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Sunday, April 13, 2014

Challenges of Growing

Potted vintage tea tins.
 
I planted a few things a few weeks ago.  I was preparing to do an Instagram post and get all artsy.  There was all this prep for real life.  It was slightly absurd.  And I decided to just dig in.  Literally.  I decided that it was ok to be messy.  My fingernails had dirt under them for days.  I washed them many times, to the point of needing lotion after every wash.  Frankly, an unnatural thing for me. 
I dug in, to the messy side of life.  Once I made the decision I was gleeful.  It was exhilarating.  I dug and planted, patted, and watered with abandon.
Some of the seeds will come up.  They are finally coming up.  It’s just 2, but it’s a blessing.  I am so thankful for the rain, so I wouldn’t forget to water these fragile biological lives.  But some of the seeds won’t come up.  They were doomed from the beginning.  They were never going to be, no matter how carefully handled.
See, there are two things I take away from this.  There will be dreams, no matter how big {these are bulbs we’re talking about} that are not going to happen.  They were an idea, which was not firmly rooted.  They were doomed from the beginning.  But that does not mean that they never should have been planted, nurtured, and hoped for.  Most of all hoped for.
The same goes for the messy side of life.  There are arguments that we can dig for just the right information, argument, rebuttal.  But the thing is, were not going to win it.  Not that battle.  And that is ok.  We can not win them all.  We can not always be right, we can not always have beautiful flowers without the dirt beneath our finger nails.  For if we did not enter into the messy, we would not fully understand the challenge of growing.
I hope for those seedlings and bulbs to grow.  I want to see the dirt give way to beautiful life.  I want the reminder that beautiful things come out of the messy, hard, challenges.
The challenges are what make life a beautiful adventure.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Worlds Collide

Globes
 
 
I love seeing people become friends and connect.  I love the stories of how people met, or know each other.  One of my best friends and I love to tell the story of our first meeting.  We even fight about it and cut in on each other like an old married couple.  It’s great fun!
Lately I’ve found my connections are varied, wide, and cross over.   Part of it, but not all of it, is the fact that I grew up and lived in the same neighborhood for my whole life.  And I don’t live in a small town.
I should also note that I went to public school, but not my neighborhood {two blocks out my front door} high school.  This means my circles were broadened.  I also went to a big university, ok moderately big, but lots of room for meeting people.
Last week, I went to a meeting of college and post college people, and my worlds collided in one room.  There were people from my high school, people that I knew when they were 7, and people I met last weekend.  There were people I’ve known for most of my life, people I’ve known for a few months and people I’ve known for a few weeks.  And it was crazy because some of them knew each other.   Even last night I got asked by a friend that was there that night, ‘How do you know so-and-so?’
The reasons we know each other are crazy.  It can by choice or circumstance.  It can grow or can trickle off.  It takes work to keep up contact, yet sometimes people collide.  And when we collide we cross over, above, and underneath each other.  We create a web.  We become intertwined.  Our stories although our own, become a part of another’s through connection and relationship.
Even when you know no one in a place, there is a connection.  Someone you know, knows someone or something about that place.  Somewhere there is a connection.  And believe me you can find it.  But it takes listening, it takes sharing, and sometimes it takes lots of questions over a long period of time.  I promise you, you have connection.  We were meant to build relationships and relationships {most of them} are built out of connections.  Isn’t it crazy wonderful how they shape our stories!
How are your worlds colliding?  How do you know so-and-so?  Was yours a chance meeting or a deliberate collision?  What’s your craziest world collision story?

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Punching Fear in the Face

Those chessy inspirational sayings, I find them annoying. 
I mean look at one. 
The first time it might be awesome and pleasing to the eye. 
The second time it’s cute, a good reminder. 
The third time its lame. 
And well after that I think I get more out of them because it’s so annoying. 
 
dance in the rain!  don't wait for the perfect moment, make the moment perfect.  life lessons and quotes.  advice.  wisdom.
 
But today I appreciate them.  Most of them are true my station in life today, yesterday, and the day before that. 
And here is why…
Opportunities, the ones I’ve been waiting for, praying for, hoping would become. 
They became.  All at once.
The other day, amidst the decisions, I almost took one by saying “I am so fearful of the unknowns of that particular one.  I want to take it, just to punch fear in the face.”  But I’m really glad that I didn’t, you know punch fear in the face, because I think fear can punch back pretty hard.  And let’s be honest, I don’t have a very good right hook.
My graduation cap said Adventure is out there.  And I believe that adventure is out there, because it’s in making the moments, monumental.  It’s in making the insignificant, important.  It’s not in making everything a big deal, but in realizing that certain things are of great importance.  Experiences shape.
I need to be reminded that life is an adventure, and I should live it as a great one.  And I need to be reminded that fears should not confine my thinking, but rather expand it.  When I am fearful, it is often because I created the boundaries and dictated the rules.  In an adventure, there are no rules. 
Rather than punching fear, I want to be freed of its companionship.  Fear does not belong as a part of my adventure.

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Dressed in Capability

When I watch the Oscars I watch for the dresses and well the musical performances, but mostly the dresses.  But… I’m not going to give you a rundown of my favorites or a list of my top dressed.  Instead, let’s talk about art.  See I love looking at dresses, and drawing them, and trying them on.  My friend went wedding dress shopping and I loved it…mostly.  Bridal shop, please adjust your lighting.  Please.
 
A few years ago I picked up a retro drawing of a dress in LA.  It lived on my bulletin board in college and made it into a shadow box that lived on my bookshelf for a few years.  When I go into a thrift shop I’m the one who takes FOREVER looking through all the patterns and looking for the retro, vintage ones.  I have a pattern for a slip from the 50’s, which I bought fabric for, and was going to make for my senior year prom dress.  Yeah, that didn’t happen.
 
This brings me to some art pieces that I saw and love the retro look.  You know what I also love, the statement. 
:) !
 
I’m not going to go all feminist on you.   I’m just going to tell you that I am capable.  Honestly, I am much more comfortable in a dress than wielding a power tool. 
But, there are some days that I want to show you that I am tough. 
Capable
I can get dirty. {Ok, I’d prefer my dirt to be flour over mud}
 I can saw down a tree in the mountains. {Christmas trees count!}
I can dig a hole. {Although I’d like the hole to then hold a flower plant or vegetable garden}
I can hammer a nail. {Picture frames up on the wall, check}
I drive a manual car.
I have jumped a car battery multiple times, sometimes without assistance.
I can mount TVs to walls. {Mini tool sets are useful}
I can operate heavy equipment. {Yay tractor driving}
All this to say, I want to be confident in my abilities and to exercise my capabilities.  I also want to embrace my love of the swish of fabric and the click of heels.  I’m learning how to blend the two.  And I’m learning how to show that I am capable.
What are you capable of?

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Expected Response

Last night it was 10 and I shut off my phone.  I was so distracted by it.  My focus was not in the things I needed to do, was not on the screen in front of me {otherwise known as this blog}, and my brain was tired.  So I shut it off.
I wrote a draft for a blog post about 2 weeks ago about expectations and vulnerability.  {FYI: I didn’t publish it, because honestly I just needed to type and get words on a page.  When I read through it I discovered there were holes and rabbit trails, so I filed it away.}   It got me thinking about the expected response.  We have an expected response from those around us.  We have an expected response of the things we post, link, gram, pin, tweet, copy and paste.  We expect an audience and expect specific responses.
Part of the reason I turned off my phone was because something I had posted on the internets was not getting the response I wanted it to get.  It was information that was for the betterment of others, not myself, but the motivation was for the betterment of me.  I would not have seen that underlying motivation if I received the response I wanted.  In the words of a friend “So I guess that’s good.”
When I turn my phone on this morning I may have notifications and little messages that show that I got the response I wanted.  And that’s ok.  Or I may have no notifications and that’s ok too.  But the point is my worth is not determined by the response I get.  My worth was already determined long before I was born.
 
I realize that the last few posts around here have been heavy and anything but lighthearted.  Thanks for reading or skimming {whatever you do}.  Some of this has thoughts about my life and others about the things going on in ‘my world.’  One of such events has been a sweet family whose story is written at the blog Charlie’s Song.  Needless to say, there are no rosecolored glasses around here!