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if you have to choose, choose lovely.

I’m really not good at short and sweet blogs. I’m not great at just allowing myself to put a few hundred words on a WordPress page and press submit. Short amounts of words are for Facebook statuses and Instagram captions.

But what I want to say here, in this moment is this:

I need you, want you, IMPLORE you to choose loveliness.

The last couple weeks at work, while on my break, instead of grabbing my phone and scrolling through instagram and facebook for 15 minutes I’ve been grabbing something to drink and reading the book “Girl Meets God” by Lauren F. Winner.

On my mornings off I choose to take the time to make breakfast, brunch, whatever. Anything that requires chopping and cooking and smelling and tasting. I’ve been trying to remember to cook for people.

I’ve been reading news articles that are political, funny, literary, Gilbert Blythe related. I’m making sure I read other peoples’ words daily.

I’ve been taking time to blow dry my hair and wear it down. I’ve busted out summer dresses and earrings and big necklaces.

I’ve been reading my Bible again.

I’ve been having conversations full of life. Be it in person, on the phone, over Facetime, text, email.

I’m drinking my coffee out of mugs and mason jars.

I’m watching Disney movies with my nephew.

I’m printing pictures instead of just posting them.

I try to daily put loveliness in others lives in the form of a smile, some words, chocolate or a hug.

I’m daily choosing loveliness.

And as I have done this I have noticed something.

It’s changing me, my words and my days in big ways.

Choosing loveliness is helping me to choose better. To choose to walk in life, speak out life and choose things that are life.

Loveliness is different to everyone, but find what is lovely, find what is life giving to you and choose it each day and see how it changes your sight.

how criminal minds reminds me we need community

this post ran away from me. I’d like to dedicate to the occupants of the text conversations that pepper my inbox daily, people who I sit on couches with and those who I sit across skype screens from. you know who you are. thanks for being my back up.

If you could hack into my Netflix all you would see would be Criminal Minds. I think over the past month I’ve probably watched every episode I hadn’t seen before and I have tagged a few favorites that I’ve maybe watched twice…or three times.

Why Criminal Minds?

Well, for one thing, the BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit) is my favorite TV family. Hands down. It’s hard to describe, none of them are related but they are the most lovely picture of a family. They have each others back, they have community, spencer reid is the bees knees….

I digress.

So because I have been watching all these criminal, gun slinging, FBI, bad guy/good guy type shows it is usually what my mind refers to when in conversation when other people.

Even, when we are talking about Jesus and Satan.

Here’s the revelation that came today.

I was talking to one of my people about not knowing sometimes, when Satan is standing in front of you. And how we feel we should, at this point in our lives, be able to identify what he looks like.

Sometimes it is hard though. Really hard. And then you look back and you beat yourself up a bit for NOT recognizing the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And today I thought of all the times on TV shows I have watched older agents/officers, take the newbies through the shooting ranges, specifically the ones where you have civilians and bad guys popping out from behind doors. It all happens so fast and you have to shoot the bad guys.

But what if the bad guy was dressed as a good guy?

Mistakes are made in those practice ranges, sometimes a reaction takes down a good guy, or a bad guy is dressed in maintenance uniform and the second it takes to register that he’s a bad guy KAPLOW he gets ya.

But as the officers get more seasoned, as they train more and get in real life scenarios they begin to get better at responding to situations and on the spot profiling someone. Their judgement becomes more attuned because they start to figuring out what small details can automatically give someone away.

But they aren’t perfect. They mess up sometimes.

There is an episode of Criminal Minds where they are dealing with a serial killer that went dormant for years and years. He only left one surviving victim who he stabbed 67 times.

You find out that this man actually stabbed himself 67 times. He was the serial killer.

The FBI met with this man, they interviewed him, they gave him protective detail. AND HE WAS THE KILLER.

Does this mean that they aren’t good at their job? That they aren’t good at what they do?

No, it just means this man was REALLY, REALLY good at what he does.

The devil is REALLY REALLY good at what he does. And sometimes, even with all the training we can miss him.

Sometimes I forget that, and sometimes I forget that I am still young. I haven’t had to go in with my gun and decipher good from bad. I still have to follow someone in, someone older and someone that has better judgement on the occasion.

We are supposed to learn, to notice the signs from someone more trained. And in life those people helps us see our blind spots. They help us figure out what something means in our lives. They help us figure out discernment.

And when the time comes that the training is over the agents never go out alone. They have a partner.

We aren’t supposed to go into things alone. There is a reason Jesus sent people out two by two and there is a reason why FBI agents have back ups. Maybe if I don’t notice the bad guy, the person behind me will.

I can normally distinguish when depression is creeping in when it is just that, depression. But sometimes it comes in forms that it hasn’t before. Because the devil is a trickster and he is going to try to come in the back door to get me. He sometimes dresses in grandma’s clothes and covers his ears. He sometimes is a bad guy dressed as the maintenance man.

I’m not in a place right now to automatically notice that the maintenance man is a bad guy with an AK47, but I’m getting there. I still have moments where I am more prone to fall in a trap then others, but I’m getting better. I’m starting to see the signs of pits I could fall in before I fall in them. Sometimes I get a little scraped up climbing out if I fall a little, but my judgement is getting better.

I’m not a senior agent yet and that’s ok. All the knowledge I have, all the time that I follow behind those who are older and wiser is adding to my profiling skills. I have partners when I go out on the field, and people I can consult with.

I have people who have my back. And who remind me where my blind spots are.

(And that’s really what this about.)

The unsub on these shows want so badly to separate the agents that come to get them. They want to divide them, because they are weaker when they are separate and more easily manipulated and pushed into a corner.

That’s why they are trained not to separate. That’s why we need to have each other’s backs. But sometimes you get pushed in a corner and can’t see what’s what. You feel discombobulated and your mind wanders and you don’t know what to do.

And THAT’S why we have back up.

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untitled honesty on friendship

I was the kid in junior high that sat by herself and read a book at lunch and I was completely fine with that.

I had friends that I hung out with in high school, girls who were in the same AP classes as me and my after school time was taken up in the little theater rehearsing for whatever play was going on at the time. The people I still keep in touch with are those ones, the ones who I spent hours at a time with painting sets and rehearsing lines.

I moved away for college and made friends there. I chose to be a little more outgoing. I was in choir so I was plopped right into a group of 50 women who I wandered southern California with on weekends. I lived with 3 other women who I laughed, danced and with whom I made seemingly bad decisions.

What I am trying to say is I have always HAD friends.

The last two years have been community on high. I participated in an 11 month mission trip where day in and day out I was with the same people. Then I went to a 6 month leadership academy in Spain where I lived in a house with other interns and sat around a dinner table every night.

And it was those moments, those ones where I had to live in these communities where I realized something about most of the friendships I’ve had in my life:

I don’t always 100% believe that I am someone’s first choice. That I would be anyone’s first phone call. And because of that I hold friends at an arms length. I don’t expect anything from people.

There is a small group of people who I do believe, now, that I am the first choice.

But I don’t go into most friendships believing that. I don’t go into friendships believing that I me, in who I am, is enough. That I don’t need to do some tricks to get someone to like me.

And isn’t it that feeling that makes us post the pretty, filtered pictured on instagram, or edit statuses until they are just perfect explaining the best of our days?

I’m not saying to post depressing things or “my life is the worst” statuses like when were teenagers and had instant message and would make roses out of an @ sign.

What I am saying is we need to stop believing that we have to wrap ourselves in pretty pink paper. Something Shauna Niequist says in her book Bittersweet hits home for me.

“I’ve spent most of my life and most of my friendships holding my breath and hoping that when people get close enough they won’t leave, and fearing that it’s a matter of time before they figure me out and go.”

That’s how I’ve felt a lot of my life. That I wasn’t enough. That I didn’t merit the first phone call. That I’m not a first choice.

And that is a sucky way to live.

We need to choose not to live that way. This isn’t about comparison or something that someone else is doing. This is me, and my perception about other’s action.

And the knowledge that I am not going to be everyone’s first choice, but I am on a handful of people’s speed dials.

It comes down to the realization that I don’t need to be liked by everyone. It comes down to being myself and knowing that as long as I am that it is enough.

We need to stop believing that we need to be something other than who we are. It’s something I’m obviously still working out and walking through and figuring out what to do when the lies hit.

And thankful, I have those friends to remind me who I am when I forget.

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(there might be wine in this teacup)

I have a confession to make:

I have an aversion to Christian women ministries and speakers and all of the things that come along with that.

The first time I was asked if I wanted to go to a Beth Moore conference I cringed. I did not want to go. The last thing I wanted to do was sit for a weekend with thousands of women and hear things that were “I am woman hear me roar”.

Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great. It’s wonderful. The fact that there are women that speak and write and be means that I too can speak and write and be. I was the president of an all women’s choir in college and was on all women teams on the world race and have been for most of my life been surrounded by strong, powerful women.

So really, I should love the concept of women’s groups and ministries and speakers and conferences.

But I think honestly, we are made for more.

I think as women we sell ourselves short. I think that we sometimes allow ourselves to be ok with the sugary sweet. That we only believe we can speak to each other about women’s issues and kids. That we focus on walking with our broken pieces and frailty than walking out of them.

That we compare ourselves to the ornaments on that we place on the back of the Christmas tree because they are ugly and broken.

I’m not a freakin’ ornament.

Why does it have to come back to us being women? I know that there are pieces of us that are different and there are parts of our femininity and the femininity of Christ. We need to talk about those things for sure. But why do we wrap it in such pretty packages? Why do we use soft voices?

Why don’t we raise our voices?

Why don’t we raise our voices in the presence of men as well?

(Now, don’t get me started on women in head pastor positions or in authority and whatever. That’s an entirely different soapbox. Don’t read into all of this that and hear me saying we need to be in charge and loud.)

But what I am saying is we have things to say that aren’t about marriage and femininity and kids. We have a lot of things to say.

I’m saying sometimes we need to look at things as a human being, not as a woman. We are individuals not defined by our sex but by who we are uniquely created to be.

I think that the women in the kingdom of God need to do a few things. We need to realize we are fierce. We need to raise our voice. We need to realize that we have things in our femininity that can be balanced by the masculinity. We need to realize that bible studies for women and conferences and all of that are so good, that they are needed.

But we need to stop sugar-coating them. There needs to be ugliness and there needs to be rawness.

We need to stop being fake.

One of the words of life I got when getting prayed for my last week in Spain was that I shouldn’t diminish myself or shrink back; that I should unfurl myself to the fullness that I am.

So I too, need to stop being fake.

So here’s what I am going to do: I am going to submit writing to all of those places. I am going to write on the questions asked, I am going to write as myself and only myself and not who I think I need to write for. Now, I’m not saying that I am going to blatantly write things to offend others or write against everything that people stand for.

But I am choosing to be ok with writing in who I am.

I’m not sugar sweet. I don’t like cotton candy that much. So I’m choosing to bring that into the mix more. I’m choosing to bring the salt.

I’m choosing to share that I have wine in my teacup.

Foreshadowing

“God is a novelist. He uses all sorts of literary devices: alliteration, assonance, rhyme, synecdoche, onomatopoeia. But of all of these, His favorite is foreshadowing.And that is what God was doing at the Cloisters and with Eudora Welty. He was foreshadowing. He was laying traps, leaving clues, clues I could have seen had I been perceptive enough.” Lauren F. Winner (girl meets god)

I marked foreshadowing in my AP language novels in high school with pink highlighter. Finding foreshadowing and figure out where it was, is one of my favorite past times.

I’m a literary nerd. Deal with it.

I love calling things in TV shows and movies. I think I’m pretty good at doing it. Seeing what a character says to realize a key plot point it going to occur or more often than not someone is either going to die/come back to life.

In my years of Bible classes and theology studies I’ve found that there is beautiful foreshadowing all over scripture.

God wants us to know what is going to happen. He spells it out. He shows us that the whole time He has a plan. He is going to see it through.

It’s not about searching for the answers or using it like a magic 8 ball. It’s about asking the right questions and figuring out why He tells us certain stories or asks us to learn certain lessons.

I’ve recently come to the huge revelation that Christ was always there; he was ALWAYS in me. It was never about me ACCEPTING him into my heart or “opening the door” to let Him in~ it was about realizing that He was always there. He was infiltrating parts of my life already. God was, is and will always be in my life.

I need to continue to see the foreshadowing of Christ in my life. The foreshadowing of the moment that I would fully realize that He was there. That He was always there. Where He had highlighted in pink in my life story so that maybe one day I could realize and see that He was always with me; even when I wasn’t with him.

It brings my peace now. It brings me hope for myself in ways I can’t really describe. And it shows His protection in places where I needed it and now I realize it was always there.

It shows me that my heart has always been focused on his heart even when I wasn’t defining it by the parameters of Christ.

The good in this world isn’t waiting for Christ to come. The good in this world IS Christ. Even when it isn’t defined by His name.

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the importance of and

I’ve been to a handful of museums in my life and I think that art is beautiful. But for me, I can’t really sit and stare a picture for hours on end. It’s not really where I find story or beauty. And that’s ok. I can still appreciate and I still grab onto the spirit of creativity that lingers in museums.

I got a new Bible this week to replace the battered, coverless one that meandered with me around the world. It’s an Amplified Bible and I’ve already found that I appreciate how it is laid out and how the words fit together.

Because, even though I can’t sit in front of a piece of art work for hours on end, I can sit in front of a singular phrase and mull over the loveliness. Normally it’s a phrase or a quote: “hear that your soul may live” “do the thing you think you cannot do” “he was your first love; I intend to be your last”. I normally find these jewels on pinterest or instagram or in paragraphs upon paragraphs. I have words literally tattooed on my body and emotionally imprinted on my heart.

It’s always so overwhelming to me that a writer has the power to take your breath away just by simply placing words in a certain order. And if they hadn’t have done it just in that way then would the phrase have been the same? If a writer had chosen different words for a character to say would have floored you?

Word choice is so important. Words color so much of our life.

And I was reading favorite passages in my new Bible I happened upon a phrase, a word actually that has been on my mind and changed the impact of what I was reading.

and

Yep, a simple three letter word in italics tossed in so many different scriptures. The artistry in this word was the italics. It was the fact that there were certain places that this translation desperately wanted the word “and” to pop up and beat you in the face.

And is a conjunction “hooking up words and phrases and clauses” (thanks schoolhouse rock!). It also allows you NOT to finish a sentence. To realize that the things are connected. So as I was reading all I could see was the places where I needed to see that things were connected. That I didn’t need to stop one sentence to start another. That I could connect them.

With a simple and.

The “and” was so beautiful to me.

So I guess what I am asking myself today, this week, probably for the rest of my life is this: where should I place an “and” and where should I pop in a period. For the most part I believe we are called to an AND life. That we need to be a people who know when to complete the sentence and when to place an “and” in.

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So please, WRITE

I always want my words to be profound.

I want them to hold something to have meaning.

I want to write things that incite conversation and promote action.

I also try too hard.

I sit in front of my computer every 4 days or so to post a new thought, a new revelation, a new truth that is rippling through my spirit.

And I erase a lot.

To the point where I am surprised my delete button still works on my computer.

There are a lot of words I haven’t said in my life and many of them come in the form of the backspaced words on word documents. If only there was a way to put all of them together.

On second hand let’s not.

Then I think of all of the words that go unsaid or unwritten.

Or all the words that go unread.

(And if they are unread are they really written? Just kidding…not going there)

There is something about profound insightful thoughts that cause us to move. I love reading words my friends have said and reading what they are going through and their insights. My email is crammed with blog subscriptions and the ability to see the world through others eyes. It’s crammed with group emails from friends about ramblings and stream of consciousness thought processes.

But now I think, I know what I HAVEN’T said. What haven’t THEY said? What moments of brilliance have been backspaced away or crumbled and thrown in a trashcan.

And it’s also kind of funny because we live in this crazy world where there are so many platforms to be heard; from 140 characters on twitter to creating your own website to podcasts and blogs and everything in between.

So with all of that ability to be heard; why are so many of us still silent? Why do we throw words in the trash and decide we don’t need to say them?

Some I’m sure think there are too many words out there so will their words be heard. Or maybe they are afraid of the comment section.

Or even just too afraid of what one singular person will say.

And so we delete or backspace or walk away from a thought because it is too honest or too real or too much of the person you actually ARE as opposed to the person who people see.

The last blog I posted entitled “Real” took everything in me to press publish. I really just wanted to delete it all and pretend it didn’t exist.

I think when I choose to delete something or send it to a friend rather than post it on my blog it’s mainly because I think it might be too much. Too vulnerable, too spiritual, too Jesus. Or sometimes it’s because it shows my flaws or my fears.

But when, in reality, it’s just my thought process, how my brain works.

It’s true sometimes I tie a spiritual lesson to an episode of Vampire Diaries and it’s inevitable I will talk about therapy, or the lessons from Spain or Cambodia small eye or getting hit by a car.

But it’s what’s in my heart.

It’s where I come from.

So I will write.

And I want you to as well.

So very badly I want to read the words you have written. I need them actually. They cause me to think and to write and they inspire me.

So push past the comment section, push past the vulnerability and the fear and put words to paper. Quit hitting delete, quit crumbling the paper and throwing it aside.

People need your words, they need you at your broken or your whole, they need you at your happiest, your angry and your giddy. They need you at your real, your teenage self who loves vampire shows and your adult self who has treasured things in your heart that need to come out.

So please, WRITE.

Here are some blogs of people who’s words I treasure, find humorous and lovely and adore reading. Some of them have been MIA for a moment but take a second to go back, read the archives and find some inspiration. None of them are “proffesional” they may have gotten paid once or twice for their writings, but mostly it’s a heart thing. It’s a pouring out onto paper of what’s inside.There are so so many more I could post or brag about. so many more words I read on a weekly basis. There is inspiration out there. You just have to choose to read it, see it, use it, and be it.  (and if you have a blog or a favorite space to read words comment and let me know!):

Patty~ Patty is one of my best friends and someone who has influenced my writing more than anyone. Her words are timely, poetic and beautiful.

Tiffany~ This woman called me to write and be truthful. She has been calling me into my story for over two years.

Abby~ Another member of my hometeam. She is currently on an adventure leading a World Race squad and she has beautiful words and truths.

Allan~ A crazy worshipper I met and got to do life with in Spain. Check out his Euro journey and all that entails.

Helena~ I followed her blog while she was on the race. She empowers women and has a hysterically lovely view on life

KellenWhitney ~ a couple whom I treasure. Their words inspire like none other.

Casey~ a longtime hometown friend who blogs about her adventures in dating.

Sarah~a truth speaker, bringer and a lie crusher. soon to be on another amazing adventure. 

Lauren~ from my orange county neck of the woods. her words are witty and intelligent and everything in between.

Glenalyn~ a fellow adventurer, wanderluster and tribe member. 

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real

My friend and future co~bookstore owner, Patty wrote a blog about love (read it here) after we came back from Spain. I had tears streaming down my face reading it because I understood the love she was speaking about.

And I must confess, I’ve wanted to write a blog on love too. But my words I knew would be different than Patty’s. And I wasn’t sure what words they were yet. All I knew was my heart bursts and breaks now in ways that it never had before.

The other day I woke up with a beautiful passage from Velveteen Rabbit in my head and on my heart. I hadn’t recently read it somewhere, I wasn’t scrolling through Pinterest—it was just there. Sitting in my brain.

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.quote from the Velveteen Rabbit. .picture from Sistarovat, Romania.

“But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. But once you are Real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always

BOOM.

Here’s the thing: real love, real tear filled, hard words, silly laughter, silent book reading afternoon love changes you. It does something to you that you almost can’t explain.

I don’t want this to be read as if I’d never experienced love before- I had. And actually if anything the last two years have caused me even more clearly to see where I’ve experienced love like that before.

Where I’ve experienced CHRIST like that before.

I’ve ran a lot in life. I’ve hid. I’ve hid behind the fact that I know how to love well. And if I KNOW how to love well then I must be ok. If I can give it I must have HAD it.

And of course, I give really, REALLY good hugs.

But there is a difference between GIVING a hug and RECEIVING one. There is a sink your whole self into the person, wrap your arms around them and let all your troubles go because you know that person is going to take them, even if for a moment from you.

I was normally on the giving end of a hug. I would see someone needing a hug and I’d give. I’d rarely ask for one. I didn’t need them that bad.

And when it comes down to it how I interacted with people was how I interacted with God.

I feel like, for the longest time I never asked God for a hug. I never plagued Him with my burdens. I’d hug Him when I felt like I needed too. But never in a receiving sort of way.

Then I got to the point that I couldn’t even hug him. I’d been there before, during times of depression and times of brokenness. But after the race and the beginning of Spain I had to force myself to even be in his presence. During an exercise in class last summer we had to picture Jesus with us in this field. I was sitting on a blanket when he came up. I promptly told him to not sit down next to me. To stay away.

Then He overwhelmed me. With words from people, with gifts, with love. He poured so much into my arms even while I was STILL telling him to stay away.

And then I ran. I made myself busy. I did a lot. I volunteered for things, offered myself for jobs. Which is my normal. It is what I did.

And then, like so many times before, I got tired.

And He was still there.

Through all of it. He had watched me run and do and be all of these people and places and things that I didn’t need to be. Like I had done time after time after time.

And He was still there. Like HE had done time after time after time.

And then out of sheer exhaustion and the inability to solve any of the “problems” going on around me I let Him hug me. I gave up really. I gave up running, gave up turning to things that I had been turning to for years, and I let him hug me.

And really, REALLY allowed myself to open my arms and receive love. Let it saturate me. Let it wear me down. Let myself hear what he thought of me. Let Him whisper that He LOVED me.

That He Loved me FIRST.

That He loves me ALWAYS.

And then, without knowing it, I became a person who can give and receive love.

Even when it looks messy and when it’s hard and when it causes your heart to burst and break. I have experienced the love of Christ like I’ve never known. Like I never chose to see or receive.

So I sit here, tears streaming down my face knowing that it isn’t possible to go back from this. Knowing it is in me.

And no matter how I struggle or where I go or what ups and downs happen in life I have this love from my God in heaven that has sufficiently rocked me to my core.

Without knowing it; I became Real.

(And once you are Real, it is for always)

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writing on writing

Something that I heard on multiple occasions in Spain was that there is new revelation every day. That each day we can grab a piece of truth and wisdom that we didn’t have before.

And I believe that that statement is true. I believe that we CAN get something new out of everyday. A bible verse, a song lyric, a word from a stranger, a prayer, a sunrise, ANYTHING that can unlock piece of truth for us.

Five days ago I started this daily writing challenge for myself. Not for anyone else.

It’s just for me.

I call it “back to the barre” in reference to a favorite movie.

And so, for the last 5 days I have turned my phone onto airplane mode and set an alarm for 30 minutes.

And written.

A couple of the days I worked on a story I’ve been writing for awhile while another day I wrote for myself. And then the last two days I’ve been furiously writing this short story. It’s going to become a five parter. I’ll probably share it with a few people, but mainly it’s for myself.

Because I’ve realized over the last year that writing is something for me.

It’s a place for me to throw all the things out of my brain and stare at them and then see how they fit back together.

Sometimes that is in the form of a blog, a letter or a Facebook status.

And sometimes it is in the form of a story that isn’t supposed to be about me. But it is. It hold a piece of myself.

I’ve realized it is actually easier for me to post a blog about myself then to post a short story or a poem. Because that writing, that story that comes from somewhere out of the depths of me is personal. More personal than I would like to admit. Or care to realize.

So, in all of this writing and putting words on a page, I didn’t think I was searching for truth. I thought I was just trying to open up this room in my mind that was storing words that I didn’t have access to anymore in the continental US.

But, of course I was searching for truth. I’m always searching for more truth. I’m always searching for things that make more sense then they did a day before.

The words that paint across the page from my pen or pencil are the inner-workings of my mind trying to put more pieces of the puzzle together.

Words unlock things. At least for me. Reading the words of a friend or an ancient scholar. Skimming through quotes on instagram or scribblings down the side of a page in a journal.

Words are my keys into the next. Words are my voice.

Words are a part of my truth.

So I guess, what I am getting at here is this: find your truth. Find what brings you to MORE truth. It could be writing, or painting, reading or listening to a podcast. It could be running or cooking or anything in between.

Just find what’s yours.

And use it.

Use it every day. There is so much out there for us to grab onto BUT there is so much inside of us to utilize and we don’t even know because we don’t know how to get to it.

Finding what brings you truth is essentially finding what brings you life.

That’s what is on my heart and mind right now. A push, a call, to find what brings you truth and life and do it everyday.

Find truth. Find life.

Grab it.

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the one in which I make a centerstage reference

I want to write. I really, REALLY do.

I want to commit words to a page and not use the backspace. I want to not erase line after line after line because I don’t know where it’s going.

Or I know where it’s going and don’t know how it’s going to get there.

I’ve stared three different blogs over the last hour, with three very different endings:

“I’m a cheerleader”

“I turn 30 in 4 months: sweet lord baby jesus”

“I cook with garlic and onions a lot”

I don’t know where to go with any of them. I don’t know what words to tap out to formulate the thoughts that are jumping around in my head. I have a lot them; thoughts that is. And right now all I can think about is that one scene from CenterStage where Juliette tells Eva to always come back to the barre. When the people are being mean and hateful and the world seems topsy turvy she just needs to come back to center. To the barre.

Now, I don’t feel topsy turvy really but I do feel like I need too, in some way get all of the chaos out of my brain. Out of the part of my brain where my words lie. I want to make sense of the things that don’t fit.

So starting today, for the month of February, I am going to sit for 30 minutes and write. Every day. Be it a piece of whimsical fiction or a letter to a friend or the sketching of multiple words across many pages. I know there are writing challenges everywhere happening and going on so this thought is not new but borrowed. But it works.

So I’ll be here, everyday, going back to the barre. (#backtothebarre?)

Care to join?

Shoot me a message or an email and maybe we can get this train moving together.