My Friend The Encourager
And all the times he shows up
Mural by artist Dallas Clayton
It was 3 am on a Saturday night and I didn’t expect to learn anything profound about human nature.
I didn’t think I would do much figurative dot-connecting after drinking for a few hours at a concert, eating two slices of Big G’s pizza, and making a late-night appearance at the Drum and Monkey Pub. My friend works as a bartender at said pub and I was staying at her place in the city for the week.
We had hung out at this bar quite a bit during my stay and I was loving it — flying high on some big-shot thoughts that went something like, “My one friend works at this bar, so we are basically the characters in How I Met Your Mother when they have the same booth every night, or like in New Girl when Nick is a bartender and his friends hang and drink after closing time.”
Some snapshots of what I thought my life was suddenly like, sitting at a bar that I had been to three times
So my two friends and I peeked into the window of Drum (what the ~regulars~ call it) late that night and saw a lot of smoking and shenanigans happening inside. Like I said, the confidence was in full supply, so we walked in like we owned the place.
After walking in, it was immediately clear that a rap battle was going on.
The battle was between the bouncer and the owner of the bar. The two of them were distinct characters and I instantly knew I liked them.
The owner of the bar, Ben, is the closest a normal person has ever come to Jack Black — in appearance and also in general behavior. His rhymes were solid, especially considering the fact that he was simultaneously preparing drinks for the employees who were smoking cigs (and other such things) on the other side of the bar.
After Ben’s verse collapsed, a new treat followed. The bouncer, who was ever-so-endearingly named “Shadow”, proceeded to blow our minds with what escaped his mouth. This guy — who reminded me of an even friendlier Will Smith but with long locs and a sweet expression— he could rap. And it was better than any song on the Big Willie Style album, I’ll tell you that much.
I couldn’t believe that he was spitting these cleverly crafted and perfectly witted words without having any time to prepare. I was just sitting there in awe — clapping and screaming, high-fiving my hands off. We all chatted in between his bars, laughing and back-patting Shadow.
At some point, I gained the courage to start spewing my own horrible verses. I even interrupted Shadow’s rap about cheese with a hook I jacked from some other preexisting melody. Mediocre and unoriginal to boot.
But Shadow was going crazy. He kept applauding my less-that-average rhymes and poorly-constructed lyrics. He was treating me like I was Beyonce and Jay-Z combined. It was no such thing. It was brutal. But he was kind and I was having fun.
I still can’t exactly explain why, but Shadow was someone I’ll remember for a long time. Something about his kind face, his bright presence. He was hilarious, welcoming, reassuring.
I know it was just a silly little rap battle in a silly little bar in the wee hours of the morning, but it was something I needed at the time — a few months after graduating, still unemployed and feeling more lost and lonely than I’d ever felt.
That night at 3 am with my friends, Ben the Bar-owner, and Shadow the Rapper (aka Angel), I was given something special. I needed this little glimpse as a piece to a puzzle I’d been struggling with over the past few months.
I was figuring out a little something called encouragement.
…
I had been learning this lesson on encouragement for a few months without even realizing it.
I learned it when I talked to my best friends over the phone, some hundreds of miles away, who would lend me kind words when I felt like the world’s lamest and most directionless person.
I learned it when I saw my mom, day after day, being burdened with the weight of my whole family’s stresses, mine included. How she continues to tirelessly hand out nuggets of support and motivation to us every single day, while still trying to stay positive and motivated herself.
And I learned it each time I witnessed someone speak an encouraging word to another weary soul, noticing it more and more each time and then saying to myself, “I could do that. To make the world lighter. For someone else. Or maybe even for me.”
…
I have a little book of words and illustrations I bought for a couple of my best friends (and one for myself) called Think About Someone You Love by Dallas Clayton.
The charming and adorable little drawings and sentiments are a great pick-me-up, especially at a time when everything around you feels like a million little question marks adding up to an even bigger question mark- shaped universe that you can’t seem to find your place in.
Some of Clayton’s encouraging artwork
After reading it through a few times, I eventually grew very fond of a page with a small drawing of a colorful and moppy little creature. Above the drawing is written ENC-OUR-AGER. I found myself using clothes pins to hold open and display the little book to this page, with The Encourager shining all of his encouragement upon me every time I’d let him.
The Encourager drawing (right) and my display of it in my bedroom (left)
One day when my mom came into my room, I pointed to the displayed picture and said, “Look! It’s you!” She gave a half-hearted chuckle that led me to believe that she didn’t even realize her true identity. Either that, or she is the most humble Encourager of all time.
I know it’s small and silly but The Encourager helps me. He reminds me to build others up. To remind them that the rhymes they’re rapping sound smoother than they think and their days ahead are brighter than they know. Even at the times when I feel down myself.
He reminds me that even if my life feels different now, and even though this week I’m weepy and feel like the whole world is moving and I’m standing still— I am still good and things will get better.
I am glad to have met The Encourager on that little page of my book, on the phone with a familiar voice, at a smoky bar, in my own home — and even, with a little practice, somewhere deep in my own mind.
…
Last week I made a little deal with myself that I would listen to a podcast episode everyday — just to lift me up and to engage in a fruitful conversation with someone without the talking, just the listening part.
I am a huge fan of the On Being podcast with Krista Tippet. Her voice is like honey and cinnamon and it soothes my sometimes heavy little soul and I love it. She’s like my radio mom.
Krista was interviewing an illustrator and writer named Maira Kalman about her delicious art and gorgeous outlook on the world. I found myself hanging on each of their every word.
Some of Maira Kalman’s lovely illustrations (can you tell that art encourages me?!?!?!)
Besides reading the obituaries everyday because “it shows all the little things that make up a life”, being incredibly in love with Abe Lincoln, and walking twice a day with her friend in Central Park, Maria also creates brilliantly colorful and playful illustrations.
When she and Krista were discussing her illustrations, Krista mentioned that Maira’s art and writing are almost like little encouragements (there’s that word again, can you find the theme!!!)
Maria responds and says, “Right, but then I get annoyed at being so encouraging, and I say, ‘Wait. I have black moods too. Don’t be so encouraged. It’s not so good.’”
And then Krista comes back with, “ I know what you’re saying. That sounds kind of cheesy and romantic and optimistic, to be encouraging. But it’s not. It’s complex.”
Maira agrees and Krista notes that although it may be unfashionable to be encouraging, it is also very necessary.
This was another piece to my encouragement puzzle. Encouragement is hard work. It’s not all roses and butterflies and it’s not easy as pie.
I highly recommend that you give the full podcast a listen for some good soul food
The Encourager is strong. The Encourager is brave. The Encourager has the ability to quite literally instill courage and will into someone else. This is quite the job we’re given.
I love a good punk rock or indie song about how some dude’s girl left him so the world is a cryptic place just as much as the next gal (their words are true to them and their art is valid), but I think the Cat Stevens of the world are the real MVPs
Literally the most encouraging song of all time which I blast in the car when I feel like an unmotivated doofus
It’s tough to be The Encourager and it’s not always the sexiest thing on earth. But the world desperately needs it.
…
I know that I have a tendency to connect the dots.
I know that I want everything to come back to everything else and have a grand reason and a greater purpose that all boils down to one little take-away wrapped in a tiny present with a bow on top.
I know I’m this way and I often need to settle down and tell myself, “Girl, it’s just life — we don’t have all the answers!”
I know that life isn’t one big Full House episode when Stephanie keeps getting hints of a lesson she has to learn about sharing or growing up and then as if it wasn’t clear enough to the audience that this is the point of the episode, we reach the end of the 30 minutes and we hear the light, emotional music in the background and Danny sits her down on her ballerina bed and gives her the big life lesson speech and and we all smile and nod our heads and say “Mmmhhhmm that’s nice” and feel good forever.
I know this isn’t how real life works. But I think there’s a middle ground.
I think that sometimes, if we listen to people and keep our eyes and ears open like when the greatest living poet Mary Oliver says, “Attention is the beginning of devotion” and realize that sometimes we are quietly and discretely given the pieces in a few different places. And if we just pay a little closer attention, maybe we can put together a puzzle that can teach us how to be better at treating other people and maybe even ourselves.
Maybe The Encourager lives inside each of us.
Maybe we just have to listen a little more carefully to hear him.
Maybe he’s just waiting to bust out and make a grand entrance.
