Currently listening to: the new Phoebe Bridgers. But who isn’t?

Greetings from the Lower East Side of Manhattan, where the weather is nearly perfect and is giving all indication that fall is coming soon.

Which also means that my book cover reveal AND preorder are just around the corner, which honestly doesn’t feel real. Breaking the Permission Loop is going to be out in the world and I’m just beside myself about it. I’m excited and nervous and everything in between.

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How is that possible?! I feel like each year that passes summer picks up speed.

This has been a busy month for me thus far - lots of fun client work, some time kayaking and lots of outside time with friends, and my first book has a release date.

Breaking the Permission Loop: Six Weeks to Building Agency & Owning Your Presence …

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Currently reading: The Summer Book by Tove Jansson.

Hello, dear readers! I’m so sorry I’ve been MIA. It was an incredibly busy, intense, heartbreaking Cancer season.

That’s nothing new, but I always seem to forget. The beginning of summer often seems cruel. I always learn a lot of things during Cancer season. Given that my tarot card for July was Three of Swords, I really shouldn’t be surprised.

First off, thank you for reaching out with well wishes about my father’s Parkinson’s diagnosis. It’s been a very intense time with him the past few weeks with that, plus his borderline/bipolar/manic diagnoses.

During this time I experienced a falling out with a friend that felt more like a breakup than the end of a friendship. I cried in therapy for the first time since the end of my marriage, and I cried both for sadness but also for joy.

That’s how it goes, isn’t it? The sweetness and the sour.

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Reading: When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön, for maybe the third time.

So often it seems to happen that when one dimension of our lives feels like it’s just starting to expand in a wonderful way, another one starts falling apart.

That has absolutely been the energy for me this week.

I’m in the midst of a creative summer that I haven’t allowed for myself as a writer since high school. Around the age of 12 I started staying up late at night scribbling away at my desk, my window hanging open behind me so a breeze could sweep in every so often. I was channeling my inner Jo March, and it was the first solitary place that ever truly felt like home to me.

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Currently listening to: 80s hair bands like Def Leppard, Erykah Badu, Childish Gambino. XTC. I’m all over the place now, because it’s the start of summer weather and I grasp for nostalgia.

How is it June already?! It feels like just yesterday we in Minneapolis we in the throes of morning grass covered in frost. Now we’re all melting like popsicles most days, as it’s been hovering in the mid 80s/early 90s by the afternoon. I guess we bypassed spring?

Yesterday something really amazing happened - I picked up the keys to a studio of my very own in the gorgeous Lumber Exchange building in downtown Minneapolis.

It feels like a dream. A space of my own to write, to work, and also to connect with incredible creatives of all mediums.

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Hi, everyone! I’m Tara Scott. I’m a writer and solo business owner based in Minneapolis.

I write, deliver talks all over the world, and teach people how to tap into their genuine voice. In brief, I help leaders, organizations and communities build agency for themselves without apology.

I also always weave the history of injustice into my work. Voices and experiences are here to be remembered and learned from.

Right now I’m working on a field work guide about permission loops that will be available for preorder soon(!!!), and a book of travel essays called You Are the Witch right on its heels.

Leading up to its release I’ll also be featuring photo-driven narrated posts like this exquisite place in Bergen, Norway.

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A few weeks ago I discovered that the New York International Antiquarian Book Fair was happening in Manhattan. Both Windy and I have been dying to go back to New York; I lived there for a few years when I was a kid and I missed it terribly. I…

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And amongst the inner screams, the terrors and the shock, one thread kept them all together:

This sounds exactly like my dad before his psychotic break.

And oh, how I wish I were exaggerating.

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Typically Windy and I don’t stay much longer than two weeks. We always had dogs to think about, a dogsitter to pay, things to do.

This will be our second trip where we come home to no dogs.

Coming home for the first time without Bird was heartbreaking. Opening the door to no wagging tail, no bouncing curly sweet blond girl who we cannot wait to love on.

I know that over time this will get easier.

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It’s my second day teaching a class in the small city of Pau. In Europe there are significant differences between cities, towns (communes), and villages, often determined by population.

The city itself is a lot more beautiful than we had initially anticipated. Windy and I usually do a YouTube dive at the very least to see what new places have to offer. With Pau we found narration-free drone videos that were not enjoyable to watch at all, and one that was narrated by a British couple who clearly created the content mostly for themselves. That’s all well and good, but if you put it on YouTube, title it “Travel Experience in Pau” and it’s mostly you and your husband eating sandwiches on a train and walking down roads? Not super helpful.

Other than the first day which was incredibly rainy we have been lucky enough to have sunshine and temperatures reaching the low 70s each day. This has been an amazing excuse to go on a walk after work every day, go stare at the incredible Pyrenees mountains, and have an apertif on a patio somewhere.

I got some interesting information about this workshop last week, and that this might be “very challenging,” which naturally left me wondering how everything would go down.

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Reading: About a million different things, including A Season for This …

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I walk between office buildings with four students who are taking a workshop I’m teaching in Montpellier. The workshop is about finding better ways of working, but really, underneath it all it’s about being unafraid to communicate the truth with each other.…

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And all these years later, I still see women hesitate the most.

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Reading: Everything.

This is the view I have right now, with my little MacBook Pro at this sweet little table, with my sweet partner reading and my daughter napping on the couch.

We are in Paris together for the second time, and it’s absolutely everything I knew I needed and more.

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Currently reading: Night Weaver by Madeleine Lycka and In Defence of Witches by Mona Chollet.

I think it’s safe to say that for many of us in Minnesota, especially the Twin Cities, the first 45 days of the year have felt like 6 months.

Constant chaos and trauma infiltrating our eyes and ears at every turn, from the news to the internet to our own backyards.

I am not home, as I’m away traveling for a client to help with 2026 planning, but Minnesota is in my heart with me always.

And apparently, Minnesota is in the hearts of others, too.

A few nights ago on our way to dinner in Bergen, we passed this sign not once, but TWICE in different local establishments.

People told us “we’re so sorry. This isn’t right! We want to help!”

We felt seen. We felt loved across the world.

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I’ve been thinking about renaming this Substack based on a writing project I’m doing, which actually started as a bit of an inside joke.

“Please advise” is an old school cliché that’s lived on in the email inboxes of so many of us for as long we’ve been working.

People looking for decisions. Looking for answers.

And often, without the sender asking themselves one very important question:

“Have I advised with myself first?”

“What do I think?”

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Reading: Night Weaver by Madeleine Lycka and What Stalks the Deep by T. Kingfisher. Both are a perfect escape in these cold, intense winter times.

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I’m grateful that I love what I do and that I could immerse myself in the content of the course. It was actually really enjoyable, and yet when I’d pause long …

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The front end of the blue minivan was crushed on its left side. The sliding passenger door was dented so badly that it likely can’t open.

It looked exactly how I’ve felt the past few days. Beat up, exhausted, and letting myself rest for a while.

I want to talk about what everyone is talking about, because I live in Minneapolis. Because it hurts and I’m so tired but I’m also so proud to live in this city that has one another’s back in no other way I’ve witnessed.

January 7 Renee Good was murdered by ICE.

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Yep, murdered.

And nope, that’s not up for debate, because I have eyeballs and critical thinking skills and I watched the video from several angles multiple times.

I watched it in slow mo. I watched it on video recorded by people I know who were actually there, experiencing every horrific moment of an innocent, unarmed person who wasn’t running over people and was still shot in the face.

In her own neighborhood.

Ben Hovland, an old bike racing acquaintance and incredible photographer, captured the now infamous photos of the bullet hole through her windshield and the bloody headrest that made it into news articles and Instagram reels all over the world in under 24 hours.

Ben is in the Minneapolis community and has produced impactful images and stories when George Floyd was murdered back in 2020.

And Daunte Wright.

And Rep. Melissa Hortman.

And the Anunciation shooting.

And many, many others.

That’s a lot of death, news attention and trauma for one city.

And on January 7, just one day after the anniversary of the capitol storming, I think it left a lot of us feeling like we have nothing left .

And, like someone said at Renee’s vigil, we have absolutely nothing left to lose at this point.

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When George Floyd was murdered I was living out in the suburbs.

“Aren’t you SO GLAD you don’t live in the city anymore?!” my mom sighed into the phone.

No. No I wasn’t.

It felt alien and strange to not be in the community I had lived in for 10 years. It was the city I fell in love with when I first moved from Duluth after college in 2004. The city skyline I’d admire while driving to work from Burnsville, listening to The Current as loud as possible and dreaming about one day actually living amongst those buildings and the people around them.

And when George Floyd was murdered, people responded.

Of course they did.

That’s what we do here.

I once lived in Powderhorn, about 6 blocks from where George died.

I know the energy. And I know that community matters.

They care about justice and their neighbors. They care about what happens.

And they’re unwilling to let someone hijack the true narrative.

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Renee’s murder felt like something that had been building to a fever pitch for a while, but never did I think it would go down quite like it did.

I live in downtown Minneapolis now, less than 3 miles from where her murder happened. After hearing about it, processing what I could between crying jags and phone calls and texts with friends and family - and letting those know who aren’t in Minnesota what ACTUALLY happened as the Kristi Noem/Vance/Trump spin started - I read that ICE was going to be hitting Roosevelt High School - where our daughter works as a paraprofessional.

I texted her immediately. ICE had indeed infiltrated the school just as the day ended. They maced our daughter in the face, arrested her friend for telling ICE not to take anyone away, and then proceeded to take several staff members.

I burst into tears. I was done. What happened was what I knew would happen eventually - that a person I love would be impacted.

It was only a matter of time, and any of us who are familiar with the poem “First They Came” knows exactly what I’m talking about.

We are all so frustrated, so afraid.

My Instagram is peppered with folks sharing pictures and proof of what was actually happening, because we know what happens when we don’t get multiple angles and videos and photos of an event.

And sadly, even when we do capture the truth, it doesn’t seem to matter to those willing to deny reality.

And while that isn’t our problem, they are very much so making it our problem.

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So, lots of unrest and murder in our town…but why?

One simple reason.

Because we are a bright light in a time of monsters.

We bear witness.

We do not submit.

We do not accept injustice because it isn’t who we are.

And for those of us who have lived through this multitude of tragedies, and have participated in community action in whatever that looks like for us, be it protests, marches, art, community events - we’ve learned a few things.

We have learned to cope, and are continuing to learn how to grieve and stand up simultaneously.

It’s not easy, but it’s necessary. It takes practice and patience. It takes rest. It requires revival.

I can’t speak for everyone in my beloved city, but I can tell you what it looks like for me:

-Immediately following Renee’s murder, a friend of mine on Facebook offered up hot tea and food a block away for anyone who wanted to go

-The neighbors who live on my block checking in on everyone via mass texts, individual texts and phone calls

-People checking in with us about our daughter and the friend who was arrested, asking what we need and what she needs

-Conversations about historical books and podcasts to recognize patterns that have existed forever and we’re living through again (watch Jesse Ventura and it is like watching and listening to my father’s twin, because he said nearly these exact words)

-Friends reaching out to check in on each other and ask what we should do next in terms of events, support, etc.

…because we WILL continue to support our community.

Our hearts are tired, but it’s also our biggest collective muscle. This is not our first rodeo, and sadly it won’t be the last.

And no way are we ever rolling over to fascism.

I work predominantly in the world of organizational behavior and psychology, and here are a few things I’ve found helpful to think about:

-People who continue to deny what they’re seeing is their choice.

-We cannot force anyone to wake up.

-We cannot force anyone to have empathy for others.

-We cannot force anyone to understand that “minding your own business” when injustice happens is complacency, and just as harmful as the violence itself.

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What we CAN do is emulate what we want to see in the world. Starting right in our own backyards.

And for me, in Minneapolis, that is community, strength and justice.

Take care of yourselves. Be careful. Take social media breaks. Ask for help. Get coffee with friends. Watch things that make you laugh. Get rest. Hydrate. Live.

If you feel helpless, figure out what feels good and like community expression for you. I write. Ben takes photos. My dad calls local offices demanding justice. My friend Shannyn helps others move through grief with iyengar yoga. My therapist makes incredible music and helps heal. My partner checks in on our circle continuously and asks them where they need support.

There is no formula or “right way.” Act in a way that will make you proud 20 years from now.

The only way to move through this is together.

Cheers,

T.

Reading: The Body by Stephen King.

January is notoriously the time in which we make (and often quickly break) habits and rituals.

I’m no different than anyone else. I start every year with a Dry or Damp January.

I try to journal every day.

I strive to get back to running or yoga or get more consistent about weightlifting.

Whether or not I end up sticking with that stuff isn’t really the point for me anymore. The point is what my body tells me when I start to shift and where I can try and make lasting change in small ways - because let’s be honest, habits are hard to break - because we’re looking at it the wrong way.

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Reading: 5 different books, all of which I’m somehow expecting myself to finish by the end of the year in 3 days.

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