FROM THE VAULT :: If I knew I could, I would…

This month I’m looking back over the past 10 years of this blog and reposting some of the entries that help chronicle a decade of public writing as well as reflect who I was then and who I (still) am now. A lot has changed, yet a great deal has yet to evolve, and so I am reflecting on these things without regret. Thanks for walking through it with me.

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originally posted April 29, 2011 in response to Five Minute Friday
 
The answer is always the same. If I knew I could, I would… live a nomadic life. The journey always begins in Pennsylvania, where I would spend a week visiting my best good friend, letting her show me around her homeland, and then I would help her pack and take her along for the rest of the journey. We’d hop the pond to London first, then take in the majestic cliffs of Ireland and rolling hills of Scotland, then zip over to Paris for a long leisurely adventure. After that, Spain, Italy, Greece… Eastern Europe, the Holy Lands, Russia, China, Japan… and everywhere in between. A lengthy tour of Africa would follow, and then a long (long, long) holiday in Australia, the land of my lifelong dreams. We’d eventually meander back to Hawaii and Alaska, and take a casual tour of North America on one enormous road trip. Eventually we’d make it down to South America, as well, after which we’d begin the journey all over again. Just two single gals on an epic adventure, pens and journals in hand, cameras at the ready, to capture every impression of all that we encounter.

I would if I could. Oh, yes, I most certainly would.

FROM THE VAULT :: Why blogging?

This month I’ll be looking back over the past 10 years of this blog and reposting some of the entries that help chronicle a decade of public writing as well as reflect who I was then and who I (still) am now. As I perused my library of posts I couldn’t help but smile at how many of my thoughts are the same as they were in years past, and I also cringed at how much that is not good has also stayed the same. Or, rather, has not evolved as I would have liked. But instead of regret, I shall reflect. This first post speaks to what still holds true: the reason I began blogging in the first place and the reason I am still pursuing it ten years later.

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originally posted March 23, 2009
 
When we can trust the love we have – when we know, not just believe, that we have enough love – we are free to write honestly, even knowing that the more honestly we share, express and expose ourselves, the easier we are making it for some people to not like us. This does not mean rejection or criticism will be easy, but it means we always have the safety net of genuine love and support to fall back on. With this safety net, we are able to write as honestly as possible, and it is this kind of honesty that makes for the very best writing. – Blue Poppy via Christine Mason Miller

These words appeal to my own beliefs about writing. My writing (and later, my blogs) has always been a personal expression of myself, my interests, my beliefs and emotions. I write out of sheer love for expressing the thoughts tumbling around my head. Before weblogs there were paper journals – and these are still a medium of expression for me – but blogging allows the benefit of connecting to an audience, of connecting to a network and to friends. And my belief, like Blue Poppy notes, is that I need not write at all if I am not inclined to be honest. If I am unwilling to put my true self out into the world, I may as well say nothing at all. But the one thing I value most in people is the willingness to be themselves, warts and vices and passions and all. And so I write what I feel. I write what I see and what God teaches me. And I learn about myself (and others) through the exercise. If no one in the entire world reads my posts, I am still blessed by the act of sorting through my mind and committing thoughts to words. It’s the most precious gift God has given to me. Happily, I am also blessed to be surrounded by family and friends who love me in spite of everything else. Even when they don’t agree with what I may write. That is freedom, and I embrace it.

untold stories of 2011 :: One Little Word (a recap)

 
My One Little Word for 2011 was…

You’ll see from the lack of entries on my pilgrimage blog that I totally failed in documenting that goal. For over half the year I also believed I had failed in achieving that goal. And then something interesting occurred: I put some thought to the happenings of the past 12 months – to the daily moments, the small celebrations, the big epiphanies – and I realized that 2011 had not been a year of failure after all. In fact, even today there are visual reminders of success. I almost missed it because it didn’t look anything like I expected it would look.

When I chose the word HEALTHY in January, I hoped that twelve months would bring a significant weight loss, a habit of fresh foods, a joy of home cooking, and a pattern of regular sleep. I expected to feel more energy, less sickly all the time. I expected to need an entirely new wardrobe. None of those things occurred. Hence, my assumption that 2011 was a failure in the area of goals. I also wanted to embrace creativity in a larger way, to focus on personal art projects that brought a renewed health to my mind and my spirit. Again, I determined that this goal ended in failure because much of my year was spent in front of a laptop with the television droning in the background. Sometimes 24/7. Definitely not healthy. No matter what I may have been “watching.” With those things in mind, I declared 2011 a resolution FAIL. And vowed to make 2012 “the year.” But then I came to a realization…

It all began with a pair of jeans. Jeans that, last year, did not fit comfortably during the first hour of wear because they were simply too snug in the waist when freshly laundered. This year, when the weather finally turned almost cool, I pulled on those jeans and found room to spare. At first I believed they must had been worn and placed back in the closet unwashed. I rarely do that, but perhaps this one time? I wore the jeans all day and found them to be far too loose for my taste. Baggy in weird places. Still I didn’t think much of it… until I wore a different pair a week or so later. And those were just as loose on first wear. Freshly laundered but looser than ever. Suddenly I realized! I had kept off enough weight to make my clothes fit loosely! And my thoughts turned to the summer and another moment of success.

While visiting my parents in July I stepped onto the scale after a shower one day and saw that I weighed 30 pounds less than the last time I’d weighed, sometime during the past 6 months. Thirty pounds! And I’d not been on the Healthy wagon for four months by this time! But in those four months of neglect and passivity toward my yearly goal I had still managed to keep 30 pounds at bay. That was clearly a success! I held onto that Win throughout the remainder of the year, but until I encountered the results in my clothing I still did not treat it as a completion of my resolution. After all, I still wasn’t sleeping properly and I still didn’t see much difference in the mirror. I also wasn’t eating properly. No, not at all. The old habits were ever-present, with fast food my most frequent menu. Yet, in the midst of all those bad habits, I’d remained thirty pounds lighter than before. Thinking back on this while analyzing my looser jeans, I could not deny that I had made some headway on this goal of HEALTHY.

Nearing the holidays I mentioned all of this to my mother. I still couldn’t believe my clothes were telling a different story than my mind, but she agreed that I had made some progress this year. She hadn’t noticed the clothes – I’m a plus-size girl with a tendency for ill-fitting clothing, so that did not surprise – but she pointed out that I seemed to be healthier than I’d been in a very long time. There seemed to be fewer stomach issues (which I’d had for over a decade), and I’d been more joyful this year than other times. And despite my irregular sleeping patterns, I had, in fact, been able to go to sleep and sleep more restfully than the past few years. At least, she noted, I was able to get to sleep when I went to bed rather than lying awake for hours before drifting off. That itself counted for a lot on this road to Healthy. I had to agree.

In the end, I’m not where I imagined I’d be by December 31, 2011, but I’m further along than ever. And that encourages me and motivates me to continue on this path. While I have chosen a new word for 2012, I will continue to hold onto HEALTHY, as well. That period at the end of the word up there? That will remain in the front of my mind. I want Healthy to be a lifestyle. I want it to be a pattern and a habit of my days. I want the fast food to become a treat, and I want my kitchen to be a place of joy. As far as it will, of course, for a girl who truly despises the act of meal preparation. Simply put, I want to be HEALTHY… period. And this year was a decent start.

Watch for a new post this week about my chosen word for 2012. It’s my favorite word yet!

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One Little Word is a yearly challenge issued by Ali Edwards. I also (kind of) participated in the One Word community at Grit and Glory this year. Perhaps you’ll consider joining me in the new year!

Twenty years ago today… (well, twenty-five, actually)

My beloved niece Kiwi begins her senior year of high school today. In the midst of all the talk of it and her excitement of it finally arriving, I realized that this marks the 25th anniversary of my own senior year. Twenty-five years! It had never occurred to me before! But my own experiences of high school are very different from Kiwi’s life.

You may recall my mentioning that the teen years were less than pleasant for me, having moved away from my childhood home between freshman and sophomore years of high school. I was already an awkward and introverted fifteen-year-old by that time, uncomfortable with my physicality and even more uncomfortable with social interactions, so dropping me into a town I’d never before heard of with people who had essentially grown up together since birth was nothing short of devastating. I’d lived in my previous town since second grade, had finally reached a level of acceptance and comfort with a small group of friends whom I adored and who loved me back, and during freshman year I finally began to feel like I belonged and that my high school years were going to be epic. I was crushed, then — shattered, even — when my parents announced my dad’s promotion and subsequent need to move to a town located more than an hour north of Dallas and within only a few miles of the Oklahoma border. Oklahoma! It was the end of civilization for me! And I wanted no part of it.

I’d love to say I adjusted to the change over the course of the next few years, but I never did. I spent my entire adolescence feeling sorry for myself and angry at the state of my life, and by senior year I was thinking only of how I could get out of that town — it never did feel like “home” to me — and how life would certainly be so much better when I was “on my own.” Looking back I can only shake my head and laugh at that miserable young girl. But I also can’t say I’d do anything different. I’m still no better at entering new situations than I was at fifteen, though at least I know how to pretend a bit now. But not in 1986. Back then I was hopeless.

In ’86, as my first day of senior year arrived, I still had no close friends and no big dreams for the future. My niece, on the other hand, is filled with hope and joy. She’s had the benefit, so to speak, of living her entire life in one small country town and going to school with many of the same people every year of her life. She has some of the same friends now that she’s had since elementary school. People have watched her grow up since birth. And in Kiwi’s mind, senior year has always been one of the greatest times of life. She’s wise enough to know that it’s not the ultimate phase of life, of course, but she also knows it could become the stuff of legend. She’s grown up hearing stories of “the glory days” from her own father and friends, who all spent their high school years in the same town she lives in now. Kiwi has never expected her senior year to be anything less than glorious, and to finally arrive is one of her first dream-come-true moments. It’s hard not to get caught up with her in such excitement! Today she will experience a senior caravan to the campus, a senior breakfast before classes, a decorated locker by senior parents (her own mom / my sister), and a class schedule that reflects a bit of ease in academics. During the next few months she will experience the football season as a drill team officer and leader among her peers, and in the spring she will begin to have a series of “lasts” that will be both fun and bittersweet. I felt very few of these things twenty-five years ago. I’m thrilled that Kiwi’s experiences are so much greater and more special than anything I ever even dreamed of having, and I can’t wait to watch her walk through these days. I hope I can help her document them, as well, so her memories are established for years to come.

Congratulations, sweet girl! You are truly awesome and these are most certainly great days!

 
 
 

five minute friday :: If I knew I could, I would…

The answer is always the same. If I knew I could, I would live a nomadic life. The journey would begin in Pennsylvania, where I would spend a week visiting my best good friend, letting her show off her homeland, and then I would help her pack and take her with me for the rest of the journey. We’d hop the pond to London first, then take in the majestic cliffs of Ireland and rolling hills of Scotland, then zip over to Paris for a long leisurely adventure. After that, Spain, Italy, Greece… Eastern Europe, the Holy Lands, Russia, China, Japan… and everywhere in between. A lengthy touring of Africa would follow, and then a long (long, long) holiday in Australia, the land of my lifelong dreams. We’d eventually meander back to Hawaii and Alaska, then take a casual tour of North America on one enormous road trip. Eventually we’d make it down to South America, as well, after which we’d begin the journey all over again. Just two single ladies on adventure, pen and journal in hand, cameras at the ready to capture every impression of all that we encounter.

I would if I could. Oh, yes, I would.

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Five Minute Friday prompts are designed by The Gypsy Mama, challenging us to “just write, and not worry. For five minutes flat. Simply stop, drop and write. Set your words free.” [image via flickr]