Wellspring

The important things in life can't be bought: we weren't born to need "experts" to tell us how we feel; we weren't born to seek relationships that would enslave us into requiring approval, change, or acceptance. We weren't born to be deceived into homogenization. We weren't born to need to prove ourselves. We weren't born for this. At all.

We were born to rise.

We were born to revel in love, hope, and an invincible power of being. We were born to thrive within the sanctity of our individual spirits.

Doubt that?!

Oh, think back.

What changed for you? Childlike innocence is the most pure; we were all there at one time - until age, experience, and chronological choices based off of uncertain emotions, sideways ills, and/or other doubts - introduced us to abject negativity.

Forlorn.

Confused.

Uncertain.

And then somewhat condemned.

No, truth is truth. And it always remains. There is no difference between the purity of a newborn babe, and the essence of a hardened soul who has been reminded of his youth in such a way as to weep at his indiscretions, soak up his unworthiness, and then yield to a space of eternal awareness that confounds mortal comprehension. To find himself precious.

It is raw, tentative; a metamorphosis into a realm and temerity of the hopeful, but oh-so-cleansed.

An immersion of renewal and grace.

Frightening, yet invigorating.

And a certain beginning when it really hits home.

We don't lose innate value because we grow up. Our sense of self should not trend as to stock market volatility just for our age and development, choices, and/or inadequacy. And while time and circumstance, focus and trial, sometimes undermine the quiet resonance and wisdom of the sweet purity of toddler perspective, it's actually a growth curve of tender, gracious, and exquisite import. The entire point of this world is to meld the pureness of such cherubic outlook with the wisdom that comes from the harshness of everyday reality; to build up and through, meet and triumph, recognize and deliver - compassion. Yes, compassion. And to finally release the stubbornness of human frailty and its consort ego to receive God's grace and all that He can and will endow.

If we let Him.

Existing on this earth is about free choice. And for all the things our Father in Heaven would want us to know, He wants us to internalize and never let go that, intrinsically, we were born to discover the individual talents He graced us with. He wants us to embrace, expand, and become so fulfilled and joyful within the glory of them - yes, replete within such elation and fruition - that we are singularly and intimately overwhelmed by His unconditional love. It's a fractional awareness that chokes upon the tears of His creation and the knowledge that we were knit within our mothers' wombs out of nothing.

To be something: His.

The world at large would have us vie for popularity, obsessed and consumed by marked effort, while at the same time, promoting objectification and the transience of mortal appreciation. Grand mal evidences of depression, competition, blame, jealousy, and dis(ease) are now so prevalent, they have become as a given. It's a manipulation of esteem upon an epic scale, and aggrandized to the extreme.

Yet, God would not want this. Rather, He would have us recognize our innate value so that we could rise within them and invite others to do the same. He would have us achieve such a state of being, that to fully bask in it, would only come to pass through the encouragement of our fellow men. In all ways. To teach them, show them, and lead them to the truth of their own existence, beauty, acceptance. Claim.

We are all unique - and it's not happenstance. We were born to become ourselves; to heal, nurture, grow, and evolve strictly through an absolute commitment to self-truth. Preserving walls, coping mechanisms, and any other emotional behaviors that might shut-out, shut-down, or lend themselves to mire in doubt and depression, only serve to support the current soul-rot and decay found within the stench of public association, commerce, and the ever mutable appetites of dissension and acclaim.

Tenets of self-actualization are always grounded within an intricate fabric of appreciation. Simplicity is actually authenticity, while the complication of even the most elementary truths are truly a coward's endeavor to smokescreen personal responsibility, and to disavow the ownership of free will.

Many of us are broken - in fact, I would say that we all are; but if we continually allay our own motives under the auspices of assuaging fear, then such - regardless of heartbreak, history, or intensity - embrace a marked stasis of resignation to seek and ensure familiar pain.

Yes, to justify, rather than rectify, is to seek topical medicine over and above a cure. We are either ready for peace, or we're still needing the messy processes of dancing with the devil. 

And so I plead: take a chance; step into living large.  What are you waiting for? 

If not for a revolution of Joy.

Living Joy - This Carman Girl

Lake View

Thrive. To thrive in love, patience, temperance. To thrive with the spirit, with joy and to refuse doubt -- to keep on, keeping on. To stubbornly, willfully (I like that word - it suits me), unabashedly believe in good. Always.

Discomfort is simply a pause; it is neither clandestine nor the proverbial end of the world. I say: meet every assumed trial with full-throttle intensity and marked resolution. Stare it down, and then smile with the ease of one who has naught to worry, and shift upon the grace of a belief system that meets and exceeds the fruition of dogged determination.

Living Joy - This Carman Girl

Revelation

I feel humbled. Grateful. Serene. Centered. I marvel at the love, growth, understanding, and acceptance I have found within this new life of mine. I think of happiness and all that it means in terms of commitment, contentment, peace and sweetness; it's the absence of anxiety and an unabashed onset of unadulterated joy. It's the embrace of spirit and a continuity of being that steps into a forthright presence of self and power, firmly standing in a solidarity of equanimity, no matter the varied realities of everyday life.

More simply, it's the breathlessness of an exquisite sunset, the kindness of a stranger, the searing power of eye-contact, and the potent exhilaration of vitality that can't help but spill over when rethinking mortality and moving on into engaging in a life that is hellbent on making every moment count - above and beyond all odds.

I am galvanized.

Intoxicated.

Invigorated.

In love.

I am filled with a kind of euphoria that tempers the fierceness of my spirit, gently restraining my often passionate soul from platforms of opinion to simply beseech lenience and to bask in being. And while my life is certainly not glamorous, and very definitely not the least bit wealthy, it is nonetheless wealthy in love: in family, friends, colleagues, children. In endless wit, humor, and in the conversations that seem to always and forever be consumed by laughter.

Deep sighs.

Pause. Exhale.

Smiles.

Oh, yes! These are the things of life! Nothing ever wrapped in some tidy bow, yet easily loosened and gifted every day. Sated and replete, yet complete while in incompletion. And though my thoughts may run rampant, day in and day out; and while my mind expands and heart pounds under a darkened sea of skies and stars, universe and more - ever still, my soul is somehow always restrained from the helter-skelter, full-throttle intensity of my signature "better, faster, stronger" mentality.

I am grounded.

Settled.

All in.

Present.

And somehow bewildered by the idea, much less the gift, of blanket security.

Today, I give over to every single experience. And while my spirit might sometimes still fear the worthiness of peace - isn't it what we should all embrace and aspire to?! The blessings of fully engaging?! It's expectations that declare that nothing could be more perfect then the now of every moment. It is a power, exuberance, and endless supply of sunrise mornings that tease into anticipation, the promises of sun-drenched afternoons and lilting laughter. It's the beguiling bliss of releasing the transience of life's ills within the marked and rebellious vigor of hair shaken out, shaken down, and giving over to the flirtations of singularly unrepentant breezes.

My heart beats here.

And it beats when the deliciousness of the night air overwhelms my senses and lends such fragrance to simply pause. Feel. Absorb. Yield. And then to soak up total satisfaction and a blanket of peace. It's the reminiscence of scenery and beauty, craggy peaks, and clever, elusive cloud formations. It's to see that shadows and perspective change upon the release of need and the turn of a dime.

To choose Joy.

To choose it. Not fight it. Hate it. Ignore it. Run from it. But to full-out. All out. Step outside of any other place to see it. Naked vulnerability meeting a consummation of stillness, keenness of breathing, and the sentience of purpose.

Perfect light.

Perhaps I was once broken and always climbing; but now, while pebbles will always slip, I am no more lost, bewildered, frightened, or sad.

Imperfection is. As is aging.

Gracefully. It's a serenity that fully accepts this person, this woman, this body, this place.

In time. Now.

All Mine.

Living Joy - This Carman Girl

Morning Dew

If you don't believe, miracles will never happen. If you don't give, you'll never understand happiness. If you don't receive, you'll never be able to love your own broken parts much less offer leniency to others. And if you don't share, you'll never grow.

This world is so filled with people and stories, heartache and renewal, tragedy, joy, history, compassion, determination, need, longing, redemption. It's a litany of lessons and experiences that only ever invite us to experience selfish anxiety or to step out and beyond to dwell in love.

Think about that.

Living Joy - This Carman girl 

<3

Edict

Challenge fear. Triumph over fear. Demand absolute release from its grasp. Push boundaries, test limits, and face down even the darkest paralyzing source. Step out of the comfortable safety of the known to find a vitality and unwavering power that waits in anticipation and celebration upon the other side of precipice and trial.

For it is waiting, asking only that you take the leap to leave behind the cowardice and trepidation of self-sustained captivity. A seemingly free fall into a measure of thought that begs no limits and commands life within a purity of talent and unparalleled wisdom. One that refuses all opinions, notoriety, or pressures from outside influence; but instead, offers credence to the true, while granting surcease from influences wishing to substantiate pressures of perfection and the many painful fallacies that seem to accompany all unlikely merits of (mis)perception.

Such is power waiting to be absorbed, accomplishment eager for fulfillment, pursuit at the ready. And once unleashed, will regard all other trials as little more than slight ripples of inane or ordinary consequence.

Living Joy - This Carman Girl

Prep School

This goes out to all of the mothers out there who put their children first: your work is noble and absolutely the most important job you could ever possibly have. <3

Prep School (Blog, 2009)

Right now I feel as though my face is pressed up against a window looking out at a world which validates those who have a career -- those who actually, technically, mean something. I hear them talk about what they do and what is coming next. My listening even perks up upon idle conversations at the stores I frequent, hoping to catch a drop of vicarious importance, yearning and wishing for something more... something for this starving brain to process beyond headlines and a balanced checkbook. Yet, I am the proverbial housewife who has only a clean home, stocked pantry, and cupboards filled with band-aids and kisses. Even the romance novel lying haphazardly on the sofa mocks me. And those things that I do and do well are somehow minimized, especially by other women, since I don't have their all-important added burden of financial contribution.

And my thirst becomes unbearable.

For what?! Not necessarily validation. Although, yes, wouldn't it be incredible to be seen for more than my appearance and endless posts of opinion? The truth is: I want. I want so badly to do more than manage from behind the scenes: I want recognition. I want people to know that I am more than a mother, more than wit, more than chronic unsolicited opinion; that capability sits within me, untapped and eager, frustrated and incomplete. I don't want to preface my position as "just" any longer.

I find myself at yet another crossroads, where schooling is what I deserve, college is mine to have; but that too, must be set aside for a few more years. And I wonder why a costly piece of paper should be the definitive measurement of someone's ability or intellect. I wonder as I meet people who get to stamp their university and graduation date on a resume, why it is they even went. I'm finding out that many who have degrees don't really care about knowledge, but merely care for only what it can get them. They are often inept and have little or no ethics; they seek for gain rather than a ravenous appetite for more. Voracious need. Never quenched, always seeking. And that speaks volumes to this housewife whose fingers longingly trace the panes of glass separating her from the outside world.

Knowledge isn't just power; it's heady, confounding. It's conversation, debate, research and triumphant fruition. It's thought meeting paper, and paper becoming action, and action signifying success.

I am more than the receipt from Starbucks. I am more than the gentle voice soothing an over-tired toddler. I am more. And here I am, three quarters of the way down the page of my angst, and I remember. I see.

I see the glee on my children's faces at their own accomplishments. I hear the ritual of them coming home every day with the expectation of Mom hiding, pulling silly faces and jumping out from nowhere. I hear their expectant giggles of, "Where's Mom this time?" And shrieks of fright. I hear the chorus every school day of, "We're HOoome!" Sing-song, joyful, happy and anxious to share the news of the day. I feel the pleasure of having homemade cookies and/or my fresh loaves of bread, ready, warm, waiting, and oh-so-part of their daily arrival.

I feel the power of connection when they experience sorrow, disappointment arrives, and tears flow. I share the wisdom of time and headlines, my childhood experiences and funny little anecdotes. I look into the eyes of my own with the warmth of a parent but the heart of my youth. And then I see my completion.

And I know.

I know that every day who I am and what I do will unequivocally affect five little lives, how they perceive the world, and what they think of themselves. And then, I realize I am enough. I am their world and there are no other human beings I would want respect and love from more than that given with trust from the hearts of my children.

That knowledge is humbling beyond words. I feel the ability and power within me. I am flooded with the responsibility of the things I must teach, the examples I must set; for textbooks will always be there - as will the experiences and the environment that will shape them into adulthood. And I see that glory can wait and knowledge can be gained without need for credits or credit hours.

And I have enough. Now.

So, I don't mind returning to the endless posts of opinion and random, nonsensical, slightly-charged musings on the social network. I will gladly wait my turn for adulthood one more time. I have all I need.

Living Joy - This Carman Girl

(End Note: This post is also for every single one of my five brilliant, wonderful children. They were so very young when I wrote this blog. I was untried, definitely undervalued and shoved to the wayside, and yet they made every ounce of my existence matter. I love you with every drop of blood in my veins and I'm so very proud of you, your focus, hearts, old souls, spirits, perspective, and attitudes of being. I'm so blessed to be your mother and so proud that you seek the very best of yourselves in all that you do. Your grades floor me - your commitment and outlook, more.

As I look back, I realize that the pursuit of validation outside of home will always be sold as a rotten bill of goods if and when it ever seeks to undermine the sacred role of motherhood. You are all succeeding, growing, and becoming. I would not have missed one moment of your growth! At all. I'm so damned blessed that I could be there for every benchmark from baby to toddler, to now. This photo is a throwback that makes me smile! And now 10, 14, 14, 18, 21 this year? Wow. Sighs, and goodness!

Your integrity, attitude, ethics, and outstanding sweetness absolutely floor me. I love you with every part of my heart and soul! As I now fulfill sharing the love and zest I have for life in a working environment, loving what I do and who I work with, I know that it is absolutely fueled by the deliciousness of being and the contentment and joy of our family. Simply put, I am a mother first. And I love you to the edge of my soul. <3 )

Indecision

Floundering in indecision is a dangerous state of play; not only does it prolong avenues of productivity, but it also gives allowance to slide into negativity - a restless energy that has no definitive goal or direction. Existing in limbo offers excuses to any and all behavior; for simply because we have not officially committed to one iota of direction, on some obscure level, we've deluded ourselves into thinking that we don't have to be held accountable for our behavior in the interim.

Perhaps that's why so many find themselves grappling with it unceasingly. In delving even further, any indulgence in such leniency and the proverbial term "turning a blind eye", provides a circumvention of personal responsibility while granting welcome respite to the underlying motive. It's a full measure of dishonesty that simply wishes to sidestep all fears: fear of failure, fear of consequence, fear of success.

Fear of contentment.

Fear of worth, fear of Love.

Fear of Being.

Fear, period.

Indecision doesn't necessarily represent itself solely by the mere evasion of choice either; it can also be disguised within daily laundry lists, detailed action plans, or an immersion in career and its correlating business events that can collectively serve to collude with a disassociation and blurring of thought from reality, decision and clarity. And while clever and all too often glorified, all of these unequivocally represent avoidance tactics, distinct cowardice, and forms of debilitating traction, nonetheless.

The absence of self esteem plays a role, however - as does any thought that would disavow or curtail personal accomplishment. Often times, it's a manifestation and a cry for validation - evidence of a profound frustration with the world of today and its concerted dissension and alienation from any essential recognition of innate genius and/or talent outside of the damning culture that hyper-focuses on the soulless pursuits that aggrandize monetary gain. More subtly, however, it may serve as an indicator of intent, yet with no actual plans for completion, hoping that the absence of direction might assuage guilt by virtue of the "busyness" of honorable presentation.

And yet to truly live is to stand for something of vast import and to be unafraid to do so. It's to stand for substance, while all around, our constituents fall prey to vacuous accoutrements of transient regard. It's to be decisive, implacable, tenacious, and to focus on a forward vision of blanket inheritance that is not just significant, but imperative.

Life-giving.

Invigorating, intoxicating.

It's a kind of oxygen that breathes in measures of exquisite timing, sequences of creativity, pauses of awareness, patent perspicacity, and surprisingly delicious rushes of unconfined and unrestrained doses of alacrity.

Mmmmmm.

Full stop.

Oh, please! Sit within such a moment and let the adrenaline of need and intensity filter through until peace reigns and the percipience of truth filters through and settles deep. Down. And in.

The sheer fear of confirming an absolute and/or forward decision often exacerbates any anxiety and introduces deadlines, invites insinuations, trolls expectations, discards viable proposals, and fixates upon what could be viewed as threats of carelessness that might lose social regard. It amps up apprehension, adds to the falsity of perfection, and implicates what would be tantamount to abject resignation from the onset.

I say, however, that facing truth, decisions, and boldly seeking prosperity doesn't have to be a formidable process. As we become increasingly confident in the definition of self and motive and are able to identify the fears that drive us most, the mire of uncertainty within any and all of our choices, lessens.

Gradually, as hindsight magnifies moments that stagnated and did little for personal growth or use of our time, we will find ourselves more willing to sidestep the vacuum to plunge ahead. Additionally, we will have the energy and even the desire to conquer rather than fear, giving greater sway to a vision of life seen as a breathless chase of possibility.

Yes, I say: Give over. Now. Why wait?

Living Joy - This Carman Girl

Mutiny

Depression is a crutch; it's probably the easiest way out because anyone can choose it. It's dark and welcoming, blanketing every thought and fear into a pseudo-sense of warmth that sacrifices self in one fell swoop of midnight black, accepting of a numbing coldness that somehow mimics peace, yet entirely consumes said thoughts and fears, angers and disappointments, heartache and anguish. And yet still does nothing for them.

Submission.

Attrition.

Frightening, but somehow sickly benevolent.

And so invariably wrong.

The remarkable thing about any of us who have met with such blackness is that we feel as though there are no more answers; we've done everything we could possibly do within the realm of our own will and condition to supersede whatever chronic ills have served to asphyxiate life, hope, and outlook.

And yet, therein lies the fallacy: will-power.

Will-power, while noble and championed as if to Olympic proportions, it is only ever as strong as our emotions.

But, emotions shift.

They are not real.

They come and go as chaff in the wind and change perceived realities upon the highs and lows we surf while embracing them. They are entirely dependent upon the thoughts we allow and those we discard.

Think about that.

And then think about responsibility.

Compassion is perhaps the most viable healing space of being in this life. It is the only way out. It begins the moment we recognize that depression is not an illness. It begins the moment when we honestly recognize that any and every negative whisper is absolute deceit.

Blanket stop.

So, listen! It's not you. There's nothing wrong with you.

You just forgot about hope and allowed the darkness inside. You thought of all the things that had happened - scars, rejections, self-flagellation, circumstance, disappointments, mockery, dissonance, misplaced expectation, credible abuse, and any and every voice that railed against you. You allowed them in.

You tried quotes. You changed your diet. You lost weight. You found love; you rejected love. You met loneliness and stayed a while. You fought and cared and rallied and cried; you shifted in every possible way, but yet you still felt the pull.

Downward.

Daily.

Drenched in sadness.

Wrenching pain.

Haunted.

Deeply wounded.

But, oh - child! Welcome to life! Did you imagine that being fully functional, joyful, happy-go-lucky, and relatively at peace, meant no more trial, insidious whispers, or bouts with insecurity?! Did you really encapsulate "making it" and the term "self-actualization" as this cosmically mistake-proof super-hero safety suit of inviolable comparison??!

Soft smiles.

Oh, no.

With all the gentleness in my soul, please know that the truth is that evil and ills will continue to knock at your door every day of your life, until your dying day. They will not relent. But they are not for you.

They are not for you.

It matters naught who you are - whether seemingly powerful, or just beginning to understand - such desperate attention for your spirit is not a statement of your ability, station, or cognizance of being; it is inconsequential noise meant to bring down as many as it can into unparalleled suffering.

Believe that, if you are to believe anything.

The hopeful don't become so because they've somehow reached an existential realm of purity untouched. The hopeful still get pricked day in, and day out; evil continues to rail out of nowhere, particularly after a sweetness of growth and/or epiphany has been reached. Evil wants to slam sideways at every slide of fate or forsaken opportunity.

And it might. And can. And will try.

So, don't rate yourself upon whether you falter or misstep; you are human and beautiful, worthy, and a child of God.

Rate yourself under His Glory, sacrifice, and love. Give over to the fallibility that absolutely catapults your responsibility, resilience, knowledge, credibility, and powerful design. Give over to being all that God meant you to be, His. Nothing more, nothing less.

We are not perfect. And that is a gift.

Renounce any ideal or reckoning that might claim such unyielding absolutes and then give over to love.

Embrace every dip and turn, bend and curve. Embrace life. Rise. For you have God at your back and His breath in your lungs.

Living Joy - This Carman Girl