Moving (on)…

So now I rededicate this blog to adventure, whether that maybe real, tangible adventure or the soul adventure this life has us riding. I feel I keep chasing different styles and goals, but now I’ll make it clear.

I received the news I hoped to hear (after what seemed like years, ok, eight days…) and I am overjoyed to step forward toward the unknown and super exciting.

Many details need to be sorted, but very soon my love and I will get a chance at newness: new places, faces and experiences.

Stay tuned for what is next! (Stay alert for another secret blog as well)

What’s in a name?

Life events overlap sometimes. Common themes began to appear. A friend called it synchronicity.

Either way, I’ve found the dilemma is not knowing what to write about, rather, owning what I write. I hold back because I don’t want friends or family to knit my writing to me, to draw conclusions about me because of what I have written, or to be disillusioned by what they comprehend.

One by one, lots of happenings began pointing me toward something that would allow me the freedom to bleed: a mask, a name, a pen name.

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth. -Oscar Wilde

Dr. Suess; Mark Twain; William Shakesphere; George Orwell; Pablo Neruda; Voltaire – to name a few famous pens. Now to creating my own. What an adventure this will be!

 

 

Secrecy

Oh, I can’t explain. When I like people immensely, I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvelous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one’s life.

-Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Who do you write for?

This lady is genius:

Who do you write for?.

Motionless

I really thought today would be better. I thought I’d be smarter, more confident, more motivated.

I woke up wrestling the same demons that plagued me days before. Right now, as I reflect, I’m trying to draw out what has been helpful these past two months. I’m also been weeding out what has been hurtful.

I’m so thankful for a husband who allows me reflect and recuperate. During all of this “sabbatical” he’s willingly slaved away so we could still survive. He is truly one of a kind.

Also, I’ve realized a month away from busy and obligated is probably the most helpful time frame. Now that I’m counting down month two of not working so hard, I’m to the lazy, apathetic stage. What once had a purpose is now very much irrelevant. Yes, one month is healthy. Any more than one month is just plain lethargic.

I have a few money-making opportunities in the works. I am also waiting to see whether or not my efforts toward a certain something have been in vain. My gut tells me no way. My impatience fills me with doubt. Soon, this waiting game will be over…

 

Hallelujah – Part Two

Nothing is ever the same, but everything is always familiar.

I’ve posted this song before. Here it is again played by Dave Bazan.

A Constant Fog

They were holding hands as they entered the fog. His grip was tight on her petite hand. We can do this, she thought. As long as we cling to one another we can do this. As she was allowing all of her doubt and insecurities pass, she noticed his grip loosening.

“Sweetheart, what is happening?” she asked.

“Nothing babe. I just heard something, I might need to check it out; see if everything is ok. Wait here.”

Before she could respond, his hand slipped away from hers. She had to stay still, to stay calm. He would be back any moment. Though the fog was thick and pressing, she noticed something standing a few feet ahead of her. She knew it wasn’t him, but for some reason it seemed to draw her near. She stepped toward the figure. “Stop!” Her mind screamed. With a deep breath, she ignored the impulse. He’ll be back any moment. It wont matter if I take a few steps ahead.  It appeared to be another person, another man. Maybe he knows the way out of the fog. Maybe he can help us.

“Hello,” she feigned confidence, but her voice reflected her unsure reality. The man extended his hand to hers. She reluctantly accepted his offer. Her mind immediately interjected, “What are you doing?? How will he find you if you’ve wandered? He is your protection. How can he protect you this way?” She silenced her thoughts by reminding herself that he walked away from her. His hand slipped away first.

There was something strange about the grip this man, this thing, held on her. She kept giving a little more, taking a few more steps. She kept silencing her mind until she could barely hear it screaming at her, until she could barely hear it at all. She continued to battle and justify, whispering things like, “he abandoned me, remember?”

Meanwhile, this figure kept leading her away, further and further from where she once stood. The fog has only become thicker, more dense. She can taste it. It is suffocating. Despite all of her attempts, the figure does not respond to her or her questions. It only continues to lead her deeper into what she cannot comprehend. She meant to find freedom and she is only more deeply entangled. Then the something stops. It drops her hand and simultaneously disappears.

At this point the fog is too heavy. She falls to the ground. “Where is he?” The sobs begin to rack her body as she realizes she is the problem.

If only he would speak. Then she could find him.

If only he would motivate himself to look, to search, to fight. Then he would find her.

If only he would cling to her as tight as he did when they entered the fog, then they could survive this; together.

Communication

How do you communicate?

I’m not talking about the obvious. How do you truly communicate? My husband is very quiet. He doesn’t spend a lot of time talking, but when he picks up his guitar, he communicates the world to me. His creative and beautiful melodies tell me what spoken language cannot.

Maybe you speak through your painting or your photography. Maybe you speak through poetry or your dedication. I feel like I speak through dance and movement. I’m listening to “Shake It Out” by Florence + The Machine and it’s hard to sit still.

So I didn’t grow up in dance class, or have any formal training. Maybe I don’t know the names of certain movements… it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, the week, the year, whatever; I want nothing more than to dance.

“And it’s hard to dance with the Devil on your back, so shake it out!”

The Train

She knew it wasn’t right to visit him, but she headed in his direction anyway. The day was bright; it felt like spring amidst the month of winter. She drew deep breaths and she ran. Her movement was steady and refreshing. She silently thought a prayer to God for a day so beautiful. Fifteen minutes had passed, jogging was easy, and his house was only around the corner. She turned right, ran swiftly down the hill near the train tracks. As she was nearing the tracks, the railroad crossing signs flashed and moved downward. A train made it’s way in front of her and stalled, right there. His house was just on the other side. With a heavy sigh, she began running back up the hill to cross the tracks at another intersection. A few minutes later, she was three blocks further but no closer to him. The same train stood in the way. With another sigh, she sat down on the pavement.

While sitting criss-cross, she said another prayer of thankfulness. Dear Lord, thank You for the train. She then stood, stretched and ran back home.

Transition

I’ve transitioned from extremely free to extremely busy in a matter of days. Maybe extremely busy is an exaggeration; however, I now have plenty to fill my days and I am relieved to not be overly-stressed with a 40-hour a week commitment on top of everything else.

In the third week of the new year, I began my Masters course: Classroom Discipline and Motivation. With the possibility of teaching beginning as early as this fall, I am pretty thrilled to learn a few classroom motivation secrets. I am also preparing for an interview in Nashville on February 9th; and wait, there’s more, I’ve been studying for the ESL Praxis (and will take this next week, ahh!) My stomach is nervous, which means I’m not as relaxed as before, but that’s okay.

I’ve picked up a few sub opportunities here and there, but for the most part I’m leaning on my wonderfully, amazing man.

Finally, amidst the new found busy I do not want to forget to make the space for relaxation, tranquility and a stillness before the Lord. (It’s all for Him, about Him, because of Him).