this is an idea that has been circling the walls of my mind all week.
sparked by a late night conversation with a friend over beers and gin and tonics and black bean burgers (just kidding. there was only one black bean burger. mine...)
i don't remember his exact wording but he essentially said:
well you know don't you, that the moments you are nostalgic for, that you remember with fondness in your mind, are the ones in which you were truly YOU. you were yourself, as you were meant to be. unhindered and uncaring about the world and others perspective of you.
and for some reason this blew. my. mind.
perhaps because i am one to always be searching for enlightenment/self actualization/knowing who i am in every new season and aspect of my life and i am somewhat of a junky for self help/tips on living your best life and discovering your truest self.
but so much of that learning and search can be clouded by the external voices of the world.
i believe we were each born with inherent worth and value, unable to be earned or acquired by any worldly action or accomplishment, and yet that is not largely how i live my life a lot of the time. the reason for which is often because i have lost sight of who i am.
and because the day-to-day moments and the now can often be clouded, rushed, confusing and hurried, it is often in looking back at the past that this clarity, this recognition of inherent self, is gained for me.
(the age-old adage of hindsight being 20/20 of course also applies)
Read Morei am an extremely goal, list and dream oriented and motivated person (see the goals tag here on the journal for proof). i have stated that i am a process junkie, but i am also addicted to getting.shit.done.
i am the kind of person who will almost-always make their bed as soon as they get out of it, but if for some reason the whole day goes by without it being made, i will make it right before i get in it at night.
i am also the kind of person who will add three things on the “to do” list that i’ve already accomplished just so i can check them off, who will use every last drop of shampoo before buying a new bottle and who will absolutely under no circumstances leave the house with only one errand to complete.
i like efficiency, progress, organization and accomplishing tasks. i have a really hard time not feeling like i am getting things done because, well, i always have a list of things to get done.
i also have a hard time not wrapping up my worth in what it is i do and separating that from who i am (but i digress).
i recently got back from a two month road trip and needless to say i have been flooded with inspiration and ideas and motivation ever since. more on that another time, but the point that’s relative to this post is that i have had a lot of ideas since that trip. a lot of project concepts, goals and endless tasks i want to complete.
Read Moreyou’re a wildflower though, you know? not one of those perfectly manicured and pre-planned pampered garden flowers. or secured and tended-to potted porch plants.
no.
you are a wayward side-of-the-road surprise, with a mind-of-your-own way about you.
a varied find.
unruly at times.
often amidst weeds.
(you aren’t afraid to be in mixed company.)
here and there.
the nomad of flowers. and really it’s about time you embraced that. it really is. because most everyone else sees that about you.
not that you need their validation to be what you were made to be. i’m only saying that if what you are is so obvious to everyone else, why are you pretending that it’s not obvious to you?
embrace your roots. let your seeds sow where they fall. allow the wind to scatter and plant you where it may. for that is the way you travel. that is how you find your home(s): growing freely without intervention.
Read MoreWaldeinsamkeit (German): The feeling of solitude, being alone in the woods, and a connectedness to nature.
//
these words remind me of the ways in which i want to be like you, trees of the woods.
rooted.
grounded.
that is what i wish to be.
like you, with my feet in the dirt and my arms open-handed towards the sky.
for, like you, i too come from dirt.
like you, i was made with a makers hands.
hands that fashioned my spirit and soul to intrinsically love being exactly here.
here, in-between and next-to your rough skin and the before-during-after of you undressing and redressing your arms and torsos with the garments of leaves and moss— according to the season.
here, amidst the light-to-dark dappling of the shade of your embrace.
here, where i am reminded of that beginning point of my creation and how i came to be.
here, that my solitude brings with it feelings of release, ease, tranquility and comfort rather than ones of loneliness, restriction, fear and isolation.
i love how being here in the depth and wildness of you brings me that gift.
of grounding in myself.
of connection.
Read Moremy actions, inimical to the well being and survival of my heart.
but my mind, my mind
b
l
i
n
d
l
y
tells me to forge on, ignoring the rhythmic warnings of my heart.
which is, what always gets me into trouble.
ignoring my heart and the morse code of warning it beats out to me, messages meant for my mind.
but my mind, my mind,
is stalwart to its mission.
it knows best.
for its very nature is to know things after all.
(so it tells me)
heart will catch up
it says.
it says a lot of things, my mind.
Read Morehe was towheaded, face abloom with freckles that i could see even through my windshield as i pulled onto the street. he was crawling up out of the ditch to the head of a little miniature play car he was driving around the yard.
he couldn't have been more than five.
as he turned towards the sound of my car, eyes alert and inquisitive, he waved.
rotating his open palm from the wrist, fingers straight and insistent in their communicated greeting. the learned and carefully practiced wave of adolescence.
the suddenness of his reaction to greet me was more instantaneous than i expected. it was almost as if there was a familiarity in his turning toward me, as if he knew me and had been expecting my arrival.
Read Morei wrote the post below one week ago, and meant to post it then but didn't have internet again until now.
i am home now, from the below mentioned travels, and i find myself even more in need of the mantra at the bottom of this post than i was this time a week ago.
two weeks of concentrated travels and time spent with people and new experiences was a lot for me. i loved and reveled in every second of it, but now, settling back home i'm experiencing one hell of a come-down and withdrawal in a weirdly backwards and unexpected way.
as someone who is used to and thrives in being alone more often than not, i've been disoriented by my lack of desire for it after this trip. however there's so much i have to process and understand from both New Orleans and Atlanta that i'm only able to do by myself. a lot of wonderful things happened while i was away, especially in the way of eye opening conversations with people. there were a LOT of those. perhaps my feeling of overwhelm with that aspect especially is due in part to me being such a words person, but i also think there was some heightened level of importance in many of the things discussed with both new and old friends these last few weeks.
Read Morethat thing.
the identification of which everyone always talks about gloriously obtaining when you recognize the thing it is you love doing more than anything else. or, at least, more than most things.
the discovery of which, allegedly, comes when you lose track of time doing said thing.
Read Morebeautiful new moon
you are a welcome face
at my window.
you greet me always with a consistent serenity
pure of face and,
should you have one,
heart.
(though perhaps suggesting you have such a mercurial organ is a defilement to your etherial and constant nature)
Read Morei reach the end of the shadows and that is when i feel the sun warming my back, reaching me finally, as it had crept higher than the trees. i feel its heat through the worn wool grey sweater i often wear (admittedly one of the more unflattering pieces in my wardrobe and yet something i've held onto for eight years now. which is a thing i am always fighting—my attachment to material things).
the suns fingers slide down my body, starting at my hair, falling down my back, slipping down my calves and then being kicked off by my heels.
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