can. And I felt too the effects of that very large glass of rose I used to dull my nerves on an empty stomach when I got home, and the kids finally slept. I felt it again and again, the vulnerability that is our world with children, and the times our lives smash into pauses of the non-self-care kind, but of the nothing-else-matters-because-my-kid-is-hurt-and-I-do-not-care-in-this-or-any-other-moment-how-many-followers-I-have-on-Instagram kind.

But we’re here now. On a Monday morning. With all the feelings. In need of pulling it all back together, to similarly glue the opposing sides of myself. To get back to work, to life. I know I’m supposed to do this: drop off the kids, walk home to my study, sit down and work. But instead I do this: drop off the kids and drive to a café. Sit down and work. Because this, getting myself to a café, feels good to me.

Here, in this bustling space, with the sound of the espresso machine, and frankly quite horrible music playing, here is my solace. This café is the balm, these people I don’t know sitting next to me, are the answer that I’ve found to sitting also with the sometimes ickyness of life. It’s cafés that I turn to for something, some cossetting. I don’t go for a run, I don’t go to the gym, I head here. To cradle a large latte and to feel ok again. 

Home represents something else: maybe a spiraling down, an empty space to fill with feelings, the weight of family needs that populate it. But here, there’s no empty something to fill, it’s already filled to the brim with chatter and other people lives, adjacent to my own. None of this belongs to me, but I get to witness and to brush against other people’s stories, to be distracted from my own. 

Maybe I’m avoidant. But I know I’m not running away. I still bring the crap with me, it just sits better here, perched on a stool looking out at the world. It’s not a ‘let’s not do this’, more of a ‘let’s do this’ but with a blanket of cafeness. Can that be a word? What’s does that even mean here—warmth, people, place?

My life is a long-read in cafes—my coming-of-age story happened not at the Hacienda in Manchester in a period of music that was to become quite defining (Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets, Stone Roses, you know), but at the now defunct Cornerhouse café (since morphed into Home) a pretentious enough place that reflected my tendency to rave in my own mind and happily alone. Attending University in Edinburgh it was the Elephant House where JK Rowling wrote some book. In London, actually Caffé Nero (sorry - there’s a nice one in Chiswick). In San Francisco, there were too many to count—this was the polyamorous part of my café love (in a pinch we’d go for Ritual, The Mill, Coffee Bar and the Equator locations). This was when I could get lost in a neighborhood, and find its people lounging in some carefully designed caffeinated environment. 

Then came one of the blows to being a new parent: realizing that toddlers don’t do well in fancy, artisan places—which is why Blue Bottle’s takeaway counter at San Francisco’s Ferry Building does so well for us, and Sightglass doesn’t. And also, the realization, if I could not do anything else in my day with a baby in the sling, too knackered to function in the sleep deprivation months, I could get myself to a café where I knew the barista and a handful of people. They would be kind enough to acknowledge me as a person, not just a mama, and I could have that sensation that I was still a grown up, because going for coffee was something only real adults got to do, right? A little older, my kids now know the equation, playground + coffee shop (the brits do this best: see Bath’s Alice Park Cafe). When we travel, our sight-seeing comes with best guides to coffee shops as much as things to do with kids (thanks The Almond Thief, Moo and Two, Society Café, The Hobo Co, the Hairy Barista, The Hatch and Cargo Coffee – our favourite places that dotted our summer holidays). 

Maybe I’m weird. Maybe this is an unusual anomaly to put out there in self-care (which autocorrects to self-café btw, which makes no sense at all). But there’s some science behind this. And it’s all around ‘minimal social interactions’, which are vital to our mental wellbeing. The NPR podcast Life Kit put me on to this, a study by Dr. Gillian Sandstrom at the University of Essex that she conducted on whether people were happier even through weak ties, i.e. connections with people that we barely know and with whom we have limited contact. In short, she studied the impact on people of their interaction with a barista. She defined two groups, one that had just a functional interaction with the barista, and the other who chatted a little more with them. Then she asked them some questions on the way out of the cafe. Her study concluded that people were more satisfied, connected and happier, if they had engaged the barista, even for just a little while. 

Cafes do this work. The work of connection, of putting people in front of us, with our nods and their smiles, our how are you's and what about the weathers. They helps us. I know that, less scientifically, because for my dad who cares full-time for my mum, a cup of coffee in a café means he’s less lonely. A few words exchanged and he’s a person again not just a carer. 

Cafes are our third spaces, that mythical place between work and home. Sometimes they are even our work locations as I type away on my laptop. As high streets fall apart and our communities fragment, cafes are becoming one of the few places we can actually go to be with others. They are vital to our wellbeing. 

Real-world initiatives are building on this, like the Chatter & Natter tables now in over 1000 cafes across the UK (including at Costa and piloted this year in Sainsbury’s) that sets aside a table for strangers to chat and aims to combat loneliness. This scheme brilliantly responds to two very contradictory things: that 75% of us would like more real-life conversations and that we don’t know how to do this. Ever found yourself sat in a cafe and looking around at all the other people sat alone too who you might be able to chat with if you didn’t feel so uncomfortable about approaching them? Chatter & Natter tables make it easy: if you want to talk to someone, you choose to sit at one of these tables. You don’t need to forge forever friendships, but you can make your day better by talking to a person for the time it takes to drink your coffee, maybe even for longer. It’s an ingenious, and super simple, way of making the world less lonely. Even the guinea-pig themed café in FleaBag had Chatty Wednesdays.

Cafes for us are the main way we get to be in the world while deciding how and if we interact with other people. Some cafes are really getting this by actively building connection into what they do or finding ways to provide sustaining spaces of comfort and intimacy. Some are just making sure they exist beyond the beverages on offer. London’s Drink Shop Do has built connection (and craft and bottomless brunches) into their space with an active program of events and a welcoming style. Brooklyn’s IXV promotes a no-waste, people-first ethos. New Jersey’s The Peccary gets the central role baristas play, and puts their wellbeing, their knowledge of the product and their interactions with customers, at the heart of what they do.

Sometimes it’s in an even more direct response to our mental health needs: In Chicago, Sip of Hope is one of the first cafés where 100% of their profits go towards suicide prevention and mental health education. Wallers Coffee Shop in Atlanta was founded to take on the stigma of depression, through offering music, mental health first aid, even a wall of resources. Dear M&S has been getting in on the act for a while: select cafes have for the past few years been used after-hours for Ruby Wax’s Frazzled Cafes. And there’s even a network of Happy Cafes worldwide, realized in association with Action for Happiness, that count our psychological wellbeing next to the lattes on their menus.

Self-care takes many forms. Being in a cafe is one of them for us. Maybe even for you too?

Tell us about cafes you know that are your respite from the world, or make space for something you need, or that make mental wellbeing part of their impact. Over the next few weeks we'll look more at some of these places and bring them into our guide for in real-life locations that help us better live our lives.

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Discover more places to feel connected

Culture Therapy | Mental Wellbeing

We went through a period of reading mental health memoirs: The Center Cannot Hold, Touched With Fire, Darkness Visible, My Age of Anxiety. We sought them out for information, for resources, for shared experiences. We held onto Andrew Solomon’s The Noonday Demon and Elizabeth Wurtzel’s Prozac Nation. We returned again and again to The Bell Jar. We looked to something outside ourselves that made sense of what was happening in our own minds, in our own lives, and with friends, colleagues and family also impacted by depression, anxiety, and other diagnosed and undiagnosable conditions. Through reading we found a way forward that wasn’t yet being spoken about; admittedly we sat alone with our books trying to locate ourselves and others we loved.

Thinking about this, our Prescription for Mental Wellbeing, we’ve realized that there’s been a huge shift in how we now get to talk about our mental health. There are now what seems to be an abundance of publications, podcasts, films and programs which to us collectively say no to that stigma that had previously left us alone with our experiences. There’s been a huge surge in positive media that has created a very real platform for our very real stories. Narratives that are now out there which take ownership of the conversation; that take someone’s experience and throw it out into the world so that we too can shift our relationship with what mental health means and how it shapes us and those around us.

These examples don’t glamorize mental health as bohemian or creative, rather they allow for truth and pain and joy and loss and connection, and for a deep, sometimes lifelong search for equilibrium and understanding. You will find in these pages and in these narratives, lives lived within, or touched by, consumed or imploded, maybe even adjacent to, issues around mental wellbeing. Our culture is now holding this space in a very different way than before for issues around depression, anxiety and mental health more widely. Messy, and unresolved sometimes. Hopeful and self-aware always. And for that we are very, very grateful.

Take up a book, head to Netflix, listen to something on your way to work. Support this shift and these very brave voices. Acknowledge that there are humans behind these stories putting themselves out there so that we may have a way to live our own situations outwardly. Make this openness last. Because we can not go back to not talking, to not reaching out, to being hidden and confused. To being alone with our books and our questions and our lives which didn’t have a place in the world and now very much do.

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Read | Anxiety Empire

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Read | Happiful

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Read | Doll Hospital Mag

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Read | Anxy Mag

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Watch | Sex Education

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Watch | Dickinson

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Watch | The Queen's Gambit

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Watch | Fleabag

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Watch | Billie Eilish: The World’s a Little Blurry

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See | Candy Chang

18 Reasons

“18 REASONS - EMPOWERING OUR COMMUNITY WITH THE CONFIDENCE AND CREATIVITY TO BUY, COOK, AND EAT GOOD FOOD EVERY DAY.”

The Community Cooking School 18 Reasons has been a staple of San Francisco’s foodie Mission district for over a decade. Founded by Sam Mogannam as a non-profit extension of his popular family-run grocery store Bi-Rite Market to further his interests in food and community, 18 Reasons is now part of an esteemed community of businesses that includes one of the best ice-cream shops in the city and a 3-acre Sonoma farm.

18 Reasons is no ordinary cookery school though. Even that vague bucket of a place holder doesn’t entirely encompass what this storefront is. Yes, there’s the classroom at the 18th Street space that has a family-style dinner table set-up and a fully equipped teaching kitchen. It offers hands-on lessons on everything from eating more meatless and fish butchery, to food as medicine and mini-culinary boot camps on whatever it is you long to cook. It was here that I learnt how to really wash and prep leeks as well as how to eat mindfully. Both of equal value. 

If you want to go on a deeper dive into food culture you can attend their 6-month Farm School at Bi-Rite’s wine country outpost, which gets you into the nitty gritty of the food system including planting and harvesting and is taught by the company’s own buyers and farmers. For a more cerebral though equally as fun take (past programs have included the seminal question: ‘what if Wes Anderson made s’mores’), in October, there’s the Annual Food + Farm Food Fest, that has been running since 2013 and this year takes place at the Roxie Theater.

What most excites us though about 18 Reasons is how it situates food within community, at every practical level. There’s the cookbook lending library – an inspired idea as we cycle through multiple volumes each year and sheepishly hand them back splattered and floured to our local, maybe less understanding, civic library. Communal dinners are convened on the last Wednesday of every month, on open invitation to gather with friends and strangers alike over a dinner cooked by a guest chef. 

The jewel of their community crown though is the Cooking Matters program, which brings issues of food equity into the purview of what we consume, how we shop, and what we get to make for ourselves and our families. It’s a six-week series made available to low-income communities across the Bay Area on how to buy, cook and eat good food. Reaching 3,500 people each year and located within school programs, community centers, clinics, shelters, housing sites, and health centers, this free course covers nutrition as well as cooking skills. Anyone can volunteer to assist with this program – you just need an interest in food to apply. So, if you are looking for more meaning in your life, this might be the way to go. 

What we eat matters. Food matters. To our bodies, to our minds. To the people around us – our neighbors, our communities. To those who grow, harvest it and distribute it. To the environment with which we’re in a Faustian pact to produce it. On every level and in every way, though we often take each of these aspects for granted, food matters. 18 Reasons is the perfect corrective to our narrow way of approaching food; it tells all the stories that there are around it, many in ways that we’ve yet to hear but so badly need to.

To find out more: Website www.18reasons.org / Twitter @18reasons / Instagram @18reasons / Facebook @18reasons

NB: If you are not local, take a look at Feed Your People: Big-Hearted Big Batch Gatherings and the Food We Gather Around, co-authored by the people at 18 Reasons.

The Newt

“The Newt in Somerset is a country estate with magnificent woodland and gardens. The core is Georgian, with limestone buildings the colour of burnt orange, the seat of the Hobhouse family for more than two centuries. Innovative design is paired with the freshest produce from our gardens, beautiful country walks, superb service and a world-class spa – wrapping you in a sense of wellbeing.”

The Newt is a chic kind of Arcadia. A 300-acre Somerset estate transformed into nature pristine, the English landscape given a contemporary makeover. From the walk along a wooden platform that takes you up through the woods from the car park, through to the stunning Threshing Barn that marks its entrance (note the waving ceiling sculpture), to the open courtyard dotted with apple press, Cyder Bar (which serves 6 different varieties of ciders produced on the estate) and Farm Shop, you are cossetted in a dreamy version of the natural world. 

That’s before you even get to the gardens themselves, which is the real reason you are here – though you might think that’s lunch at the stunningly situated Garden Café where you get to enjoy food created from the bounty of what’s around you and in-house charcuterie, breads and pastries (also check the covetable chef notebook style menus). 

But it is the landscaping that is supposed to be the main draw – the 30 acres of finely crafted gardens that recently opened to the public after years of work. They serve as a serene escape from it all, as well as taking you through a carefully constructed horticultural history that reaches back two thousand years (and The Newt shows this through the plants, trees and design itself rather than any non-immersive signage). 

Highlights include the walled Parabola gardens conceived to function as a maze once it gets going and that also contains apples from every county in England and the sensory delight of a walkway made of crushed sea shells. We had soft spots for the fantasy of a Victorian greenhouse dotted with ferns and the joy inducing woven egg sculptures that the kids curled up in by South African designer Porky Hefer. The woodland walks contain hidden interventions in nature, including a spiral pathed heap of a hill, with views down the valley from its perfectly placed telescope. And there is an abundance of apple motifs - one ambition of the place is the have the best apple collection in the UK. It’s worth booking a daily tour by one of the estate’s gardeners to get a true understanding of the complexity contained with it.

The startling thing is this is oh but Phase 1 of The Newt, which only just opened to the public earlier this year. This August saw the opening of the country house at the center of the estate, Hadspen House, restored into an inviting hotel with all its Georgian glory in tact, The Stable Yard to bed down in similar luxury, and a stunning, ‘garden-scented’ Spa for soaking away worries. Later phases include a gardening college and museum, a succulent garden, as well as a lake inspired by King Arthur (!) amongst other ambitions for the site 

The Newt—named after the four-legged amphibious creatures who cross the estate—is the lavish imagining of South African billionaire Koos Bekker and his wife Karen Roos. From the moment they bought the estate in 2013, they have used their means and have found the ways—enlisting French architect Patrice Taravella and gardeners and chefs of a similar pedigree—to make real their ambitious vision for the place, and then share it with us.

But the key here, and we kept forgetting this as we wandered around and the kids played in the fountains, is that this is a working farm and a sustainable enterprise in which much of the produce grown here is served here, even the deer provide venison for the restaurants, the roaming hens eggs and the grazing water buffalo mozzarella. The Newt prides itself on careful cultivation, not just of craftsmanship and artisan practices, but across the whole project. It’s a finely conceived ecosystem of its own. And they have designed a place for you in it. 

Lose yourself at The Newt for a day. Slow down here. And lean into the magazine spread beauty that is England, utopian.

Find out more: Website www.thenewtinsomerset.com/ Facebook @theNewtinSomerset / Instagram @theNewtinSomerset / Twitter @theNewtSomerset

Top tip: The Newt can be a little pricey - when we were there, we were able to convert our day pass into a season pass through the app Candide – it’s worth asking if this offer is still current. 

The Interval

“Fostering long-term responsibility.”

As humans we’re obsessed by time, with running through our days while also being in the moment.  We’re a little confused about it. To get a more balanced, holistic view head to San Francisco’s The Interval, a unique blend of a café, salon, museum, and the home of The Long Now Foundation. Here time is very much slowed down and experienced for what it really is: infinite. Well that’s the hope anyway: Those books you’ll find on the floor-to-ceiling height shelves contain the wisdom to rebuild civilization. 

The Interval is playing the longest of long games. Mechanical prototypes for a 10,000 year clock (yep, that blows our mind too) sit next to more contemporary, transient art exhibitions. Even the menu of bespoke drinks and food is time-inspired (see the perfectly named cocktail I’ve Grown to Love Life Too Much). But this is no gimmicky, temporal theme park. Rather this is a location that is thoughtfully (and maybe essentially) holding space for the idea that the long view matters. 

This is made manifest most clearly in the program of conversations and lectures with scientists, technologists, creatives and entrepreneurs across subjects that take in climate, astronomy, psychology, the arts, any discipline really that intersects with an idea of the long-term (an approach that maybe encompasses everything, or should at least if we’re wise about it). Recent talks, available to watch online, have included  primatologist Elizabeth Lonsdorf talking about how evolution and human behavior can be understood through studying primates, former NASA astronaut Ed Lu speaking to the importance of mapping our solar system, and historian Caroline Winterer on the idea of “deep time”, the billions of years we humans struggle to get our heads around. 

You’ll find The Interval on one of our favourite sites in San Francisco, Fort Mason Center—which itself has evolved and shifted over its lifespan from military base to its latest iteration of culture center. Nab the coveted nook room for a coffee or drink, and you’ll also get a spectacular view of the city’s prized bay and the famous bridge that marks it entrance—testaments themselves to the natural and human forces that have shaped this region’s recent history. Then feel the awe of it all, the years past and those to come, while sipping on an in-the-moment latte and pulling one of those books, like Jorge Luis Borges’ Funes the Memorious or Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber, from the shelves. Then just be here right now.

To find out more: Website www.theinterval.org/ Twitter @interval / Facebook @longnowinterval / Instagram @theinterval