Category Archives: rest

Sunday

I’ve always wanted to write, and I’ve always found an excuse not to write. I don’t know how to start. They wouldn’t understand what I’m trying to say. I’m no better than the next guy.

I was listening to an established author on Periscope the other day and he mentioned the first page is always the hardest to write. All the pressure lies on that one page. What a parallel to everything else in life, right? You put too much pressure on anything and it becomes paralyzed.

Take a deep breath. Begin.

READING: Put Your Dream to the Test by John C. Maxwell

LOVING: my new hair do by Chandra Rae Fredrickson

LISTENING: to Sons & Doubters (podcast) & Latifah Phillips: Joy

MOVING: my p90x3 routine (you need inspiration to move? see me)

ASPIRING: to do the thing that scares me

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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.

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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).

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Bitter

I know we should value every moment, but I’m left feeling like I want nothing more than the beginning of January. I feel so jaded about the world’s approach to Christmas. We drew names at Thanksgiving for a Christmas gift exchange. I don’t even want to think about spending money on a gift. I don’t want to have to stress about buying gifts for people that don’t need them or to pretend like gift giving is what matters.

I am done caring about my job, and tired of showing up every week faking it. I miss working with kids. At least they are authentic. Most haven’t been bitten by the bitter of life.

I know this is a sour post, but I want room to be sour. I want to be able to frown and cry if I feel it. I want to be real, even if real is ugly.

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Remission

She drives home

on the all familiar roads

spacing out to the music she’s heard before

robotic actions, an autopilot mind

pulling into the drive, she makes her way inside

the tiny apartment, cozy but empty

waiting for him to arrive

heavy and suffocating

the regrets are deep

the truth has been told, partially

there’s still a piece of dead inside, not really living, only a little alive

the poison was removed

remission, always in sight

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Lyrical

I like to write with music playing. It makes me feel like I’m escaping into this existential world of emotion and thought. The unspoken ideas, those that are not yet words, simply ideas, dance around in my head as I debate whether to let them be, dancing in their beauty, in their unformed state, or categorize them into expressions, words, paragraphs, stories.

I keep these ideas safe by not speaking them. They are my secrets. I do not want to fail in my attempt to express them completely, so I don’t express them at all. Instead, I let them dance in my mind to the music I’m absorbing.

Sometimes even speaking them is too dry, too flat. I’m learning, perhaps, lyrical poetry is the only way to express these colorful, rich, dimensional ideas. I’m thinking this especially now, as I sing along to the music.

Maybe it’s because I can feel it. I not only read it with my eyes, but hear it with my ears, comprehend it with my mind and understand it with my heart. The lyrics are puzzles that coax my curiosity to gain further understanding. And sometimes, lyrics can remain secrets. They don’t require explanation, just enjoyment.

“Second best, oh, second best

I can learn to live with this

Plus, I really need a rest

After all, what’s wrong with second best”

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Vulnerable

(This is not easy. I’ve shed the days of bearing my soul since Xanga was no longer popular).

Here is the truth: I’ve traded what is authentic and heart-felt for what is simple. Life moves too quickly to reflect in ways I have before. Pretty soon, August will be September; Summer will be Fall; and all of my concerns will have morphed into new concerns or simply multiplied. Here I am heaved forward; running as quickly as my legs will take me as not to fall under the imaginary bulldozer (which even still, pushes me forward). I’m trying my hardest to not be “flattened,” by life.

In fact, I’ve become pretty good at this running, this moving. I’m good at juggling busy, and being productive. My pace has steadied. My feet have blistered, then calloused. Focusing my eyes forward and becoming unaware of others now comes naturally. I’ve traded thinking for doing and it seems to be working.

I’ve made horrific mistakes and experienced what I shouldn’t have, but at least I’m moving … right?

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I stopped running today. I turned around, looked behind me … nothing.

Safe from the dozer, I sat down. I stretched. I slowly inhaled. Am I truly experiencing? Have my experiences made me bitter? Hard? Cold?

Have I been running so hard for so long, that I’ve forgotten the way rest feels?

Have I traded authentic, joyful depth for robotic production?

What does productivity truly accomplish?

Do I appreciate the now? My blessings? My life?

Sadly I don’t often stop and reflect. I don’t rest and chip away at my hardened heart. Heck, I don’t take enough time to tell my husband how much I appreciate him. This will change … it has to change.

For now, I need more time to rest and reflect. This world has cheapened my soul.

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