I am not lost
Yet I will journey on.
My path leads into the depths,
into the forest of understandings;
Like a tree rooted in family
but growing towards the sky with each passing experience.
A bird who has freedom to fly
still returns to her nest.
I walk on, learning more of me,
seeing different sides.
I am a diamond with a multitude of facets,
a puzzle I’m piecing together.
I am not lost,
yet I still journey on.
I do regularly publish poems on my site and post poetry readings on YouTube.
Why not now?
Where did I fall?
Where are my faults?
Where is the wall?
Am I not to be loved?
No partner that I yearn for?
No match have I found,
so I sit and ask
Why not me?
Why not now?
Photo by Anton Darius | @theSollers on Unsplash
If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio or watch a few of my poetry readings.
I usually start the story of my creative life with dance class and then go into my experiences with musical theater. It’s easy for me to gloss over my early writing experience.
There are three reasons I do this. The first reason is that although my grammar and spelling were not great creative writing came naturally to me. I don’t remember any lessons about how to write poetry or short stories in elementary school or early middle school. However, I do remember writing a story when I was 10 about a 10-year-old girl.
The second reason for never focusing on my early writing life is because I never felt it was important. It was always just something I did. I hardly ever shared my stories with people. Since I didn’t share my writing I never celebrated that part of my creativity. The theater was what I celebrated and did so publicly. The writing I did was a private thing.
The third reason is my confidence in my writing was low. Sure I wrote creative things constantly, but I was never amazing in English or spelling classes. I was an average student when it came to writing assignments. Grammar and spelling are not my strong suit. I still struggle with spelling certain words, and will reread sentences to make sure they are correct. Why would I talk or share something I wasn’t good at?
The thing is whether I’m good at it or not writing is a big important part of me. It is like talking to me; I may mispronounce words or not be as eloquent as others in my speech, but it is how I communicate. It is on aspect that makes me who I am.
There is increasingly more comfortable with that aspect of me. I am a writer and will describe myself as such.
I have come along way in my writing life and now I love sharing my writing. It may not be the best, but my writing is truthfully me. I would not have it any other way.
II have more stories that show how I became who I am. They are in the Journey to Me series. I also have stories specifically about God and of course, I wrote a book about my views and experiences with Love called To Love.
I’m reading a book that has brought up living an ordinary life. In the book, an ordinary life is a bad thing. The author views it as boring and as if the person living that life is asleep. They’re not really living. For me, an ordinary life would feel the same way. I fell into a somewhat ordinary life and it suffocated me. I lost part of me.
Unlike the other author, I can see that an ordinary, quiet life that is similar to those on television may be ideal. I can see how certain people can be happy settling down, working a stable job, and simply living life.
Ordinary does not fit who I am at my core. Even when my life is primarily ordinary I look for the extraordinary. I need to keep my eyes open to the uncommon and I am grateful for those times.
Living an unique life isn’t all about traveling the world, going on strange adventures late at night, and meeting one of a kind characters. More often than not it is little stories that are not forced or expected and one of a kind routines that are all your own.
My life strays from ordinary every Saturday I spend writing my novel and the nights I spend on my visual art pieces. It becomes unique when I have to test my church’s worship leader that I will be late to serving as the sound board operator, because my landlord’s pop-belly pig is loose and trying to find non-extant treats in my bag. Also, most people don’t drive slowly calling for the same pig that found her way out of her pen a second time, so that the pig would get back to the house.
I do travel cross country often and meet one of a kind characters even more frequently. When your eyes are open though, you’ll see everyone is a one of a kind character and we all travel, even if most of the time it’s in your mind.
My life is not for everyone, but it is perfect for me. I am grateful for my uncommon life and hope you are grateful for whatever type of life you’re living.
If you would like to read more about my Journey To Me there is a full series on the topic. I also have more portfolio writing available too. If you want to get to know me better you can do so on Instagram , Twitter, or Facebook.
In Mid March of 2017 I had what I called “a fast from life.” I took time off work, did not watch television during the day, did not go on social media or the internet, and did a tradition fast of no food except for liquids. It was a time of reflection on life, self searching, and relaxing that lasted 5 days. In that time I wrote the following.
It is about one o’clock on a sunny Wednesday and I hear a bird chirping in the distance . There is a gentle breeze that passes through my open windows. I am sitting on the ground of my beige living room. My back is leaning against my grey recliner and my fuzzy teal pillow. I have a teal body pillow on my lap and a sense of being home in my heart. This is only a small studio, but it is perfect for me.
The fast that it is beige is broken up with my light wood furniture, grey chair, and silver lamp in my living. My office has no structured definition, but instead of light furniture it has a black desk, a black bookcase, and a dark wood chair, but my art supply storage is a happy turquoise. Plus, there is a gallery wall of my art and the art I have collected.
My bedroom and reading nook are up a ladder in my loft.
The bathroom is huge.
There is also a kitchenette with a stove top, microwave, and an unused toaster oven.
My home is complete and my own.
It is perfect and my own paradise, which is why I’m taking a vacation here. I wanted to take time to figure out myself and a plan for my life. I need direction and to know that I’m on the path God wants me to be on. My original thought was to go away – travel.
I would not be distracted by the fact the grocery store is only 15 minutes away and there is a taco place even closer. If I traveled I won’t be reminded of all the different forms of art I play with. In that same thought I wouldn’t have my art supplies or all the projects I’m working on. Plus, why pay for a hotel when I just want to feel my pen on paper, sleep whenever I want,and read the rest of the time.
It is the first day of my fast from life and already I am liking it. I slept til 8, had a massage, and read 6 chapters in the Bible. I am very relaxed and peaceful. This is how I want to start this experimental fast that will be focused on God’s future for me.
For the next 5 days if my mind wonders I’ll let it. It is free to roam the forest of my thoughts, but I will also put it to work while it is near. This way I will remain calm and relaxed while I pray and search for what God will have me do.
This was the first day of the fast and by the end I had a rough plan. I had things I would be giving up and things that I would be adding to my life.
As I review the list of changes, I am noticing that some of the negative things crept back into my life. Thankfully, all except for one have been removed again. I am working on most of the positives habits. I did slip on them, but once I got back on track with my goals I started to have all, with the exception of one, in my weekly goals.
I have more stories that shows how I became who I am. They are in the Journey to Me series. I also have stories specifically about God and of course I wrote a book about my views and experiences with Love called To Love.
It should be known that I hate birds. It is partly out of fear and partly is because I think at least fowl and larger birds are evil. I can handle smaller birds and can stand pet birds, like cockatiels. Roosters, swans, and geese are not okay in my book.
I have had a few negative run-ins with birds in my life. The first one I remember is the swan that attacked me and my now step-sister.
Until I was 10 I lived across the street from my uncles’ pig farm. They also had goats and chickens. I would always go over there and one day I went with my step-sister.
We went into the goat’s area. It was a fenced in patch of land that was a bit rocky, but grass still grew.
I did not realize that a swan made a nest and laid eggs in the grass, until I got too close. The swan chased my step-sister and me. We scrambled up some rocks, since we could not get back to the gate. There was a thorny bush on the other side of the fence. There was a short argument about leaping the fence, since we would be jumping into the thorns. The evil swan was ready to attack, but no major injuries occurred. I believe we jumped the fence or one of my uncles came to chase the bird away.
I want to say my uncle chased away the massive bird with a shovel in hand, but I can only remember the terror of the swan’s attack with its flapping wings and the feeling of being trapped.
If you would like to read more short stories please check out my Portfolio or perhaps you would enjoy watching readings of my work on YouTube. You can also read more of Journey To Me, which is the series this is from.
I will be blunt because there is no real way of talking about my speech journey without doing so. I have a speech impediment, where d’s and t’s don’t always come out right or at all. This is especially true when d’s and t’s are in the middle of a word and I haven’t said that word a lot or at all.
Growing up I hated that it was called an impediment. It wasn’t because of any negative experience I’ve had with having a speech impediment. I hated it because I blurred the syllables together. I couldn’t say what I had well.
After years of speech therapy, theater, and practice, friends and most people have said they don’t notice it. It can now be hidden and I can speak to be understood now.
Still, I can hear it. I may not consciously be aware of it with every word I say, but I know it is still there in the shadows. It especially yells at me when I listen to a recording or when I’m speaking through a microphone.
I repeat the words my friends tell me, “It’s just how I sound. It’s just how I talk.” I remind myself it makes me unique and those who matter don’t fault me for it.
For a time I cringed my way through editing videos of where I am speaking, whether it was monologues, tips, or improv videos. I forced myself to get comfortable with my voice. It did help me become more comfortable with my voice and accept it.
Eventually the videos slowed to a stop. The improved self-esteem for my speech was only a bi-product and my goals that were the real focus of the videos were not in the foreground of my motivation.
I gave little thought to my voice or speech for a while. It was not interfering with my life and it didn’t seem like an issue. I could listen to my voice without cringing now and everyone could understand me. Part of my thought that the impediment was behind me. It was something I had not have. It felt as though the struggle with my impediment was over or a tiny pebble in the shadows of a far corner of my mind.
The funny thing with the mind is if you shine a light on a pebble it can grow. Even the slightest connection to it can create a boulder under the right circumstances. The pebble becomes a hurdle, which opens wounds that should have been healed.
Partly from stress and partly because a light was shined on my speech, I now had to face my speech impediment again. Even though the focus on my speech had nothing to do with the impediment, I saw my insecurities surrounding it.
I now have to figure out why the pain of not speaking exactly like everyone else still remains and threatens to come out at the slightest reference. Why does anything negative relating to speech or talking bring me to tears?
On the surface, it appears that the reasons are easily seen. I want to be viewed as smart, but I must first sound intelligent. If I’m fumbling over words, stuttering, and finding replacements that I can say my IQ appears to drop.
I do not want what I view as my weakness and flaw hold me back. When it does I feel all the times its held me back. I am reminded of going to speech classes, being taken out of regular classes to go to a special speech therapy class, and feeling the label of “different” on me when it was not my choice.
Even now when I gladly wear “unique” and “different” as a proud badge, being different in speech hurts. It transports me back to being a child who did not ask for the label or want it.
I always felt loved and do not remember anyone teasing me about my impediment. They would tease me and bully me for other reasons, but never for how I spoke.
I do not want to blame my short coming or not getting things in life on my speech impediment. Hardly anyone notices now and if they do they say it doesn’t change their view of me. However, when it’s noticed it changes my view of myself. I’m reminded of the shy little girl. I find my shell again and must fight the urge to get back in it. I do fight though and write instead of crawling into my safe shell.
When the time is right I will explore why my speech impediment still hurts so badly when it is in the light. It is part of me and should not hurt me, yet it still does.
For now I will again work on tongue twisters and vocal exercises to overcome my flaws. I will become comfortable with my voice once again. I will remind myself that I’m my own success person. I’m strong and I am loved.
The relationship with my speech is a journey that I may stumble along, but I’m at least making progress and discovering more sides of who I am.
I have more stories that shows how I became who I am. They are in the Journey to Me series. I also have stories specifically about God and of course I wrote a book about my views and experiences with Love called To Love.
The Window stays open,
but it’s cold outside.
The window stays open,
as I put on a heavy sweat shirt.
The window stays open,
so I pull on warm socks.
The cold air reminds me
of autumn leaves blowing.
The cold air reminds me
of my family gathering.
The cold air reminds me
that I am still alive.
The window stays open.
The cold air reminds me.
What makes me beautiful? What is pleasing to the senses?
You may answer my curves. I do have them and the contrasting peaks and valleys are pleasing to the eyes. Yet, I believe that the strength hidden within the curves of my body are more beautiful than the outward appearance. You see my body hides its toughness and endurance behind my hour-glass form.
Perhaps you believe that my eyes are what makes me beautiful as they sparkle with blue hues. I could agree with you as I do think that my eyes are beautiful. Still what makes them beautiful is the mind and heart that is behind them. It is the life and love that shines out of them.
My smile, lips and mouth are also physical features that could be pretty by themselves. They are brought into beauty by how they are used. My smile shows the happiness that lies within my soul. My lips and mouth are only beautiful because of the encouraging words and unique thoughts that come from within.
You see my mind, soul, and heart are what makes me beautiful in my eyes. My outward appearance in beautiful because it shines what is inside.
Now that I answered what makes me beautiful I ask you, “What makes you beautiful?”
Who do I do this for?
Who will win from my hard work?
Who will smile as I undress,
displaying my wonderfully curvy body?
Me, the answer is me.
I will win,
I will smile
and I am doing this for me.
I do not strive,
I do not fight,
I do not struggle
not for anyone,
except me and God.
If I do not do this for me,
then it is for God.
If I do not win,
then it is for God.
If I do not smile,
then I lost sight of God.
Who is all this for?
It is for me,
but if not me than for God.