Worth a Share

Here are some things I have found on the interwebs that tickled my funny bone, made me smile, or brought me to tears. Or any other number of worthwhile responses.

Blogs:

My good friend Jaimie Dawn Krycho describes her apartment complex in a manner that simultaneously makes me want to live there and makes me want to not. I imagine boring days are rare.

A beautiful insight from my sister-in-law. I'm glad to have her back here for now, but I know she loves her Arcata.

Another one from my friend and former classmate, Jaimie Dawn, who is apparently nearly ready to find an agent for her novel!

The Year of Less blog hit on a little gem I needed regarding gifts and stuff, and not being overrun by them. Encouraging without chastising. Beauty.

Art:

I think I'm adopting a mission to always be on the lookout for art. A couple months ago I found the painting La Mer by Vladimir Volegov, and I just love it. And basically all that I've found by Volegov.

Speaking of art, lightning-hand time lapse videos are fun, whether it's for something large and photographic or something smaller and cartoonish. Somehow I don't think it would be quite as cool to watch a time lapse of a writer. Though the facial expressions at high speed might entertain.

Stories:

This one takes a while to get through, but I think Legend of Zelda: The Return is the best fanfiction I've ever read, especially if you're a fan of the games.


What have you found that's worth a share? Let me know in a comment.

I Still Have One Sign, Part 2

The conclusion from Tuesday's Part 1 post...


It's easy to give up. To one who can always reason that there is still hope, despite emotions that cry otherwise, it's frighteningly easy.

Each time I ripped down one of my notepaper signs, "Don't be afraid to dream," "There is still hope," "For this room," I was disgusted, torn to the core, and saw no way for my circumstances and problems to be overcome or turned into good things.

I still knew the promise that all things in this life actually work for the good of those who love God (Romans 8:38), and I still knew that nothing is outside of His allowance. And, how many times have I called him the Perfect Author, one who thankfully does not need a second draft to the story He writes and has written?

But it still hurt. And knowing that this hurt was part of God's plan actually made me mad. It's what contributed to feeling that I was betrayed by Him. I knew I hadn't been, but I couldn't wrap my mind around it, and my heart was so wounded that I was afraid to trust Him with it.

The memory of being there still brings tears to my eyes.

I had no idea how this would work for anybody's good. And, actually harder to deal with, I had no idea how I was supposed to dream big again. With such a resounding "No" to my hopes, and in a season of events that were fairly close together, how could I expect a "Yes" someday down the road for another dream?

What happens when the hero throws out his memento of love and hope? Usually something outside of him has to happen or arrive, or he'll just walk away and give up on his goal. What's the point in going after it when it's lost and destroyed? Someone else has to ignite what's left of the fire of hope in his heart or he will smolder as embers for the rest of his life.

For us that other, the something or someone outside, can come in many shapes, sizes, sounds, you name it, but ultimately they're all guided by the Maker of Life. I don't know what the process looks like; I'm not even sure what it's been for me, though I know it isn't quite over. But life is filled with little joys, little bits of restoration, and blessings still in every step. I know God is still in control, no one usurped His authority even for a second, and I know He is faithful and still good. And I know I don't deserve His tender love, but He offers it every day, even when I say "I'm mad at you."

I don't know why my dreams couldn't happen, but I do know we were still able to make part of the original trip, and it was very much needed and a blessing. And I know that my brother, sister-in-law, and niece are back now, and I'm glad to have them. I don't know why there are budget constraints that won't allow for transforming my room into a much needed sanctuary, but I do know that my room won't always be like this and I can still make positive changes now. I don't know why my faith and trust needed to be tested, but I do know that I will continue to trust God even when I'm hurt.

And I do know that blessings rain down. Some look smaller than others, but all are gifts. Right now I'm in the midst of so many possible blessing opportunities that I don't know what to do with myself to navigate from one to the next. As of the moment of writing this post, there are so many that I may even need to pick and choose between them (and maybe, just maybe, I can have them all). Back when I was so hurt that I tore down those hopeful papers, I had no conceivable idea that anything like this would happen to me ever, and certainly not just a few months later.

I haven't replaced the old notes on the walls, but I still have one left, and I think it's going to stay.

"Make it what you dream."

 

I Still Have One Sign, Part 1

I'm guessing I'm not the only one who puts inspirational signs, posters, decor, whatnot up in their homes. Mine just happen to be quick marker notes written sideways on lined notebook paper and taped to the walls. Classy.

But I tore them down.

I am a person who loves life and has big dreams and hopes, but I'm easily discouraged. So, my head knowing better than my heart sometimes does, I put up four signs on said notebook paper. Three cascaded to form one long message: There is still hope, For this room, Make it what you dream. And one I put on the opposite wall: Don't be afraid to dream.

I'm not sure of the order of things anymore, but I know that I ripped down the "Don't be afraid to dream" sign after I found out we weren't going to make it to Arcata to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and niece while they were living there. I felt betrayed by God and couldn't hold on to a reason to maintain big dreams. This would be when I wrote the post on mourning.

I think "For this room" came down after I hit a figurative wall regarding the state of my literal wall. Budget just wouldn't allow for some of the high hopes I'd built in my mind. Cleaning out, finishing an old project, painting the entirety of the walls, added trim, finishing the door. That might be when "There is still hope" came down, too, but I don't remember. Seems like it stayed up a little longer, but I don't remember then what would have wounded my heart enough to crumple it up, angry tears clinging to my face, and toss it.

You know those moments in movies when the hero is so disgusted or discouraged that he throws out some sweet memento of his family, or the gift from his love? Up until now I'd always had the reason in my mind to think the hero would regret that decision, how could he do that, doesn't he know he'll want it back when things get better?

Now, I understand. We truly don't always hope that things will get better. We might believe that life will continue, but that doesn't mean we think it'll ever get better. And so the memento, the encouraging word, the piece of hope represented in an object finds a direct one-way ticket to the dumpster. It's worse than the Monopoly card "Go Directly to Jail."

It's a horrible place to be. And it's very real.

Can you relate?


My thoughts will continue in a couple days...

 

The War of Art - A Compass

Ah hah.

Like a magnetized needle floating on a surface of oil, Resistance will unfailingly point to true North--meaning that calling or action it most wants to stop us from doing.

We can use this. We can use it as a compass. We can navigate by Resistance, letting it guide us to that calling or action that we must follow before all others.

Rule of thumb: The more important a call or action is to our soul's evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.

            The War of Art by Steven Pressfield, page 12

This is a handy book when I need a boost or reminder in those times when the writing I want to do or another goal I dream of seems nigh on slipping through my fingers (or more accurately, like I'll never sit down to work on it). Filled with brief, sweet, and poignant explanations and wisdom regarding the artist's life. So far I'm in Book 1, all about Resistance, my enemy and apparently my guide.

Sensei did tell me to "Persevere." Here it seems is another tool toward that.

Persevere.

Friends in Far Places

I'm finding our connectedness and social media reach rather interesting right this moment.

How is it that I can never meet someone in person, never have the opportunity to, and follow the individual's happenings and rejoice and mourn with that person? How is it that I can relate with someone, not say so, and that person will never know the impact they have? How is it that fondness can form across thousands of miles without knowing someone well enough to get snocones together*?

I know one answer of the many ways this can happen. Blogs. I love blogs; they're almost as fun and as instant as Facebook. I can see what's going on in someone's thoughts and life and internalize it and relate in my own life. I can marvel at the insights others have and think they have great writing styles. Often, my favorite blogs are those telling stories, real stories about real people. People I don't know, but people who still impact my life.

Isn't that crazy? Blogs are pretty amazing things. And the people who chose to write them faithfully sharing of themselves are amazing too. I don't know if I'll ever make the grand road trips that I want to, but I think I've got friends in far places. Weird, huh?

Pretty great, too.

*I really like getting snocones with friends.