To boldly go…

“Do not dare not to dare.” ~C.S. Lewis

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Do you ever sit (or stand, I don’t discriminate) somewhere and, having lost track of your thought/plan, your brain instead says a word? The same word over and over… I’m not sure I’m explaining it right. In fact, I’m not sure I actually know how to explain it… Let’s see. A long time ago, I’d be thinking something or about to embark on some activity when I’d be distracted by life somehow and suddenly, in trying to remember what I was up to my brain or mouth would say “Pink.” Weird right? But it was always like a reset and I’d shake my head and think What? No, not pink. Dishes. I was going to do the dishes, and then I’d chuckle to myself. I chuckled up until this became an often-daily event and then I started questioning my mental clarity and the possibility of a brain tumor.

After time, Pink grew into birthday. Why? I don’t know. Seriously, what is the significance of this ridiculousness? Birthday lasted for some time and then in an odd plot twist, birthday morphed into Happy. Happy. Yes, HAPPY. Is it because birthday and happy go together like peanut butter and pickle? (at least according to Gen they do anyway. PB & Pickle isn’t really my jive anymore.) Is it something bigger? Psychological scuba diving is my absolute favorite pass-time and so with this new arrival that proverbial squirrel in hamster in my brain is running on that wheel like crazy.

It is at this point, in this blog post, when I realize you may be thinking the last word in my last paragraph may be the biggest key of all. It’s not. I’m not actually crazy, though I’ve felt like maybe I could be headed there many times over the last year.

At any rate, I’ve asked my youngest and she says “no, this has never happened to me but I do think it is very interesting.”

The original point of this odd-turned-post had nothing to do with this in fact. I was in the shower, some hours ago, thinking about a post idea. This post idea morphed and grew, becoming more and more real (in thought) as I progressed through my morning routine. As soon as word press was open, however, it was gone. I sat staring at the cursor when my daughter distracted me for a bit. When my attention came back to my Macbook, I thought oh yes, the post… and typed out HAPPY. Twice. This happened twice. And suddenly my odd little reset word moved from simply living in my head to also living via my fingertips.

I prayed a bold prayer this morning. Since I am not really the religious type, but do have a real and relevant relationship with God, prayer is an important part of my day. I am also a writer and so it occurred to me today, as I prayed this bold prayer, that I should write it out and make it a prayer/affirmation. This is something I’ll have to ponder on, because the pressure for such a thing is huge. It is one thing to say a prayer, but an altogether different one to write it out and intentionally meditate on it. This prayer I prayed is themed upon the idea of daring. Daring to do something, daring to be something. Something I spoke the words (in prayer) of when I was 7 years old, sitting cross-legged on a rug in the middle of my bedroom floor. Something I’ve had spoken to me for months, by strangers and friends alike. Something that my soul thinks about and every fiber of my says “yes! THIS!!” but the idea of how to get from where my feet, barefoot, plant to there is overwhelming and terrifying.

Daring…

Yesterday I had a conversation with my husband about the times in life when we go for it because we know we have no choice. My example was the day before, Chw was stress-neck deep in auto repairs that were frustrating him incredibly. He took phone advice from our mechanic son-in-law, like a man desperate to solve this issue. He pursued YouTube videos and internet articles and bought tools promising to help our midwestern-rust-compounded issue. He knew he HAD to fix the car because He needs that car. He pays a monthly payment for that car. There was no question that the problem HAD to be solved, so he dove in and gave it his all until it was solved. There were no options for sitting back in self-doubt and fear, or ignoring the issue and the jack stands until the went away because he knew they wouldn’t… When I used the example, I was referencing the hard work our marriage will need to get to a good place and how worthwhile it will be, if we do that work.

The thing is though, isn’t everything like that? While I wasn’t wrong in using the example towards our marriage, the reality is that we should always dare to dare. Dare to repair relationships. Dare to make a creative dinner. If we didn’t allow fear to hold us back, what could be do? What we knew we had to…

And what make something a “have to”? These are the things I’m thinking about, as of late. How to take something from the bare-minimum-effort to an all-in… How to stop sitting back in the false sense of security that comes with “if it works out”, “if I can” and just giving something everything I’ve got. Are there guarantees? No. But if we throw ourselves into the things we are supposed to, we can’t lose.

Daring… Happy.

the struggle is real…

photo-1429080695038-cdf6ae5dbc13This internet is full of advice for writers. Sometimes I read it and I question if the advice giver knows anything about writing at all. {side note- I’m not saying that out of arrogance. I will be the first to admit my writing is more heart/feel based that textbook accurate. I am actually pretty ok with that. As a reader I tend to appreciate and feel more with the warmth of written word over the cold and clinical.} Some advice is great. One I see quite often that simply baffles me is that to be a great writer, you just need to write. Even 5 minutes a day…

Any writer knows that to get into the groove and have your writing flow well, you need to warm up. Once you’re in that flow you need time. Uninterrupted, undistracted time to write… That seems like a lot of pressure for 5 minute intervals…

I have this writing project that feels like it. You know, that culmination of a dream and a life’s purpose… It’s that thing that random strangers have suggested, which leads me down the narrow walk way of life which feels like eerie chills and something bigger. Something more. Ironically the working title of said project is More, but I digress… With 24 hours in a day, I could theoretically pour a lot into this project. A lot of time, a lot of effort, a lot of heart. Instead what do I do? Think. Stress. Feel guilt for not working on said project. Master levels of candy crush. Feel guilt over not reading more. Pray about writing and how to get in that zone. Watch a Netflix series show.

What is it that keeps me from sitting down and going for it? Fear… Of course it’s fear. But Why? Here’s what I know… 5 minutes a day will not help me. And the only answer is to just do it… Just jump in and work on it. Let go of the distractions & fear and write.

Why is this always followed by a But…

Let us discuss…

Here it is, Conjuring week, day 3! I had some technical difficulties and couldn’t upload the actual trailer sent by the studio, but figured I would just link one from You Tube because it seems an unfair affair to be talking so much about this film and not share a preview with you… So, with that, here is a preview of The Conjuring 2

Pretty scary, right?

I’ve received a comment and a couple of emails about how it seems the actual story behind this installment seems so much less special effects and dramatic elements than the movie seems to portray. I would say, especially after the first film, that this is probably true. I don’t necessarily feel that is a bad thing. I love the feedback I receive from you guys! I truly, truly do… And on that note, have you entered my giveaway??? If not… Go. Do it. And keep up the dialogue and discussions!

Food for thought: How do you feel about the exaggeration in the details? Do you feel that things like that take away from the integrity of the actual story?

invisibility…

4aqy2crxsa8-sergio-rolaBlogging, writing, social media and all of the other ways that the current era leads us to an inevitable fork-in-the-road, are not without uninvolved people and their strong opinions. About a month ago I was virtually (as it was on the internet, so virtual) put through the ringer by people I would have consider more than acquaintances and had great respect for. It was actually two unconnected sources, over two different things, within the span of 24 hours. One was based on unfounded gossip, and the other was based on social media…

There is a saying that anyone with a pulse knows now, Haters gonna Hate… And that is just it. When those particular haters though, are more than just internet trolls, there will be lasting consequences…

In regards to incident number one- it is nothing more than immature, two-faced, drama causing nonsense. Unfortunately I can honestly say their middle school behavior and choices that followed had lasting impact on the life and course of my family healing and one day they will have to move out of 6th grade mentality and answer for that. Thankfully, it will not be to me because I just don’t have time for such sad behavior in adult women, mothers and wives…

The second incident is much more relevant. After the first incident began (and sadly, it hasn’t ended yet) I made a rash decision to make a post on my private facebook page stating that I did not care about these women’s opinions of me, and that despite the fact that my husband had been unfaithful, I still valued reconciliation and wanted my marriage restored. A couple of friends called and asked me to self examine why I had written it. It was up for less than 2 hours, I realized I had done it in a moment of anger and took it down. A woman I respected and had invited in to an inner circle of trust, (a place reserved for few) reacted very judgmentally and said some incredibly cruel things. We are no longer in contact and when she revealed her true colors, I was ok with that.

Over the past month though, I have been reflecting on both issues and my handling of them. I have had countless conversations with people about the transparency of being a writer and living as a writer in this day and age… Whenever the girls in the first incident are discussed, by my husband, he brings up my blog as validation for their pathetic behavior. My blog, which emphatically states the constant theme of these two things: 1) that I wanted healing and reconciliation in my marriage, and 2) that I was never unfaithful to my husband. When the very origin of their scheme was that I had a torrid affair, left my husband for my lover, etc- my blog seems like an unfounded contributor. Person number two also used my blog as justification for her cruelty stating that my blog was evidence that I was seethingly angry and out to ruin my husband. Also ridiculous, except that maybe people read into another person’s words, what they want to see. Whatever the case, despite these two pathetic instances, here is what I know-

-Over the six months that I have been separated in my marriage, I have carefully blogged about my side of the journey.

-There was one post where I mentioned my husband was one hundred percent responsible for our state of continued separation. My husband read it and asked me to take it down because, even though it was true, he did not want people to think he was a bad guy.

-I have received dozens of emails from women who were walking similar journeys and felt alone.

-I have connected with 4 different women who believe I helped them journey through some really awful marriage times.

-I have come to realize that being a writer, and blogger, in this day and age requires me to make a choice. I can either pretend like things are different and live in a plastic facebook world, OR I can be transparent and journey as authentically as possible.

-I have done the latter… and obviously some people do not like that, and that is ok. As incident number one and two have both taught me, there are people who live to cause drama and interfere where they don’t belong. All I can do is worry about my own stuff, keep my side of the fence clean and weeded and let them deal with their own garbage.

Connect…

hello, 2016…

If first impressions mean anything, than I suspect you and I won’t really get along too well. It is the first day of a new year, a blank slate, a fresh chapter- and I can honestly say I’ve not quite caught up yet. This place I’m playing peek a boo with, inside of my heart and mind, is not a good place to be. It is dark, desolate, isolating and in it I find myself pretty afraid. I fear that I’ve just cycled through too much these past forty-five days…

Is that possible?

One day I was on a track, complete with dreams and plans. While it’s true that some of those plans may have eventually led me to the very pedestal of isolation I currently find myself on, being separated from my husband and such, the journey would have been very different and found me significantly more prepared and at peace. I’m full of so many aches and questions and the last thing in the world that I need is a bouquet of assumptions, mocking and an empty corner. It is no secret that I do not do well with change under the best of circumstances. Over these past five weeks though, so much has happened so fast. I’ve sailed along, able to focus on the next big thing while praying I’d make it through unscathed. Each thing brought about a new wave of feeling, fears and emptiness… And now, now there isn’t a big wave to focus on. The water is calm, while the sky holds threat of severe storms approaching. In this metaphor I guess it would be accurate to assess that I’m stuck there, in the sea, alone.

I am far from unscathed…

My word for this new year is Connect.

Nearly three years ago I moved away from a cluster of well-developed friendships, some of which did not survive the relocation. In those three years I tried desperately to form friendships in an area where this task just proved more impossible than anything else. Now I’m home and reminded daily that you can’t go back. The solution, (vital, at this point) would be to connect with others. Old friends, new friends, people…

Prior to the great move East, of ’13, I was fairly connected to myself. I worked in my art and felt whole with such endeavors. In that time away I lost more and more of my ability to create. Connecting to myself, channeling inspiration and finding the journey my soul needs to go on does seem equally as vital.

Learning to connect with my kids, especially my youngest, from across so many miles, and not as someone’s other half, but as me, feels like an insurmountable challenge.

Connecting with an educational program which will lead to the need of connecting with a community to grow in my career… Connecting with things I’ve lost touch with… With me, in other ways than simply art and written word… Connecting with God, connecting with the beauty that exists every where I am- even when that where has me isolated at sea… Connecting my heart to the song of the sea, connecting my eyes to the miracles around me. Connecting my time to a new routine. Connecting my body to where it is now, and how it is now, and how it may never be my ideal- or anyones… Connecting my confidence to the line where someone else’s approval doesn’t mean anything.

Connect. Connecting. Connection.

Hello, 2016. I don’t know anything about anything other than the fact that I’m so isolated, I’m so alone, I’m so tired, I’m so parched, I’m so trying-not-to-be-terrified. I’m so dazed in my mind and so incredibly far from a place of peace… But I’m here. I’m present.