Posted in Personal Writings

Right Person, Wrong Time?

I truly don’t believe there is such a thing as “right person, wrong time.” This is an age-old debate that brings up numerous perspectives and opinions, all of which are intriguing and valid. I have just never gelled with the idea that you can meet a person who theoretically ticks off all your boxes and the only thing standing in your way is “timing.”

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Posted in Spirituality

The Taste of Rock Bottom

Reaching the lowest lows gives you a different appreciation for the highs. When you’ve truly looked rock bottom in the eyes, nothing or nobody can take that away from you, no matter what heights and accolades you reach. It’s a deeply personal place for everyone, wall to wall full of your mistakes, your shadows and the parts of yourself that were never nurtured. Once you’ve genuinely had a long stay in this place, cleaned up the cobwebs and dusted a little, is when you can leave triumphed and forever changed.

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Posted in Personal Writings

To Live is to Create

I come from a big, artistic, eccentric family. I grew up around painters and instrumentalists, tarot card readers and poets. Creativity looked very specific to me. Creativity was reserved for those who could swipe paint onto canvases and awe their audiences. It was reserved for those who could pick up an instrument and play a soulful tune with ease. Creativity was a label you earned, never something you could claim yourself. Creativity looked like passion and excellence. I had none of this.

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Posted in Personal Writings

Freshly Fallen Snow and Viscous Vanilla Scents

There is all the joy in the world to be found in the inconspicuous, seemingly meaningless intricacies of regular life. I am a devout advocate for enjoying the small, in-between moments. I refuse to be the adult who counts down to the weekend, to their vacation days, to some irrelevant time in the future. I refuse to have societal blinders on so tight that I can’t appreciate the simplicity in front of me everyday.

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Posted in Short Stories

On the Fragility of Life

I heard the incessant tapping on my window. Not again, I groaned internally. I turned over onto my side and grabbed a pillow to squash over my head in hopes of drowning out the noise. Tap, tap, tap. It wasn’t letting up. I peeked at the clock sitting on my dresser a few feet away. 2:06am. Unbelievable, I thought to myself. Same time every night! Frustrated, I whipped my blankets off of me and aggressively drew my curtains. A large, indistinguishable black mass was hovering outside my window. It freaked me out the first time, but I’ve gotten used to it now. I banged on the window in an attempt to scare it off. It just slowly lapped in the air, like small waves. Well, fuck, I thought. I’m not getting rid of this thing. I turned over to sleep.

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Posted in Personal Writings

This Year

This year, I got a taste of a type of introspection even I am not used to.

This year, I have lived (and am still living through) a global pandemic. I must admit, the lockdowns and closures did not drastically change my way of life. A true introvert, guilty as charged. But, assimilating into keeping our distance from everyone, even loved ones, wearing masks in public-I adopted these practices without a second thought. When I started dreaming about forgetting my own mask when going out and being confronted at work with people without one was when I realized that this entire pandemic has scarred me deeper than I’d like to admit. I’m beyond grateful that everyone close to me is healthy, but the amount of microtraumas we are all experiencing, along with the mass amount of death, makes me weary for us. We have much undoing for ourselves in this decade. Yet, I am oddly hopeful.

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Posted in Spirituality

No Pain, No Gain

Why the “love and light” side of spirituality is bullshit

We come into the world in a stark, painful way. I’m sure there’s a lot of symbolical beauty in the birthing process, but until I have my own children, I can only see it as a physically excruciating process. We sit inside our mother’s womb, pretty content with things. Its warm, there’s a constant flow of nutrients, and you’re protected from the elements. You’re conscious, but in a very primal way. Your biggest stress is if your mom moves abruptly and it shifts you slightly left. But then the body encompassing you decides its time. Hormones surge in and the uterus contracts and you’re kicked out. And by kicked out, I mean you go through what I believe is your first traumatic event as a human. Your soft, malleable skull is pushed through an opening 10 cm wide (at best). Your entire body is squeezed through the vaginal canal. You’re ejected from your warm safe haven into a cold world, literally and figuratively, covered in blood and amniotic fluid. You are thrown into a new reality where you know absolutely nothing and cannot recognize anything but your mother. The first sound you make as a human is a guttural cry, to purge your lungs. Not to mention you’ve put the person who literally gave you your life through possibly the worst pain of their life. The cord that served as your lifeline for 9 months is severed, and you’re a part of the world now. No big deal, I guess.

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Posted in Personal Writings

A Life Lesson from an Orchid

Someone gifted me an orchid some years ago. They’re gorgeous flowers, and I’m not usually one for flowers in my home (I prefer longer lasting greenery), but I loved them. Its arching branch produced many beautifully speckled and spotted flowers, pink and purple in hue. If you looked closely into the middle of the flower, its pollinating center was extremely intricate looking; thin stems covered in tiny bumps with a bulbous end. I was in awe of it, as I usually am with nature.

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