A Letter: Reminders for Your Wild Self

Making space for the conversations under the stars, legs swinging inches above the ground as time feels irrelevant and the storing and stuffing and stirring of thoughts settle into a cool pool, where the only thing reflecting back at you, is you. 

You and those specks of light part of something much bigger than this. 

What if what I have to offer isn’t enough for a world so big, so messy, so swallowed up by to do’s that the conversations under these stars with legs swinging and hearts full, feel too small and unmatched next to the action we must take if we wish to keep on bettering. 

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What Happens If They Don’t Show Up? On Courage & What It Means to Be Seen & Heard, Even If That Means Walking in Alone

Believing in oneself takes an incredible amount of courage, and though there have been moments where my heart flutters, stomach drops, and the whole of the world is right there in front of me.

These moments are fleeting. 

They only stick around as long as I’m willing to show up for myself, not just when convenient and tied with a promise that things will turn out ok, but after I’ve tripped up and fallen. After I’ve failed to stand by my side and share this story, instead of picking and choosing pieces of the one I would deem as credible and worthy of putting out into the world. 

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Am I Doing This to Myself? Illness as an Identity, Limitations Around Happiness, & What It Took to Gain Back a Voice After Ten Months Without One

I write to make sense of things, or at least that’s what I tell myself. 

I pull on thought, put it there, then I pull out another, and put it there—over and over I go, mind churning up bits of debris, entirely unsure of where they came from. Actually, I’m convinced they were nothingness until I began to share their story, not mine. 

There’s a plot line, so into it I dive, pulling up more and more until I’ve exhausted myself and conjured up a scenario; a moment, a conversation, seemingly impossible limitation; I'm so far from reality that I have to call in a lifeboat to carry me back to me, where dinner is growing cold, my computer glares at me from across the room, and the only signs of this mind-excavation is being worn on my face and in the heaviness behind my eyes.

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June 7th - July 21st, 2018: Things I'd Tell You

I'm writing this from a little organic coffee shop in Bend, Oregon, and though the words below are in chronological order,  already written out at the date provided, doing their best to navigate and make sense of the past month or so, it would be doing them, myself, and all of you injustice if I were to dive right in. 

The possible argument that... this could be seen as a clear character depiction of my need and want to explain everything. Alas, I'm moving forward with the why's and the how's and the what if's. 

Let's start with the basics:I started this as a way to process the death of my grandpa. You can find more of those details, here. 

The bigger picture:In processing the death of my grandpa, I am noticing the cycles and persistent habits of my often anxious self, amongst other things, and I'm not sure I would have noticed if I didn't check in with myself in this no-pressure and expectation-less kind of way. 

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Re-Writing Your Story: On Making That Change, Cultivating New Dreams, and What Falls In between

When I go to write about something, whether it be a place, an adventure, experience, or what have you, it’s never about the sights I took in or logistical details, it’s the feeling. It’s where I find myself emotionally. It’s what comes up as I pack my bags—the resistance that’s felt. It’s, as I have said many times before, the moments that fall between the big. 

The decisions made and not made. Thought through and hastily jumped into. The way I turn a blind eye when I comes to finances, telling myself before actually looking at the numbers, that I don’t have enough, which feels an awfully lot like, “I am not enough, nor will I ever be.” 

How am I still applying pressure in all the wrong places? 

And how is taking my own advice still impossibly difficult?

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May 28th - June 5th, 2018: Things I'd Tell You

It's quite simple, really. 

I’ve got an idea, and though this isn’t an unusual thing to say, it is, for a reason I’m not quite clear on, extraordinary and extremely important. Oh yes, and selfish too. Maybe. 

Thanks to a conversation I had on grief with Adam, “Things I’d Tell You” is going to be a monthly piece in Real Talk’s, covering things like gardening, literature, adventure, the color of farm-fresh eggs, favorite poems, musings, grammar, and other such things. Things I’d have told you, Bob. And it should be noted, that I don't know what the future of this looks like, or how much I'll continue to share,

one thing is very clear: 

It’s a tug, a push, a thing I feel inclined to do, and I sure hope that you’ll join me. However that looks.

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