Winter Before Spring ( A Poem)

Winter Before Spring a poem

I await the spring
trapped in a winter cage.
The snow surrounds me,
in the darkness of my mind,
waiting for a spark of passion
to burn through winter’s gelidity.

I await a new life,
the awaken life,
the freed life,
that comes in the spring;
that sweet release.
Yes, I await spring.

This poem was writing on March 3rd, 2014 and I only lightly edited it. I hope you enjoyed it.

Want More?

If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio. You can also watch a few of my poetry readings.

Chapters of Life – DreamWard Bound

Every few years my life changes. Each change is the start of a new chapter and a new part of my epic story. Most of the time it also comes with a change in location, but not always.

I try to prepare for each change in my life the best I can. I look at it like almost like a new story. What will the plot be? What new characters may I encounter? What will the theme or message be for this chapter of my life? Each time my life changes I think I answer these questions, but God or life always has at least one different answer. The changes are never fully what I expected.

This chapter in my life is like the others. It is not what I expected.

My goal for this chapter is to pursue my ideal life, my passions, and God’s will for my life.

At the moment I am being torn down in negative areas of my personality, struggling with my motivation, and I’m learning to be more flexible in multiple areas of my life. It is a trying point in my life. I do not want to face the areas of myself that I don’t like and should change. It is not easy to let things go that annoy me or frustrate me.

I do know that the reward for going through all this will be worth it. I will hopefully rid myself of the parts of me I do not like and become more flexible with things that don’t actually matter in the long run of things. I’ll be a better version of myself and living a better version of my life.

Also, although it is tough I am still less stressed and not emotionally drained each night. It is a better life for myself already.

Plus, I can actually have a full day to rest, which is a new thing and one I’m still relearning how to do. It is strange that stopping and relaxing is hard for someone. It seems like it should be easy to do, but I’ve spent years only really stopping on vacations. If I was not on vacation I had something to do; I had something to create or a to-do list item to check off. Now I have a day for that stuff and a day to stop and take care of myself. I still want to keep going and going, but I know we all have to take a break now and again, so that is what I’m doing. I will learn how to do it well eventually.

 

My Writing Life (Journey To Me)

My Writing Life (Journey To Me)

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.

Want More?

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.

DreamWard Bound- Flying

Note: There was a delay in publishing this blog.

As I write I’m 34,005 ft high. I’m flying back to California and anxiety is rising. I feel uncomfortable energy pulsing through my body into my mind. It touches my heart. There is a need to get up, to move, to do something besides sitting still.

My life is returning to me after being on vacation and cementing the process of leaping off a metaphoric cliff that I’ve been staring at for years.

I’m leaving my well paying job with good benefits to pursue my dreams. This is a big step on the path towards my dreams and it feels very real and giant.

This leap of faith I’m facing does not seem logical to me at this moment, but I know it is right. I know I need to leave the office job and start living the life I actually am suppose to live.

The unknown still frightens  me.

It is an excited time in my life and I am happy that I am dreamward bound, even if there is fearful energy trying to take control. I won’t let it though, too many great opportunities lay ahead of me. I just have to remember to breathe and remind myself that I’m worth following my dreams.

Bridge or Fall (A Poem)

bridge or fall a poem

I’ve walked to the ledge
fears shout from the edge
but my faith holds my hand
I’m ready for a fall
or the invisible bridge.

I know I may fall.
What if I do?
Wings will sprout from shoulder’s ridge.
If there be a bridge
my feet will firmly walk.
However, my future unfolds
I will breathe.
I will survive.

 

Want More?

If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio. You can also watch a few of my poetry readings.

An Ordinary Life? (Journey To Me)

an ordinary life Journey to me

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 A Unique life

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.

Want More?

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.

Musical Romance (Short Story)

Musical Romance short story

Your best friend, Beth, invites you to an open mic night at a local coffeehouse. It the first time Beth will sing one of her original songs in front of people, besides you and her cat, Meowers.

It thrills you to support your friend.

After you finish your shift at the call center for a tech company, you rush home to get ready. Your clothes are changed and you redo your hair. This is in record time and you meet Beth at the cozy coffeehouse.

At The Coffee House

You can smell the beans roasting and the coffee brewing from outside the door. As you enter the coffeehouse, you look around the warmly decorated room. It has two large couches facing a makeshift stage area and wood tables that are only large enough to seat four people each. 

Beth finds you and greets you with a great enormous hug, the way she does when she is nervous. As she is still squeezing you Beth stated, “You made it.” When the hug is released she tells you, “The first person is about to start. I’m fifth in line.” She straightens her red and brown floral dress that flows over her slender body.

“Of course, I made it. I wouldn’t miss this.” You look at your friend and ask, “How are you doing? Nervous?”

Beth tried to smile. “Nah, no, no. I’m fine.”

You look blankly at her and her face drops, fully revealing her nerves. “Yes, I am. I shouldn’t be, the crowd isn’t that big, but it’s my song. What if they hate it? I could mess up. What if I can’t really sing?”

“Don’t be silly. You’ll do great. Meowers and I love the song. Plus you’ve sung in front of bigger crowds than this.”

Confused, Beth asked, “When?”

“Our middle school recitals and karaoke.”

Beth shakes her head as she states, “Those don’t count. Karaoke isn’t performing and middle school ended like half a lifetime ago.”

“Still, you’ll do great.”

The Open Mic Starts

Just then the first performer takes the stage and taps on the mic. It is a sizeable round man with little hair on the top of his head, but plenty of white hair coming from his chin. He sings an old blues song as he strums on a guitar. This musician is talented and the crowd applauds him when he finishes. The next performer is a woman with pigtails and a banjo. She can’t seem to play and sing together, but struggles through the full song, anyway. The following two performers get progressively worse and the audience hardly even claps for the last man, who leaves almost in tears. His nerves won.

Beth’s Turn

It is Beth’s turn. She is nervous and starts by fumbling the first notes on her simple acoustic guitar.

You mouth, “Breathe,” to her. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. She starts again and plays her song perfectly. It is beautiful. The crowd cheers for her at the end. They are very thankful that she was a wonderful singer and the song was beautiful.

Beth makes her way back to the table where you are sitting with a giant smile on her face.

As she sits, the next act gets on stage. It is a male musician who has perfectly curly brown hair and sits on the stool, but keeps one leg on the ground. He smiles a nervous yet cute smile as he places his guitar on his lap. Once he clears his throat he says, “This is my first time here too, and I also have an original song.”

Another New Musician Sings

He sings and your eyes meet his sparkling hazel eyes. You hold eye contact with him and smile. It feels as though the room melts away and he is singing only to you. Towards the end of his song, he looks down to make sure he is playing the right notes, but is grinning widely.

At the end of the song he thanks the audience, but is looking at you when he does so. The crowd applauds him as he leaves the little platform that makes up the stage.

He walks directly to you. “Hi, I’m Matt.” He says with his hand out.

You shake his hand as you tell him, “Hi Matt, I’m Lucy. You were great.”

“Thanks. I don’t mean to be too forward, but can I join you two lovely ladies?”

Before you can answer, Beth does. “Of course, we would love that.”

The conversation quickly dies down as the last performer takes the stage. She resembles a jazz singer with her hair pinned in curls and a black fit and flare dress on. She sings a slow and soft song. It is a very loving, sweet jazz song. After she finishes, the audience claps, but starts to leave.

Matt, Beth, and you continue to talk. After half an hour Matt buys both of you cups of tea and you help him carry them over to the table.

You do not realize the time passing. As the coffee house closes, Matt asks for your number. Smiling, you give him your phone number and he sends you a quick smiley text, so you have his.

When The Coffeehouse Closes

This is the start of something new, but after a long day at work you are ready for bed.

You say goodnight to Matt at the coffee house and walk with Beth to your car, which is outside of Beth’s apartment. You say goodnight to your best friend and get in your car.

When you get home, you see that you have an unread text message from Matt. It says, “I’m glad I went to the open mic night, tonight.”

You smile as you respond with, “Me too. Goodnight.”

As you get ready for bed, another text from Matt pops up on your phone. “Goodnight.”

Want More?

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.

DreamWard Bound- Tracking Goals

Last DreamWard Bound I talked about how I organized and separated my goals and dreams. This helped me easily see my priorities and make a plan to reach my ideal life.

I know being organized does not fit every personality. Some people thrive in doing work as it comes along or as they are inspired. Some people do not like making lists or tracking their goals in detail.

I am not one of those people. More and more I love organizing my goals and tracking them. I have spreadsheets with formulas and charts. I have index cards and notebooks.

These things help me track my goals, so when I feel discouraged and forget my past achievements I can look back. I can see where I started and how far I’ve come.

Having my time and goals tracked also helps me plan for my future. I can see that I only consistently write for about 4 hours a week and draw for about 3. I can see that I can increase my prayer and Bible study time by 0.1 hours a week, because I know how much I’ve spent on godly things in the previous week.

By seeing my patterns with time I can see where I can improve. I can also see how long it takes to complete a project, book, or activity.

I do want to clarify that although I have 5 sheets with a lot of charts for visual tracking I did not start with that many.

I started with a notebook and only tracked time I spent reading the Bible and my television watching. After a few weeks I added other goals and then I moved it to one sheet on my computer. Little by little I added things I tracked and organized the sheets more. I can now see the following:

  • How many hours I put into a certain category each week (writing, blog posts, church, Bible reading, prayer, painting/ drawing, reading, etc).
  • On average how much time I put into creative work, writing, or spending time with God.
  • What percentage I spend in my different categories.
  • How long it takes me to read a book.
  • If my physical endurance is increasing.
  • How many hours I’m spending on promotion and revenue for my creative life.

The take away from all of this is to start small with your goals and tracking, but let both grow. This will help you to continually be improving and moving towards your goals and dreams.

My Pigpen Story (Journey To Me)

My pigpen story Journey to me

From birth to age 10 I grew up across the street from a pig farm. It was my family’s farm and my uncles ran it.

My sisters and I would run and play up on the farm. I remember climbing up on the stacked hay and talking with my sisters. We would pet the goats and watch the pigs. When my uncles, dad, or another adult was around they would pick up the little piglets to let us hold them.

Even after my family moved a town over we would visit my memere and the farm. We would still play and pet the pigs whenever we visited. We had farm shoes over my memere’s house that we would wear when the farm was muddy.

One day, when I was in middle school I brought a friend over to the farm and we played in one of the pigpens. Most of the pigs stayed away from us. We still had fun in the slippery pen. We slid and fell many times, which to a child is a fun time. 

By the time we had enough fun we were both covered in what we thought was mud. We cheerfully went back down the hill to my memere’s home. She informed us that it was not just mud and she hosed us off before we could enter her house to fully get cleaned. Typically, we just had to take off our farm shoes. This time was different, we were too messy to be allowed in the house.

My memere still reminds me about the time my friend and I got covered in pig manure.

Want More?

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.