ESP 2013

40 faces glowing with excitement, with nervousness as they take their first steps into uncertainty, and the crazy thing is I was standing in their shoes just a year ago.
And look at where I am now.

Although living in a dorm for six weeks out of the summer is not exactly something I ever desired, I have done it twice now and I wouldn't change a thing.
These kids have touched me more than I think they will know, the way they look up to me and ask me for advice and words of wisdom. It is reassuring that hey, at least some people think I'm still on the right track.

9 o'clock curfews got old, but smiling faces would wander in and visit me and listen to my life, sharing similarities and connecting with me. They would point out my talents with art and creativity, and then they would share with me theirs; jamming out on the guitar and singing old country songs, theatrically singing songs from plays and movies... and I am thankful they opened up to let me know them. Curiosity got the best of them and they nagged at me about my tattoo and what it meant; and I felt so full because they cared, they wanted to know. I mattered.

Then, the people that would open up to me about their struggles, confide in me though I didn't have many answers at all... but I listened with hope that this is what life is about. The nights filled with laughs made the hard ones dealing with their shenanigans worth it. Bonding with the kids, developing a relationship where we were comfortable with each other was an amazing experience. This is why we are meant to be in relationships with each other- it leaves you feeling so full.

See, relationships aren't beneficial to one person, both people walk away changed whether they realize it or not. Because we leave prints on people's lives- we touch them with every word we say and action we carry out, and we are touched by the words and actions of others. We learn, we grow.

Now that the last five days have arrived, I am reminiscing on the times that we have shared together this summer, and I could not imagine a different way I could have spent my summer that would have been better for me than working with the Early Success Program. I have been so blessed by sharing a time of my life with these kids, and I am so thankful that they have left an impression on me that makes me want to be better, to do better. I can only hope that I have done the same.

The power that music has

Inhale, exhale.

Listen to the sound of the drums, the melody of the guitar.

They relax your spirit, and you let your guard down and begin to soak it in.

The notes of the music enter inside of you, loosening you into a sway,

Back and forth, back and forth.

You lift your arms; the build up carries you away to a distant place,

Where worries are nonexistent and regrets are forgotten.

The person you haven’t been isn’t engrained into your mind,

Right now, you are content in the moment.

Right here, right now.

You look around you, the people surrounding you, the hundreds of them,

Smiling, waving their arms, singing along, closing their eyes;

You’ve all gathered here for the same reasons:

A momentary getaway.

You’ve all gathered here because of the power that music has:

It has the power to calm you,

To change you,

To instill a different perspective in you.

It has the ability to make you reconsider what you’ve always considered to be true,

To cause you to think for once just in the moment;

Or it can take you back a few years; to the place you first heard the song,

In the backseat of your best friends car;

It can take you right back to that exact road, painting the details of that moment with every lyric and every note.

You sway, you sing, you raise your arms,

Forget the world for a little bit; in this moment, you are here.

Dancing freely

Tonight, I am returning to my blog after two months and let me tell you I have never felt so refreshed.

I feel like it happens all too often that we frame certain things from our lives so that everyone can see and think of us a certain way. Almost as if our lives have become in-dubiously about appearance rather than about really and truly living. I'm not trying to give a social media rant, but what I am trying to say is that there are, hands-down, things we simply choose not to post to Facebook for a reason. We live so deeply in the confines of impressions and appropriateness that we almost lose the zest and passion to just live and do- whatever it is that comes to mind! Nowadays, we can't even listen to music without it automatically updating to Facebook to share with the world that you're jamming to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. We are all so connected and so deeply intertwined in everyone else's lives.

Now, I am all about Spotify. It's possibly one of the greatest inventions ever, but what I'm trying to get at is that we are so busy broadcasting our lives like we're the shit, that we miss out on incredible opportunities to be ourselves. 100% completely US. Choosing to paint a painting that we created from our own inspiration rather than pulling up Pinterest and painting the same damn anchor everyone in the world has painted simply because it's on Pinterest. We can't try to be creative anymore because it involves too much energy and time. It's much easier to be like everyone else.

But the sad thing is that there's nothing more beautiful than a person that knows exactly who they are. It is one of the most inspirational things in this world- seeing the passion glowing behind someone's eyes, the life they have from knowing what they enjoy and what they don't. It's not that they turn their head up and scoff at those who are confused as to who they are and copy others- they simply don't change because others raise their eyebrows at them.

My goal is to be more okay with being me, no matter how people take it. I definitely know who I am, and I'm tired of hanging out with people who don't. I'm tired of trying to gain the approval of people who can't open their minds and experience things that make them uncomfortable. Because that's what life is about. Life is an adventure. It's filled with uncertainties and wild changes, but it is precious and it is entirely too short. I insist on enjoying my one wild and precious life. I insist on surrounding myself with people that are different and not just like me. I insist on learning from life's curveballs and taking each day as it comes. I insist on dancing freely outside the boundaries of people's expectations and judgments... on freely choosing to do what makes me happy without hesitation. I am the happiest I have ever been and I think it's because I have stopped letting people tell me who I am and what I can and cannot do. If you do life this way, it becomes a great deal more fun. I promise.

Goodbyes have never been my forte

Throwing in the towel for now; it's been fun.
I'd rather not pour my heart out on the internet... it's much too fragile to act so carelessly.
Thanks for reading.

The beauty that seeps from the cracks of an injured soul

I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid of brokenness.
In a way, I am almost attracted to it,
Attracted to the beauty that seeps from the cracks of an injured soul,
To someone humbled by their pain,
Softened and sensitive to the hurting world around them.
The people that are content with sitting alone
And won’t complain about life’s disappointments
Because they are grateful for life’s simplest blessings.
There is something beautiful about a quiet soul
That whispers words of hope,
But only in their fragile movements,
With their tender eyes that leak their pain
Without even needing to be searched.
They needn't use fluffed up words,
Rehearsed and tactically chosen to draw attention to themselves.
They accept their being small
And by no means ever expect to be important,
But they do know that every encounter
Is an opportunity to leave behind
The smallest inkling of an impact;
And hidden inside that knowledge is just enough motivation
...To keep going

And though they often exist in fragments,
They can piece together to create the most tragically beautiful story of hope
When they are noticed.

The life in your face

There is an unbelievable amount of disparities between me and you;
However, unfortunately to my own dismay, there are quite a few similarities too.
For instance, the fine line of a frown painted across your face
When the ones you love most let you down.
The way you carry your hurt along those pretty little shoulders
Into every room you enter; each disappointment leaves you a little colder.
The way you settle for the situations you are dealt with hardly even a fight.
My mind trickles towards the past and I wonder if you ever shook your head no,
If you ever did something about feeling trapped, if you ever fought to try to change that.
I can see the lines of hurt crinkled upon your brow,
Your hollow walk across the hardwoods,
And I can't help but wonder how?

Did loneliness set in and cause you to settle? Did worthlessness fool you into feeling belittled?
Is the reason two strangers stand in the kitchen because you didn't believe that you could be loved?
It's hard for me to say, but your entire life is in your face.
Your eyes scream of the countless tears, the nights spent leaking into your pillow,
The nights you cried over a dying father,
The heartache of a grudge-holding mother,
The tears shed over your balancing school and paying it off... until you eventually lost that, too.
A life of loss;
And now you walk hollowly across the floor,
You poured everything you had into your children, but were heartbroken that they did not love you more.

Your daughter came to mimic your hollow walk, and you worried especially for her.
"Don't grow up and be like me, don't make my mistakes."
But she knew that she was the one that lived a lifestyle the most like you,
She carried this with her each and every day, these burdens upon her shoulders; she learned it from you. But, still, you rebuked her for it because you wish someone had warned you.
You saw the way she carried her hurt along those jagged lines,
You propped her up and dusted her off,
As if you were saying, "Look pretty for the people, don't show them your hurt."
But then, she began to hold them in. She wanted a mother to speak to; for your approval she begged.
Each mistake she made similar to yours was another crack along your heart,
Reminders of the past, your shoulders got heavy.
It's hard to love someone representative of your hurt.
Still, she adored you. The hurt you caused her was marked along her skin, but she loved you, still.
She wanted back those days when you would sing to her, rub her spine along her back,
Humming songs to her and kissing her head.
She hated herself for growing up and becoming like you,
"I'm sorry mom, I know you told me not to."

See, but the difference between her and you is that she doesn't want to settle and she hopes for a better ending.
She has clung to words of wisdom and knows not to be angry with you.
She walks boldly now, and she knows who she is.
It hurts her that her mother still disapprovingly shakes her head, but she knows that her mothers approval isn't absolute truth.
She won't let worthlessness fool her into thinking she cannot be loved;
She wants you to know that you are worth loving, too.

"Come with me to the mountains"

"Will you come with me to the mountains? It will hurt at first, until your feet are hardened. Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows. But will you come?"

     -C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Frustration, confusion. You have come to a fork in the road and you're considering which path it is you should choose to take.  The path to the right is most definitely scaling up the mountain, there is no doubt. It is jagged and rocky, steep and by no means appealing. To the left; on the contrary, is a path that appears to be scaling up the mountain, a much less treacherous and steep hike; it looks almost enjoyable, by no means rocky or dangerous. You hardly falter in your decision, as you grab your things and pace towards the left. But, almost out of nowhere, a lean young man calls after you, from the path to the right. His smile is genuine, inviting. "Will you come with me to the mountains?" He asks gently.

You are so perplexed by this stranger who seems to be so interested in your company, "I am going to the mountains, but I am going by this path, it seems much more pleasurable."

Your words paint a small frown across his face, "I assure you, that path may be more enjoyable along the way, but the view of this one, the destination is far more rewarding. Sure, it is jagged and rocky and steep; it will hurt at first, but eventually your feet will become hardened. That path is deceitful, it appears to bring you up to the top of the mountains, but it really only brings you further away."

His words confuse you even more, "Have you walked the jagged path before?"

The stranger nods his head gently, "Many times. Will you come?"

"Have you walked the other path before?" You fold your arms across your chest.

Slowly, he shakes his head, "I have invited many of my brothers and sisters to walk with me along this path instead, but many have chosen to take that one. I have never seen them at the top."

"Do you know where it leads to, if not the top?"

Remorse covers the strangers face, "Continually, they walk along the path, unwounded, yet so bounded in suffering. My path is always accessible along their way, but they hope in their path, they convince themselves that eventually they will reach the top, and then it will be worth it; surely my path must end in death. But it is quite the contrary, and they realize this all too late."

Anger fills your veins, "If you know this path ends in death, why don't you save them rather than just inviting them and watching them waltz into their death?!"

He is patient, "I have saved them, I have given them the option to take this path. I came and I made a way to the top of the mountain. Before, they could only take the other path."

You soak in his words, trying to understand, "I can't fully understand," you grumble.

He grins easily, "And you won't. You just have to believe that what I say is true. Will you come with me to the mountains?"

You sigh and look back at the easy path, "I think I would rather enjoy my walk to my ruin than hike up an exhausting and dangerous path to a better destination. I mean, I will most definitely fall and be injured on your path."

He nods, "No doubt, you will fall. Many times along my path, you will fall. But I will be with you each time that you do, and before you know it, your feet will harden and you will become stronger. You will have to persevere, but then you will find yourself in paradise."

Slowly, you stutter, "Well I will be lonely on the other path..."

"Will you come?" He holds out his hand.

You falter, wondering who this man really is; a stranger who could easily be deceiving you. But you walk towards him, leaving behind your things and you embark on the jagged path. At first, the path is not too bad, you excitedly walk beside your new friend, wanting to know all about him, how to be like him. But soon, the jagged rocks pierce your feet and you want to turn back. Through your tears, you cling to his hand and he guides you. He takes you to a nearby pool of water, he washes your wounded feet and your scabbed hands from your many falls. Your salty tears run down your face and he looks at you consolingly, "I have been wounded, too. To make this path, I was wounded for you." He holds out his hands for you to see.

You place your fingers in his scars and you wince for him, "I didn't deserve for you to do that. I doubt you, still, all too often. I think you have lied to me and I have wanted to turn back."

He shakes his head, "And you again will doubt. But no matter how many times you do, I have made a way and I delight in leading you to the mountaintops, in your company."

Your heart swells up in his kindness, in his love. You promise yourself you will persevere harder, for him, you will endure the rocky path. But the next time you trip, the blood pours from your knee and you cry in anger to him, "If you love me so much, why do you watch me suffer?"

He cries with you, "Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows, but still, will you come with me?"

You walk away from the path to a pool of water, in disgust, you wash your wound yourself, but it swells and it burns, "I will walk alone."And for a few days and nights, you do. But you trip, you stumble. He tries to near you, but stubbornly you tell him you don't need his help. It is not long before you realize that without him, the path is not as fulfilling; that you hurt more, and your mere attempts to clean out your wounds are in vain. You curl up on the ground and you bring yourself low, "I was wrong, so terribly wrong. This hike is nothing if you are not with me."

He wraps you up, he pieces your cuts together, he holds you in his arms, "I was always with you. I never left."

Through tears, you correct yourself, "This hike is nothing if it is not for you. In return. For your love. I don't deserve you."

"And yet you always have me," he smiles at you.

You sit up, strengthened by him being with you, "Will you come to the mountains with me? My feet are still sore, but they will become hardened. I walk in the shadows still, but will you come?"