"The person who has stopped being thankful has fallen asleep in life." -ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
What about life don't you trust?
I've noticed in the recent weeks of my own life, I've been finding MORE of my trust with life, with the universe, with God. I trust that my dad will find the peace and tranquility he seeks. I trust that the journey I am called to will be shown in time. I trust that I have all the abilities and love to complete anything I ever want. But what don't I trust? In moments of heartache, I don't trust myself or the plans of the stars. I am no longer a creature lacking self-worth. I know that I may be complicated at times, but I am truly worth knowing. I will always be willing to give something to someone, anyone who is willing to share a little bit of themselves with me. i don't trust the transformation of myself in times of confusion. I hear the thoughts of a girl whom I have no idea where she came from. When the struggles get too hard, I feel hopeless. When my dad has another confusing episode, I start to feel like I want to die. Which is completely dramatic, but oh sometimes I feel like their is no escape. Refuge with a friend for two hours leaves me no peace. I no longer find myself happy to come home, but instead dreading it. So do I not trust the lessons of the cards that were dealt to me? Do I not trust the fruits and treasures that lay in everyone we come across? Even the overly sarcastic boy that you sometimes you feel like you can't even stand? or the boy you've opened up your heart to and still can't realize how beautiful you are? At times, no I don't trust these things and I don't trust the plan provided for me. I lose faith and lack a shit ton of love. These are the moments when the art of love should be practiced, when I should push for the highest version of myself and let the old Leigh continue to sink. Truthfully though, sometimes I just want to be held. I want someone else to take the initiative to take care of me and carry me through the day. I want someone to graze the curves of my shoulder and whisper to me that everything will be okay. Not just in my own personal life, but in the entire world. There is so much hate in the world it's sinks heavy on the heart. I wish for an entire world boosted on the foundation of love. Where there are no social classes, no races, no competition. Just people doing their jobs because it's what they love to do.
i don't trust the power of the love in my heart all the time,
but I'm learning to.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
#19
"Kindness costs nothing."-IRISH PROVERB
For whom or what could you kneel and kiss the ground?
Looking into my dog's eyes right now, I could kneel to the ground, and kiss him. It's been a hard week for the both of us. He's been suffering his after-effects for getting into some treats he shouldn't have and I'm just exhausted. It's a strange occurrence when you get resentful because you care TOO much. I hope Jack knows how sorry I am when I want to be left alone in my room or watch a single episode of SVU in peace. I just needed my alone time. I hope he knows how much I love him.
I could kneel and kiss the ground for every person that's inspired me, disgusted me, and forced me to grow. We don't chose the lessons that life serves us, we can only choose the attitude in which we digest them, so that they may serve us to the best of their abilities. I kiss the ground for all the people I've met in my life and the one's I can count on my hand that I can call my friends. The people who see different shades of me on different days, some are agreeable, some are very disagreeable. Yet, it's the entire mix-matchup pallet that makes this creature. Lately, I've felt so frustrated. Frustrated by people, situations, missed opportunities, fear, and whatever else. In my depths of me, I want to kiss the ground and just thank whoever wants to listen that I'm happy to be alive, happy to be here. I want to make good of my time in this earth and shacked up in this skin. i want to make good on whoever created me and the puppeteer behind the nooks and crannies of my personality. I want to make good on MYSELF. It's a sure thing in every young woman's life that sooner or later you have to remind yourself that there is more to life than someone's hand to hold, more than the current eye of your affection, more than whether or not they like you back. We consume so much of our time and lives being worried about things we can't control. We worry away all our free time to enjoy life, experience something new, or just feel the waves of our breath shifting through the arteries. To me, it's impossible to love someone when you have not yet learned how to love yourself and being with yourself. Yet, like the feeble fucking creature I am, I stumble, I fall, and I wonder why so-and-so doesn't try/likeme/wanttohangoutwithme/whatever. WHO CARES? I always say that I want to create a good experience for myself, but by the looks of everything I haven't been doing a very good job. Happiness is an art and I want to create it every chance I get.
Like right now as I smile warming at these page full of words. Not thinking if what I said made any sense or if it sounds eloquent and fit for The Atlantic Weekly. The magnificence of life isn't hidden behind a great awakening or a swiss bank account. It's also in the deepest disasters and most troubling questions. Don't be afraid to step out and be present to it.
xo.
L.
For whom or what could you kneel and kiss the ground?
Looking into my dog's eyes right now, I could kneel to the ground, and kiss him. It's been a hard week for the both of us. He's been suffering his after-effects for getting into some treats he shouldn't have and I'm just exhausted. It's a strange occurrence when you get resentful because you care TOO much. I hope Jack knows how sorry I am when I want to be left alone in my room or watch a single episode of SVU in peace. I just needed my alone time. I hope he knows how much I love him.
I could kneel and kiss the ground for every person that's inspired me, disgusted me, and forced me to grow. We don't chose the lessons that life serves us, we can only choose the attitude in which we digest them, so that they may serve us to the best of their abilities. I kiss the ground for all the people I've met in my life and the one's I can count on my hand that I can call my friends. The people who see different shades of me on different days, some are agreeable, some are very disagreeable. Yet, it's the entire mix-matchup pallet that makes this creature. Lately, I've felt so frustrated. Frustrated by people, situations, missed opportunities, fear, and whatever else. In my depths of me, I want to kiss the ground and just thank whoever wants to listen that I'm happy to be alive, happy to be here. I want to make good of my time in this earth and shacked up in this skin. i want to make good on whoever created me and the puppeteer behind the nooks and crannies of my personality. I want to make good on MYSELF. It's a sure thing in every young woman's life that sooner or later you have to remind yourself that there is more to life than someone's hand to hold, more than the current eye of your affection, more than whether or not they like you back. We consume so much of our time and lives being worried about things we can't control. We worry away all our free time to enjoy life, experience something new, or just feel the waves of our breath shifting through the arteries. To me, it's impossible to love someone when you have not yet learned how to love yourself and being with yourself. Yet, like the feeble fucking creature I am, I stumble, I fall, and I wonder why so-and-so doesn't try/likeme/wanttohangoutwithme/whatever. WHO CARES? I always say that I want to create a good experience for myself, but by the looks of everything I haven't been doing a very good job. Happiness is an art and I want to create it every chance I get.
Like right now as I smile warming at these page full of words. Not thinking if what I said made any sense or if it sounds eloquent and fit for The Atlantic Weekly. The magnificence of life isn't hidden behind a great awakening or a swiss bank account. It's also in the deepest disasters and most troubling questions. Don't be afraid to step out and be present to it.
xo.
L.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
#18
"We empty ourselves to be filled with God. Even God cannot fill what is full."
-MOTHER TERESA
"What is true about you?"
Every time I see the question, I fill up with fear. What is my answer going to sound like? Will it be smooth and transitional? Jesus, what am I even going to say? What makes me feel most alive is something that I cower away from the most. I don't write because history has showered us with hundreds of other great puppeteers of the words. My own friends can even pen a beautiful paragraph or two. Complete strangers in classes being published and expressing their love of the word. At the risk of sounding idiotic and vain, I have no fucking idea where I fit in. I'm just a girl who knows how to write about life, experiences, and the jargon in my mind. It's where I come to figure things out (or at least make a really good attempt), to process, and to see growth. Fifteen year old me finished a notebook a lot differently then twenty-two year old me. It's where I come to rejuvenate and forget about the world for a little while. No one can touch me here and it's a place where even myself can't forsake and sin it with dishonesty. It's a time to sit, be quiet, and dive in to the great ocean that is me (or you). I tell myself often to never forget why I started writing. That once upon a time nobody even knew that I wrote or could form a decent sentence for that matter. Years of compliments didn't give me a big head, it gave me fear and pressure. While age has led me to be deeply grateful for the gift of orchestrating words, I often feel cramped by the audience. If I write this will they still think I'm a good writer? If I'm such a good writer how come nobody ever comments on anything? What is this fuckery? It became less about writing for me and more about writing for the reader. The words suffered, which ended up in me suffering (sometimes I would even cry at night because I just "wanted the words back"). So here's to a new me, a new time to explore the words, and be deeply inspired by the fact that you never stop evolving as playwright of these delicate letters. You don't need a bad day, a complicating love, or a loss to fill up the space with material. All you need is the confidence to speak and to speak truthfully.
With that being said, what I know is true about myself is that I have no idea how to be anyone but me.
A work in progress but me, none the less.
Welcome to it.
xo.
L.
-MOTHER TERESA
"What is true about you?"
Every time I see the question, I fill up with fear. What is my answer going to sound like? Will it be smooth and transitional? Jesus, what am I even going to say? What makes me feel most alive is something that I cower away from the most. I don't write because history has showered us with hundreds of other great puppeteers of the words. My own friends can even pen a beautiful paragraph or two. Complete strangers in classes being published and expressing their love of the word. At the risk of sounding idiotic and vain, I have no fucking idea where I fit in. I'm just a girl who knows how to write about life, experiences, and the jargon in my mind. It's where I come to figure things out (or at least make a really good attempt), to process, and to see growth. Fifteen year old me finished a notebook a lot differently then twenty-two year old me. It's where I come to rejuvenate and forget about the world for a little while. No one can touch me here and it's a place where even myself can't forsake and sin it with dishonesty. It's a time to sit, be quiet, and dive in to the great ocean that is me (or you). I tell myself often to never forget why I started writing. That once upon a time nobody even knew that I wrote or could form a decent sentence for that matter. Years of compliments didn't give me a big head, it gave me fear and pressure. While age has led me to be deeply grateful for the gift of orchestrating words, I often feel cramped by the audience. If I write this will they still think I'm a good writer? If I'm such a good writer how come nobody ever comments on anything? What is this fuckery? It became less about writing for me and more about writing for the reader. The words suffered, which ended up in me suffering (sometimes I would even cry at night because I just "wanted the words back"). So here's to a new me, a new time to explore the words, and be deeply inspired by the fact that you never stop evolving as playwright of these delicate letters. You don't need a bad day, a complicating love, or a loss to fill up the space with material. All you need is the confidence to speak and to speak truthfully.
With that being said, what I know is true about myself is that I have no idea how to be anyone but me.
A work in progress but me, none the less.
Welcome to it.
xo.
L.
Monday, November 15, 2010
#17
"It's a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it."-SOMERSET MOUGHAM
If your life was a billboard, what would it look like or say?
This is simple, it would simply and very clearly say..
DO MORE THAN EXIST.
I am not waiting.
If your life was a billboard, what would it look like or say?
This is simple, it would simply and very clearly say..
DO MORE THAN EXIST.
I am not waiting.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
#16
"Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there."
-WILL ROGERS
What keeps you from asking for support?
I was just talking to my sister last night about how I wish I had more friends that wanted to do stuff. I want to taking cooking classes and I think it'd be nice to share that experience with a friend. I want to do this, I want to do that... and yet, when I think of who I could ask to join me, my mind goes blank. For the longest time in my life I thought that I was just waiting. Just waiting for the universe to part the skies and drop down a handful of people that would become my friends forever. At least that's what I told myself when my current friends seemed to not understand or get on my nerves.
In all honesty, it's me who sometimes don't know what I want or what kind of friend I wish to be. I sometimes have that miraculous ability to project the exact opposite of what I want. How can I expect someone to exude certain qualities in the relationship of friendship when I can't even have the courage to be the friend I wanna be? It appears to be a vicious cycle or at least my mind tells me it is.
I heard today on a church service my dad was watching that when people "walk away" from your life, it means that weren't meant to be apart of your destiny. While I think it's a little harsh, I feel there is some truth to it. We spend most of our lives seeking approval through friends, strangers, and family. We hardly ever ask ourselves throughout the day how we're feeling and even rarely wait long enough to hear the answer.
Today, I am doing absolutely okay.
I'm thinking about the people that have come and gone in my life and how I once thought they were meant to be around forever. Not that it was a bad thing to think that, but we sometimes forget that the natural progression of life applies to our own.
I'm blessed enough to have friends who know parts of me, none of me, and all of me. I cherish them in my own ways and try to find the love amidst the urge to strangle them at times.
I'm just lucky and what keeps me from asking for support is failing to realize that.
I am open.
-WILL ROGERS
What keeps you from asking for support?
I was just talking to my sister last night about how I wish I had more friends that wanted to do stuff. I want to taking cooking classes and I think it'd be nice to share that experience with a friend. I want to do this, I want to do that... and yet, when I think of who I could ask to join me, my mind goes blank. For the longest time in my life I thought that I was just waiting. Just waiting for the universe to part the skies and drop down a handful of people that would become my friends forever. At least that's what I told myself when my current friends seemed to not understand or get on my nerves.
In all honesty, it's me who sometimes don't know what I want or what kind of friend I wish to be. I sometimes have that miraculous ability to project the exact opposite of what I want. How can I expect someone to exude certain qualities in the relationship of friendship when I can't even have the courage to be the friend I wanna be? It appears to be a vicious cycle or at least my mind tells me it is.
I heard today on a church service my dad was watching that when people "walk away" from your life, it means that weren't meant to be apart of your destiny. While I think it's a little harsh, I feel there is some truth to it. We spend most of our lives seeking approval through friends, strangers, and family. We hardly ever ask ourselves throughout the day how we're feeling and even rarely wait long enough to hear the answer.
Today, I am doing absolutely okay.
I'm thinking about the people that have come and gone in my life and how I once thought they were meant to be around forever. Not that it was a bad thing to think that, but we sometimes forget that the natural progression of life applies to our own.
I'm blessed enough to have friends who know parts of me, none of me, and all of me. I cherish them in my own ways and try to find the love amidst the urge to strangle them at times.
I'm just lucky and what keeps me from asking for support is failing to realize that.
I am open.
Friday, November 12, 2010
#15
"A sense of humor reduces people and problems to their proper proportions."-ARNOLD GLASOW
What gets in the way of you being clear?
I know what I already want to write, but I paused before starting. I started looking at pictures, trying to gather up some inspiration or courage to get out what I have to say. I realized that this is just a form of procrastination most of the time, I already have the courage to say what I wish within these lines.
I'm glad this question is being asked because it's something I need to confront.
One thing I've realized in my short human life is that sometimes people will never know how they've affected you. I use to think that people should always know what they've done to you, how they've changed you (whether that be good or bad), and just the impact they've had on your life. Reeling back in from my last encounters with Ryan, I realized that sometimes it just doesn't work that way. Sometimes without knowing, the two parties have two very different perceptions of what happened. Each person sticking true to what they felt in the demise of a friendship. I look back with so much love on that little confused being and I'm so grateful for whatever he is in my life. However, as of right now in the present day, he will never know how much he's hurt me. He will never know how much courage it took to tell him how I felt, how I pined for an entire year to understand emotions I couldn't comprehend. He won't know that I severed our professional relationship because in my gut I felt like that's what had to be done, because I knew that it would force us to progress. He'll never know that while he thought I abandoned him, I took it as I told him I cared about him and he stopped talking to me. That it wasn't the rejection that stung, but the loss of friendship. I can't be clear that it hurt me deeply and I would cry about it on more occasions then I'd like to share. I can't share that him returning after two months of not talking really fucked me up. That I couldn't share with him like I use to, because I didn't trust him. It was a foolish feeling, but my ego led me and I so blindly followed.
He'll never know that the last time I saw him, I watched him write on a piece of paper and I thought about what it'd be like to see his face in the morning and how my heart swelled. How I left that day with a, "See you around" and felt a sadness in my heart because I knew it was a day of acceptance of what was.
We aren't meant to be "real"friends, we're meant to be kept in bubbles for each other to float near when convenient.
I accept that he'll never know these things and that he may never let me tell him these things or want to know these things.
It just feels good to say them somewhere other than my head.
He was a person I cared about deeply, a person I never would've looked twice at, and learned to love. I learned to appreciate the things we connected on and the things that made me want to strangle him. I took the time to evaluate my response to certain things he said and the emotions that surged in events with him. I faced insecurities head on and admitted fears to myself. I felt real, genuine emotion and expressed it.
I would've made an effort with him and my affection had potential to grow.
It didn't work out and that's okay.
I enjoyed the experience even when all I could muster was anger.
We're just not meant to understand everything all the time and it's something I re-learn everyday.
One day I'd like him to know how much he's done to me and my life.
But for now, I'm happy you at least get to know.
I am learning.
What gets in the way of you being clear?
I know what I already want to write, but I paused before starting. I started looking at pictures, trying to gather up some inspiration or courage to get out what I have to say. I realized that this is just a form of procrastination most of the time, I already have the courage to say what I wish within these lines.
I'm glad this question is being asked because it's something I need to confront.
One thing I've realized in my short human life is that sometimes people will never know how they've affected you. I use to think that people should always know what they've done to you, how they've changed you (whether that be good or bad), and just the impact they've had on your life. Reeling back in from my last encounters with Ryan, I realized that sometimes it just doesn't work that way. Sometimes without knowing, the two parties have two very different perceptions of what happened. Each person sticking true to what they felt in the demise of a friendship. I look back with so much love on that little confused being and I'm so grateful for whatever he is in my life. However, as of right now in the present day, he will never know how much he's hurt me. He will never know how much courage it took to tell him how I felt, how I pined for an entire year to understand emotions I couldn't comprehend. He won't know that I severed our professional relationship because in my gut I felt like that's what had to be done, because I knew that it would force us to progress. He'll never know that while he thought I abandoned him, I took it as I told him I cared about him and he stopped talking to me. That it wasn't the rejection that stung, but the loss of friendship. I can't be clear that it hurt me deeply and I would cry about it on more occasions then I'd like to share. I can't share that him returning after two months of not talking really fucked me up. That I couldn't share with him like I use to, because I didn't trust him. It was a foolish feeling, but my ego led me and I so blindly followed.
He'll never know that the last time I saw him, I watched him write on a piece of paper and I thought about what it'd be like to see his face in the morning and how my heart swelled. How I left that day with a, "See you around" and felt a sadness in my heart because I knew it was a day of acceptance of what was.
We aren't meant to be "real"friends, we're meant to be kept in bubbles for each other to float near when convenient.
I accept that he'll never know these things and that he may never let me tell him these things or want to know these things.
It just feels good to say them somewhere other than my head.
He was a person I cared about deeply, a person I never would've looked twice at, and learned to love. I learned to appreciate the things we connected on and the things that made me want to strangle him. I took the time to evaluate my response to certain things he said and the emotions that surged in events with him. I faced insecurities head on and admitted fears to myself. I felt real, genuine emotion and expressed it.
I would've made an effort with him and my affection had potential to grow.
It didn't work out and that's okay.
I enjoyed the experience even when all I could muster was anger.
We're just not meant to understand everything all the time and it's something I re-learn everyday.
One day I'd like him to know how much he's done to me and my life.
But for now, I'm happy you at least get to know.
I am learning.
Friday, November 5, 2010
#14
"Why indeed must "God" be a noun? Why not a verb...the most active and dynamic of all?"-MARY DALY
What are you hiding?
For the first time in weeks, months, possibly even an entire year I feel that I am out of hiding. I feel more courage and more confidence to slip outside of the hermit shell and embrace...simply, myself. I don't always feel good some days. I feel like hiding under the covers or saying negative things about myself. I feel like I'm unable to control those days and the moods that manipulate the strum of my vocal chords. When I was younger, I wanted to be a musician. I wanted to tour the world and change something. It wasn't playing music that was so much important, but the opportunity to meet people and make a difference. At that time, I just thought music was the calling to change. When I was twelve, Good Charlotte brought me to my happy place. I think as we move through our journey we encounter a variety of things that simply allow us to feel ourselves again...or our souls, if you will. I would watch interviews, live performances, and watch the then twenty-somethings morph into charming men. I felt courage, felt possibilities, I felt what the soul had to say. Since then, I've gathered many other triggers to my happy place. It's something I'm grateful that I randomly find. However, it's been awhile since I felt it to a full extent. Where I felt like the message was clear and I was well enough to undertake the journey. Yesterday, out of blue I felt ready to let go of past feelings and to move forward. Certain things strike you when you least expect and you realize things you use to want with all your soul, aren't what you want anymore. Not that those people, places, or things aren't great but you understand that you just want more for yourself.
So ten years later from the age of twelve and with their new record out, I find myself watching Good Charlotte interviews again. I feel that happy place and the enthusiasm and energy I felt as a young kid.
I know the bad days come, but they also go.
So while they are away, I embrace it.
I am in view.
What are you hiding?
For the first time in weeks, months, possibly even an entire year I feel that I am out of hiding. I feel more courage and more confidence to slip outside of the hermit shell and embrace...simply, myself. I don't always feel good some days. I feel like hiding under the covers or saying negative things about myself. I feel like I'm unable to control those days and the moods that manipulate the strum of my vocal chords. When I was younger, I wanted to be a musician. I wanted to tour the world and change something. It wasn't playing music that was so much important, but the opportunity to meet people and make a difference. At that time, I just thought music was the calling to change. When I was twelve, Good Charlotte brought me to my happy place. I think as we move through our journey we encounter a variety of things that simply allow us to feel ourselves again...or our souls, if you will. I would watch interviews, live performances, and watch the then twenty-somethings morph into charming men. I felt courage, felt possibilities, I felt what the soul had to say. Since then, I've gathered many other triggers to my happy place. It's something I'm grateful that I randomly find. However, it's been awhile since I felt it to a full extent. Where I felt like the message was clear and I was well enough to undertake the journey. Yesterday, out of blue I felt ready to let go of past feelings and to move forward. Certain things strike you when you least expect and you realize things you use to want with all your soul, aren't what you want anymore. Not that those people, places, or things aren't great but you understand that you just want more for yourself.
So ten years later from the age of twelve and with their new record out, I find myself watching Good Charlotte interviews again. I feel that happy place and the enthusiasm and energy I felt as a young kid.
I know the bad days come, but they also go.
So while they are away, I embrace it.
I am in view.
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