a poem that contains the whole of life

He said, "Write what you know."

It felt like a lofty but limiting thing as I humbly admitted that I didn't know much.  He just laughed and said that he never heard words more false.  That is where he left me.

I went home that night and sat at my desk and I realized I wanted to write the world.  I had words to fill the deep vast and vacant spaces within my heart and I bore a heavy sadness, which I now realize, at least for me, is the greatest inspiration.  And so I thought about all of the things that weighed heavy and the sadness that threatened the spaces of creativity that were beginning to come alight and alive.  As I considered it more, it wasn't so much sadness that was pervading my thoughts and feelings and overall demeanor, but rather worry.

It was then that I decided to list all of the things I was worried about.  The list came up rather short and contained a few people and a few unknowns.  I wanted to call them and have them assure me everything was okay, but what was really the good in that?  Would that really relieve the worry within me?  It was more cathartic to crumple the list and toss it in the trash.  I prayed.  I asked God to give them peace and hope.  I prayed that I too could experience only a peace that comes from Him.

He answered my prayer because it was then that I began to think a bit more clearly and the words that were bubbling up were not tainted by worry and sadness.  Now, I do think great words can come from worry and sadness, but that isn't the place where my words were coming from and I feared that if I wrote what I knew, it would never be honest and true if I were to write from a place of worry.

Then I began to type.  I wrote words that felt sincere and unforced.   They flowed freely for hours upon hours. As I began to run dry, I remembered something he had said to me earlier that night, so I began to write an email to him.  Subject line: "Write What You Know".  I started with a single line, "This is what I know..."  and then proceeded to copy and past what I had written that night.  With no hesitations I sent the email and climbed into bed.  Sleep came fast and easy.  The writing had brought such profound release that I was able to let go of the day and resign myself to a dream I may or may not remember.

The next morning I expected a reply.  Surely he would be waiting for my email.  Surely he would have read it by now.

Nothing.

Days later, nothing.

Weeks and months passed.  Nothing.

I could not forget that I shared with him the truest words I had ever written.

Did they require comment or reply?  I suppose not.  The point was to put them "out there", to follow the challenge he set forth, to not only write what I know, but to share it. For some reason, in that season of my life, it had only felt right to leave my truest words in his hands.  And that is where they remain.

After such an outpouring of truth, it seemed for a time that words, sincere and true eluded me.  What I wrote from then on felt to be a bit forced, lacking in the originality of an honest look at life and the world around me.  I didn't know what to write anymore.  And so I let it be.  I still would write, even when it felt so undesirable and uninspired.  I did not give up on the effort.

Before the new year began, I went through the usual pains to clean and organize my little nest.  I wanted to rid the clutter that had accumulated in 2015.  I went through a desk drawer stuffed with old mail, letters and magazines, dumped it all on my bedroom floor and sat in the midst of it.  As I worked my way through what to keep and what to trash I came across a note from him.  It was a crumpled post-it, one in which he wrote on when we shared a cup of coffee together. I probably had the thing in my possession since June or July.  On it was scribbled something I couldn't quite make out, damaged by a splash of coffee, but then followed these words: "there is no specific time in your life in which things are supposed to happen."  I could only vaguely remember the context of our conversation, but I was certainly remembered why he had written these words down. He wanted me to have them so that I could carry them with me, and hold them in my hands when I needed the reminder.  The funny thing was, they didn't mean much to me at the time.  They felt like words intended to placate the disastrous direction my emotions were headed, and to be honest I felt offended.  But what useful words these suddenly were.  In emotional upheavals words like these hold little value or meaning, but on days of clarity they suddenly make so much sense. 

I sat in the middle of my bedroom floor surrounded by paper, cards, letters, trash and keepsakes and I felt a burden lift.  I resolved to keep everything.  I gathered it all up and placed it back in its proper drawer in a slightly more organize fashion and then I texted him.

What do I write when I feel uninspired and have no distinct direction?

I didn't expect a reply.  I just wanted to send the words out into the universe hoping for some kind of answer, tangible or not.

My phone buzzed.
He had replied within the minute.
I held my breath as I read his text: write a poem that contains the whole of life.
I sighed, displeased.

He replied again.
I gathered myself up, trying to eliminate any sense of profound expectation before I read his next text.  Exhaling as I read: the world is awake, pulsating and pounding, thumping and throbbing with the thrill of life. just write what the world offers you.

And that was all.  And that was enough.

The night is alive

briefly aglow with 

the candle of hope.

The moon-beholders and 

the star-gazers; they

find their buoyancy 

in vast and scattered landscapes 

of speckled black and white.

This is the thrill of life:

A vast expanse of natural beauty

and the eyes and heart awake enough to see it. 

I keep this poem of sorts posted behind a clutter of notes and news clippings above my desk. 

It is not worthy of anything more than a simple reminder that for me it contains the whole of life. 

on feelings and intentionality.

an old gem compiled from words and pictures from glamour magazine

the term feeling has a myriad of different definitions. they are as follows: an emotional state; a belief, especially a vague or irrational one; the capacity to experience the sense of touch; a sensitivity or intuitive understanding of...

i find the idea of a feeling being a vague or irrational belief to be the most fascinating classification of the word.

feelings are a mystery to me at times.  where they come from, how they come and go, the way in which they elude and often haunt...they are intriguing little devils.

i've written before about my inclination towards feelings and how they often dictate much of my person.  according to they myers-brigg inventory i am a 100% feeler.  feelings tend to rule my being.

because of that it often feels as if i am on an eternal mission to capture good feelings.  i know where they come from. good, pure, joyous, peaceful feelings are a result of time in nature, of puppy cuddles, of sweet intimate time with someone i care about.  these sorts of feelings are also the result of reading a good book, or watching a beautiful film or being near the ocean.  they are the result of a run or any form of endorphin inducing exercise.  they come about after a massage or really good rest and relaxation especially when it is much overdue.  good, pure, peace-giving and joy-filled feelings are also the result of someone's care and compassion, someone's kind words, or someone simply taking notice.

the problem with feelings is that they are fleeting.  and it is often the ones that hurt us, that cause us sadness, despair and loneliness that we tend to dwell on.  not everybody is dictated by their feelings, but i think that many are whether they realize it or not.  it is hard when all the feelings that one can seem to capture are those that are of a darker nature, no matter how vague or irrational they may be.

when i was 18 i wrote out a to-do list for my life.
it was highly idealistic.
i dreamed of so many things...graduating from college, going to graduate school, getting a tattoo, having a place of my own, writing a book, getting married, traveling to another country...and i felt, in my heart, that they were all possible.

at 18 i wasn't bogged down by the feelings associated with adulthood...i was a youth that still had so much faith and hope in this world and in my life and what it could be.  things such as finances, the hard work of university life and post grad academics, the permanency of ink on one's skin, the promise to another human being of forever no matter what, the discipline of writing, the cost and need for a good partner when traveling abroad, the fear of living in a terror ridden world, all of those things, they didn't factor into my decision making and my feelings.  at 18 i just didn't understand it all.

it was a beautiful ignorance in many ways.

but now feelings seem to dictate all of these desires, choices, hopes and plans.  sometimes feelings become the battle just to get through the day to day.  i've noticed i've classified almost everything in my life according to my feelings about them rather than the truth of their realities.  and wow, it is such a very skewed perspective.  i cannot count all of the times in the last six months when i've muttered to myself, "i don't feel like it." 

but sometimes, when i pray,  when i really lean on the Lord for strength and understanding,  i have the courage to stand up and declare, "to hell with the feelings", and i do it anyway.  and often what results is magic.

but when i let the feelings dictate my existence, i find, day after day, month after month, i am no better off than i was at the start.

feelings are unruly and while the pursuit of good ones is certainly worthwhile, the banishment of the bad ones isn't necessarily so.  for, in some way they all serve their purpose.  i suppose the question that plagues me is whether i will continue to let my feelings...whatever they are, be the ruler of my existence, the determiner of my joy, the overwhelming factor in my decision making?  it hasn't worked out all that well for me, necessarily.

so i began to wonder how do i tame the little devils and instead choose to walk in trust and joy, no matter what? 

i don't know if it means working to the root and instigators of all of these feelings that so easily overwhelm and entangle me in their mess. 

because my feelings inform so much of who i am and so much of what i do, i think it necessary to go back to doing the hard work of figuring out my feelings and the thoughts and words and day to day events that act as their instigators.  it is something that is easy to suppress and just get by managing them and numbing them in the day to day.  but that is no way to live.  it is definitely no way to grow.

so, in 2016, i am committing to the work of feeling.  to the effort of thinking to get back to the root of the feelings.  in 2016, while it is still new, i want to be committed to the idea of being kinder to myself and speaking truth over my life.  in the same way, i would want to be kind and speak truth over others, i want to be intentional in doing with myself.  it is a feat that requires the utmost focus.  it demands the necessity of daily time for reflection, which means not turning to those things which make me shut down or off, but instead chasing after that which calls for an honest inward look.  that is, accountability, nature, and time in the Word and prayer...things that i must also be intentional about to see truly happen on a daily basis. 

my self-worth is such a fickle little indicator of my true being.  so much can strip or give me value in my inner being. 

a great anticipation//figuring it out {2016}

i wanted to sound really smart and begin this post with a quote from Gustave Flaubert, particularly from his novel Sentimental Education which has been sitting on my shelf since high school but i have yet to actually crack it open and find out the whole of what is on the inside.  i purchased it hastily, second semester of my junior year of high school because i was on a mission to become more well-read and thought that every classic needed to be devoured, especially obscure ones that not many had every heard of.

but alas, i never opened Sentimental Education and read it in its entirety because it felt slow and hard; instead devoured Pride & Prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird and The Catcher in the Rye.

it was in actuality a Dawson's Creek episode that led me to consider the novel again, and for some reason since, i always and only remember what Flaubert might have been writing about because of a particular conversation between two characters on this somewhat short-lived but beloved hour-long drama i once watched and waited for with great anticipation.

The conversation takes place between one of the main character's, joey potter and her college professor.  i sought out the precise dialogue and found it on imdb.  so to give it proper justice, it went like this:

Joey: So what is the best ending in all of literature? Don't say Ulysses. Everyone says Ulysses.

Professor David Wilder: That's easy. Sentimental education by Flaubert.

Joey: And what happens?

Professor David Wilder: Nothing, really. Just two old friends sitting around remembering the best thing that never happened to them.

Joey: How do you remember something that never happened?

Professor David Wilder: Fondly. You see, Flaubert believed that anticipation was the purest form of pleasure... and the most reliable. And that while the things that actually happen to you would invariably disappoint, the things that never happened to you would never dim. Never fade. They would always be engraved in your heart with a sort of sweet sadness

i don't know why this has stuck with me.  i found it to be profound because it was a truth that i most undoubtedly believe, however true or not true it may be to anyone else.  the statements still resonate with me in a significant way years and years after i originally viewed the episode.  mostly because i agree that anticipation is quite possibly the purest form of pleasure and perhaps some of the greatest experiences of our lives.  which i suppose for some might be a dismal thing to really consider, but for me it is the sustenance of life that causes me to spur on.  it is the idea that i will never get "there".  it is the hope that there is always something better around the corner.  it is the longing that one day it will all get better.  it is the overall sense that the meaning of it all runs much deeper than these earthly confines we are living in.  anticipation feels limitless in many ways.  it offers us the purest form of not only pleasure but hope.

i assumed by the time i was in my thirties i would somehow have it all down and figured out, but instead am finding i have even less figured out than i thought.  i am constantly vacillating between dreams and goals, what i want and what i think i want and where i am going in this life.  i am constantly aware that this life is but a breath which plagues me with the fear and worry of missing out on something big and special.

i look to the future still with a sense of hope and very real and specific dreams.  i anticipate goodness and troubles.  i look forward to love and joy-filled moments as much as i expect tears and deep heartache.  but the truth in all of it is this: the greatest joys are in the anticipation, the attempts, the tries, the sometimes futile tries, the failures and the getting back up again, because ultimately, the moments we center our lives around...the birthdays, the weddings, the births, the graduations, the last day, the first day...they are all so fleeting.  they are but a moment in wide breadth of days in which we live our ordinary lives.  even those who achieve great fame and accomplish great feats over and over again, find that they too, come out on the other side and recognize how very fast and fleeting those experiences were.  the fleeting nature of these things we anticipate certainly don't take from their wonder, but they are a sobering reminder that we can put all of our stock in the moments.

there is more to life than that.  there has to be.  because life, in all reality, is one great anticipation of what is to come after.  and meanwhile, we are left to figure out how to get by and through and achieve and fail and hurt and laugh and breathe and cry and find the little joys along the way.

and so, "figure it out" is my mantra of sorts for 2016.  as i recognize that much of this life of mine is about the great anticipation of what is to come, here in my earthly life, and the life beyond these earthly constraints, i find the need to grow and to become more and stretch beyond myself in greater ways than i ever have before.

"figure it out" is a phrase that has stuck with me since the global leadership summit of 2014 when i heard bill hybels, the senior pastor of willow creek church in chicago talk on leadership. it was a memorable message in which he said, "hard fought leadership is found in being thrown into the fire and forced to figure it out on your own." the main idea being that when given the opportunity, or being left with no other choice than to "figure it out" we own our leadership and thereby model, develop, and lead others in a way which leads to a legacy mindset.  hybels argued that a "figure it out" mindset is one in which a person is ruthlessly committed to the tasks at hand, of resolving conflict, and doing everything to the best of our ability, with a whole heart unto the Lord.  the "figure it out" mindset is one that actually cares about others and their potential, it fights for enduring value and the grander vision. 

it is so easy to go for the quick, temporary fix, or find the easy way out, but that is not the making of a true leader and of someone who leaves a breathtaking legacy. As Hybels said, "the grander the vision, the greater the price tag", therefore, all the more to figure out, but God casted the grandest vision of all, and with Him on our side, we can figure it out.
#wordoftheyear2016

2015//what was and is to be

2015 was my year to show gumption, to choose courage, to chase after a dream.

and it was.

the year unfolded differently than i imagined, but it always does, doesn't it?

there are so many blessings i could recount here that just took me totally and utterly by surprise and there are others that i quietly whisper my gratitude for in the solitude of my own space and my own heart.

i took a chances.
and i conquered fears.

i hung onto a great deal of fear and worry until it became utterly crippling and i decided with the strength of the Lord that i had to let go and unclasp my grip on the unspeakable horrors that often haunt my thoughts and dreams.

i chose to believe and to dream again about things i had decided were somehow no longer possible for me...and God granted me the desires of my heart.

there are deep longings that remain within me, but i am learning not to close myself off to them, but rather to hold them in my hands and trust in their root which is the aching longing for deeper communion with my Savior.

there is still a tangible hope for better, for more, for healing, for salvation, for improvement, for dreams amidst a landscape of horrors and a world that seems to worsen with every passing month.

there is still fun & adventure in this little life of mine that i am sooo grateful to have.

there are things i get to do because i am not a wife and a mother and i love the freedom that often affords me.

there are things on my list of 2015 that went untouched and forsaken and it makes my heart ache.  but they are things that the gift of a new year, of 2016 allows me to pursue with a whole heart.

as this year closes, i am thankful for the days i am okay and the days i am not.  i am thankful for the days i cry and break down and the days i don't because they all teach me something, and as long as i am open to learning, it is all good.

as the year closes, i can once again thank the Lord for a wonderful life, a comfortable home, clothes to wear, food enough to eat and loved ones who stand by willing to help in any way.

in 2016, i am going to strive daily to affect the spirit in my world.  i will pray daily to have an open and soft heart.  i will pray that i can as often as possible see others as children of God with potential and divinity that they possess.

in 2016, in spite of what may be, or perhaps because of it, i want to be of good cheer.  i know that i am up against a formidable enemy, so i must pray daily for the strength and energy to overcome.  i am choosing in 2016 to be of good cheer and to let that bless my life and those that surround me.

as the year rapidly approaches, i contemplate my theme/my verse that will guide me.  i pray gumption continues to be a guiding thought, but this year i want more.  i want to grow and stretch myself beyond where i find greatest comfort.  i want to move and live for and towards the Lord.  i want to ensure that my vision for 2016 is about more than me, but also impacts the world around me.

so with a day and a half left of 2015, let's pray that the Lord casts new vision over us and how He is leading us to live in 2016.

on empathy//being attentive and fighting to stay true to it.

         it is earlier and earlier now that the sky becomes a thick slab of black from the mountains in the east to the ocean in the west, scattered with a speckling of a few stars and one big glowing white moon to break up a seeming bleaker darkness that now covers us.
          in late november, the air finally tastes of autumn, cool and coppery, tinged with the scents of chimneys fully alive and stews that simmer on the stove tops. its sameness is a comfort, but it's also marked by a different sort of feeling. although it is familiar in some ways, in that it is reminiscent of a fear i felt over fourteen years ago, a fear that has continued to live inside of me, often underneath my day to day awareness, only awakened when i turned on the t.v or read the paper.  the difference is, now the fear is changed by a more matured understanding and intimacy with the world.
          and i take comfort that with growth it has become a fear that although still exists inside of me, it now resides alongside hope.  which makes it a bit less taxing of an emotion to reckon with.  what i fight for now is not to live in and by fear at all. while recent events have left many of us reeling, and i suppose that is their intended effect, i know that is not what i am called to live in.
           tragedies such as 9-11, the recent terror attacks in paris, the events of sandy hook, aurora and littleton, colorado...and smaller scale events that have happened closer to home often send me into a very inward and downward spiral i don't often share or put words to.  i let them pervade my heart and mind and they do their work of stirring up anxiety and fear, so much so that i don't want to board a plane again, or every time i go to the movies i am surveying the audience frequently, checking the exit doors often, and when i am at school, i wonder...what if?  often tragedies like these need no added words.  why give more attention to their evils? other than the tacit and shared prayers of comfort, hope, protection, peace and revival that we continually offer up, they don't need our words.  they often leave us feeling helpless and inadequate because there is little we can do to resolve their pain and nothing we can do to reverse it.  it is out of our hands.  we can only act and pray in ways that hope to bring some sort of healing and solace to those affected.
           but fear hinders that.  fear causes us or maybe it's just me to shut down, to close myself off to these deep aches, pains and anxieties in our country and world.  often times i think it might be empathy that prevents me from wanting to be in such a connected community of people and living in a world attune to pain and tragic events.  i often think i'd be happy if i went and lived in a rural place where it could be just me, maybe a few animals and nature, where i'd never turn on the t.v. or open a webpage again.  i think of it often and i find such contentment and comfort in the dream.  a place where people and their problems don't stir up so much hurt, so much emotion, that often for me becomes so difficult to manage that i feel my only choice is to shut off and detach. but it is sometimes too hard to shut off the parts of me that ache deep down and threaten to take over like a tidal wave of emotion, a force so strong that it drowns its victim.  sometimes it is manageable and sometimes the smallest of things happens and it all erupts on me.
           the other day, a stray, shaking, wet and visibly battered puppy crept timidly into my classroom and i lost it.  i fell in love with it at first sight.  i couldn't handle the fact that he had been abandoned or worst, separated from a family that loved him.  i cared for him throughout the school day and afterwards i had to take and leave him at the shelter in hopes that he would be reunited with his own family. my heart was twisted and torn up over this little furry thing, and i could hardly bear it.
           a broken heart over a lost puppy is such a small thing amidst a landscape of tragedies that have left many in our world are so grieved, fearful and worried...but i live in a place where i am equally as affected, that i am left wondering what do i/we do with the weighty emotions that stir inside of us? i don't know if there is an easy answer for this question.  i know that for me, the struggle is real, and shutting down and detaching cannot be the answer to cope with these things.
          when i feel things so deeply, i often get lost in it and wonder how can i stay true to what i feel and more importantly who i am and not get swept up in the waves and steal from anyone else what they are feeling. i think leslie jamison, author of the empathy exams put it best saying:

 “Empathy isn't just something that happens to us - a meteor shower of synapses firing across the brain - it's also a choice we make: to pay attention, to extend ourselves. It's made of exertion, that dowdier cousin of impulse. Sometimes we care for another because we know we should, or because it's asked for, but this doesn't make our caring hollow. This confession of effort chafes against the notion that empathy should always rise unbidden, that genuine means the same thing as unwilled, that intentionality is the enemy of love. But I believe in intention and I believe in work. I believe in waking up in the middle of the night and packing our bags and leaving our worst selves for our better ones.”

           there is something so poetic, so perfect really, in her words.  it is more than the storm of feelings that swirls around me and envelops me in its grey.  empathy must equate to some kind of action for it to be empathy.  empathy doesn't detach and ignore the pain.  it feels and it bears.  it says, 'okay, this really isn't about me, i am feeling with you, and that can somehow lead me to help me understand you' and hopefully a result of that understanding is some kind of action that helps not only the ones in pain and need but somehow myself...that is keeping myself from drowning in it. 
             so then i realize, when it comes down to it, what really is inhibiting me is a certain sense of inadequacy, a feeling of slight (it is no longer a totality) of inadequacy.  i don't quite know where it comes from anymore.  its roots are a stronghold though, ones i have yet to fully yank out.  they creep up and grow and wrap themselves around the most real parts of me and i suddenly am immobile.  what masks itself at times as unwillingness, is actually inability because of inadequacy. and i think, perhaps, the inadequacy stems from the excess of emotions and feelings i am constantly swimming in.
          what i've begun to realize lately in this overwhelmed state is that somewhere along the way i stopped doing the work.  i stopped trying to deal with, be attentive to, and let the emotions and feelings teach me something and thereby allowing me to impart something to others, to give something of myself..that is hopefully wholly good.  instead i've let the chaotic mess of emotions and fear define me and my expectations.  i lose sight, thinking this swell inside of me is solely a curse.
           i cannot forget the work that it takes, the attention it requires as well as the admission of truth that these feelings are true to me and who i am and how i interact and connect with the world around me.  truly it is in my design.  and i am imago dei. i am made in the image of God, so these emotions and feelings that reign so heavy in me, must be some reflection of how God has fashioned me.
           so the struggle is worthy of a pause and reflection.  i owe the struggle my gratitude.  it is the struggle that has brought me to the word empathy, perhaps the truest part of me.  it is the constant struggle that has led me to deal with the all pervasive fear this world too easily hands us on a daily basis.  it is the struggle that makes me aware that often i feel void of value, but it is that struggle that leads me to fight and recognize what is true about me so i can take these feelings and emotions and use them to help others, to allow them to spur me onto connection and community rather than to run from it.
           i am thankful for the wonder of empathy, for the struggle of inadequacy and this life that may more often than not be a fight, but the victories make all of the toil and the grappling worthy.

  

creativity & gratitude

"You're staring down the stars

Jealous of the moon
You wish you could fly
But you're staying where you are
There's nothing you can do
If you're too scared to try"

~Jealous of the Moon 

his love was loud.

he offered us everything and

for two hours it swallowed us whole.

his heartbeat shook an entire auditorium of hungry souls.

we sat in quiet wonder, a tacit agreement.

every piece, we devoured, each moment was awe-filled.  he gave, so we'd only want more.

and the reverie in which he carried himself, and the charm with which he spoke, brought such satisfaction, a satisfaction that stays.

...until next time.

occasional vulnerability//the curated life

“Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It's about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.”
― Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are  

 

yesterday, i sat in my classroom during my prep period with the lights off, soft music playing, and i felt for the first time in two months like i could breathe.

i had one class left to go until 3:30 on Friday afternoon (the most magical time of the week) arrived.  This particular 3:30 was special as it ushered in a week-long fall vacation.

we are exactly half way through semester 1, and honestly, i am surprised, truly surprised, that i have made it through.

i've been told time and time again that the first year teaching at any new school is a tough one.  and if i think back to my last two teaching stints, however distant a memory they may be, i can recall the truth in these words.

as i pondered how things have gone and where i wanted them to go in the next nine weeks, i realized that in spite of all the negatives that seem to loom, i could also recognize a lot of growth and a few victories in the previous nine weeks.

i think those growths and victories can all be attributed to one thing:

vulnerability.

if i think about the handful of times my students responded with insight and care, and were really engaged//attentive to me and each other, was when i was at my most vulnerable.  it was when i was being real, when i connected literature to real life, when i revealed a truth about me or my life, when i called them on their shit and explained to them why it wasn't okay.  i think those moments, few as they may be, have been our best thus far.

and they haven't been easy.  but what is easy about vulnerability?  it is probably what i loathe and long for most in my life.  the ability to be vulnerable and express things and simply be in the most authentic way.

it is an occasional happening, it has come about by circumstances and where i may have felt led or forced, but there is something to life's movement now, where vulnerability is the path i am actually wanting to traverse as hard as it may be.

it is something that goes along with building this life, not just living it.