letters from pain

prelude: i am thinking about this concept tonight in the midst of my migraine. this post came as a sort of stream of consciousness, stemming from only the idea of "letters from pain". i'm not much of an allegory writer, and this is mainly unedited. take from it what you'd like. 

dear human,

i know i can be cruel.

it has been said that you are exhaustible; i am inexhaustible.

this is true.

but if i were exhaustible, you could conquer me
and there your progression would cease.

from me, you may gain bitterness
and perhaps cynicism
and you may put up many walls.

but you would lose the chance to gain empathy
and sincere humility
and invalidate any need to search for strength.

there is a parable* that has been spoken -

a man asked his son to push a boulder.
the son, an obedient child, pushed and pushed an pushed. 

day in and day out. 
still, the boulder did not move. 

years unfolded. 
the son was determined and obedient.
still he pushed the boulder, 
but to no avail. 

finally, in a fit of ever-increasing frustration, 
the son decided he was finished. 
the boulder would never move. 

a man now, he tread back to his father
weary, frustrated, but above all, angry.

"father," the son exclaimed, "this boulder will. not. move.

"day after day, year after year i have pushed the boulder. 
still, it does not budge.
why would you make me push so hard, father, for an effort so fruitless?"

the father looked at his son, 
his eyes also weary,
but wise beyond the years of his son. 

"son," the father patiently spoke, 
"i never asked you to move the boulder, only to push it." 

his words were gentle but firm. 

dumbstruck, the son looked away, the shame of misunderstanding flushing his face. 

"but son", the father said, gesturing to the back window, "there's a different boulder out there. that is the one i want you to move." 

the son's eyes flashed up. 
this is the last thing he'd want to do. 
yet he was still obedient, almost beyond his will. 

without another glance at his father, he stomped out the back door
toward the second boulder, and pushed his shoulder against it,
almost in protest to prove he couldn't. 

he was surprised when the boulder moved with less strength than he had anticipated using. 
he looked back toward the window, 
and saw his father, 
a soft but knowing look on his face. 

you see, his father had never wanted him to move the first boulder; that boulder was a training ground to gain the strength required for the second boulder. the father knew that if the son would have known that the first was never to move, he would never have worked so hard to move it. it wasn't the movement itself, but the effort exerted in pushing the rock that gained the son the strength to move the second boulder. 

and so you see, i hold a use for you.
i am despised among most and am the downfall of many.

however, i am secretly the strength behind those who are strong.
only from fully exerting against me, the strength of pain, can they earn the strength to be strong.

*editor's note: this "parable" was extrapolated from an analogy my brother jonathan told me years ago. like many analogies he's told me, i've never forgotten it and it seems to come back at the most pertinent times. 

#changing

i come to this screen already knowing that words will be irrelevant to convey the awe i've been feeling in these last few minutes of reflection.

but i'm just so amazed and happy; i have to attempt to document something.

i had incredible sharing experiences this weekend.
i got to prepare for and teach relief society, have a good discussion about teaching, and also had a few really, incredibly good one-on-one conversations with incredible people.
like, mind-blowingly good.

i just got back from the most recent one.
i had a bad headache all day.
bottom line: i came back home from our chat with the most excruciating migraine i've had in a long time.
every time i get these i forget how bad they hurt.

but tonight, i can't even be bothered by it.
because it is an absolute testimony that God is in control.

--

the things that my friend and i discussed needed to be discussed.
currently i must acquiesce to some of the physical conditions placed on my body has right now,
but tonight God needed me to be stronger than my body would naturally physically allow
to relay a few things.

my mind was not working as hard as it would normally be during any other intellectually and spiritually stimulating conversation,
because it physically couldn't be
(or i would most likely vomit, or feel the need to as i do now).

instead, He just sort of took over and spoke through me.
when i needed to say something, the words flowed easily and naturally and effortlessly
like a stream flowing down a mountain.

i wasn't sure if any of it made sense,
but from what my friend expressed to me,
it was a perfectly matched conversation
which we probably both needed for different reasons.

and the cool thing is,
part of my contribution in this particular conversation was made up of parts of so many other conversations i've recently had.
conversions where i did have to strain to think and decidedly choose and craft words to convey thoughts, because i had the physical and mental capacity to do so.
which prepared me for this conversation.

and oh! oh, how others thoughts have become my own.
none of this was just "me".
i love when someone provides me words for something my soul has been trying to say.

i am convinced that on this earth, we create each other.

God has put us here to learn together,
to live together,
to teach each other--
because we are vessels through which He speaks
and because we provide each other the opportunity to become more
--more Us --
every day.

goodness, life is beautiful.
and so, so delightfully clever.

👆every day. i sure hope so. // this weekend has been mostly spent outside, walking and talking and learning, with really good people. i am intellectually and physically and spiritually exhausted and i'm so grateful for it. #changing

A photo posted by Kristin Gulledge (@kwistyart) on Mar 15, 2015 at 7:11pm PDT

let the evening go

i was looking through old pictures a few nights ago. 

2007 //

~ 3.26.2008 //

11.22.08 // 

[honorable mention]

8.26.10 //

7.1.11 //

 11.11 //

9.11.13 // 5.22.14 // 6.8.14

9.17.14 // (etc, tbd)

fitting & blowing

ah, a morning post. these don't often occur....

it took me an extra long time to get ready this morning.
see, fridays are a little different for my schedule.
and on this particular day, i am going to go to work, work on things, work on freelance things, head to my mentorship, and maybe do a really great art project (film/photography) tonight in a really cool location.

so naturally, my mind is already skipping over the first four things and it's in that art project;
it's at that location.
which is completely dissonant with the sunny day that seems to be unfolding outside.
the location, the thoughts, the concept, the look and feel--are all more pensive.
not depressed, but contemplative.

and because of that, nothing fit today as i was hurriedly putting on an outfit.
not because my clothes didn't physically fit.
but nothing fit how i was feeling.
and my hair, too.
i couldn't really do it in a way that reflected how i want it to be.
i don't really know how i want it to be.

and then i was like,
oh man.
i'm turning into THAT kind of artist.
ugh.

but at the same time,
i knew i'm not that incredibly finicky,
so i tried to get to the root of it.

i had a good phone conversation with my sister last night.
one of those heart-to-hearts,
a cleansing, tearful, grateful conversation.
i think it opened a lot of things up in me.
possibilities that i had shut out were open again
and fears i had held up in front of me were torn down.

so this morning, i just really couldn't get over my outfit dilemma for a solid few minutes:
why didn't anything feel right today?
why didn't any of the clothes i wear...make sense?
then i had a subtle uncomfortable realization:
perhaps i don't feel comfortable in my own skin.
currently.
a little bit.
ouch.

and no outfit in my closet will fix that.

so i just realized that i'm really antsy with some aspects of my life.
i feel like the winds of change are coming.
or they want to come, but are sort of suspended on their course, in mid-air,
waiting for me to beckon them in.

so if they aren't coming,
perhaps i'll blow my own wind and make them come.

plan b

sometimes life gets a little tricky.
so you plan to secretly take a little weekend trip.
just to run away for a minute to breathe.
then you realize that your niece has a dance recital that weekend.

so you go to that instead,
which is completely worth it.

but as you watch her,
(realizing that at one point she was a cute little girl dancer
and has since matured into a mature, beautiful, incredible dancer)
you ache for that dancer inside of you who never got recognized.
that one that was always there but never quite got her chance.

so later that night, after not having an outlet for so long,
you realize you probably danced when you were 2.
and again, probably, when you were 6.
and times between when you were 6 and now,
so then you think, why not when you are 26?

so then you don your old, worn jazz shoes,
and pretend that your toe isn't broken for a second,
or that your leg injuries aren't there for a minute.
and you turn the lights low
and you just dance.
probably to something like this.

cuz it just feels right.
you know?
i mean, hypothetically of course.

melancholy with a dash of hope

everything is frozen today.

it's bright and super sunny, but there is a certain still all around though the roads still have signs of life.

i tried to make the hour and a half drive up to see a dear friend come home from her mission today, as well as other friends i haven't seen since i came back from my, well, mission of sorts last week.

it started out clear but as i drove (exceeding the speed limit by you know, a more than marginal amount...), the sky turned from blue to grey. the air went from clear to clouded. and soon i couldn't see more than 50 or 100 feet in front of me. i slowed my car and felt a small foreboding feeling, but i kept on.

soon though, i knew i'd have to turn back. it was ridiculous--i couldn't see a thing in front of me, and every road sign that appeared was a surprise until it was right in front of me. the sun, however, was a tiny but perfectly clear circle high above me. i wondered why it wasn't helping more with my vision. with a bit of a heavy heart, but one that was willing to listen to my head for once, i turned off the next exit and re-directed my route to head back where i'd come from.

i made it back right in time to catch my own ward's meeting. it felt good to be back and i couldn't have picked a better meeting to welcome me back to my utah home and church.

however, as i walked out of the building alone into the cool, fresh air, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck, small sense of sadness tugged at my heart a little. my eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion.

i missed.

that's what the feeling was, i think.
is, really.
it's a familiar feeling.
i missed them.
the kids.
the friends.
the people.
the place.
the lifestyle.
in mexico, of course.

i found myself wishing i'd have hugged the kids more often
(even though i did it quite a bit; it was one of my favorite things to receive from them)
because i really missed that.

but then it extended into other people i'm missing.
people who have quietly stepped out of my life for some reason or another;
i missed them.

i drove along, reflecting as i did.
turned on some album leaf, which is the closest to sunday music i had.
it was a good choice for my mood.
and the day did its best to reflect my feelings.

**

everything in my life is pretty straight forward right now.
sort of like that freeway.
just go straight, and go on for like 86 miles, and eventually i'm supposed to turn a couple times.
but sometimes that super thick fog comes up and it's hard to see past my own nose.
but i can't really turn around so i just have to remember to let the light lead, even when it feels dim.

**

i contemplated writing this on the way home because i felt the familiar urge to process these particular feelings today, but i knew words wouldn't do it this time. they haven't really. though i felt like i had to try, which is what i did above.

so there you have it.

the only solid thing that came to me regarding how to express my current feelings were the words i used for the title, and a vague image i had in my head. i'll draw it real quick (i'm curious to see what it looks like) and post that, too.

...

okay i drew it. i was going to work on it more, but i don't really want it to be more than this. and it looks a little sad. but i'm not.

well, i'm not sad per say, i'm just missing.
just a moment of melancholy, if you will, but with a dash of hope.

chasing the rain

(written 8/27/13, 9:54pm)

tonight, i started out thinking that there wasn't anything so quietly rebellious as running against the wind.

feeling it push against you, impossibly hard, knowing you're losing, but running anyway.

or feeling your injured knee joint pulsating against its cage of ligaments, furiously objecting to the rigorous motion, but gently urging it on, like a rider to its horse.

and seeing the raindrops start to collect on the pavement and watching the park patrons hurriedly gather their belongings, secretly taking pride in knowing that what beckoned you to the park is what scared them off. knowing that you'd soon have it all to yourself.

and letting the sky change your mood, both getting more and more cloudy, more layered, more concerned as both deepen.

the rain comes.

i want to yell, come on, rain. give me all you have. you're just rain, what can you do to me? what can you do? you're just rain. 

--

oh, it felt so good.

i knew i couldn't really run tonight. there is no way in heaven that i could try to run like a "runner" because i wince when i stand after sitting in a cross-legged position for too long; how could i even attempt to run for real with my busted knee?

but a child can play, can't she?
i hadn't initially thought of it like this.
but i certainly did tonight.

the angry storm was rolling when i pulled into to the parking lot of the park. i arrived with my running clothes on under my warn, thin white zip up hoodie, not knowing if i was there for a thought-provoking stroll or to invoke a song-writing session or there for art inspiration. i assumed i was there just for just a brief walk, or a brisk work-out walk, or a run-walk in an attempt for exercise. i didn't really know why i was there; i just knew i needed to be there.

i found out along the path. earphones in, i turned to specific music which perfectly framed the scene. the storm quickly gathered its thoughts after i arrived; they seemed unhappy. i observed as birds and people alike interacted. as the sky darkened, so did my mood. i didn't fight it this time. soon the raindrops came more and more rhythmically and thankfully, the people soon dispersed.

i couldn't help it anymore. my mind was agitated; so was my body. my walk became more brisk. it became a jog. come on, i urged my already tired knee. i had a side ache already from walking. i found that pathetic. but instead of being frustrated at my injured body, i encouraged it. we can do this. we can even go on the grass. and so we did.

we wound through the trees, from one spot of grass to the next and visited the pavement between. it was a freeing sort of a run. i realized that i didn't have to run a route; i could go wherever i wanted to. i wasn't training. i wasn't even here to run.

at one point i paused. i noticed the rain seemed happier that the people gone as well, almost like a we'd been a couple wishing away a third-wheel friend. it was almost instantaneously constant and though there was lightning and thunder, they were distant and the air carried a light mood amidst the continual rain. similarly, my mood also started to lift. there was still one stray kid and a waiting car, but i didn't mind. i switched to a better song and was off again. it felt wonderful. then i caught a glimpse of the sun--ah! the sun! i remembered that is what brought me to this particular place to begin with: it was the only location in which i could still see the setting sun. i jogged towards it. how i loved that setting sun.

i soon realized there was a whole portion of the park that i'd never run before on my "runs" -- the runs that i'd ran when i was trying to stay in shape or better my time. so i delved into that area. it was liberating. it had started to rain hard. i reminded myself: i wasn't even here to run. i could do whatever i wanted to do. and so i did.

i jogged.
i zig zagged.
i walked.
i bounded.
i ran in circles.
(big ones and little ones)
i twirled.
i laughed.
i spit.
i skipped.
i sprinted.
i slowed.
i ran around the trees
and touched their bristles with my fingertips.

i stopped for a second,
the rain dripping down my nose
and chin, into my eyes,
and looked at the sun.

the sun looked back at me,
hooded from behind its clouds
which made it easier for me to look it in the eye.

which was sort of a paradox.

it was raining so hard.
i felt like a little child.
so giddy
so gleefully happy.
i felt like i could do anything.

i did some more frolicking.
i felt like i was playing games with myself,
and i kind of was.
i raced myself.
i chased the wind.
i sang songs in my head.
i blinked back the water.

and then it hit me like a ton of bricks,
why i thought of going for a walk in the first place --
i am getting sick.
i skipped yoga tonight because i'm getting sick
and i was going on a brief walk because that felt less hazardous than a full yoga session. i am an adult and i am on one of the strictest deadlines i've had for quite some time and i've no time to be sick.

i took stock of myself.
i was dripping wet.
out of breath.
and suddenly i felt ashamed.

and that bit of shame uncovered
all the thoughts
that had been hooded
under the sun in my mind--
all the reasons why i had been brooding
along with the sky in the first place.

somehow, both slowly and hastily,
i dragged myself back to the car.

the rain felt so heavy
and i was soaked to the bone.

i became vaguely aware of my iphone
which was tucked into the front of my shirt.
so i held my hand to my hoodie to pull the wet fabric away;
i'm sure it looked as though i was clutching my heart.

i felt like the rain made up for the tears
that i felt like i should be crying.

i felt ever so confused.
i glanced over to where i last saw the sun.

i wished i could still see it,
but it had hidden itself for the night.
in my sudden panic and confusion,
i hadn't even bid it a proper good-bye.

good-byes are important to me.

i wished it would come back.
how i miss the sun.
and though it comes back,
it first always leaves me.

a little lost

it's been a long time since i sat on my porch and wrote a post. it feels good to sit here and write again.

--

i could write about a lot of things from this weekend: really, really good things. but i feel the need to document one in particular from a couple hours ago. 

my mama and i went on a walk this evening. it was perfect weather; i felt like the outside was too warm and inviting to even consider staying indoors, and it was fun greeting neighbors who apparently felt the same.

eventually, our walk was interrupted by the tiniest, but most urgent of distractions: mom spotted a tiny duckling at the end of a driveway we were passing. at first we cooed and smiled, admiring how cute and absolutely fuzzy the little tyke was. but eventually we realized that it wasn't okay. it kept running in little circles...round and around it went, its path the smallest possible circumference. eventually it would get dizzy and fall on its back. then it would struggle and struggle to get up again, its little webbed feet flailing and thrashing as if the air itself were pressing enough to keep it down. finally the duckling would get up, only to repeat this terrible cycle. all the while, it was chipping its tiny little chirp, desperate for help. 

as we realized what was happening, i knew i couldn't pretend like i didn't see it. i couldn't just walk on and continue to chat about the types of neighborhood trees or the good weather. perhaps it's in moments like these that i realize where i get that determined compassion from: one look at my mom and i knew she couldn't leave it either. that was comforting. but neither of us knew how to help. 

after standing there a few long minutes, debating on what we could do, i couldn't bear to watch it struggle anymore. my mind snapped into action. i had to DO something. i started to get antsy and impatient as we discussed what we could do or who we could call. 

call. shoot. ironically we had left our phones at home so that we could be in the moment as we enjoyed our little walk. we'd have to borrow a phone. we decided mom would stay with the duck and i briskly walked to a friend's home a few blocks away. my walk turned into a jog. i rang the bell; no one answered. anxious, i ran back to mom and the duck and i could tell mom was getting pretty distressed. she had been corralling the little duck with her feet so that it wouldn't wander into the road. she'd observed that it couldn't open its eyes and thought it might be blind. the way it was continuing its little pattern, it might be injured as well. 

i ran down the next street in the opposite direction to another neighbor, who had majored in zoology, but no one was there either.

across the street, i saw a family with a few generations, the children playing a little softball game in the front yard while grandparents and uncles and aunts looked on. i knew that grandma and went over to speak with her. i explained the situation and got some bread from her, but i knew that's all i could really ask for as it was mothers day and i didn't want to disrupt their gathering more than necessary.

i hurried back to mom and the duck, but the duck wouldn't eat the bread. i was getting a little desperate. what does one do in this odd situation? 

mom decided to go to another neighbor we knew across the street from our location to see if she could get some water or call animal control or something. this time, i stayed with the little duck. i squatted down and tried to guide it to the bread. because it was so frantic and couldn't see, i doubt it even knew food was there. i suddenly wished i knew more about ducks. do they smell? would it do better in grass? could i touch it? i hadn't touched it yet because i vaguely remembered reading something about touching birds eggs and the mother bird disowning the eggs. was it the same with actual ducklings? probably not? i didn't dare chance it. i felt like i stood there forever but it was probably about seven minutes. in those seven minutes, though, the strangest experience happened. all those thoughts went through my head. then feelings of desperation, impatience, frustration that i didn't know more about how i could help. 

i crouched down, so i could be as close to it as possible. it must have been an odd sight, to see a girl dressed in a sunday skirt, holding half a piece of bread crouched down next to the gutter. 

my brain turned over ideas of what to do and it wasn't long before it exhausted all the limited options. all i could do was wait. then my mind caught hold of the thought, "why do i care so much? why do i care at all?" my memory raced back to my childhood, most of which is a blur, to my mother reading me make way for ducklings. i had loved that book. she read it to me at bedtime, or maybe when i took baths? or whenever she read me books. i couldn't quite remember when, i just remember her reading it and me loving it. maybe that's why i apparently like ducks? or maybe it was back in high school when one of my best friend's family, the clifford family, were raising chickens, so i saw them from when they were eggs incubating to when they were fuzzy tuftballs of yellow energy, hopping around and chirping happily. we named them and even cuddled with them while we watched a movie. maybe it was that? 

no, those were good memories, but i don't think they impacted me to this extent. 

and then it sort of hit me. not like a revelation, but more of a quiet thought: this creature is living. living and helpless and lost and weak. its cries are too quiet to be heard by anyone making any sort of noise, and its presence too small to be noticed by passing cars. and if i left it, it would probably die alone. no one else would likely notice. at least, i'm pretty sure no one in our neighborhood has pet ducks. 

but for that alone, i would fight for it and try to do everything in my power to help it survive, or at least not be alone when it passed. i feel silly admitting this, but even now there are some tears running down my cheek as i think of this. 

but maybe it's not so silly. as i watched that duckling struggle, and as i realized that it was helpless and so was i in helping it, my mind recalled various memories of watching friends and family members struggle with battles: mental, physical, spiritual, emotional battles. feeling so much empathy for them, but feeling totally helpless in being of any use. coming to terms with the fact that some battles are meant to be fought alone while i could be a warrior alongside them in others. and ultimately, i thought of an experience i had last year as i had the privilege of being there when a dear sweet friend of mine quietly slipped from this life to the next after he fought his hardest battle: the battle to give up fighting for life. 

a noise snapped me back to the present; mom was leading the neighbor and her daughter to the place i was standing. i straightened and watched as they approached. they brought a paper plate and a gallon-sized plastic bucket. we used the plate to get the duck into the bucket so that we could carry it without hurting it. the neighbor and her daughter directed us to their neighbors across the street who apparently fed ducks, and pointed out the feed that was on the sidewalk in front of that house. they kindly wished us luck and left us. mom and i headed to the duck-feeding neighbor, but of course no one answered the door. of all the days to try to rescue a stranded duckling, it had to be mother's day and apparently everyone was at their mother's.....

neither of us felt good about leaving it on the sidewalk, even though it was more out of the way of the main road and there was food. nope, we couldn't leave it. we decided to take it to the clifford's, who lived about 10 minutes walking distance away.

we were super anxious by this point as the duckling was steadily growing more and more uneasy in its new predicament. as we briskly walked, we came upon a neighbor in her garden. we both felt we needed to ask her help. "jan!" my mom called. "do you know anything about ducks?" out of context, what an odd question. but we both knew jan loves animals. to our slight surprise, she replied, "a little. why?" we showed her our new little friend. immediately, she scooped up the poor little thing and nuzzled it into her hand. for the first time, the duck looked still and calm. 

apparently, jan had incubated and bred some birds growing up. we quickly spoke with her about options. she said that she would take the little duck in at least for now, to get it back to health. she said she'd have to get feed for it tomorrow and hoped that it survived the night. i did, too. even though i felt a tinge of anxiety leaving it, mom and i both felt good entrusting the little duck to jan. 

mom and i walked back home, got the car and drove to the clifford's, but no one was there. we realized that was all we could do, for now. we drove back home and i stepped outside to write this. it's dark now, and i watched the sun set as i wrote. 

---

i don't know why this experience happened. but all the while, in the back of my mind, i think i knew that i was experiencing something of a microcosm.

i feel like i started to understand a fraction more of what God really feels for each of us. no one else really cared a whole ton about this duck except for jan, and i didn't expect them to. they hadn't seen it struggle and they hadn't invested their afternoon into helping it and they were likely in the middle of things that were important to them and rightly so. besides, my mom and i had already taken responsibility for it. if someone would have come to me with a lost duck, maybe i wouldn't have been as invested either, especially knowing that the person was already taking care of it. but today, in ten minutes time, i went from not knowing that duck existed to devoting my time and resources to try to help it survive first and eventually hopefully thrive.

i don't remember which point in the experience i did, but at one point i prayed in my mind. something like, "Father, please help me to know how to help this little duck. please help me to find someone who can help if i can't. maybe it doesn't matter at all but it really matters to me right now." and then i was ever so gently reminded that He feels that way about each of us. 

maybe at times we feel like we don't matter to anyone else. maybe we don't feel like we even matter to ourselves. maybe we're okay running around in circles and falling down and struggling, and maybe we're not okay with it but that's the only thing we know how to do. maybe we do it because we're not strong enough to do anything else, or because we're lost, or because our eyes aren't opened either for one reason or another. but regardless, i am confident we have someone who watches over us, who cries with us, who wants us to get up, to first survive, then to thrive. and when we fall down again, He will still help us get up. first to survive. then to thrive. 

i could write another whole set of blog posts about understanding the reason i know this in practicality, and how i have felt God's love for other people, but those are stories for a different day. this post is about finding a little lost duckling.

into skin

first of all, i don't even know where to begin blogging again. it's been...a very long time. i am self-conscious and out of the habit. but i think i need it to some degree. so instead of letting perfectionism stop me, i'm just gonna start. perhaps i'll analyze my hiatus later. maybe not. probably not. i wrote the following last night right before going to bed. it's not polished; it's just thoughts.

--

today i felt like i slipped back into my own skin again. i felt more myself, more aware, more alive. but all in very, very subtle ways, that if i wasn't paying attention i probably would have missed feeling anything different. it felt good.

some things were beyond my control and completely because of the generosity of others. other things were intentional on my part. and you know what? when i intentionally did things that made me happy, that genuine happy sort of feeling, the more i noticed others and the general forces of the universe coming together to make me feel great. i dunno if it was all in my head or not, but either way our thoughts tend to create our reality so i really don't mind that. days don't always go like this but i sure appreciate when they do.

and similarly to the actual experience above, i feel like making a record of days such as these somehow produce more of those days because i start to expect more. out of others, out of the universe, out of myself.

shorthand

in the past i have been incredibly good at record keeping. mainly because of a challenge my dad gave to me when i was in 6th grade, but that's not really what this post is about.

i've not been keeping a regular journal for over a year now and that's the first time since i was 12 this has happened. it's easy to slip out of habits you work so hard for, which is why the reason of such habits is so good to remember. again, this isn't today's point.

the point is, i'm exhausted. i feel like i have so much on my mind that even considering the task of putting a pile of words down and sculpting them into precise representations of abstract and complex feelings, which i have historically loved, feels like daunting. and feeling responsible for what seem to be lost memories seems haunting. especially when circumstances and feelings and thoughts come so quickly and change so suddenly. daunting and haunting.

that being said, well, read that again. did you catch the irony? meta-recording here.

i guess that's why sometimes i just have to write or record in shorthand. resort to looking at texts, emails, calendars, etc. to remember what goes on in my day-to-day life, because as seemingly insignificant as days are, they make up our weeks and months and lives. so day to day stuff is pretty important to me as a whole.

this sort of shorthand might not make sense to anyone else but sometimes that's okay. like today's for instance. today feels like window; i hope that tomorrow is thule.

to anyone's heart, really

dear heart,

in your life so far, you have felt an abundance of emotions. you have felt exquisite joy; you have felt terrible loneliness. you've felt twitterpated, giddy, sweeping emotions, and you've felt angst and anxiety and difficult depression.

you've loved and lost, and you've loved again. in lots of different ways and times and for lots of different reasons. and sometimes it's love that makes sense and sometimes it isn't.

sometimes you are injured and don't even know why. and sometimes it takes a long time for you to heal.

but i just wanted to let you know: all of these things you have and will and feel right now are all part of the package this life came with. and through all of it (and i mean all of it), you are becoming more full.

but i just wanted to remind you that in whatever state you're in, you're doing just fine.

sincerely,
the rest of yourself.

ps, 

“be soft. do not let the world make you hard. do not let pain make you hate. do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.” -kurt vonnegut

white flag

::july 29, 2011::

i had been asked on a date by a friend. i stipulated that i could only go if we went to a battle of the bands to hear a band i'd heard was amazing. either that, or i'd have to go with him some other time. he agreed to the concert.

we doubled with one of my best friends and her date. i wasn't quite sure what to expect, but i was familiar with the venue and happy to be at a concert. i don't remember much about the first bands, but i'm sure they were good.

the time came for the band i'd heard about to play. as we stood there, close to the left side of the stage, i was overcome with something i hadn't expected. this music....this music was different. it was all instrumental--but i hardly noticed. there was something different about this band. something about the energy and the combination of rock band instruments plus a violin and cello...?! and the passion with which they played. i was stunned. i found myself standing there, transfixed with their music, but somehow in my own world, separate from the crowd i was standing in.

i left the concert on a high, feeling that something in my life had shifted just a little bit. and it felt good.

it's been a year and a half since i first heard searching for celia play that battle of the bands. i have since attended almost every concert they've played, first as an unashamed groupie, and eventually as a friend to each of the band members. but always because of my love for and belief in their music. i'd say that my regular attendance was because i'm a supportive friend, but many times it's been purely selfish: i need to hear their music. it does something for my soul that nothing else can tap into.

as i've listened more and more and have become more involved with their band, i realize that it has something to do with this:

as far as music goes, i guess you could say i'm primarily a "singer". at least i used to be. i grew up singing and in high school choir was my "thing". i've lost the majority of my ability since i let visual art consume my college life, but point is: i used to feel that i needed lyrics.

however, searching for celia made me realize the amazing effects of really quality instrumental music. specifically, instrumental music that really connects with me. because of the lack of lyrics, their music doesn't dictate specific things i should think about. rather it invokes feelings, filtering and directing my own thoughts--providing them a passage through which to flow, with momentum to do so. i suppose this could be true with any instrumental music, but searching for celia invigorates and excites me.

i often live too much in my head, and if left to my own thoughts, i can sometimes stay on one idea and stew. other times, that thought mixes with just a couple others and goes in circles. both are not terribly helpful and sometimes they can be destructive to my happiness or productivity.

since my interest in searching for celia stemmed, i've branched into other groups in the post-rock genre. not all the bands i've experienced have held my interest. i've only recently realized a reason why, though this is only one component. but here's the idea: the ones that i love and hold my interest are those which have distinct melodies or thoughts behind them. they're not just noise. their songs travel an emotional journey, exploring all kinds of feelings, dynamics and tempos, always with an actual recognizable melody, and are diverse enough to beckon you to come with them. and you want to.

that's my current thought, and it might not make sense in words, but i guess that's kind of the point. you'd just have to experience it.

~*~

last week, searching for celia released their first album! of course i attended their album release concert, which i might add, was sold out. i'm sorry if you weren't there; you missed out on an amazing experience. however, to console you, here's a link to find out more about how to purchase their album. and here is a music video for the first track on their album.

and yeah. you're welcome. :)

dancing with a little girl heart

i've been perusing my blog's...*cough* 85 drafts. 

i was looking for the one with the words writtten below. i'm publishing it now because i danced a bit this morning (it had been a very long time since i'd done so), and i just accidentally perfectly classified this type of dancing. which is the title of this post. 

monday june 6, 2011. 11:31am -- 

i just realized something.

i spent 3.5 hours writing in my journal this morning because my head was about to explode, and so was my heart.

so after i used my journal as my pensieve, as i so often do, i was completely filled with emotions. tons of them. all mixed.

i put on a song that was stuck in my head yesterday. it was SO VERY appropriate for what i've been feeling and experiencing.

i danced to it.

and i danced HARD.

i realized something and commented to my mom -- i am a pretty alright dancer sometimes. sometimes = when i'm driven by emotion. she said, yeah, you won't let me watch you now, but when i used to watch you dance, you were always so expressive. it was wonderful.

then i realized: i have very little formal technique on which to base my dancing, so emotion is the only driving force behind the way i move my body. which is both empowering and limiting and either way, very honest: when the emotion is gone, so is the dancing.

it's thrilling, being driven and moved by pure emotion.
but also frustrating, to reach the end of your ability.

who needs a throne of comfort anyway

first item of business: my show opening was a success. i was so grateful. eventually i will have pictures to share and stories to tell. and today is the last day that it will be up; i have to remove it tomorrow.

secondly, a poorly written but very sincere thought from about five minutes ago:

have you ever done something that took a lot out of you --a lot of emotionally vulnerability-- and to your hesitant relief, the results turned out just fine?

and so you went a little further along your path, treading lightly and playing it safe,
but then the smallest thing just pulls the rug out from under you?

and you feel like you toppled off of your great red cushy throne of comfort that you worked so desperately hard to climb up into. and now you're temporarily scared to do the tiniest of vulnerable things?

cuz that's how i'm feeling right now.
and i can't even put my finger on why, exactly.

it's not a big deal,
but i don't like the feeling.
it'll pass.
perhaps it is a temporary vulnerablilty hangover.

in the meantime, how do you get out of this?
suggestions?

ten years later and still

i ran into my old journals today.

thanks to a challenge from my dad, i have a pretty good record of my life written by my own hand from 6th grade til college.

i picked up a journal just now, and rifled through a few pages. as my eyes skimmed, some of the words caught and held their attention. i ended up reading a good amount of my entries from when i was fourteen. 

it was so interesting; most sounded so naive and frivolous, and then all the sudden, there would be a profound little heartache in the middle. quickly mentioned but very precise and painful, like a puncture wound. then the frivolities of my superficial interactions with boys and school projects and how much i hated math would consume the next few entries. but here and there were little pricks of what i remember to be my real sorrows from that age. some which still affect me.

now, don't get me wrong: i was blessed to have an amazing childhood and adolescence. amazing.
especially understanding now what it could have been, i'm so grateful for what it was.
it was more fulfilling and wonderful than a lot of people have the opportunity to experience, and i feel nothing but gratitude. i have no right to complain. 

but like anyone else, there have been some difficult things i had to cope with, and as i read, my heart kind of broke for my younger self.
some entires were difficult to read, for no apparent reason.
a few times, my eyes glassed over with a couple of tears that didn't fall. 

just now as i was reading, i had the urge to go back in time and explain to my younger self a few things. so naturally, i figured i should write a letter. fourteen-year-old me is still in me somewhere; i'm sure she still needs to hear them.

dear 14, 

i've been reading your recent journal and have a few tidbits for you. i've listed them below. 

okay first off don't worry--literally, all the guys you're worried about now are gonna be married by the time you're 24, and not to you. so you won't have to worry about them anyway. 

eventually, you'll stop writing things like l8r and gr8 and g2g...and your writing will be much more palatable.

it appears that you have discovered and are now trudging through the awkward realm of interpersonal relationships and social interaction, especially with the guys. bravo. just so you know, awkward will always hover, but you'll learn to manage yourself better just by wading through it and learning from your mistakes. this is actually really good for you to learn now rather than later, though sometimes it kind of bites. i know.

pay attention to how you're hurting now, because those pains are a precursor to pains that you'll have later in life. pains that are deeper than what you feel now, but surprisingly of the exact same thread. it's really good that you're learning how to deal with them healthily now, so that you can deal with them in a similar manner when you're older and they're harder, but parallel in the intensity of how they affect you now.

it's good that dad told you to write one thing you're grateful for at the end of every day, because if you notice, there's a pattern. in between your observations of boys' hairstyles and the happenings of school assemblies, are the things you are most thankful for. those are the concepts that really explain how you are getting through this hard and often unspoken undercurrent. you frequently write how grateful you are for prayer, seminary, church, mom, friends.... this shows what's really going on, more than your daily account of life as a freshman in high school. though both the routine of daily life and the underlying values work hand in hand. always remember that. 

to ease your mind, i wish you could know this stuff now, but you'll learn it eventually. and you won't learn as easily if you think you already know it. 

sincerely, 
24 (and no, that is not old)

i feel like i'll probably be writing a similar letter to my 24-year old self when i'm 44.

i'll probably laugh at my writing quirks then, too. 

some things just don't change.

mute comprehension

i have experienced some incredibly difficult types of pain over the last week.
pain that is deep, but comparatively muted in its intensity.

maybe i'll explain later and maybe not, but what i feel the need to communicate at this time is that amidst all of that,
i'm okay.

because, in the end, things work out.
and there are lots of ends and lots of beginnings.
and sometimes it's hard to know which are which.
which is also okay, because i think beginnings and endings are often the same thing:
stories continue.

--

growth inevitably takes pain.

it's amazing how i always seem to forget that sometimes, running away from the wave is more exhausting than just turning around and facing it.

if we let waves wash over us, sometimes they can cleanse.

--

and as cliche as it is, every day is a new day.

we can start becoming who we want to be right now.
there is no minimum requirement for any of our goals.

we can start improving anything from wherever we find it.

--

these thoughts are simple, but i was reminded of their importance today,
through yoga, running, journal writing, music and reading a heartfelt email.

quiet place

i've mentioned before that i have had a bout with achilles tendinitis for the last few years.
now it seems that the rest of my body is following suit.
so, i decided to try a different route.
i've been seeing a muscle therapist for the last month.

it's interesting because he's takes more of a holistic approach.
he noted that:
i have tendinitis because one leg was shorter than the other,
so then my knee compensated,
then my right hip compensated,
then my back compensated.

so i've been treating the symptoms without treating the root of the problem.
i've been doing physical therapy, but without the muscles actually being in the right place in my body,
that's kind of like a band-aid rather than a cure.

the massage-esque treatment has been super painful, but i know it's worth it.
slowly, i feel my body becoming aligned again.

because our bodies are obviously affected with how we live our lives,
my muscle therapist asks me a lot about my personal life.
i don't tell him a ton of details, but he helps me understand how i deal with things
and in turn, how that affects my body.

did you know that the right side of your body is logic, and the left is emotional?
so i can tell where my stress is coming from based on which side of my body is more tense.

after both of the first two sessions, he asked me,
"are you a robot?"
"...no..?" i responded both times, both about like that.
"then don't walk like one!"

i've had to re-learn how to walk.
i've had to reset something i've been doing my whole life.

after the third session, he asked, "are you a train?"
"no."
i said it confidently this time, but with a hint of "?" apparent in my face.
"why?"
shoot. i wasn't sure how to respond.
"because a train must remain on its track. you, on the other hand, can move right or left. when you go to europe, if you plan on staying for two days in an area, but then you decide to stay another day, do it! that's okay. you are can go wherever you want. trains cannot."

i knew he wasn't just talking about physically, now.
i started to see what he meant.

today, he told me,
"make sure you keep hold of the stress out in front of you. don't let it consume you. i know that sometimes you can't help it, and it just comes over you [his hands motioned like a wave was washing over his head], but try to take hold of it and keep it in front of you rather than letting it become a part of you." he motioned as if he were grasping someone by the shoulders and holding them about two feet in front of him.

my pulsating headache has been my constant companion today.
so i liked that idea.

the second

[i'm sitting on my porch, enjoying the weather. it's 79 degrees,  with a slight breeze, 9:20pm. the freeway traffic is creating an interesting sound texture in the distance. closer is the low hum of neighbor voices, with intermittent higher pitches of children playing. even closer are birds. i wonder what they're doing out this late. probably what i'm doing -- enjoying the night as long as they can. here's a account of the last hour. i know it's long; read it if you'd like to vicariously experience a simple lovely night.]

i left fhe late tonight.

i had been talking with a small group of friends, and knew i had stuff to get done,
but wanted to feel their social presence for a little longer.

upon leaving the building, though, i realized that it was a beautiful night.
i said my goodbyes, got in my car and started to drive home.

it was nice to see neighborhood residents walking or jogging.
i was glad that others were actively appreciating this night's perfection.

as i rounded the corner to my street, i was facing the setting sun,
though i could only partially see it.

i couldn't let that go to waste. i kept driving.

i drove past my house, and out of my neighborhood.
i decided i needed to see the sunset tonight.

it was going fast, so i quickly ventured to the nearest road
that i'd be able to see its full beauty unobstructed.

i drove that road, turned and drove on another road which let me face the sunset directly. it was beautiful. the sun wasn't as bright as it usually is, so i could make out its exact circular shape.

it looked...warm. 
as in, pleasant and inviting.

so i drove closer to it.

the windows were down,
and i sang to my summer night driving music.

turned on another road, and another, and continued to watch it.
finally, i had gotten to the road where i would be able to watch it
without houses or trees disrupting it.

i could tell this drive wouldn't be as short a drive as i'd planned.

the sun was going down fast, and to my dismay,
it silently escaped behind the mountain
within seconds of me finally finding that road.

a part of me wished i'd have left fhe earlier.

my eyes were glued on the place where the sun once was;
it was almost as if it disappeared in the same spot it had been,
rather than moving lower out of my view.

and in its place, there was a warm orange glow,
a brightness which generated from the location i'd last seen the sun.

i don't know why it intrigued me so much;
it's like i almost thought that the more i watched it,
the more likely it would just appear again.

i found myself wanting to freeze this atmosphere 
and just bask in it for a while.
i realized the sun would obviously appear again,
but only it'd be tomorrow.
and i'd have to look for it in a different place in the sky.

still, i mourned for the moment that was fading so quickly,
though it wasn't entirely over.

so i just tried to focus on the moment
and soak it all in, as best i could.

when i usually drive along this road,
i only go to a certain point before stopping and turning around.

but tonight, i kept driving.
didn't really even think about it.

just kept going. 

singing to my music sometimes, and sometimes letting it sing to me.

i turned off onto an unfamiliar rural road
that led me closer to the remnants of the sunset, 

and kept driving. 

turned again.

into a neighborhood,

(and was a bit chagrined) 

but kept going.

turned again.

and...again,

and then i realized that these roads were slightly familiar to me; 

i'd been here once before. 

fueled from the recognition, 

i drove with more confidence. 

it led out of the neighborhood,
another rural road, 

with a field on one side 

and not much on the other. 

i thought about stopping

so that i could concentrate fully on the last bits of color in the sky, 

but i had the feeling that the speed of the car

and the wind in my face

was helping to make this experience one that i needed. 

it was steadily getting darker, 

though i was still headed toward the direction of where the sun had been.

i started to feel a tad uneasy, 

but pushed that away and kept driving.
shortly after, i couldn't push the feeling away completely, 

but the road was too narrow to turn around.

decidedly, i looked for a place to turn.

when i found one, i pulled over and turned off my music, 

then turned my car around. 

i noticed that my car had been
fighting against me a little tonight; 

she's old and i push her too much sometimes. 

but she's patient with me, and will assist in my adventures as much as she can.

it had been too much for her tonight.
though i could only tell when i stopped to listen to her. 

so i turned around and drove back in silence, 

listening to my car 

and my thoughts

(which i had been so careful to drown out earlier). 

when i got back to the familiar neighborhood, i saw a friend drive by, 

which was completely random because

this was far away from my neighborhood. 

i had come to a stop sign when he drove past me, perpendicular to my direction. 

i turned left and ended up behind him. 

he didn't see me. 

we got onto a main road when he took off.

i had the urge to speed up to catch up to him.

i don't know why; it's not like i wanted to stop him and say hi or wave or anything. 

not tonight, at least.

then i felt the protests of my poor car,
so i slowed and really tried to listen to her. 

it was hard, but she drove better when i stopped trying to push past her limit. 

(i've always thought my car is a lady in gender). 

eventually we ended up at the same light
as my friend. then he turned, and i kept on straight.

eventually, i turned here

and there
and there

and....there. 

back to familiar places. 

into my neighborhood

and onto my driveway. 

which brings me here. 

on my porch. 

it's dark now, and

my back hurts from being slouched over my laptop.

truth be told, when i first drove past my house tonight,

i almost turned around again so i could grab my running shoes 

to enjoy the night. 

but i knew that my injuries couldn't handle that yet, 

so i drove. 

though it wasn't fast, 

i needed that speed.

--

in other news, i wore red lipstick today. 

and i am staring at a very large black cat across the street.

they move on tracks of never-ending light

[though it looks like one, this isn't a poem; it's just an unedited thought i scribbled out during a concert to the other night. i just preserved the format here that i wrote in my book, based on the book's physical constraints. the mental image i got was cooler than the words this time, but here they are anyway.]

adventures are challenging,
difficult and painful at times.
but worth it.
always worth it.

the whole point of exploring is
to uncover uncharted territories.
places that quite literally no one
has gone before.

which is honestly terrifying,
when you think about it.
because no one can know
what there is to be found.

but though there could be
tigers or snakes or monsters
or our biggest insecurities
waiting to stare us in the face,

no one will ever know their strength
until they face them.

[i've always said i love adventure--all sorts of it--but i'm not so sure if i ever really fully processed this aspect of it. out of default and experience, i've accepted it, but i don't know if i've ever really committed to accepting it willingly.]

cannons ready

happy finals week times!!

this finals week is by far the most chill finals week i have ever experienced. EVER.
so i decided to dedicate this post to more important matters.

i give you, the top ten bands i've listened to this past semester ::

{image source}

1. jónsi
2. searching for celia
3. book on tape worm
4. youth lagoon
5. arcade fire
6. mumford and sons
7. explosions in the sky
8. the glitch mob
9.  album leaf
10. ratatat

honorable mentions ::
quiet company
quasi-stellar radio
imagine dragons

rapidly getting up there ::
vampire weekend
brandon flowers

i tried to name the top ten in order from band likely most listened to --> band likely least listened to. but i decided i couldn't really figure that out so don't mind the order too much. but it's probably sorta accurate.

a lot of it is more ambient/post-rock/chill (yeah, those can be different categories) because i spent a good chunk of the semester in the library researching and writing my paper. i found some of this stuff was mind-revving but not too distracting (maybe helpful for all you poor souls having to study for finals!).

the honorable mentions are mainly because had i discovered them sooner, i'd have listened to them more by now. the last category are bands i knew about but just started paying attention to.

what are some bands you're listening to?