REPUBLISHED: Why do I stay?
On choosing the Midwest Creative Life
My dear friend Emma is in the process of moving her life from Kansas City to New York City for the exact reasons I am trying to compel you to ignore. And it’s been an interesting study for me in how different people value such different parts of their lives as I am so incredibly excited for her to do the thing I would never want to do.
Emma and I grew up in eastern Iowa and met at our summer camp in Boone. Since 12 years old I remember her telling me she wanted to move out of Iowa. And she did when she moved to a Kansas City suburb in high school. I could tell, from afar, that my friend was finding the “more” she had always wanted in this bigger world with more interesting people and the space to branch out into different parts of herself.
But still, it wasn’t what she needed. She told me a few months ago that what she needs is a faster pace of life, the ability to live as loudly as possible with no one telling her to quiet down, the creative ecosystem that is already so firmly established.
I can’t fault her for that. Especially when the only thing standing between her and everything she hopes for is a plane ride.
I often wonder about my own motivations for staying in the Midwest and trying to build a stronger system, something better. I think often about why I didn’t make the same choice as Emma, to move to a place where the arts and culture scene is already known as a place where dreams come true. Why I’ve decided to play some part in creating such a scene here.
I don’t know if I have a true, straightforward answer as to why I decided to stay in Iowa. It’s probably the same thing that drives most decisions in my life—my gut told me so. I tend to be led by instinct and heart when it comes to making a choice. This leads to many last second grocery purchases that weren’t on the list and causes my husband immeasurable stress as we try to make major life decisions, but hey, it feels right to let my spirit show me where I’m supposed to go.
I’ve never felt called to live anywhere else but Iowa. I’m letting go of my worry that staying here means I missed out on something important. I’m making my something important here.
I don’t think I am built for difficult living, and that’s how these huge coastal cities appear to me. I have an expensive chronic illness. I don’t cope well with stress. I can’t deal with people who are rough and rude, who believe more in moving quickly than moving with kindness. I have a big family that has always lived within six hours of each other and I am still best friends with the girl I met when I was four years old. I am directionally challenged.
I think New York City is a beautiful place with the most interesting people in the world. I long for Emma’s adventurous spirit that’s taking her there.
The easiness of living in the Midwest suits me. A lower cost of living, more space to live and breathe, my siblings and parents just down the road. The scene is less cutthroat because everyone is just excited to feel like an arts scene exists. Folks smile at me in the grocery store and mean it, and I believe that there is a quiet majority here who want to be better than how our political climate appears, who want to be better if they could just be given the tools to try.
What doesn’t feel easy about staying here is fighting for a politic that doesn’t oppress the most vulnerable among us, trying to convince people that we can build a future here without Kim Reynolds and gutted public schools and terrible water quality if we stop leaving for places where the work has already been done. It doesn’t feel easy to build structures that support artists and ask creatives to do so much with so little and to forge a new path for artists through a space that often feels littered with giant rocks and insurmountable hills.
But it’s what my gut tells me I’m meant to do. So while my dear friend Emma is listening to her own gut and chasing her dreams in a place that lights her heart on fire, I’m going to cheer for her while I chase my dreams in a place that makes my heart feel cozy, my soul feel safe and nourished.
It’s that comfort that’s bolstering me as I throw myself into building a Midwest Creative Life for folks like me who feel connected to this place, who deserve to pursue their creative whims with fervor without feeling like they must struggle to even try.
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I’d love to meet for coffee sometime as I feel we’d drop into conversation like we’ve known each other forever. Feels like I’m reading my own thoughts here exactly. Thanks for sharing… and staying.