Live In The Wonder

What does it mean to live amazed? In awe of the rising sun? In awe of growing children? In awe of metal planes that fly? Where has this amazement for life gone? 

When I spend even twenty-four hours away from social media, I rediscover things about myself that got lost in the noise. I believe the reason most of us can not see the beauty in life because we are overexposed. We have allowed ourselves to live quietly in the corners of other people's lives. There we are the judge and not the judged. A simple rule applies in this space, no harm, no problem. 

However, there is a problem, one that has grown under the skin. The issue that always arises when we choose to take the easy road; being bystanders to the lives of people near and far jade us. It creates lapses in our mind, spend more than fifteen minutes in someone's social feed, look up, and it feels as though the world has changed or at the least, that time is lost in a space that belongs to the curator. 

To live in the wonder means to go on a journey, being content with your view, and changing that which is changeable. 

Living in the wonder means that I know when to engage and disengage from that which darkens my soul. It means that I live more aware. The awareness of my faults and shortcomings have not come without a fight. In 2014, I had a social media addiction that was out of control. It hindered my writing, and I felt it could derail my life so much so that I addressed it, among other things, in a twelve step program here in Dallas. 

I was able to return to the wonder. 

The wonder for me now is serving my husband, being present for my friends, checking on my sisters who live far away, spending time with my mother, undisturbed and undistracted writing time, and working out because your girl enjoys a good sweat. 

The wonder can be found in the ordinary. 

Memoir or Inspiration

I'm in the thick of it now. My desk stacked with books, half-emptied water glasses, tea, pens, note cards, and more books. I am a mad woman during this stage of the game. With 6,089 words down on an inspirational non-fiction book I've been pondering over the last couple of months, a new thought came to me. I hate when this happens. "What about your memoir?" A two-year project I put aside, the book I submitted to MFA programs, the book that devours my attention most nights and the book I can't seem to shake. In my head, I reserve memoir writing for those that are much older than me. Although, the last seven years have been interesting: a devastating breakup, a twelve step program, a comedy show, and marriage.

I'm just not so sure if it's the story I want to share at this moment, and then I am reminded:

GOD
YOUR MISSION
YOUR PURPOSE
TO YOUR PEOPLE

The notecard reads hanging above my desk.

Gosh, its hot in here. One second, I am going to turn off this heater. Where was I? Yes, memoir or inspiration? "How to" or "my truth?" It's like deciding on whether to start a new relationship or build out, go deep, be broken in the one you have.

Okay, God, where to?

This question, posed to the Big Guy can garner exciting results or at least unexpected outcomes. The real question is about playing it safe or going for whatever it is. Here, at my desk, butt in chair, I am faced with who I am as a writer and what kind of writer I want to be.

Her Name was "Birdie"

Do you think people stay in places and situations longer than they should?

Around four o'clock yesterday a baby bird landed nineteen floors up on my patio. When I initially noticed the flying creature, I did not think much about it. Birds fly, that is a fact. There was nothing unusual about the small bird flying through a crack in the balcony between two sheets of glass and landing on my porch.

My husband and I headed to a movie around seven to conclude the Thanksgiving celebration. It was a chilly night. We started Saving Capitalism on Netflix with Robert Reich before we had to put the documentary on hold to catch our movie.

After the movie, we returned to our posture on the coach to complete the film. From the couch, looking out into the night, the Downtown sparkling with lights, I noticed her, still perched on the balcony was the bird I saw earlier. I slowly walked over to the patio door, gently unlocked it and then cracked it. The small bird did not move. I opened it some more to catch a closer look. Nothing. The winged creature was not afraid and did not move an inch. What was wrong with her? Why was this bird just staring out into the night on my patio? My husband offered up a little advice. He figured that she might have clipped her wing flying in. I immediately wanted to bring her in and care for her. I ran to the refrigerator and peeled off some bread from the Thanksgiving leftovers. I ran back to the door, gently opened it and tossed scraps to my new friend. Birdie did not move. She did not walk towards the food.

"Maybe she's blind." I thought to myself.

"A bit clumsy like my husband, maybe she ran into the glass head first and damaged her eyesight."

It sounds silly now that I am replaying the possibility back to myself. But what was it?

I knew my husband would not go for bringing the bird into the house and after coaxing him into bed, he said, "Babe, please don't bring the bird in the house." I said okay but knew if the baby bird needed further assistance I would do what was necessary.

I tiptoed back to the door, opened it, stepping into the cold night I called out to Birdie like one would do a dog or cat. She ignored me. She still had not gone for the bread pieces. As I approached, she turned and fluttered away.

I was heartbroken. Birdie was fine. She knew exactly where her home was and was merely taking in a different view.

Ripples and Life Lessons

I decide to have a bath this evening. I chose a bath over taking a shower to slow the week down. I ran the water and added a few drops of Roman Chamomile. While in the bathtub, I dried my hands and grabbed my phone to finish listening to a Youtube video on the laws of attraction with Allan Watts. Watts has been one of my favorite philosophers since I was in my early twenties. He espouses simple disciplines to sound living and does not hold his tongue on calling BS on the our perceptions.

Once the video ended, I sat in the dim light of my bathroom thinking over what I just heard. Why do I want what I want and where is my focus? I gently ran my hand over the water and then slowly into the water. The act created ripples. What I noticed at first was the feedback I immediately received from the motion and how it shockingly relates to life.

With my leg protruding out of the water creating a barrier between the side of the tub, the water bounced off of my leg and created a ripple effect back to me. As I stared at the ripples over and over, I took it to mean what I put out comes back to me or as the old Proverb goes, you reap what you sow. As it relates to Alan's lecture on attraction, I am getting what I put into the world. If I like what I am getting, true relationships, honest conversation, mutual love and respect with my husband, and clarity on the world around me, I should put more of that into the world. Why does this work and why do I want more of this? For starters, it feels good. It feels better than the life I lived before that was full of my wants, needs, and desires. I also understand that to make the "world beautiful" I have to first draw the circle around myself and fix everything in it, the relationships I have today, matter. If I nurture and master them, then I can give that energy to the people around me and get more of it in return.

Every day we are putting out ripples. If you love your life and like what you are getting, do more of that. If not, if you want to create change in your life, then put out different ripples.

The same thing happens in our digestion system. When I put in the trash, I felt like trash.

So now, I am vegan.

A True 'Hallelujah Anyway'

Imagine that you decide to attend an event of one of your favorite authors, you go alone, you register early, arrive early, find the perfect seat and wait for the show to start. You are joined by a group of ladies, strangers; one strikes up a conversation with you. At this point you are warming up to the idea of chatting, you place your mediation podcast on pause, and you dive into a conversation about faith, the world, and comfort the woman on her daughter's misfortune.

You have found a companion. You feel less like an uninvited dinner guest and more like a welcomed addition to the family.

A woman approaches, she is the friend of your new companion. She has "special access" and therefore has seats in the front but notices your seat is in just as good of a location and next to her friend. She talks to you about the school, brags about her pastoral position at the university, and then ask for your seat. First, she ask politely, not wanting to impose but still feeling familiar with you after the brief chat. You politely decline knowing that you chose the seat for a purpose and you don't have the special access to take hers. She adds pressure. "Will you not allow me to sit with my friend? I will give you my pass?"

You look at your new companion, the woman that made you feel less alone at an event full of people twice your age, all with a different but shared skin tone than yours and resign yourself to the fact that you are outnumbered. Your new friend has her loyalties, so you will get no help there. You politely and quietly get up, thank the woman for her access pass and move to a different seat.

How do you feel? 

In that moment, I felt pressured. Bullied in a sense. Powerless to hold onto what was rightly mine. There is two train of thoughts running through my mind at this time, the idea that there are some people in this world that feel entitled to everything, and I do mean everything. The other thought was one of empathy and understanding. She, like me, was sitting alone.

Where is the truth here? Where should I attach meaning? Does the public conversation on race and privilege play any part in this situation or have I taken on the sentiments of the world and layered it onto this particular experience?

The author of the night was Anne Lamott. Lamott wrote my favorite book on life and writing, titled "Bird by Bird." Last night she was there to talk about her latest book "Hallelujah Anyway." Anne also spoke about grace and mercy.

Maybe the conversation I want to have here is no matter the situation you and I find ourselves in we still have control over how we respond and even how we think and add meaning and context. Just maybe grace can be applied here.

The truth is all of us are messed up and are out for ourselves at times, so the criticism I want to place on this woman for how she made me feel, how she took what was mine, is the same criticism I can put on myself. I hate or feel strongly toward actions I am guilty of doing or better said I strongly point out the things in other people that exist within myself.

There is no bow I can wrap this in. I felt the way I felt. However, somehow, understanding, empathy, and grace found its way into the equation.

power balance

The stories of sexual assault cases in Hollywood continue to come into the light. The women who are brave enough to share their genuine and heartfelt stories have the world behind them.

What now? What about the perpetrators who committed these heinous acts? What will be their punishment for such indiscretions? Will the law hold them accountable for treating their positions of power like wishing wells to have and to take whatever they want? How do we make sure this does not happen again?

The real question should be how do we balance power in industries and communities where the power balance is greatly one-sided? Who stands to gain and who stands to lose? In a capitalistic society is this achievable?

History does not typically root for the underdog. It has been those wielding the bigger stick that has ruled, wrecked, and mastered the world.

What am I, are you, willing to give up, if anything, to rebalance power and give those voiceless a voice?

Not me, the online me

Then the world’s economy collapsed. People were so desperate, they turned to their own social networks for cash. Some of us didn’t even want cash: attention was good enough. - Daniel Kolitz

Daniel Kolitz piece for Hazlitt, titled What I Learned at Personal Branding School, blew me away. A comedic review of his personal experience on taking an online Coursera course.

I've been trying to figure out for the past couple of years what the heck is happening in our society, besides the obvious -- man's need for God. Kolitz's article sent me in the right direction for answers.

Back in 2013, I wrote a journal entry titled "Overexposed," with the simple premise that we were overexposing ourselves for the sake of "experience" and "living," only to regret that exposure because it opened us up to be criticized and encouraged partaking in activities that we wish we had not. I argued that we also had the possibility of losing ourselves in the process. Today, the competition happening online for attention, influencer credits, and money is fierce. What I believe we all now know, if you can build a "platform" on some idea or something you believe to be true or universal about yourself then you can sell anything, and I do mean anything. This has created in the words of Kolitz, "bad jokes about the Oscars, or posted pictures of our asses on Instagram."

Many other more sinister things are happening online as well, like how "churchporations" market religion, how our celebrities feed us causes that donate less than 20% to the actual problem they say they are fighting against, and how our very "democracy" was blown to pieces this last election cycle by "fake news" and other outside threats. We asked for this connectivity. Will it be to our detriment? Besides, what else hoards attention besides our debased and perverse nature?

I know, cat videos!

How much attention do you want?

How much attention do you want is the question I thought to myself after two females plopped down beside me in super low halter tops and midriffs. My mother and the culture I was raised in asked me to pick one or the other. I could either slightly expose cleavage, a slither of my waist, or my legs. To show more than one of these things was "fast" or what "loose" women did.

So, how much attention do you want I ask again? The generation coming behind my thirty-year-old self will make up their own rules, and that's okay, but again how much attention do you want or how much do you need? How much did you go without as a child? How much are you trying to make up for as an adult?

The argument that women get tons of unwanted cat-calls and lude remarks is valid. Yes, some men need to learn self-discipline and impulse control. However, just like a back and forth argument with my sisters, who is going to be the bigger person? Who is going to put a stop to the madness? Women, are we brave enough to address our need for attention and the need to feel love and belonging are the true reasons why some of us leave the house showing everything God gave us? That is the real question. I am concerned with the "why." Why we engage in this behavior? What are we after? Why we look for and push away certain kinds of attention only to go out looking for it the next day in the same way.

How much attention do you want?

If it is a lot, then do what garners you a lot of attention. You can do a Google search for what gets instant attention, your options are limitless. If you are after mild appreciation, there are examples of that in our society as well. If you want none, well scroll through my Instagram and gaze at my cleavage-less pics. I'm cool with it because what I am after cannot be manufactured (plus, I'm married. Things change after making such a commitment).

What about you?

Whatever you want, you will have. You just can't always control the response to your output.

"You're Okay, Its Okay, You're Safe Now"

You learn a lot about yourself in a hospital, like what the end of life looks like, how to exist in a space where death is breathable, what comforting the sick and injured feels like, and how to accept that this life, like everything in it, is fleeting.

My father-in-law had no idea what he was getting into when a caramel girl, who loves books, art, and the insides of people decided to marry his son. It's not like I knew I was gaining a father who loves cookies, spending time at his car shop, having the backs of his oldest friends, and a man who would not leave Cleveland, Ohio if you told him the world was ending exactly where his house sits. We got each other. A decent exchange.

This past weekend, my father-in-law of one year and ten months lay still in a hospital bed at the Cleveland Clinic. He looked tired. I guess triple heart bypass surgery will do that to you. All I could do is stare at the man my husband loves with all his heart. The room was dark, except for the dancing medical machine lights. I sat in a chair next to his bed. He heard us come in and said, ''oh, I'm not sleep" as if he wanted and needed the company.

While sitting in that chair across from my father, I thought about his life, the many choices that led to this exact moment. This distress was what he had hoped to avoid after watching and caring for his mother. She died of a health-related disease.

My mother spoke of generational curses often growing up, and at this time the bad omen of diabetes has my older brother and older sister in its grip. We do unspeakable things to ourselves.

As I do to my husband nights when I can not sleep, in the dark, I rubbed the back of dad-in-law's head and whispered you're okay, its okay, you're safe now.

What I learned that day in the hospital is that family can comfort you in your darkest moments. They have the ability to whisper in your ear -- you're okay, its okay, you're safe now.

In those moments, you and I remember what we have in each other; we remember that in order not to labor in vain we need mission and purpose, we remember that what we have given, we will receive.