Courage

It is easy to feel, much against what is true, that I am alone.

For some unknown reason, when something particularly difficult happens, we - humanity - take it as a sign that we are not in good company.

I do not know a single person, of whom I am particularly fond, who has not undergone some sort of devastating moment.

 The one where every bit of oxygen leaves you

 at the precise instant that the air on every side closes in

pressing

on your every inch.

Quite at the same moment

each atom in your body fuses hot and cold

creating an unknown and altogether unappealing sensation that you are 

drowning 

while you also 

happen to be on fire.

Spontaneous combustion seems palatable.

It is, in every way, the worst feeling.

But the glistening glory, the grain of sand that rebuilds an entire world, is the knowledge that this is but a moment that opens a doorway to a new kind of life. A life in which you live among giants.

Think of your heroes.

What was their tragedy?

And what is it that makes them your hero?
Surely it is their courage in the face of evil.

Tragedy, you see, welcomes you into excellent company.
But it is with courage that you earn your keep.

Courage is a funny thing.

You are given courage to begin with. It is in you. But it does not stay if you do not ask. And it certainly does not stay if you are unwilling to put forth the effort it demands. Courage must not only be actively chosen over and over again, but fought for. It offers itself in each choice, but it does not give itself easily.

In fact, usually, it is the quietest option. It waits to see if you will notice it's there, ask it to dance. Normally, to be honest, we choose fear, because look at the way it twirls in that dress. And flight, see the way it beckons you away? And, oh, revenge, how sweet it seems. But courage is the wallflower that woos us all.

Choose courage and you will be ruined for all the others.

And it is in this courage that you will one day look up and find that you have become the giant, and that you stand alone no longer.

Parade

Already in bed.

Dozing and texting.

Surrendering to the end of this today.

*clink*

No mind.

*clap*

Wait.

*crash*

It’s here.

Out of bed and through the door. Sleep didn’t matter and tomorrow could wait.

The first rain was knocking, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

It crashes over everything with a ready-or-not attitude, existing to touch and be felt and to change and move and pour over every inch it can reach, urging things clean and to grow and toward what is to come.

Rain, you see, in a word and in every way, is joy.

God did me a kindness when He brought me to an apartment with a back porch. Sitting feet-tucked-up, too-cold-to-move, silent-for-fear-of-missing-a-drop is the best way I know how to appreciate in genuine awe the first rain of the year.

Ripples in puddles that only just exist. Wind turns visible, showing it’s true nature is not to bite. And, oh, in a way that is past understanding, no sound falls sweeter than rain’s orchestrated cacophony of a voice

Calling me to remember the truth that, to me, it is joy.

Hang Tight

I wrote this post in September or October, I don't remember which. I opted not to post it at the time-but now, today, on this lunch break, I'm sharing a bit more of me with you. 

***

People keep asking me why I look different.

If I’ve changed my hair or…they just can’t put their finger on it. And then they look for a long second, examining me.  Trying to figure it out. I have nothing to tell them. My hair is the same, my make-up is usual, my outfit is typical.

But what I can offer them -- is that I am awake.

There is no good way to describe the way you feel when you wake up.

Let me clarify:

  There is no good-enough way to explain to people the feeling deep down of coming alive again.

I was caught in sleep for months, it feels.  Pressing the snooze button, slowly seeking consciousness. Deciding I could sleep a bit longer.  

But that’s not how sleep works.

Sleep is not for hiding-- it is for rest.

When the time came that I was shown that I was no longer resting, but hiding—I woke up. 
Thankfully, it was just in time for Autumn, the consistent time of year in which I feel most awake.

            When the weather turns cold

                            And leaves carpet the sidewalks

                                            And squirrels become particularly defensive.                                             (They’re even a little scary about it. But that’s their thing to work through.)

It’s as though the tectonic plates of your life have shifted and you begin to feel your life quake.

Things are moving, sliding, rushing, creeping, to places you never would have expected. All the while things are moving back to places you thought were permanently barren.

Life springs forth, and moves forward.

Life goes on.

And so do you.

Hang tight.