Maybe

I don't have too much to say today, but I do have art to share.

I started sketching, just a picture of myself in complex lighting, not really sure what it would turn into. As I drew, I looked down and I saw The Art Goddess' face, not mine, and she looked immensely sad.

And I continued. 

Eventually it turned into me. I am rooted in my mother. I carry some of her sadness. And yet I'm separate. I am my own, on my own journey. Even though, most days, it feels like I'm sitting, hugging my knees in the middle of a storm. 

But I think that's okay. 

What is freedom, really?

We have entered a new stage as a family, and generally, the consensus on how things feel at home is... weird. 

There is no script for this, no pamphlet of how you should feel, especially for our unique family. The Iron Man has gone to find.... what he has lost. 

It's amazing how many emotions go through me when I do a journal page. Implying that the Iron Man is free, and has flown, was done in a spurt of leftover confusion and anger. It's honestly not something that I feel very much. Some people ask why I'm not more bitter, how I seem so sane, or have I fallen apart? But I have been there and I've done that. I'm not very happy there. 

Because I know something hard to put into words. That my Daddy is still close, and connected. That his heart still beats for us. I know that he is who he has always been. I know that the memories I have are not contrived or regretted. And so I have peace. 

I still get scared. It's still unknown, but I trust... I trust the Iron Man, I trust the Art Goddess, I trust God, I trust the strength of my sisters, and I trust myself to keep living and to keep smiling. 

So let's get up and GO! 

February 15...

Now that Valentine's day is over, I feel like I can actually say it.

I hate Valentine's Day. 

But it's not in that stupid "I'm single, I'll never have a boyfriend, screw anyone who does and screw love too!" No. Let me explain. 

When I was a kid, V-day was a pretty big thing for me. I woke up with a fraction of actual Christmas Day Joy. I couldn't wait to see what was upstairs. The Iron Man would usually have some sort of candy/card setup. It really doesn't seem like a big deal now, but it was really nice to feel that amount of love. It made my day. Now, I'm not saying I need a cheap card and some candy to feel loved by people, but making this day a celebration of Daddy-daughter love kind of sets you up for a let-down when you grow up. 

This Valentine's Day, I felt like what I imagine most children go through when they realize that Santa doesn't exist. (Thank God, The Art Goddess had better sense than feeding us that little lie.) And I'm honestly not trying to be over-dramatic, though some who know me would say "not possible."

So with only my Nerds in my mailbox, I walked around campus in a foul mood. Feeling mocked by everything, feeling stupid for having expectations, and feeling a very real pain of the winds changing. 

Why should I believe that just because it's a stupid holiday, people would feel a need to reach out to me? I will give him some credit, I know the Iron Man didn't forget about me. He wrote a very lovely message on my Facebook wall. Sadly, I wanted to hang on to my anger and focus on what I lacked as opposed to what I had.

It wasn't until later in the afternoon, when my roommate wanted to check her mail, that I swung by for one last look, hoping, yet worried to be greeted by a empty, dark, hole. But I wasn't. I saw an envelope. It was from The Fiery Spirit in Indiana. I remembered that she asked for my address, what only seemed like a couple of days ago. But here it was, in my mailbox. On Valentine's Day.  

And the sun started shining again.

What's really funny, is that I shot her a text and she wasn't even trying for a Valentine's Day appearance. It just worked out that way. 

This time I end with a quote from her: "Take a journey to the light, find a ray of sunshine even on a dark and cloudy day. Find the faeries in the falling snow instead of dwelling on the clouds that caused the cold." 

Well how about that. 

Stressful Sunday

After being home for a tragically brief time on Friday, working till 2:15 am yesterday and getting ready to work from 12-10 today, I'm trying to focus on the beauty in life.

My new desk is beautiful! And by new, I mean I de-cluttered and de-booked. I got to take empty shelves and fill them with art supplies, instead of rummaging through a 20 gallon storage bin for them. 

           

The Beautiful Soul's singing is beautiful. There is a raw purity and innocence to her singing voice, and I can't remember ever being so proud of her for getting up there and doing her thing. 

Family is beautiful, even if I can't soak them all up in 20 hours. The Iron Man's clarity of mind about where he wants to go is beautiful. 

So I'm going to look at the beauty, not the hours of work ahead or the mountains of homework awaiting me. I will focus.

What beauty will you choose to see today?

I am...

 I am...

A spirit with no name 

I outshine the coldest day

I fly with birds

and at NO point in my life,

will I ever

want a "do-over"

Yesterday was an emotional day. Mostly, it was one of those "I-don't-know-why-I-feel-so-out-of-sorts-days." My mom, The Art Goddess was rubbing me the wrong way when all I wanted was to feel comforted by her words, for no particular reason. My dad, The Iron Man was making me think about roller-coaster lives and new eras. 

It was a day were I perused all of my sister's facebook photos just to feel like they're near. I thought of the newly blonde Fiery Spirit, and how I'm not sure when I'll see her again. I thought of The Strong One with all of her artistic hopes and dreams. And I thought of my little ones, still stuck in the minefield that we currently call "home." The Beautiful Soul has a solo in the concert this Friday and I wish I could go. The MiniMe stays fresh in my mind as our tear-streaked faces shared pain on skype. 

This is a rough time for my family full of spirits, all with such distinct names. I am the nameless one. I know not who I am, entirely. I think of everything that's going on at home. I listen to The Art Goddess encourage herself (sometimes with weak mantras) to stay positive or to find joy. I feel The Iron Man's pain and struggle as he questions the life he's led. 

And I panic. 

What if I go through the paths in my life, and make decisions, one's that make me happy, and I turn around in 20 years, looking back and beg God for a "do-over?" This thought terrifies me. I of course have had regrets, but I feel energized by the life that I lead. Yet now a dark cloud hangs over my head, somewhere in the future. Why does anyone do anything if we wish at some point that we had done different? 

What if I get the wrong student teaching placement? What if I don't go back home? What if I do? What if I teach in the wrong state? What if I don't really change lives? What if I get comfortable? What if I get married? What if I never do? 

I will not live a life that I have to absolve. I know that I outshine the dark and freezing North wind. I know that I dance and soar with birds. I know that I can go anywhere. 

And I will. 

Ready

There it is. My new moleskin. With all the pages Mod Podged together for durability! 

Look at it, blank, ready to be filled.

More to come soon I promise!

Buried

 My car got buried in the Great Blizzard of 2011. Believe me, this picture doesn't do justice to the amount of snow surrounding everything.

I had coffee with one of my favorite people on Trinity's campus today and there was much good talk. Then he was AMAZING and we rented shovels from the security office and he helped my dig my car out. 

With all the shoveling, talking, and thinking, I started feeling like I have been buried myself for so long. I've been lost underneath a slew of things: sadness, fear, distance from home and loved ones... the list could go on. So I got to thinking, what do need I need to shovel away to find my wings?

Like so many questions, there is no easy answer. But I can begin. There goes the pain of my loved ones and the suffering that I see. There goes my heart, weighed down by sadness. There goes the stories of a breaking home. I can feel it, but I will not let it bury me. And look....

There are my wings. 

So what's burying you today? Tackle it with a big, strong shovel. 

New Rhythms

New Year...

New beginnings...

I am not new to the blogging world, but this is a fresh start for me. My hope is that with you I can share every facet of who I am: the artist, the teacher, the student, the poet, the adventurer, the calm soul... 

I know so much, but I don't know what's to come and I don't know where I am going. 

I know that I want to be everything, and go everywhere. 

Join me for the journey.