stretched

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I often battle with a bout of what I’d call “TCKness,” when I crave a home that doesn’t exist; when I feel restless where I’m at, though everything is seemingly fine…and when I’m longing to just fly somewhere else, far from where I am right now. 

Though I’m here right now physically, a piece of my mind and my heart can be elsewhere. 

A piece of it is left with people I love, who scatter across the country and around the globe.  A piece is left with the people I’ve briefly had a chance to get to know, but sympathized or connected with, and I’m left with a longing to know them more. A piece is left at a place, or in an experience, a memory.

Traveling will do that to us—but not just traveling as a tourist, but when we’ve stayed long enough to have built a relationship with someone from that land, or long enough to have experienced their culture.  When we’ve opened ourselves up to their world, and realize how much our world is not the world.  When we’ve created memories there, laughed and cried there…tasted their spices and taken notes of the particular smells and sounds of that place.  

A bout of “TCKness” feels weird sometimes, because I’m also passionate about being able to be fully where I’m at—to be able to dedicate my energy and my thoughts to the people in my surrounding community, and pour my heart into what I’ve committed to at this time. 

Yet I’m not going keep quiet about the days I also think about where I can move on to, and reminisce where I’ve been, and think of the people and places I’m missing.

I’m realizing it’s ok for me to not feel ok sometimes, to want more than what I see right in front of me.  When I have been stretched in a way, I may never go back to just the way that I was. I can’t “unsee” the things I’ve seen, desensitize myself from what I’ve learned and now know.  It’s ok to have had our hearts stretched, to miss someone, to long to see and experience more–to sometimes have seasons of restlessness, and not just moments.  Maybe these are the times that remind us not to become too apathetic, self-focused, too comfortable and complacent…and forget passions that stir our hearts, the creativity instilled in us, and the people all around the globe who are our neighbors and friends. 

And though the pain is real, though I can’t immediately change the reality of where I’m at now, I know it is not the only reality. I believe in hope that is also just as real.

Hope keeps us from feeling defeated where we’re at.  It’s like electrolytes for our souls, giving us a little boost, and replenishing so much that’s been lost in the lashes of daily life and struggles. But it also keeps us motivated for new seasons, new adventures. It keeps us focused on people we have yet to meet, and reconnecting and reconciling with the people we have once met.  It drives us to search and crave for new ways to create, to use our brains, our words, our time, our energy. 

The pain, the cravings, the longings, the restlessness—they are all real, and symptoms of having our hearts stretched in a way.  They don’t have to be disregarded, Bandaided, sugar coated.  Though we cannot see how any of it will play out, or find a quick remedy for how we feel, it’s ok to have the many days to acknowledge that, and still embrace gratitude and hope. 

To be grateful for those experiences and people we’ve met that led to this stretched heart, grateful for the people and places I can experience right now, and grateful that I can also be hopeful.  Hopeful for reconnecting with those people and places we have already experienced and love, hopeful for the people and places there is yet to experience, and hopeful for the many adventures that is yet to come.  

enough

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I feel like many times we can shy away from starting something because we want to get everything juuust right.  We focus so much on getting the little details perfect that sometimes we get so discouraged…and we don’t start at all.

It can be the start of something simple–like starting a painting or learning a new skill…to something bigger like starting a new career, relationship or family.

We’re waiting for the right time, we tell ourselves.

But like Tim Ferriss says in the The 4-Hour Workweek, “For all of the most important things, the timing always sucks. Waiting for a good time to quit your job? The stars will never align and the traffic lights of life will never all be green at the same time. The universe doesn’t conspire against you, but it doesn’t go out of its way to line up the pins either. Conditions are never perfect. ‘Someday’ is a disease that will take your dreams to the grave with you. Pro and con lists are just as bad. If it’s important to you and you want to do it ‘eventually,’ just do it and correct course along the way.” 

Also, the start of something may seem quite scary.  The fear of failing can really just eat us up.

It’s also the fear of not knowing where it will all go…or even how long the feeling of excitement will last.  Haven’t we all had that fear?  The fear of putting so much effort into something we care about…and having to watch everything crash and burn?

And fearing that we won’t have the will to get back up again?

We know the typical advice on fighting fear…surround ourselves with the right people, keep in mind what our goals are, know that the world is not going to end if things don’t work out…

But knowing those things doesn’t make it any less scary. And no matter how many encouraging people we surround ourselves with, sometimes one nagging or discouraging person can just drag us down–and oftentimes that person is our very own self.

It’s that voice inside that won’t shut up, that we can’t run away from, that tells us we’re not good enough.

I don’t have the answer to eliminate fear or ignore that voice inside our head that can often discourage us. I think that a little dose of fear is normal, and the voices inside our heads can sometimes keep us from danger.

But we just can’t let them overcome our will to move forward, to grow.

Two things I’ve kept in mind from reading the The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin:

“The days are long but the years are short.”  

“What you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while.”

For me, I think doing a little something every day is a start to getting started.

So I’m going to try to create something new every day.  I was inspired by Noah Scalin’s art project where he decided to make a skull a day for a year (it’s really cool, check out the link).  I recently picked up his book, 365: A Daily Creativity Journal  that inspires people to be creative every day (we can make our own rules!).

Join me if you are interested! There are tons of people who’ve done this. Check it out.

Let’s get started.

*The little doodle/creation today was made with pieces of some old receipts.

kid

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I remember when I was younger I’d look up to the kids a few grades above me and think they were so cool.  They were seniors in high school.  And for those I met who were in college–wow, that’s only where I go when I’m smart.

And then a strange thing kept happening—I’d keep growing up.

Every time I got to the stage that I once looked up to, I realized I didn’t feel drastically different than I did before, or that I now knew it all.

And I’d think, I’m in high school now, why doesn’t this feel all that cool?  I’m in college now, aren’t I supposed to know exactly what I want to do with my life?

Instead of feeling cool or smart, I just felt like a big kid.

I’d always feel like I’d know more at the next stage, or when I’m at a certain point of my life, or when I’ve accomplished a certain something.  As if once I reach a certain age, things were just going to fall into place and things would magically make sense.

Yet in every stage, I’ve realized there’s always going to be something new to figure out, something new that’ll take us right back to that childhood learning mentality.

Like when we’re done with school, and we must learn about what it means to apply what we’ve studied in our work lives…and learn about all the dedication, persistence, and hard work it takes.

Or when we get married, and we must learn what it means to be a spouse or a parent…and all the commitment, responsibilities, and sacrifice that comes with it.

And then things happen in our lives—things that force us to learn.

Like when we lose someone, and we must figure out how to mend that hole…and figure out how to move on.

Or like when we find someone, and we must figure out how to let someone in…and figure out how to let our guards down.

There is always a new step in life that will shake us up again, making us feel maybe a little insecure, maybe a little scared—taking us right take back to feeling like a kid all over again, just trying to figure it all out.

being

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My mom has had a deep fascination and appreciation for flowers since I was young.

Every birthday, anniversary, Mother’s Day, you name it—we didn’t have to worry—my mom would always be completely satisfied with a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Frankly, I just didn’t get it.

Flowers die, I thought.  Yeah, they’re pretty or whatever, but what are you left with after a week? Dried up nastiness.

But I still remember the moment my perspective changed.

It was definitely a cheesy moment, because it involved a Hallmark card that said something along the lines of “You, like flowers, bring happiness just by being.”

But I liked that idea—that flowers, by their plain existence, can do so much.

They can brighten up the room and lift up a mood.

They don’t call for attention in flashy ways, but exude a beauty that’s pure and simple.

They take in simply what they need, like the basic nutrients, the sunlight, water…and never too much.

And they can do all that even in the limited amount of time they are alive.

After that day, I didn’t go and plant a flower garden or spend all my money on vases and bouquets.

But I can appreciate them now, and can only wish that I could be half as cool as they are.

reminded

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Reminded.

I feel like we tend to spend a lot of our time being reminded of things.

Reminded of how much we need rest, only when we are completely burnt out.

Reminded of how fortunate we are, only when we see disasters and poverty on TV.

Reminded of how we are not alone, only after years of trying to figure it all out by ourselves.

Reminded of how important something is to us, only when we’ve lost it.

Of course, in some perfect world, we wouldn’t need to be reminded every day.  We could walk around constantly remembering to do everything we can for optimal health, constantly showing appreciation to our friends and family, and constantly taking a stand for causes we care about.

But reality is, we have a lot on our plates—and it’s hard to remember to do it all.  We have plenty to remember, and then we pile on more to remember, and then we pressure ourselves to remember it all….and inevitably, something will get neglected—and we will forget.

And then we are reminded—usually the hard way—through the unnecessary stress, through the physical and emotional pain, through the chaos, and through the longing to do it all over again.

Sure, there’s a lot going on—and there always will be.  But if we live in a constant state of being reminded, then what exactly are our minds on anyway?

Is it our goals? Is it success? Is it getting by? Is it proving something?

And is it worth it?

Whatever we’re caught up in, I hope it matters.

But along with that, I hope we could try to live in awareness of the things we so often find we need to be reminded of—of the people, of the needs, of the desires—so that we won’t just pace through our lives, always victims of being reminded of things the hard way.

to you:

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For those who have visited me here so far–it means more than you can imagine. And for those of you who have said kind words–I barely know how to soak in the love and encouragement, and I am beyond grateful.

However, I will have to say that I’ve already had doubts about why I am doing this.  What makes me think I have something to say, something people will want or need to hear? Why does the world need to see my silly doodles?

But to keep this short and from sounding too self-deprecating, I think we can all learn to find a fine line between holding back too much and spilling out everything.

I am not here to hear you shower me with praise, to make you think I am some sort of a talented writer or an artist—because I don’t think of myself that way. At all.

I am also not using this as a diary where I will chronicle all the details of my life–No. Way.

But I’ve realized that personally I’ve learned from things that people have chosen to share with me—whether it’s their art, their struggles, their thoughts, their food, their music, etc.

And what if we could each do the same for someone else?

Whether or not we feel we are great at what we do, maybe we can all bring forth something to share.

And maybe someone else can appreciate it, see something in it–more than we ever will.

box

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Sometimes I get a little anxious to get past the first few minutes of a conversation with someone I’ve just met.

Don’t get me wrong—I absolutely love meeting new people.

But in those first few minutes, I am eager to see what is beyond that “box.”

Let me explain: When we introduce ourselves, don’t we usually give our name and then “I am a [insert current occupation],” which usually leads to sharing about where we went to school and probably what we studied?

And then with that information we place each other in these “boxes”–to that person, at that moment, I am what I do and I am where I went to school–and of course, stereotypes decorate that box (I am all of a sudden either rich or poor, this or that…).

But aren’t we all a little…more? Aren’t we also guitar players, good cooks, hikers, activists, goofballs, photographers…you name it?  Aren’t we daughters, sons, parents (which I’d like to believe counts as another career), and spouses? Aren’t we also people who’ve been hurt, who’ve been ridiculed, who’ve had tremendous losses, who’ve felt cheated, who’ve felt lost?

How can I let that person in on the last decades of my life—the little triumphs, the huge milestones, the pain, the moments of joy—that led me to this moment, when we cross paths?

I think that as we grow older, we have to put in more effort to truly get to know people—it takes more work to see each other outside of those boxes, because we’ve developed so much more. We’ve experienced more–we have more passions, we’ve learned more about how life works, and we’ve learned more about how we work.

The best moments are when we are slowly being seen outside of that box—when people take the time to see all that we also are beyond where we work, where we went to school, and what we studied…when they also can see what molded us, what pushes us, what pains us, what makes us happy—and when we can do the same for them.

And that probably takes a little more time–way beyond those first few minutes of the conversation.