Taking Chances

Have you ever stopped to think, really think, about what you are doing right here, right now, in the moment? And if you've ever taken a moment to stop and think about what it is you are doing, do you find yourself filled with joy and intention, knowing that you are pursuing what you've been created to do - the very core of who you are feels awake and alive and fit for the doing of whatever job or dream you are pursuing? Or do you give a little gulp, and know that you've chosen practicality rather than what your bones are aching to do, make, create, and experience, not really pursuing what it is deep down you were made for?

I came across this video on Life Buzz that my cousin shared via social media. It's only a minute long, but what Jim Carey says in his speech to the graduates are words that I think are so important to hear.

If you have a minute this morning, you can watch it here.

I love his last words,"You can fail at what you don't want, so you might as well take a chance at doing what you love." For me, I'd rather fail at hula hooping than never experience it. I'd rather get knocked down one hundred times in pursuit of my dreams. I'd rather live a life not asking "what if?", but saying "I did it."

So, friends, why not take that chance?

The Past, Latched Windows, and Forgiveness

I used to be so vulnerable to my past being a stumbling block in my every day. I was like a tiny little house, sitting on the prettiest lot, painted a crisp white with a vibrant blue door, with wildflowers growing along the path leading up to it, sunshine warming its exterior, visitors knocking and leaving treats on the front stoop--yet, I couldn't see it. With the windows latched shut, the door unanswered, my past hung around inside its sturdy walls--that, the only view to be seen. I didn't fully know of the beauty to be had in the every day. I might wander out, outside of this little house I created within me, see the delicate blooms, feel the warmth of the sun, and look like I fully knew of these simple joys; but what a sad picture of my heart one would truly see. All of these life giving things, the view outside, and the people who loved me: all of that juxtaposed blurry and in the background, while the collection of hurt, and guilt, and those heavy past burdens stood all so clearly in focus at the front of my heart.

And so, I'd wander out, but I'd always go back to my tiny little house, or remember what was stored up inside while I was away, behind those closed doors: pressing against latched windows, fogging my mind and tying up my ability to live freely, fully in the moment, openly to forgiveness, all stealing my ability to know joy as it truly truly is. I'd wander out, but at the end of the day, the tiny little house that I created within me was still there just filled with the collection of hurt from others, lies I created about myself, and anxiety from my past. It was there, and that house stayed, and I could not shake it.

The building blocks of this tiny little house in my heart appeared in those days when teenage awareness transitioned to young adulthood, and life slowly switched from the simplicity of childhood and the wild and free feeling of being a young girl (what my childhood was) to a jig saw puzzle of love and heartbreak, adolescent regrets, the pain and longing of wanting to feel fully wanted as a my father's daughter, self-criticism, and changes in acceptance: so many of which are tied to body, and image, and success (or what we label it as). As I navigated all of this: relationships with boys, awareness of my self, stark realities of life and sin, absence of what I wanted in my relationship with my dad, the changing of friendships, trying to fit in, and even stretching into self criticism as a newly married woman, those lies staring back in the mirror, the battle of the mind (I could go on), and all the muck that comes with that package--I learned how to hold on to it all. I learned how to take even the most subtle detail of my past and allow it to stay in my tiny little house. I allowed it to stay in and control how I felt about myself in the present moments of my life. And, of course, as those years from teenager to young adult became more and more, my house only filled, and I became better at not letting anything out. I locked the doors, sealed up the windows, and the light outside became harder and harder to see. Because when you fill your life with so much from the past, even the good, there is no room for anything but that, and you miss out on the present.

My past used to be a stumbling block. I allowed it to be this way. You see, I laid the brick work. I built up those walls. I closed those windows. I locked the door. It was me who didn't allow the sunshine and breeze to come in and freshen up my life, melt it like spring to winter, like a clean slate or canvas for a new painting and story to be written about the present.

I allowed my past to linger in my thoughts, be my crutch, hold me back. Until one day, a loud knock was at the locked front door. A light showed up so bright that even a latched window with curtains pulled tight couldn't keep dark. Like the early morning sun that wakes the slumbering, stirring those first moments of the day, rays kissing the air and singing "wake up! wake up! it's time to live!" And I couldn't resist it. I couldn't leave the door unanswered. I had to pull the curtains. I had to wake up, I had to give it up, I couldn't keep my collection of hurt and guilt away from that light any longer. I couldn't let the past hold cactive my present, and my future. So I didn't.

That pounding, that bright light, in a literal sense: that was the moment where I finally realized my role in it all. That is when I realized I had to give up everything I was holding onto: to give it up to God, to tell others about my anxiety in dealing with my past, through steadfast prayer, and to open up and air it all out in a sense to begin the process of forgiving others and forgiving myself. And to keep my little tiny house from being filled up, I have to do this daily. Because, really, I'll always be vulnerable to neglecting this place in my heart, and allowing the doors and window to bolt up. This is how I do it: Forgive daily. Choose to keep the windows open and the breeze coming in. Choose to clean up house if you will, for me through prayer and mindfulness, or a vulnerable conversation with a close friend, with Matt, or with myself, each and every day.

Everyone has a past. Everyone has hurt, let downs, stumblings, loss, and things they regret. And everyone has to deal with them in a real way. For me, it took years of prayer and true blindness to it all until I really understood how my past held me captive. I fell victim to my own default, to dwell on the collection of bad rather open the windows and see the good of the present. And that's when I realized my role in it all. God was always knocking, and I chose not to answer the door. The light was always peering in through the tightly closed windows of my heart, and I chose to never truly notice.

My past used to be a stumbling block, a hinderance to how I enjoyed my everyday, blinding me from opportunity and beauty that was right there waiting for me to see it, to grab it, to take it as what life is about--and I realize that now. I have learned how to keep that tiny little house bright, and it is a choice that I have to make daily.

What about you? Are your windows latched shut or wide open? Either way, the warmth of the sun and crispness of that air will always be right outside that door to your heart. If anything, know that. And know that someone will always be knocking. Are you choosing to let the present day in and air out what you are holding inside? Are you choosing to answer the door?

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This post is part of a series of 25 bloggers over 25 days sharing as part of the Skinny Dip Society Blog Tour, hosted by Katie Den Ouden. Be sure to check out Stephanie's post from yesterday, on Falling Back in Love With Yourself, and Caroline's post tomorrow. Katie is also doing a 21-Day Freedom challenge, which may be the perfect little addition for you to live a bit more freely and wildly each day. She is a total inspiration, and an amazing woman cultivating a community of people who want to live life wholly. You can read catch up on the past few week of the blog tour--over here. 

To Being Adventurers

I feel like an adventurer. Maybe being in New York for a week changed my inner clockwork and made me dance to a rhythm with each new day. A transformed ticking where I hear, see, and smell, brighter, deeper and richer. And this week in New York has felt like months. Months of adventure and seeking out new and exciting, simple yet delightful, wide awake and exhausted, contrasting details that make life so alive--with a sleep hard way of being, a taste every bite way of eating, and a walk-like-your-life-and-catching-the-subway-depends-on-it type of travel. The days feel like a collection of a million moments. Like a net being held up, chasing the wind and filling up with monarchs as they head south. If my life where to sit in an old photo booth, and flash!, moments had and chances missed would fill the rectangles staring back with the question of "what do you see?", would I like it, would I like what I see? Would I feel like my life, a mere twenty eight years of living, was really like centuries or a full net of moments deliberately caught and saved? Would the photo strip in my hands reflect purposeful living, adventuring through the simple, and taking delight in the often unnoticed? I hope so. I want that for myself. Because really, these moments, this life, these things we consume ourselves with--they could be gone at any time. Like me, leaving New York, we could be on a plane at any moment and how we would hate to say "I wish I had done more, seen more, paid more attention--lived better." So here is to being an adventurer. An adventurer of the simple and quiet to an explorer of the big and unknown.

Seasons and The New Year

I feel like this blog of mine has often become a place where I share the things I am learning. Those things that I'm stuck on, and can't get over until I write it out. So thank you for sticking with me as I share the massive compiling of my heart, even if it comes out a bit wonky or in the form of long never ending run-on sentences. You may have started reading my blog because of a DIY project or a stream of pretty design photographs, or maybe through the Love Yourself Link Up or just by random stumbling. And if you've been here from the start, you've probably seen a shift in what I write about. A shift to things that I used to be hesitant in writing, like anxiety or faith, but then, when I did put words to paper (or screen), I was provided with more meaning and purpose in my writing than ever before. And so I stuck with it. If you've stuck with it too, which many of you have--you are my encouragement to keep coming back. To keep writing about those things. Thank you for that. 

So as 2014 is just a day away, I want to keep up with that momentum in my life. I want to jump into a year of writing with intention, purpose, and meaning. Being real and honest about the things I'm learning, joyfully experiencing, or struggling to grasp. Creating a place where we can openly go through life's seasons together. What do you say? Are you with me?

In January, Nellie Magazine launches, which will be yet another great place to go through life's seasons, and be encouraged to shine brightly in the everyday together, full of intentional living. Mary Beth, Natalie, Anne, Stephanie, and Allie also have inspiring spaces where conversation and inspiration aligns with these very things: truly living and loving the simple things in life.

Here's to a Happy New Year, sweet friends, one full of celebrating the seasons, and living life sharing those things that are true to who we are and what life is teaching us :)

An Afternoon Perspective.

Without even knowing if the season will bring rain or drought, the farmer plants his crop. I long to be like the farmer, don't you? To have enduring faith, and yet to even know if drought comes, harvest may still come elsewhere or next year. So what about you. If you knew that tomorrow would go to pieces, would you still plant your "apple tree"?

The Screen In Front Of You And Me

I'm going to ask you a question. You may avoid asking yourself this question for fear of what your answer might shine light on. But its important to answer it. Why do you watch what you watch? When it comes to television and film, what is it that you are watching, and why are you watching it?

Everyone has their stance on media. And everyone has their own feelings about having cable television. And whether you choose to have cable or not, that isn't where this question is going. Because really, even without cable t.v., there is Netflix and an array of other ways to get shows whenever you want them. (It seems like every 173 days Matt and I have the conversation about whether or not cable needs to come in or stay out. Currently, it has been staying out.)

But its important to ask yourself the question. And after you ask it, the door might open to other questions. Like this one that slammed me straight on as I was thinking about a recent show Matt and I just started watching. Am I watching a show because it won awards, and I was told that it is the best in television cinematography, editing, and character development? Am I watching a show because everyone is saying "this show, you've just gotta watch it"? Is that why? Is there something else I could be watching, or instead just choose to turn if off --gasp-- entirely?

So what if the storyline, plot, and the lives of the characters in what we watch conflict with the choices and morals we hold with high esteem in real life? What if what we watch completely misaligns with our lives and what we want to have filling up our time, or even more importantly, our minds? I'm just going to name a few: Dexter. Breaking Bad. Orange is the New Black, Gossip Girl. Real Housewives. etc.  (PS, I'm totally guilty of watching if not a little to a lot of many of these shows--and yes we can still be friends if one of these are your favorites!). I may be an exception to the norm, and overly sensitive to the things I watch and allow myself to get wrapped up in when it comes to television--but even if that is 100% true, and I am a little bit weighted to one side in my opinion, is it not still important to be a little  more tuned in to ourselves about the things we tune on?

So ask yourself. Why are you watching what you are watching? What is on that screen in front of you? As a movie lover, I don't like to ask it myself. I don't like asking it because it causes me to turn off shows that are otherwise thrilling and perhaps a bit uncomfortable and are made to draw me in. But for me, it is important to answer honestly and translate the answer--do I keep watching, or do I not? 

Living a life with intention, and being mindful about the choices we make, are often superseded by things like television. Blatant fact. I'm guilty. You're guilty. Truth be told. But I don't want things that are meaningless to hold more weight in my life than life itself--you know? That is why its important to ask the question. And not just this particular question, and not just with television, but with everything. 

Some more food for thought over here >>What squeezes out of your life? 

photo via Pinterest

Risks and Relationships

I am not the biggest risk taker. I like comfortable. But I realized something in terms of relationships and taking risks. So many of the risks we take in a "people sense", in the end, bring us the comfort of home. Taking risks can translate to comfort in the end. 

Almost all friendships and relationships start with a risk. A stepping out of that box that we all like to squeeze ourselves and a few other people, places, and things into. Whatever does not fit in that box-- a risk is taken to get it. Think about your friendships and how they first began: the risk you had to take to build trust. If you're dating or married, think about your love story, and the butterflies that lingered: the risk you had to take to fall in love. Weren't there risks involved with both of these? How could there not have been? The phone call to get coffee. The showing up at a gathering where you know absolutely no one. The telling of something deep inside you to another person. The putting your heart on a line. The being vulnerable. The being honest. The being you. 

Life can get comfortable again after college. Comfortable after new friends turn to gold. Comfortable once a budding love story turns to a forever commitment. Adult life can get comfortable. I'm finding, at age 27, as I'm faced with less people risks than I did in the past, that I'm comfortable. And I've realized, that those risks I took as a young adult and teenager, to meet people and fall in love--those risks--well, they have turned into my comforts. Those people I had to step out of the box to meet and to know, they are my home.

Now that we live in Denver, I have to take those risks again. Like any new beginning, taking risks are a part of the package. But like I said, I am not the biggest taker. And camping out on comfortable can be my go to. But comfortable does not build new relationships. Comfortable does not step out of the box. So I've been having a chat with this "comfortable me" and reminding her that taking risks in the end, does bring comfort. I'm reminding her of the risks she took for love, for best friends--for people who mean the world to her. And how taking risks are the foundation of relationships. Taking risks to reach out and meet new faces, putting heart and all that is me on the line, builds true lasting friendships. And in the end, the risks taken to build true lasting friendships are what bring us to a place of feeling the comforts of home.

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