Thank God for the US Postal Service.
So I started the day pretty low. I read a couple of scriptures that got me thinking about my life. I want to go into the new year with fresh eyes, but reading those scriptures showed me how stale my eyes are. And I had come to the conclusion my stale eyes have affected my thinking. I've done something that I really can't stand for other people to do. I created an alternate reality with my thoughts. What I thought became what's real. My current line of thinking is that nothing I do makes a difference. I had been feeling like I could be absent (and do my hermit thing) and no one would notice. Great way to start the day. Just as I got frustrated with sorting through my dream graveyard, the mail arrived.
I got a package from my daughter's school. She went out to pick up the mail so she was standing over my shoulder, trying to see what it was. I'm sure she thought she was in trouble. But to both of our surprises, it was an envelope full of letters.
A few months ago, I went to my daughter's school for Career Day. I spoke to the children about becoming a writer. Apparently, the teachers had the students write me thank you letters. And I cried. The letters were funny, some almost illegible, and encouraging. One young lady said she wanted to be like me (I started praying for her immediately.) Reading those letters made me realize that I am not a waste of skin. I am making an impact on someone in the world. I lit the fire of words in the hearts of Eugene Burrough's 6 grade. All is right with the world.
Monday, December 31, 2007
New Year's Eve, Part I
I decided to start the new year with a clean bedroom. It's not something I've seen for a while. I must admit my artist temperament sometimes transfers to my cleaning skills. My mind is constantly moving on to the next thing, so sometimes I don't always take the time to hang up my clothes or put my shoes back in the closet. One night I was going to bed and I thought about how much my bedroom looked like my thought life. So, new year, clean slate.
I started with hanging up all my clothes. Then I started sorting through all the papers I had accumulated over the year. There were little craps of papers with lots and lots of writings ideas. Articles, novels, poetry, all stacked in piles and piles of paper. As I read through them, I felt like I was in a dream graveyard, my dream graveyard. There were some great ideas and compete plot lines buried under my bad housekeeping skills.
I also found my college transcripts and a outline of the classes I needed to get my degree in visual communications. I also had a college catalog. More dreams buried. After about 30 minutes of that, I was thoroughly depressed. So many dreams, so little time. I have a nasty little habit of dreaming big. The problem with big dreams is big risks. I'm a risk taker, but I realized I don't know how to put the dream into practice. I need to get from dream to manifestation.
I notice that when I get to this point, I throw the baby out with the bath water. Meaning, I feel like my whole life is a waste. It's hard to put it into words, but I wonder if anything I do makes a difference. In the back of my mind, I know it's not true. One of my dreams is to change the world, even a little bit. How can I change the world when all my dreams are written on little slips of paper?
I started with hanging up all my clothes. Then I started sorting through all the papers I had accumulated over the year. There were little craps of papers with lots and lots of writings ideas. Articles, novels, poetry, all stacked in piles and piles of paper. As I read through them, I felt like I was in a dream graveyard, my dream graveyard. There were some great ideas and compete plot lines buried under my bad housekeeping skills.
I also found my college transcripts and a outline of the classes I needed to get my degree in visual communications. I also had a college catalog. More dreams buried. After about 30 minutes of that, I was thoroughly depressed. So many dreams, so little time. I have a nasty little habit of dreaming big. The problem with big dreams is big risks. I'm a risk taker, but I realized I don't know how to put the dream into practice. I need to get from dream to manifestation.
I notice that when I get to this point, I throw the baby out with the bath water. Meaning, I feel like my whole life is a waste. It's hard to put it into words, but I wonder if anything I do makes a difference. In the back of my mind, I know it's not true. One of my dreams is to change the world, even a little bit. How can I change the world when all my dreams are written on little slips of paper?
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Invisable
It's the holiday season and everyone is filled with Christmas cheer.
That's a lie.
There are lots of people who are not filled with tidings of comfort and joy. There are people who are hurting and drowning in their sorrow. Like David says in Psalms, their tears are their meat. They walk around with not the sounds of jingle bells but the jingle of the broken pieces of their hearts being carried in their bodies like a bag of trash going out to the curb.
This is not a lie.
For some people, the light of the season has not broken through the darkness of their reality.
This is not a secret. There are stories on the news every year about how some people suffer with severe depression this time of year. But who are these people? Where do they live? Let's take a Gallup poll on how many people can we name that is suffering from extreme sadness. My bet is that if we did, we couldn't come up with one name. Because we don't see.
I am amazed at how many people come in and out of our lives and we don't even notice them. I don't mean what they are wearing or driving, what school they go to or what job they have. Those things are surface so they are easy to discover.
I'm talking about the unseen things that plague people. Do we notice the tears sharing the same face with a smile? Do we see the hollow in people eyes? Do we hear the jingle of broken hearts?
I don't expect everyone to be as in tuned as I suggest, but at least, if you are a believer, should be able to see and discern. It should be hard for people to hide their pain from us. Pain shouldn't be invisible to us.
That's a lie.
There are lots of people who are not filled with tidings of comfort and joy. There are people who are hurting and drowning in their sorrow. Like David says in Psalms, their tears are their meat. They walk around with not the sounds of jingle bells but the jingle of the broken pieces of their hearts being carried in their bodies like a bag of trash going out to the curb.
This is not a lie.
For some people, the light of the season has not broken through the darkness of their reality.
This is not a secret. There are stories on the news every year about how some people suffer with severe depression this time of year. But who are these people? Where do they live? Let's take a Gallup poll on how many people can we name that is suffering from extreme sadness. My bet is that if we did, we couldn't come up with one name. Because we don't see.
I am amazed at how many people come in and out of our lives and we don't even notice them. I don't mean what they are wearing or driving, what school they go to or what job they have. Those things are surface so they are easy to discover.
I'm talking about the unseen things that plague people. Do we notice the tears sharing the same face with a smile? Do we see the hollow in people eyes? Do we hear the jingle of broken hearts?
I don't expect everyone to be as in tuned as I suggest, but at least, if you are a believer, should be able to see and discern. It should be hard for people to hide their pain from us. Pain shouldn't be invisible to us.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Mascara
I am not a girly girl.
I don't like to cry, I detest the color pink or and generally don't do most things attributed to being a girly girl. But there are few things I do that may be considered girly. I like to smell good. I can spend quite a bit of money in Bath & Body Works. I love shoes, but I'm not sure when I fell in love with them. That's my very short list of my contribution to the world of womanhood.
There is one more thing I do that may be considered girly. I wear mascara, but for the wrong reason. I discovered mascara after I won a free facial in a raffle drawing. The facial included a cleansing, microderm abrasion, and make-up, the whole nine yards. I had tried make-up before, but gave up after I poked myself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil. The memory of that stuck with me and I wasn't looking forward to trying mascara. My anxiety increased when the woman who was doing the facial handed me the mascara brush. After much encouragement from her, I put it on and something miraculous happened: I could see.
I forgot to mention that even though I'm not a girly girl, I have some very girly features, one of them being big brown eyes with very long lashes. All my life I've been looking through said long lashes. It was to the point that I didn't even realize that they were in the way. Until I swiped mascara on my lashes. Instant clarity. I went out the next day and bought myself some mascara and has been wearing it ever since. Being girly is good for something.
I don't like to cry, I detest the color pink or and generally don't do most things attributed to being a girly girl. But there are few things I do that may be considered girly. I like to smell good. I can spend quite a bit of money in Bath & Body Works. I love shoes, but I'm not sure when I fell in love with them. That's my very short list of my contribution to the world of womanhood.
There is one more thing I do that may be considered girly. I wear mascara, but for the wrong reason. I discovered mascara after I won a free facial in a raffle drawing. The facial included a cleansing, microderm abrasion, and make-up, the whole nine yards. I had tried make-up before, but gave up after I poked myself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil. The memory of that stuck with me and I wasn't looking forward to trying mascara. My anxiety increased when the woman who was doing the facial handed me the mascara brush. After much encouragement from her, I put it on and something miraculous happened: I could see.
I forgot to mention that even though I'm not a girly girl, I have some very girly features, one of them being big brown eyes with very long lashes. All my life I've been looking through said long lashes. It was to the point that I didn't even realize that they were in the way. Until I swiped mascara on my lashes. Instant clarity. I went out the next day and bought myself some mascara and has been wearing it ever since. Being girly is good for something.
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