Trying to make time to write!


The world is getting progressively more beautiful and alive around me. I feel energized and grateful for the change of seasons and pace. I've been making efforts to slow down, when I drive, when I walk, when I'm working, I make efforts to slow down my day. I ask myself, "Why am I rushing right now? I'm not running late." That grueling pace and pressure to GET THERE is the autopilot upon which I direct and my life. I feel that "JUST GET THERE" mentality in many areas of my life. The pressing need to finish up fast, meet the intended goal, and then continue to the next thing, without even a second glace back. Without a mention of thanks or job well down.

And don't get me wrong, it's not bad to be ambitious and driven, but I don't want to miss the journey. The world is beautiful around me, even in the backdrop of stress or traffic or hurry. And I guess that is sort of it: don't let stress control you, by allowing it to dictate your focus. You focus on what's important. Stress or whatever is causing the stress is not what's important. Whether money, a guy, a boss, or yourself, stress cannot overcome the good that's happening.

I'm slowly, gratefully settling into being 28, feeling 28, letting it sink into my soul and my bones. I feel many changes coming, good changes. I'm excited for my FOURTH summer in Nashville. It's pretty unbelievable that I've created a home here all on my own.

I'm turning 28 at the end of the week. Wowza. I'm twisting and turning this whole crazy notion of me being older, getting older, becoming old- I'm twisting and wringing it out, looking for significance, and some hope for what could come, or really: Of who I could be. However, the real question, the quest, actually, is to figure out what the hell do I want in this life?

I've been alotted some time here. It's temporary, as we know, and it's fast, fast floating away from me, from all of us. How quickly I've gone from an adolescent to an adult. From a college kid, with limited world experience, to a professional person, who has a valuable role in an office, with the heavy responsibility of parenting myself and creating the life I want. There's nothing holding me back, and I feel a grave accountability to make my life and moments worthwhile.

Let's assume that miracles to do happen, and I actually make it to my seventies. What do I want to show for myself? How good can my life be- and what are the essentials that make a life good? Yes, yes- there are the external things, children and marriage, etc, which I've pushed onto God for leadership. Submission onto God and a prayer...and an apple booty.  But what can I work on within? Who is the person that I want to be?

I hope to have a strong spiritual relationship. I hope to be wise, with integrity and knowledge of the hearts of others. I hope I'm comfortable- physically healthy and free of pain. I hope I'm able to give and receive love. I feel like that's a good life for me.

when did this blog become so difficult

...and when did it become so difficult for me to even sit down and write words, for that matter?


True, I'm at the Green Hills library. I had no intention of writing words and sentences, but here I sit. Doing it. Giving this life its life. I purged last night...of social media apps. I've not ventured onto any site, where others are sitting back, observing, and judging. Question: what's worse than being judged?


Answer: Not being judged. Not being acknowledged by anyone. Irrelevancy.


This becomes our culture. Our lives are at stake for attention from strangers. And that's a terrifying prospect. Our lives being lived through the lives of others who neither truly know nor truly care for us.


Anyway. It's a temporary boycott. A "cleanse" of this culture of squinting eyes and stolen glances. So, I'm using this basically anonymous blog as an outlet for a small but strong voice. Not many still check up or write on theirs. Xanga's become a piece of history and memory, erased from the boundless blackboard of the Internet. It feels good writing to no one, for a change. There's no audience or special person to impress, or scene to create or filter to brighten or shade.


Now. On to my favorite topic: myself.


I think I'm going to really enjoy my new job. It's fun and thought-provoking and confusing and interactive, with a vigorous combination of teamwork, clinical skills, and argument. I love it so far. Though the cumbersome part has yet to begin- the files and files of paperwork. The pre-cert rejections that are fated upon me. Bad days will be. I hope I accept them with patience and hope for better tomorrows.


Gnight all my wanderers. Love.

I swear I'm not a Jesus freak.

I don't talk about religion a whole lot with certain friends that aren't or haven't come to it yet. I know it's sensitive, maybe uncomfortable for some. It tends to stir up fears of death and all those lonely existential questions, but that's okay. Being human, I think we all share in that. So, why not explore these beliefs and fears together. I certainly don't claim to have any answers, this is merely connecting the countless dots and attempting to enlighten myself.


My bible study is requiring that we journal along with the book/workbook. I enjoy writing, but the physical act of pen-to-paper hampers me creatively, because I get lazy with my words, so I'll attempt to blog along instead.


The first four chapters of our book, Restless,  focuses on the writer's restlessness in her soul. God's tugging at her spirit to do something. I'm also reading a Reflection on a Course in Miracles right now, and it looks at the same type of soulful restlessness, God's nudging at us to be our essence. God has already made us into exactly who we are supposed to be; He knows this because he created you. He made you for a reason, and even gave you the Holy Spirit as a wonderful, loving lifeline between your heart and God, himself. There's goodness there, always, in the beginning. In our essence, in our childlike purity, holiness lives there. Where there is holiness, there is also a sense of peace. Spiritual peace produces the physical feeling of rest. Now, rest may sometimes look passive, but it's not. It's considered an "active nonresistance." A surrender to God. A surrender of all our control to God.


Sometimes we learn by direct experience. This often results in mistakes, thankfully and hopefully we can learn from those too. Another way to learn is to sit back and observe first, to rest and then seek out knowledge by asking questions, then processing the answers received (because we don't have to accept those answers as truth; they are simply one person's answer).


The Zen Buddhist advises to create a life that's like an empty rice bowl, waiting to be filled. As long as we are empty, we can be filled. You must empty out though, so rest is imperative to experience. Similarly, only a person who is hurt can be healed. A person who understands pain has experienced pain and can then help others with pain. And in helping others, that person heals from his or her pain. Life can be beautiful in this way, this perpetual healing cycle of sharing and openness. However, always first, we must seek out and find rest with ourselves.


Christianity speaks in a similar way as the Buddhist, saying "go to God like the child." Children know what they do not know. They greet life like empty vessels, waiting to be filled with knowledge and experience. They are persistent in asking questions. They want to know everything. This is wisdom! Children are such wise souls!


A fool pretends to know something. A wise person asks (meaningful) questions. Unpretending, accepting of the knowledge he/she has or doesn't have.

whines

Wow. Life teaches us so much. It's remarkable. As my favorite song, a song I once wanted in my wedding, plays in my earphones, I contemplate what lessons I've learned through this relationship. It's all we can hope to do from our sorrows. After we've accepted the fate of things, we take the time, moving an appropriate distance from the distress, to simply learn.

It happened only Saturday. A question and the silence of a grave. My heart stopped. Then, it swelled with hope for a few remaining beats, until the truth finally gushed to life's surface. It landed like a dead hawk between us. Everything dashed away.

I didn't think it could happen to me. I saw myself as invincible to a cheating partner. I'm wonderful and desirable and worthy of truth and love. I've made mistakes, of course, y'all know that and I would never deny the fact. However, I'm intuitive, making smart judgements, based around the strength and authenticity of a connection between two independent souls. It was all present; it was there for us. So present, it practically thumped between us. I'd never experienced a person understanding me so well, considering me so important, beautiful, worthy, and wanted, wanted, wanted, so much of the time. Every day, I felt wanted for all the pieces of me, even the brokenness, shining a white light onto my darkness. At night, the wanting slept beside of each us, one wanting the other beyond space, beyond time, beyond even understanding. The goodnights were gentle poetry, "Rest softly." He called me a fawn.

Still, this is not real to me. Those three hours felt like a nightmare. I expected at any moment to wake up, turn my face to his, and see him sleeping there, with the calm of a boy. I want to walk over to his house right this very moment. I left my heart there. Betrayal exists in its own hell. I apologize if my posts are fragmented. My thoughts aren't in complete sentences. I'm not eating much. And I've been smoking again.

new fall

It's another, brand new fall. Unlike Spring, Fall is when the world truly comes alive for me. And I'm alone this Fall, for the first time in a long while. By alone, I don't mean completely alone: I am surrounded by life, nature, memories, imagination, art, and the Spirit. It's time to reconnect myself with these beautiful tangibles. Redefine who I am. This self that I've constructed of these things. Who is the person that I am? I've so long identified my life in according to someone else. And yes, it's a special Bond. There's no denying how love can enliven a person, filling her soul up and brimming it over, like a warm bath. It can be irrevocably wonderful. However, it can be consuming and ugly, as well. It can constrict you and all who you are, if you allow it. And I've been allowing this into my life. Although love exists between us, in us, and of us, it is treacherous.