The Always Say Never Life.
I am September baby, and definitely like a summer storm.
Rumbling around, always making a lot of noise and fuss just to get where I'm going.
Most of the ruckus can be attributed to my always say never lifestyle.
I am the quintessential picture of resistance.
I am the epitome of extremes.
I am, most assuredly, the queen of ‘never.’
And with that, I am quite certain there is some truth in the old adage, “if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans (or refusals, if you will).”
I'm not sure that God actually laughed at me, but I'm pretty sure He got a good giggle out of my obstinate decrees that He already knew would never last..
I would never live up North; I would never move back to Southern California; I would never live in Los Angeles, I would never return to San Bernardino County; I would never live with my family again; and on and on the list goes.
I would never live up North; I would never move back to Southern California; I would never live in Los Angeles, I would never return to San Bernardino County; I would never live with my family again; and on and on the list goes.
Every single one of these statements has now been retracted, amended, altered....my boisterous plans choked back with staggering precision. Not that I have regretted any of these divine interventions, but I can't say the process has ever been easy nor severed my brazen commitment to saying "I'll never..."
Fortunately, God is relentless.
Since deciding to remain in Southern California, He has
not wasted time in provision of opportunities for growing, healing, and fighting. I stated that I needed to learn the art of surrender and the power found in relinquishing control, and He said 'most certainly, this way.' His path is paved with discomfort and uncertainty, so much so that they are practically palpable; not in physical
pains that are blatant and obvious, but in more subtle tones of tension and rigidness found in a resistant body, mind, and spirit. Yet, I am still choosing to embark. I know that the freedom I deeply long for, is found on this path...I know that this painful road leads to victory. So I have chosen, despite how alluring the alternative path looks, to step out in faith....
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In two short weeks, I will be moving out of my apartment,
and more significantly, out of Venice.
Venice Beach is vibrant, eclectic, eccentric, oddly beautiful
and broken, and the only home I have ever known in Los Angeles. For the next two months I will reside with my grandmother, until I find a new place to call home. When I think about these next steps, I don't know whether to laugh, or cry, or completely shut down altogether. Depending on the day, I can go from total elation to sheer panic in a matter of minutes; some days I feel ready for what is to come, and other days, I feel like the world is spinning around me.
In calmer moments, I have already found that the lessons are plentiful, and painful. They are simple, yet incredibly challenging; they are small truths meant to bring balance to my relationships, my choices, and my work. I guess they are truths we all need to hear at some point in our lives...
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1. I have feelings.
I recently heard it said, "feelings are like children in a car; you would never let them drive, but neither would you throw them in the trunk." For me, this analogy is huge...the ability to recognize that I have a responsibility to my feelings in the same way that I do my own children is powerful. They are in my care.
As I navigate life, I must ensure that feelings are securely fastened for the journey. Some may still need to be strapped into a booster seat, while others might be mature enough to ride shoty; but no matter how small they might be, they all have voices that should be acknowledged and respected. It is not safe or acceptable to stuff my feelings in the trunk, but neither is allowing them to drive my life...I must do the work to make sure they are appropriately arranged in the car if we are going to get anywhere.
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2. Control is an illusion.
The more I try to control the world around me, as opposed to training myself, the greater my anxiety. This is only natural, since it is impossible to control life. A great example of this just happened yesterday in a professional surf competition; in the middle of his heat, Mick Fanning was charged by a shark. He had no control over being hunted by a shark or what it would do to him, but he had full control over his decision to get in the water to compete, his desire to surf despite the possibility of sharks, and his response when face to face with the ocean's deadliest predator. I guess my point is this, I have control over my decisions and actions, but not over their results. That being said, the more effort I put into controlling results, rather of channeling energy towards healthy choices and wise steps, the more out of control I will continue to feel.
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3. Humility is not an elective.
In the course of life, humbleness is a general requirement (not an elective). Our version of humility stems from a Latin term 'humilis,' which means low, from the Earth, or to be grounded. In my life, I have clung to pride because I have somehow contrived this idea that it is the only way to be respected and without it I will be taken advantage of. Enter my additional need for control, as an additive form of self-preservation, and I suddenly seem more like a porcupine than a friend, or sister, or daughter.
Despite how our culture often portrays humility as something detrimental to self, in actuality, I believe it is essential for being your best self. Yes, it is to be low, but it is to be grounded, stable, rooted in the Earth. It is the foundation for confidence, strength, and love. Without humility, I am constantly striving to prove myself rather than simply being myself. Without humility, I am constantly forcing other to prove themselves rather than simply allowing them to be themselves. Without humility, I am lost and alone, in constant search for that which can only be found when I am willing to look beyond myself.
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4. Today, and tomorrow, matters.
The future is where I have always wanted to be. Now, to be clear, I'm not talking about the future that Doc's DeLorean can take you to, but rather, my own future. I'm always living in the days, weeks, months, or years to come.
I can't wait to start school. I can't wait to graduate. I can't wait to be in my own place. I can't wait to start my new job. I can't wait to get a new car. I can't wait to see this, or go there, or get that. And pretty soon, I've wished away every day, and every season, for a belief that something better is awaiting when I just [insert whatever]...
In no way would I argue that being excited about what the future might hold is a bad thing...that's a major tenant of hope. Instead, I must learn to be content in today. This might be contrary to what most people think, but contentment actually gives me the peace, strength, and joy necessary to enjoy my todays and tomorrows. When I find the goodness that lies in my life right now, I not only find encouragement to keep working towards what the future holds, but I also find the riches I already possess. Every day of my life matters, I don't want to forget about today because of what tomorrow might hold, and I don't want to rush through these next couple months because of what might be store this next season...there is life to be lived, and enjoyed, even now.
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5. Embrace fear, weaknesses, and shortcomings.
When did these become a bad thing? As a child, these were coveted gems; fear and weakness and shortcomings reminded me that I wasn't done growing. They were something to be faced, and conquered. They were like merit badges that were worn proudly. They reminded me of all the things still ahead of me. Now, as an adult, they have suddenly become a mark shame...and all I can think is, how sad. How sad that I live in a world in which I have to have everything figured out, successfully navigated, and competently completed. How boring a life.
I want to come back to that childlike place; where my heart fluttered at sight of a taller ramp, and fierceness was conceived when I couldn't quite get that lay-up the first, or second, or tenth time, and desire was forged when I didn't qualify for the annual science fair....I want to go back to that place that found life built upon moments of facing fear, weakness, and shortcomings. Without them, I would have nothing to strive for or work towards, I would have no means of growing stronger, and no real understanding of perseverance or determination.
I want to stop pretending that I have it all figured out and never struggle, and most importantly, I want to stop avoiding life because I am afraid of falling flat on my face. Cause where I grew up, road rash, grass stains, and muddied and bloodied faces were simply reminders you were still in the game.
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As I continue to consider and struggle with these truths, as well as take the next steps in my journey, I can't help but be encouraged by the words of Helen Keller,
"Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all."
Hoping that your life, too, is a daring adventure, wherever you are and whatever you have been entrusted with today, tomorrow, and everyday thereafter.
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