Talk About It

Sometimes I am dismayed by my inability to talk about it. Talk about conflict, hurt, anger, simple things like paying bills etc. I have a hard time bringing up difficult issues but once the words leave my mouth, I feel a sense of relief. I really don't like conflict but what I hate most about it is it’s ability to stop people from talking about the core issue. Whether it is my fear of the conflict escalating, fear or rejection or insecurity, it is hard for me to talk about it.

The other night I had dinner with a dear friend and as we made s'mores in the fireplace I told her, I wish I had someone in my life to fight it out with. To really have it, scream and shout at each other and the insanity of the world. I crave the security of a relationship that has room for conflict.

Although I crave that in one area of my life, I am willing to enter into it in an area that is often too uncomfortable. I will not say nothing when someone or a relationship I have is dying. Death is not an unspeakable topic for me. I will yell, sob, swear and fight because I am not willing to let loss happen to me without throwing a few blows first.

I have decided to apply my willingness to enter into the world of bereavement and death and apply to become a Hospice volunteer. It might be strange to be 23 years old and want to help people go through letting go of life and grieving but it seems like a natural next step in understanding people.

So this is an area of life most are not willing to talk about but I hope my word will continue to have grace and dignity as I pursue this path.

most like myself

I started a new journal in June in hopes of getting a fresh start of understanding myself. I decided that at the end of every entry I would write one line that started with the phrase "I feel most like myself when..."

Here are some of my most like myself thoughts:

When I take naps on blankets in the park and let the sun keep me warm.

When I let that joy out. When I let the child laugh.

When I listen to stories that have aged with time, stories that make me want to live more

When I sit on the deck for dinner at 10:30pm.

When I feel loved.

When I write letters, poems and words on paper, when it feel likes my soul bleeds ink.

When I travel.

When I process it, let it out.

When I realize I am capable of loving and knowing I want to.

When I accept I have ugly parts of me. i do not like it, but I acknowledge it is there.

When I acknowledge that it hurts, when I do not hide from the pain.

When I discuss life with friends.

When I am home with music, wine and candles.

When I am at the beach- when I can smell salt water, hear seagulls and dance upon beached logs.

When I try to put myself in someone else's shoes.

I can only hope that the list gets longer as I continue to discover who I am.

Starting a Fire

I have always lacked confidence in my fire starting abilities. It probably has something to do with the fact that there has always been a man around that wants to start it for me or sees the piles of newspaper and half charred sticks and quickly takes over.

Well I am here at the beach by myself and last night was cold enough to need a fire. My first attempt failed miserably and I blame it on wet wood. So I started over, carefully placing the wood so it would get enough oxygen, enough newspaper and some matches. It started just fine, but the real test is if it will last. The thing I don't like about woodburning stoves is they work best when you have the doors closed, I have no way of seeing what the fire is doing or even if it is going. I have to rely on the heat I feel and the consistent pitch of the whistle.

My point is, you have to close the doors. You have to start something and then let go of control and hope it does what it was designed to do. Control is never easy for me to let go of, I like knowing how things work and how they will end up working. So this simple fire is yet another reminder in my life that I can only do so much, that at some point I have to close the doors and hope that what is happening on the other side will sustain me and keep me warm.

Capturing Joy

(bird just pooped on our heads)


(big smiles)


(jumping but not)


(just won a new car!)


(biggest face possible)


(smallest face possible)


(being friends)

Asher

I went up to Vancouver this weekend to see Asher. I cannot tell you how many hours I could stand by his bed, letting him hold my hand or pull my glasses off of my face. I could watch him sleep for hours. Asher is truly a joy in my life, he has a strong personality and lots of love to give.

As I drove home today I kept thinking of Courtney (Asher's mom). Courtney spends most of her days by his side. She has learned how to change his tubes and how to discern his cries. She has learned how to be patient and have hope. I do not know how I could live for eight months in the neonatal intensive care unit, to be a mother and have to rely on other people to care for my son. But it is clear that Courtney's strength comes from her faith in God's love.

I only hope that when I am a mom, I can hold my children so freely in my arms that there is no doubt that the Lord is the one that is actually holding them.

Realize

What I realized today....

A dinner table is one of my most treasured places.

I miss Maui, I miss mom and long walks on a beach. I miss being a little girl and having sand in my swimsuite. I miss boogyboarding and letting the ocean toss me around. I miss watching the sun melt into the ocean. I long for those days on the beach. I long to be as free as the five year old with short red hair, I miss the place I learned how to laugh from my soul.

The smell of creosote logs combined with the ocean will forever make me feel at home, feel safe.

If you run hard and long enough you might actually be able to run from whatever is chasing you.

Everyday, everything is in preparation for something. This is not an excuse to not live for today, but remember that tomorrow has promise.

Pecans, apples, feta, chicken, raspberry dressing and some lettuce are very good together.

I am grateful for my ability to discover, learn and realize.

Defining me

W.

The other day I wore a W on my chest. It wasn't because I am supporter of G.W., it was not because I am a woman.

I wore it because I am white.

It was a scarlett letter in many ways, symbolizing something that will never wash away. I wore it for my good friend l o t i who is an amazing photograph and is doing a show centered around society identifying us by our race. She is using her images to help people remember that we are all still "fucked up" when it comes to how race plays a factor in society and our identity. We have moved past law demanding segeration into an ignorant form of passive racism. l o t i photographed me, along with 24 other people and asked us to describe what race we circle when asked to idenitify ourselves. Here was my response:


"I circle white everytime. There is no confusion, it is clear as day.
I am white and those three words have given me priviledge even before
I could say them. It is not something I asked for or earned, it is not
just or deserved. I am white and that means I supposedly have it made.
Those three words give me an unwritten power, a power I do not deny
and do not want. This is how society defines me, a society constructed
by colonial white men I will never know. I do not want to be defined
by someone who does not know me. Like someone who simply sees the
penciled circle around a five letter word."

Check out the show at All City Coffee in Pioneer Square for the month of October.

The Great Return

Many of my good friends are returning from Beyond soon. I am thrilled to have them back in the city, to be able to go on coffee dates again or long walks. I am also nervous. I have this idea that if you go up to the magic inlet in the Jarvis you will come back a different person, your life will be changed forever. This is true, usually... I have also held onto the notion that that type of growth and change cannot happen anywhere else. You cannot be impacted in a more profound way than if you spend a summer up at Beyond. Well my summer has simply proven that wrong, made me realize that I was a fool to think that.

This summer really is about the great return, I came home this summer, I made the skin I am in my home. It sounds funny but I truly started to live in myself, accept myself and all the consequences that that brings. Most importantly I came home to the Lord. My faith/trust in the Lord was on hold for about 2 years. But I finally returned, with nothing to offer and everything to humbly ask for.

I have finally realized that change will happen anywhere, there is no place on this earth that God will not rock your world and change how you see it. So I am still nervous because I automatically think their summers will have been better, more romantic and full of adventure but I realize I cannot compare my summer with theirs. I have something special that happened in this beautiful city. I have started to claim ownership over myself, become intentional and passionate about pursuing the Lord and found joy in thousands of small moments.

And so I have returned, I don't know where I went but I know I needed to go and I know that I needed to return.

Simplicity Grows

I spent some time in the park, on my blanket with my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was the beginning of the summer and I had no idea where these months would take me. But I let the warmth soak in, I slept and read and took photographs. There was something about this day that helped me slow down, breathe and let my soul rest for the days and weeks that would come about. I cherish this day in the park because it reminds me of simplicity and its need for letting the soul grow.

Although little and fragile, my soul has grown.

eyes wider than before

"Your eyes are wider than before...
so little has changed
but your eyes have seen so much more"
-Scott Matthews

I have no idea why or how but I finally feel like I am the person I was intended to be. The eyes of my heart are wider than before and although so little has changed around me, I see more than I could have imagined about who I am and how much more there is left to see. The view is beautiful, the view is harsh, the view is reality. Tomorrow there will be a different view, hopefully my eyes will continue to widen, continue to let me see who I am as I grow up. The view illumiates my soul and for that reason I find myself with a prayerful heart, that is grateful and humbled beyond belief.

Rolls of film

These two rolls have been waiting on my nightstand, everynight I see them, everynight they go undeveloped. This morning I woke up at 5am, for no reason, I was just done sleeping. After I looked at my watch, I noticed my rolls of film again.

I feel like these rolls. Waiting. Unexposed but there is something there. Ready, but not yet. There are pictures, thoughts, poems, fears, aspirations, love notes, tears, hugs and kisses, ideas, determination and heart that are waiting to be developed.

It takes a trusted person to open a roll of film, to run the right amount of chemicals over it for the right amount of time. I have no idea who will develop this roll of film in this part of my life. I am eager to see the prints but for now I will wait in my canister, knowing only for myself what is inside.

It is...

it is breaking something in order to create a wish


it is letting the colors blend


it is loving the warmth


it is understanding that I don't deserve the blessings I have received


it is a shoreline that we will forever stand at as a family, as cousins, as sisters


it is realizing the simple pleasure of enjoying life one thing at a time


it is feeling beautiful.

It is living life, discovering who I am.

Miles

Mile 1: say hi to a friend, think it is weird to see people I know on runs, but like it at the same time.
Mile 2: "don't give me none of your bad news today"
Mile 3: nano dies
Mile 4: realize there is alot to run from
Mile 5: settled into the flow, want to run for hours
Mile 6: glad I am home.

I wish I could write how many miles I have run in my life. I wish I knew how to name them all. I am glad I don't know how many more are left to go.

beautiful fear

I have to admit that I am full of fear. This is something that should not be admitted or even easy to admitt, yet it is the only thing in me right now. This fear is different than ever before. I am not scared of something that will go away with time, I am scared of something that is extremely close. I am scared of myself.

This is the first time I can actually remember feeling my potential, I can see it like the brightness of dawn and don't know where it will take me or what it will look like. I am scared of my potiental, of letting it fail or turning my back on it, of the power it has if I actually use it. I don't understand what I have the potential to do or be, I just know it is there.

But this fear is beautiful because it is real. It is similar to having fear because you love, fearing the unknown but wanting more. I am full of fear, but at least it is a beautiful fear.

The Maker

Oh, Oh Deep water
Black, and cold like the night
I stand with arms wide open
I've run a twisted mile
I'm a stranger
in the eyes of the Maker

I could not see
for fog in my eyes
I could not feel
for the fear in my life
From across the great divide
In the distance i saw a light
John Baptist
walking to me with the Maker

My body is bent and broken
by long and dangerous sleep
I can work the fields of Abraham
and turn my head away
I'm not a stranger
in the hands of the Maker

Brother John
Have you seen the homeless daughters
standing there
with broken wings
I have seen the flaming swords
there over east of eden
burning in the eyes of the Maker
burning in the eyes of the Maker
burning in the eyes of the Maker
burning in the eyes of the Maker

oh river rise from your sleep....

Lyrics by Daniel Lanois

Today

I am captured by the world,
The grind.
Somewhere between
"what can I get started for you?"
and
"did I send that email?"
my time was sold.
And admist this constant
movement
there is a voice that cries louder than ever before,
"You want to stop, yet desire to go".
I hit a red light,
the weight of the day finally falls on my shoulders.
I actually allow myself to feel it.
Then there is a green,
And green means go.

Auntie Lolo

I became an aunt yesterday! Well an unofficial, no blood but will always send birthday cards with checks in them kinda aunt. The kind of aunt that wears colorful pajamas and builds forts in the living room whenever he comes for a sleepover. The kind of aunt that loves him unconditional. Although I have no actual obligation to show up to birthday parties or graduations, I have a responsibility to give this little boy all the love I can.

Asher was born two months premature, with his intestines outside of his body and his stomach in his chest. He fought for his life before he was given it. To this day, he fights for every breath. In the Neonatal ICU you can hear God say "Now take this breath, now this one." It is not the typical voice of God we hear in the delivery room saying "I have the most amazing life planned for you." When I saw Asher yesterday I was overcome with love, I am not lying when I say that I could spend all day letting him hold me pinkie, saying over and over again, "I simply love you". It is the type of love that makes me want to love others around me more intentionally, more boldly and more freely. I realized how much of a gift my healthy life has been and all I have to offer Asher is my love.

I am so excited to have a little guy in my life like Asher. I told him all about Vashon, how I will teach him to snowboard and about how funny his uncles are. I told him about the inlet, how it is so beautiful, how the mountains hide behind these big green walls and how I will take him on a Beyond trip. I told him how much his parents love him and will do anything for him.

It is an honor to be in Asher's life, to be called an auntie and to love such a strong, beautiful, brave little boy.

What I would say

If I had a little sister, this is what I would tell her.

I never thought I would say it,
But every girl needs to know how her heart breaks.
The loss of a boy, a childhood dream or a close friendship;
She will break.
Men take things apart to put them back together again,
Women prefer to keep things together.
But there is no way to know how the pieces will fall
Until they have hit the ground.
There is no way to learn to mend
Until there is something to mend.
A girl needs to know how her heart breaks
To discover what is inside.
I would never want my friends', my daughters', my mother's heart to break
When they do, I will at least be there to help them find the beauty in the brokeness
And the joy in the pain of mending.


I need to be reminded that love is the most important thing,
That love conquers and rests.
That love is in all of us.
I need to remember that there are thousands of people that do
not get to say goodby to their loved ones.
That love remains even though people are gone.
I need to remember that I am capable of being loved.
I need to cry over the beauty that love has created.
That love is a result of Grace in action.

Mr. Golding

Imagine a man with a thick white mustache, a white hat and navy sweater. Now imagine watching this old man live boldly, love deeply and speak with conviction. Mr. Golding would walk the beach with his beautiful wife, hand in hand, knowing that he was holding treasure. He wrote and published poetry, gathered the beach for his annual boat launching and lavished his grandchildren with his love.

Mr. Golding is the most romantic man I have ever met. He has stolen my heart and has made me believe in old time love; he proved to me gentlemen still exist. I cannot remember the time when I first understood Mr. Golding was rich with life but this realization has become clearer to me even after he has passed.

He placed a plaque on a brick garden wall covered with roses. He knew that by the time he had passed away the roses would be cut back and trimmed and Mrs. Golding would find a love poem written upon her rose wall. His words were about an everlasting love, as if it were a message he sent from Heaven reminding his wife of their love and life together. He loved her so much he wanted to love her even after he was gone.

I have no idea why I want to share this story except it is so beautiful. It reminds me that we need to be loved in a uniquely passionate way. It shows me why I admire people like Mrs. Golding, whose courage to continue on in this beautiful life after having a companion most of her life is humbling. I admire her strength to face the days and nights. I only hope she knows how much she is loved.

Bite

I got bit by a dog yesterday.

Last night as I was going to sleep I was trying to figure out how I could pull the metaphor out of this one and write a blog about it. I got nothing except:

Damn it that hurt, that really f**king hurt.

Point is, when pain happens, it is ok to yell, swear and cry. I am just one of those people that has to let it out.

Coming to Grips With Myself

It comes down to gaiters and heels.

I would love to be able to say I am a mountain woman, that every ounce of me was created to live and breathe mountain air; but as I try to figure who I am and where I want to go, I cannot say that I am a mountain woman. I love the mountains and love being in them, love sitting and looking at them, love going down them and am learning to love going up them. It has been a tremendous task to accept that mountain woman does not belong on my list of characteristics. Giving up trying to fit that characteristic has let me enjoy the mountains for what they are and not for what I can be in them.

I can't lie, I like dressing up and wearing heels. I rarely do it because it has yet to be an accommodating fashion for my life style; but it is fun. The heels represent something more though. I have taken a turn on my road of understanding beauty. If I am trying to come to grips with who I really am, accepting my beauty and all that means must be part of that process. Like any process of self actualization, this one is a continous two steps foward, one step back kinda thing. But every step has been worth it.

My gaiters and heels are just things that I occassionally put on my feet but coming to grips with myself is a daily occurance. Coming to grips with who I am has given me more confidence and freedom than hanging onto who I desire to be.

Why It Matters

Recently I have been spending a large portion of my time with my grandparents. To be honest, I want to get in one more smile, one more tear and one more hug before they die. In this last year it is almost as if they can smell a life beyond this one. Our time together is mostly full of stories; long elaborate stories that are about nothing but mean everything to someone whose life is now counted in memories instead dreams. These stories become part of you, they make you see a world beyond my ignorant generation and for that reason, it matters. It matters to me to sit and listen to Gramp's top ten stories everytime we meet. The bullet wound in my grandpa's arm matters. It matters that Grampa taught me to fish. My Gram's way of cooking meatloaf matters to who I am in a way that I could only appreciate as I realize she might never cook it for us again. It isn't depressing, it is sad, it causes beautiful tears to fall in our family but it also causes us to listen more intently, with more compassion. The beautiful lesson of letting go has taught me that forgiveness reigns and grace can carry the bereaver forever. And for that reason it matters to embrace the deaths that will come but most importantly to embrace the stories that have become me.