being and longing

the word 'belonging' holds together the two fundamental aspects of life: 

Being and Longing; the longing of our Being and the being of our Longing...

-john o'donohue

belonging...embracing... sternum-wide-open-wrapping ribs-hearts-touching-we are one, embrace.

we sit there longing to be. just ourselves. we sit there, being, hoping someone else is longing for us. it's the most treasured feeling. the  most sought after, the one people wait years for, cry tears for, pray their hearts out for. 

lavender lately

i mull over a multitude of emotions, while driving under a blanket of stars at 3:45 am toward a  memorial service in oregon. there's a lump in my throat and tears well up in my eyes as the sun rises, a foray of pink and golden orange fire filling the otherwise clear sky. new mercies.

hesitation, shame, guilt, confusion, grief, devastation jumble around my being.

today's treasures

a few simple things that brightened my day, and then some...

1. a nature bundle

{and the little girl who handed it to me, on our adventure walk}

12/52

alright. so this time i won't be too hard on myself should i not make it the full year. because, well, as we know--life happens and it's been a bit since i last did this...and really this is much more for my own memories than anything else. thus, without further ado...

i'm no gymnast

it's curious...even when i sit there listing the good things, i end up finding something contrary about it all. the words i select, the tone in my voice, there is always bits of bitterness welling up and overflowing, even into the sweetest of things.

seeing the world 'a glass half full' doesn't seem to come naturally for me. perhaps i am jaded? undoubtedly, there was once a time where i saw goodness, blessing, positivity everywhere...inside every nook, every soul, around every corner. i saw it without trying, without searching. effortlessly, i happened upon it--rather, it happened upon me.

fourty six days

giving this plant a good dusting as the light pours into our unfinished kitchen is all too fitting this morning.

my heart aches for rest, for revitalization. there are nooks and the smallest crannies that have yearned to be fed for some time. but they have lost to social media--both instagram and facebook alike.

instagram--the app that has been such an immense blessing in my life as i have searched for community, providing me solidarity, with kin mothers who are wrestling and needed someone--as i did--to place a proverbial hand on the shoulder and say me too. the app that has handed me beautiful in-real-life friendships that i would have otherwise not met.

it feels good

i am blessed, i am blessed, i am blessed, i remind myself as the warmth of the sun brushes against my skin, kissing the girls' cheeks as they play peek-a-boo. behind me sits a bag of grout, another of cement, and nine boxes of yet-to-be-laid tile. this may just be the first moment i have allowed myself to admit this, the light pouring into the room still, blessing.

why is it hard to count them? the good things? david could tell you so so quickly it's not my strong suit. i stir and i wallow and i sulk far too often. it feels good to let the bitterness brew. it feels good to let the anger simmer a bit.

do you ache?

i have this dream, although it didn't feel like a dream at the time...more a not so distant memory. because, in fact, it's incredibly vivid. there was a summer--about five years ago--that i spent at a camp on a lake singing. and i had always loved singing. call it a childhood fantasy, i remember longing to be a singer when i got older, amongst other things of course--ice skater, detective, astronaut, lawyer--but singer was always there, lingering.

when there's a stove in your living room

...and a garbage can to boot. when you were supposed to be moved in before christmas--december the seventeenth to be exact--and you want to pretend that you are alright, that everything is going to be fine. but nothing has a place. and, quite frankly, order and control are the things you cling to, with the tightest of fists.