5 ways you can eat well, build soil, and help rebuild the planet: A Kiss the Ground Purchasing Guide
"Today, your purchasing choices are more powerful than ever. — Regenerative agricultural systems produce healthier and tastier food, support clean air and water, and contribute to a future we can proudly pass on to our grandchildren. The following guide will illuminate the ways we can help build, support, and contribute to these systems right now, by making mindful purchasing decisions, starting today."Kiss The Ground empowers people to restore soil and helps accelerate the adoption of regenerative agriculture.
Including Your Family In The Ins & Outs of Business From the Perspective of Connie Matisse of East Fork Pottery
If there is a common thread that binds us all as makers and especially as parents it's that no one (no matter what social media tells us) has it totally figured out. We can rest in the confidence that there are approximately 1 million (we counted) other people out there asking the same questions to their friends and colleagues as they try and balance the world that is work and home. The good stuff comes when you are willing to examine what works for you and yours and what doesn't. We checked in with Connie Matisse of East Fork Pottery to give us a rundown on what running a successful business and being a mom of two looks for her like during a regular work week.
“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Lowercase's journey began in 2015 with a love of eyewear and commitment to American manufacturing. After decades of decline, American eyewear manufacturing was all but extinct, giving way to an industry dominated by overseas production. "We want to breathe new life into American eyewear through a focus on high quality, small batch production. An integration of new technologies with traditional techniques is driving our vision forward. "
Jamie and Casey Davis, co-founders and owners of Portola Paints & Glazes, were born and raised in Los Angeles to a family of artists. Mentored by their father, a high-end custom home builder, Jamie and Casey inherited a deeply rooted love for design and color, and found their passion for the arts at an early age when they began exploring photography, painting, and architecture.
Using his dad's hand me down Nikon 35 mm camera, Jamie developed and honed his skill set in photography, while Casey became enamored with mixing natural pigments and investigating the alchemy of color. Drawing inspiration from their artistic pursuits, their extensive travels, and the vibrant Southern California landscape they call home, their work quickly grew beyond the lens and the canvas to create the flourishing palette of hues, textures, and finishes that would form the Portola brand.
Similar to a sponge, our skin absorbs whatever we put on it — including all those lotions, makeups, perfumes, serums, etc. we've used before without knowing exactly what's in them. It can be intimidating to pick juuust the right one with so many options. We've been there.
But with a world of beauty products swirling around us, we honed in on 10 ingredient-conscious brands who craft intentional and natural products that are kind in every way. Each values the wellbeing of body, mind and the environment, so you can feel good about using them in the day to day. We owe it to ourselves to treat our body well however we can! It will do the same to us in return. So why wouldn't you give it the good stuff?
Jumpsuit by Ola Mai
In the space of a month, my heat broke in 11 degree weather, my zipper failed at work while I was going commando, I woke up with a cockroach on my head, my husband definitively left me for the great city of LA, my parents closed our family restaurant of 63 years without telling me. And most surprising of all- l was laid off.
Halfway through January, at the culmination of all these events, I start to wonder when my white lady breakdown is going to come. When am I going to sit on the floor of the bathroom praying for the first time, or refuse to take a balloon from a child on the bus? When am I going to have the desire to buy an Italian chateau or walk across the desert alone?
Because to have a breakdown, I'd first have to be heartbroken. And I'm not heartbroken, not even a little. Sure, in the past I've had my share of pain in every shade of the rainbow, but these days my main qualifier is "relieved."
Shortly before Christmas, I write to my friend Marlee and am surprised to find that I am so decidedly not heartbroken I title the email "heartbread." Because sourdough takes up more space in my mind and soul than most anything else.
On the last day of 2017, she writes back:
It can get so incredibly dark and sad
the grief circles back in the most unexpected corners
and you just have to meet it
and let it in
and then usher it out.She's right. The very next day I'm at an engagement party and a woman tells a story about my friend and her fiancee. My friend was throwing a party and she forgot something, so her fiancee went to the store to get it. She called him a dozen different times- she forgot this, she forgot that, oh, he left the store? Can he please go back to get one more thing? And each time he said yes, I'm here to help you. That is where grief met me, in the middle of a room full people raising glasses of champagne to the happy couple. Grief said, remember that day last summer when you asked your husband to pick up a box of peaches from the farmer's market and he looked at you and said, why is that my problem?
That night, lying in bed, I start to consider how very fortunate I am to not have to answer questions like that anymore. I sleep soundly through the night for the first time in three years.
Please don't think that the beginning of my year was easy or painless. Please don't think that I am some kind of superwoman who is "OMG SO BRAVE." Please don't think that I am callous or cold, that I do not mourn the loss of hope I had put into my work and my marriage. Most of all, please don't confuse my lack of brokenness with a lack of exhaustion. Shit hitting the fan will wear out the calmest among us, if only from explaining said shit to everyone you know until blue in the face. Me? I've been sitting in a room with a cow shitting into a tennis ball machine pointed at a cyclone for the better part of two years. At the end I had nothing to show for enduring the shit storm, so I began to clean up after it. And that wore me out too.
Halfway through January, at the culmination of all these events, blue as the moon at the start of the year, I think, I need a real solution. I decide not to drink or smoke or work for all of February; to sit with my thoughts and pain and desires; to look Grief directly in the eye. Immediately I am uncomfortable with the idea, not only because my bank account and all of society and history are staunchly opposed, but because what lies on the other side of it is so foreign to me. I notice myself seeking out other numbing quick fixes- my phone, TV, neurotically cleaning my house- often. I try to remind myself that noticing is where stopping starts.Here I am at the end of the month and I am frustrated to report that Grief is a demon who never dies and healing is a process that shows no signs of an end point. Oddly enough, embracing both of these facts has been as good of a baseline for comprehensive health as any. The more times I look Grief in the eye, the more worn down his path to the door becomes.