She is a Gypsy at Heart

During some of my most recent travels, I found myself rounding corners, turning my head, or looking up only to catch my breath and say, “Wow, that is beautiful.”

As I reflected on this though, I found myself resting on an epiphany: how is it that we can recognize with complete acceptance that inanimate and animate objects are beautiful without any additional expectation for them to improve…but we do not hold the same appreciation for human bodies?  I know that was a run-on sentence, but I’ll try and explain myself better as I go.

Look at the variety of plants and flowers.  All different shapes, sizes, and colors.  Each one with a uniqueness that makes it noteworthy.  Each one receives our appreciation.  And the most amazing part to me is three-fold:  (1) These plants, while beautiful and deserving of appreciation, do not need our appreciation in order to flourish.  (2) The fact that they are appreciated does not add to their beauty. (3) There is no expectation from the beholder that the plant needs to improve in order to be beautiful, and the plant itself does not feel an expectation to improve in order to be more beautiful.  They simply do that which what they were designed to do.  They grow, they bloom, and they die.

The same is true for animals.  Would we ever catch ourselves saying that one animal should look more like another animal in order to be beautiful?  Do animals feel the need to chase after resources that will keep them looking young and healthy?  Is there a panic when they reach a certain stage in their lives that their best years are gone?  No, the seal does not say to the cow, “I wish I had your legs.”  The penguin does not say to the blackbird, “I wish I could fly.” No, they live in the manner they were designed to live with complete acceptance.

I’m almost done.  Humans start off this way as well.  No baby is born and upon recognizing another baby immediately compares itself to that baby.  No baby sees its own reflection and assesses its flaws.  Babies can recognize differences, but they usually observe those differences with wonder and curiosity.  Why, as we grow older, do we form expectations to be something other than what we were designed to be?  Even worse, why, as we grow older, do we lose sight of our own beauty because we see that we do not have the same beauty as someone else?  Should the beauty of another lessen our own?  Somehow, we’ve come to believe it does.  Somehow, we’ve come to believe that we need to chase after, with all our might, the resources to remove our imperfections, improve our features, and mask what we cannot change.

I wonder if it’s possible to learn from the other animate and the inanimate things in the world and remove that expectation.  I wonder if it’s possible to preserve what we start with during our infancy.  Our beauty does not have to be something we chase.  The beauty of others does not add or take away from our own beauty.  And we do not need to live with an expectation that in order to become beautiful we have to work beyond our own design in order to achieve that end.

I wrote this blog nearly a year ago.  I didn’t publish this because I was afraid of the response…of being seen differently, which, after you read it, you will find completely ironic.  However, today when I opened my blog page, I noticed the draft sitting in a separate folder.  Tonight, I reread it, and I finally decided to publish it.  I’m sorry this does not come with photos.  I will also caveat this blog post by saying that I come from a Christian faith-base.  My intent, however, is never to force my faith on anyone else.  So, please see it only as personal testimony.

Here it goes…

February 17, 2019 – The other week, I awoke and every muscle in my body was tight.  My jaw, eyes, and neck hurt the most.  I felt exhausted from the top of my head down.  I knew it was caused by anxiety.  My anxiety occasionally resurfaces at various points throughout the year.

So, instead of starting my day off as I usually do – off to the races – I slowed my morning down, and I chose to take some time to meditate and acknowledge what was going on.  At first, I thought maybe it was a resurfacing of guilt.  Guilt for decisions I’ve made in the past.  But the longer I sat still and breathed, I could tell that wasn’t it.  As I reflected on my past mistakes, my initial emotion was actually gratitude.  I was grateful for the experience, knowing each one helped direct my life in a better, more positive direction.  I wasn’t feeling guilt.

But then I found it.  Fear.  I was gripped by fear.  Even though I was personally grateful for the life lessons I have learned along the way, I was terrified by the thought that if people ever became aware of all the foolish choices I have made, they wouldn’t admire me as much.  My image – that I have never wanted to be in the limelight anyway – would be tarnished.  People love gossip.  And even though I am headed down the right path today, all the good I choose to do in the present will never make up for those mistakes.

What if a movie of our lives was played in front of our closest friends, coworkers, and loved ones?  What if all our thoughts and actions done in secret were exposed?  The thought of my poor choices being laid out in front of everyone to be judged and criticized…the thought was literally more than I could bear.  Anything less than perfection has always felt like a failure.  Because, as we all know, we must be perfect to be loved, right?

So the other morning I just sat there, and in the quiet, I asked God, “What do I do? What do you want me to do?” And with eyes shut, I saw only darkness.  But I kept repeating the questions, and after a few moments of nothing by darkness, I saw through my closed eyes His face.  He just looked at me, the same way my loving mother looks at me when we sit at the table and drink morning coffee together.  He reached out his hands and cupped them around my face.  He let me lean on Him.  He wouldn’t respond to my questions.  Every time I lifted my head and asked him what I should do, he would just look at me with His soft eyes.  He never spoke, and yet, somehow I understood.  He was telling me that He was with me and that I needed to return to Him every time I felt this unhealthy fear.  For I could come to Him and be seen.  Just as I am.  Just come to Him.  Be held by Him.  Be loved by Him.  Perfection was not a requirement.

And so here it is, all the love I pour out today on others is not meant to make up for past wrongs.  They are an outpour of knowing persistent love.  When I look to Christ, I find that love is a never-ending source.  And this awareness brings me peace.

Worldly standards, such as perfection, continuously extend beyond my reach.  Believe me when I say that the pursuit of perfection is not a path filled with grace.  It’s filled with mental assaults and heavy burdens of shame, disappointment, and despair.  It is a critical and harsh path.

It is only when I am able to let go of the fear that I am able to create space to be seen as I am, to be loved as I am, and to be at peace as I am.  And that is where pure love and peace can be found.

I can’t tell you how many times when I say the words, “I’m going on a trip,” that I get a response along the lines, “Ugh, you’re so lucky!” or “I am so jealous of all your travels!”  There’s something about that response that has always troubled me.  Now, if you’re someone who has said those words to me, please understand, this blog is not to condemn you.  I merely want to share my perspective.

When I was growing up, I remember a thought planted in the back of my head.  Like many teenage girls, I daydreamed about falling in love.  But there was a fear, for whatever reason, that remained lodged in the back of my mind that I might not ever get married.  Add to that, I felt even less certain about the idea of having children.  I shoved those thoughts aside though, as the culture of the day had instilled the expectation that I would likely meet someone.  So, after graduating high school, I went off to college with the hope that I would meet someone there and start a life together.

Well, college came and went, and I had only gone on two dates.  One during my freshman year and one during my senior year.  Suffice it to say, that fear began to creep up to the forefront of my mind.

But I was still young.  There was “still time.”  Maybe I would meet someone in the first years of working.  Little did I realize that I would move six times over the span of ten years…hardly conducive for falling in love and “settling down.”  I entered into my thirties, and the fear turned into a panic.  I had at least met a few men, and I would even say that I felt love.  But a lack of compatibility, sufficient time spent together, or being whisked away again for work prevented any relationship from taking root.

When relationship after relationship slips through your fingers and every access to social media reveals a friend’s (or even ex’s) engagement or a baby announcement, it is very easy to feel like time is passing you by and your life hasn’t even begun.  You’re left at a crossroads: one direction takes you towards bitter frustration and resentment, and the other takes you toward acceptance that not every life is meant to look the same.  I started down the former road and then changed directions.  The fear has never gone away, but the further I walk down the road of acceptance, the more I realize what my life can offer to others.  It can be no less fulfilled and no less joyful. So, I book the flights, I pack the bag, I charge up my camera, and I go.

Recently, I have added to this choice of acceptance.  Realizing that every day, every moment, is an opportunity to make a positive difference in the life of someone, I’ve begun sharing my raw thoughts with others. I’m still not perfect at taking proper advantage of every daily opportunity, but one of the opportunities I’ve started to take is saying the words, “I love you.”  I realize those are heavy words and carry significant meaning, but I have also witnessed missed opportunities to share these words with people that matter a great deal to me.  And the person deserves to know.  Those words do not need to be limited to family members or romantic relationships.  They can also be applied to people you connect with and those who have touched your soul simply by being in your life.  And why would you want to let an opportunity to show how much they mean to you slip by?

 

We cannot predict what we face down the road.  We cannot predict what awaits us.  To live life with envy or with words left unsaid is a conscious decision to live your life limited.

 

 

There’s a song I once heard.  I happened upon it while listening to a random playlist.  The song was called Four Walls, sung by an artist called Broods.

I know I have shared in previous blogs how much I desire to help the world recognize its own beauty.  Through the lens of my camera, I find moments to capture, locking them in time so that others can witness the beauty too.  It has given me unspeakable joy to show someone else how they can, even should, be seen.  It’s hard to explain.  It is almost as though I feel blanketed with love when I put the camera up to my eyes.  I feel an energy that I don’t normally feel anywhere else…except for maybe here when I write about it.

There may be only a few other environments where I imagine the same energy is felt.  The energy that gives someone the ability to see into the heart of someone else, and with only a look, they are able to express love.  Perhaps this doesn’t make much sense.  Maybe the best way for me to relate what I’m trying to say is to ask you to think about the moment when you close your eyes and kiss the one you love.  Slowly, when you open your eyes again, and you find theirs staring back at you, and the world has gone silent, there are no words that can communicate, more than that look, the love you are sharing with each other in that moment.  That’s the energy I’m speaking of.

There’s only one aspect of photography that is incomplete.  My camera allows me to describe how I see the world.  It does not allow me to describe how I long to be seen.

Disclaimer…there are no photos in this post.

The lyrics of the song, Four Walls, start off with the artist sharing a moment of intense vulnerability, and she finally works up the courage to share them with the one she loves.  It’s clear from the rest of the lyrics that she is at the forefront of falling in love, and she’s terrified.  The rest of the song goes on to describe how she finds a sanctuary within those four walls while she is there with the one she loves.  Within those four walls, she can finally breathe.  Within those four walls, she finds a home.

In my foolishness, I’ve played that song twice for someone else.  I thought, as the artist, that I had found a place where I too was safe.  With arms wrapped around me, I breathed deeply, and my anxious thoughts steadied and faded.  I’ve realized now, over time, that this song carries weight only for me.  It’s not meant to be played for anyone else.  It serves only as a reminder to me of what I long for, and how I one day hope to be seen.

I cannot possibly be alone with this desire.  The desire to be completely myself, to be the girl – not the woman.  To be the only who is fiercely devoted to loving others, but also perpetually anxious and insecure.  Men will fall in love with the bold, confident, feisty side of me.  I see it in their eyes.  That energy.  And then, when I finally show my insecurities, I recognize that energy fades from their eyes.  I’ve even seen it flash away in an instant.

So, I find myself grasping at the confident parts of me.  Fighting against time to keep those aspects of me intact.   If that’s what people love, that becomes all I want to show them.

The song goes on.  It goes on to say how much she wants to try and make her beloved love her back.  But she doesn’t want to try too hard.  It then goes on to say how much she wants to make her beloved want her back.  But she doesn’t want to try too hard.  I think what she’s trying to say when she says she doesn’t want to try too hard, is that she does not want to lose herself trying to ensure her beloved doesn’t leave her.  How easy it is for that to happen.  Small compromises – ever so steadily justifying their anger, their jealousy, their dissatisfaction, whatever it may be, while all the while forgetting why you loved them in the first place.

Some people say they are afraid to be alone.  I think that’s too quick of a copout.  I do not think it is the fear of being alone.  I think people are afraid of admitting that the one they love the most deeply, the most completely, only likes a version of who they are in return.  So, instead of returning to their true self, potentially facing their beloved’s rejection, they carefully suppress what remains and even hope it eventually disappears for good.  And soon, those four walls become a dungeon rather than a haven.

One day, who knows when, I hope to look into the eyes of someone who has seen every flaw I have, and the energy is still there.

0245 in the morning and wide awake…I’ve had something on my mind for a little over a month now, and for some reason now seems like the perfect time to write.

About 10 years ago, I remember being in the back of my roommate’s car.  We were driving home after hanging out with some friends, and we were stopped at a traffic signal.  I don’t remember what we were talking about, but I remember I burst into tears and shared that I just wanted to be able to see people the way God saw them.  I wanted to see beyond the superficial, the unattractive, and the socially unaccepted.  I wanted to be able to see into the core of a person…and to love their true version.  Little did I know that prayer was only the gateway to a deeper lesson.

One of the scariest things in life is to let someone get to know the real version of yourself.  Isn’t that why falling in love and staying in love is so hard?  You fall in love with a version of a person – a person that is attractive, a person that is impressive, a person that – from the looks of it – is successful and their life seems to be headed in an exciting direction.  But what if that same person has a hidden addiction, a yet unknown disease, a difficult past, an obsession, or a deeply rooted insecurity?  I don’t know if I speak for all women, but I think many would say that our deepest fear about falling in love is if the person who went to bed next to us woke up one morning and decide they no longer liked what they saw when they opened their eyes.

It’s so difficult to reveal our true selves to others.  That’s likely why most of us choose not to.  We feign happiness, we mask our insecurities, we busy ourselves to try and keep others – and even ourselves – distracted from coming to terms with who we truly are.

But what if someone actually wanted to see all that?  They weren’t afraid of the dirt, the secrets, or the ugly parts.  They were able to see beyond those aspects – for they are just aspects – and recognize the ugly parts don’t make up the whole person.

I know we live in a world that tells us to be tough, to not take anyone’s fill in the blank, and to not let anyone pressure you into being someone that you aren’t.  That’s what is so dangerous about seeing someone as they are, knowing they are flawed, insecure, afraid, selfish, or broken.  You can take seeing the best in someone too far.  I’ve made that mistake many, many, many times over.  For some reason, those who see the best in someone also feel compelled to fix.  You want to somehow draw more of what you see in that person out to the forefront.  You invest heavily into trying to make that person see what you see.  In doing so you go too far.  You abuse the gift.  And often times your effort turns into an expectation.  Multiple expectations for that matter.  You expect that person to actually change.  And sometimes you even make the mistake of believing that person will see the best in you too.  By making these mistakes you open yourself up to painful, nay excruciating, outcomes.

But that’s not what the gift is.

Many of you might know the Marianne Williamson quote, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I understand what Ms. Williamson is saying, but I honestly think she missed it by just a small margin.  I don’t think we are afraid of our light or afraid to shine so that others do not feel insecure.  I think we are afraid that our darkness will negate our light.  I think we are afraid others will reject what we have to offer.  We are afraid that if we reveal our true nature to the world, the world will reject us as a hypocrite, a liar, or a fake.  Because that’s what the world, especially in a viral era, is good at doing.  But I agree with the latter part of her quote.  If we discover our inner light, and if we dared to shine – and persist in shining – we could help inspire others to do the same.

The truth is, I love seeing the best in people.  It has taken me the better part of a decade to do so without going too far, and I still don’t always get it right.  Photography has been a safe way to practice.  It is just one way to see into the core of a person and shine some light on it so that others might recognize it too.  And even if they don’t, that doesn’t mean I have to stop seeing it.

 

 

Life is a funny thing.  We grow up daydreaming about what we want to do with our lives.  We make plans.  We take steps.  And we measure those steps.  We measure them against what we had envisioned, and we measure those steps against those living life around us.  But what do you do when your worst fear about what your life might look like starts to unfold more than the dream?  You dreamt about growing up and meeting someone and life proceeding into a blissful state of wedding bells, baby steps, and laughter.  You grew up fearing that you’d end up living in this world alone, and so you take measured steps to deny that fear from becoming a reality.  You go on dates, you go to the gym, you diet, you do your hair, and you smile.  But then the relationship you start doesn’t pan out.  No worries.  You try again.  And again, and again.  The more you try and the more it fails, the weaker your heart starts to feel.  After all, how many times can you tell a person you love them, get it wrong, and feel like trying again?  So, you start to be more careful, more selective, and more guarded.  But then you start to hear comments about being too picky, too cold, or too closed off.  The worst is when you raise your eyes and look around you and you see others living the life you had been chasing after.  

Relationships not the issue?

Let’s talk about character then.  When I grew up, the most absolute thing in life was that God was real and that America was great.  You couldn’t tell me any different.  I never questioned the Bible, and I said the Pledge of Allegiance every day.  You remain passionate about faith and your country because it inspires you to embrace a life that is bigger than yourself.  You also believe that there is a better version of yourself out there who you one day hope to become.  And maybe they might make a movie of your story or write a book about you.  Because you’ve become a person who is not only unwavering about doing what is right but who is also brave.  When you watch war movies, you’re inspired by dramatic scenes depicting selfless acts of courage.  Your heart burns with passion when you hear a news story of sacrificial love.  You want to be that person too.

So you pray.  And you pray.  And you pray again.  You stand in church and hear words of victory and power over affliction.  You step out the door and you’re inspired to live that day better; that week at work better; that your life was finally turning a corner.  But you wake up the next day, you look in the mirror, and find yourself face to face with the same, imperfect and alone person that you were the day before.  No matter how hard you pray for a drastic change in character, you go to bed at night all too familiar with the person you were that day.  The one who bent to emotion rather than to reasoning.  The one folded under pressure rather than stand confidently.  The one who hesitated rather than seized the opportunity.  

Life really is a funny thing.  It seems to have a very shrewd way of keeping us from living the life we’d hope to live.  

I have often imagined the woman that I’ve always wanted to be.  Basically, take Jennifer Aniston and put her in Mother Teresa’s body, and you pretty much have it.  But my thighs keep growing, and people keep cutting me off in traffic.  

Why do we compare so much? Has it always been important to live up to impossible expectations?  For how long have we measured and compared ourselves?  Is one life more inadequate than another’s?  For any of us in our 30s and still single, we’re definitely made to feel that way.  For any of us who have had a failed marriage or more than one, we’re definitely made to feel that way.  For any of us still working multiple jobs waiting for that lucky break, we’re made to feel that way.  For any of us staring down the barrel of retirement and don’t have a clue what we did with the last 40+ years, we’re made to feel that way.  

We all have this one life, and I don’t think anyone wakes up and says, “I hope that I can be as wasteful and selfish with this day as I was the day before.”  

Life is full of disappointments.  You don’t have to sacrifice your authenticity for human approval to be successful.  You don’t have to look like everyone else to be loved.  None of us are the way we could be or should be.  And more of us are alike in character than we think.  Rather than trying to constantly chase after being like someone that we aren’t, what if we saw the uniqueness of who we are?  Rather than comparing, what if we started appreciating?  Rather than concentrating on our inadequacies, what if we raised up our talents?  Perhaps, through this effort we would find community and a life that is not only funny but also rich with meaning.  

I’m sure many people can relate to this.  We all go through periods of time, when we feel the need to simply step away.  Either we are having difficulty completely processing a situation, difficulty identifying a root emotion or actions that are uncharacteristic of our nature, or we simply cannot find rest with the multitude of distractions that interrupt our daily lives.  I’ve recently needed to step away, for quite frankly all of those reasons.

When I lived in Italy, one of my favorite places to go when I needed time to reflect, was to a nearby park.  On week days, there were very few people visiting the park, and I found that I could go for walks and almost always be alone.  It was refreshing to breathe in the air, hear the sounds of the nearby stream, and enjoy the simple beauty of the nature around me.  I don’t have that park anymore.  The inability to find a quick escape, has left me to seeking moments of quiet – in any location – just to somehow collect my thoughts and make some sense of my life again.

Just a forewarning, I have not managed to polish these thoughts, and this probably won’t be my most profound blog.

I’ve been struggling over the last several weeks to stay positive in my outlook on humanity.  I currently work in a position that can either be seen as the meticulous fault-finder or the fixer-upper.  I’ve been in this position for over a year, and from the beginning, I set out to be a fixer-upper.  I wanted to help make processes, and especially work environments, better.  But that is hard to accomplish when the historic nature of the position has been seen as the fault-finder.  You end up dealing with a lot of resistance and rejection, even when your intent is to help.  But I understand.  Who wants to have their faults written about in a report or briefed to their superior?  I get it.  It’s a shot to a person’s pride.  Again, I get it…up until we start talking about better ways to treat people.

You see, about two months ago, I asked myself a hard question – “What do I want people to say about me when I die?”  I realized, it was not important to me for people to say that I was a good leader, a faithful friend, or a successful woman.  Instead, I concluded that I wanted people to say that whenever they were with me, they felt loved and valued.  I wanted people to say that I lifted them up.

I guess, in my short-sighted little mind, I thought I could actually use my current position at work as a platform to make a positive difference for more than just one person at a time.  But visit after visit, my insights have been rejected, and I’ve been left feeling as though I’ve made no difference at all.  Especially, when the feedback that is rejected could have improved multiple people’s lives.  Leaving a location, with the feeling that the hours spent there were wasted, is a heavy disappointment to bare.

I’ve missed my park in Italy.  Uncertain of how to move forward and to keep faith that I might still make a difference with my remaining time in this position, I’ve found myself wanting to withdraw.  And I have to a degree.  Other stressors and issues going on in my personal background have simply been placed on hold until I could come to terms with my disappointment.  It feels like it’s taken longer because I have not had a place, or even the time, to fully retreat and collect my thoughts.  It was not until today at church, that the answers I was looking for came to me.

Now, I don’t intend to use this blog to share my faith.  I want this to be a space to share thoughts and perspectives on a level that the majority of readers can relate.  However, my faith is one of the primary influences for my thoughts and perspectives, and to mask the source would redirect credit from where it is due.  The insight from the service was a personal challenge to not give up.  The pastor shared, “There is no better exercise for the human heart than reaching down and lifting other people up.”

 

The simple truth, is that I cannot control how people respond to feedback or correction, but I can control how I respond.  I may not be able to force others to be kind to each other, but I can balance the score, so to speak, by showing kindness to others.  I cannot change how a leader treats a subordinate, but I can choose to be a blessing even to a stranger.

The Christian truth revealed to me today is simply that I do not control outcomes.  If I believe in an entity that is in charge of time and order, then despite what may feel like an imperfect journey is nevertheless leading me to ultimate destiny.  And if I believe that my ultimate purpose is to make others feel loved and valued, then I simply need to keep repeating the process for as long as I live.  Rather than allowing my disappointment to evolve into doubt and cynicism, I can choose to believe that the small effort I’m making – with visible impact or not – is still serving a greater purpose.

So, I choose to treat each day as an opportunity. And I will choose not to forget to show love unto strangers: for thereby I may have entertained angels unawares.

 

My heart was beating quickly.  I was excited, but I was also nervous how this afternoon was going to pan out.  I had been thinking about writing on this topic for a few days.  And then, one night while I was laying in bed thinking about it, the thought came to me, “I should ask other people this question.”  The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.  I had already asked and answered it for myself, “What’s the worst part about feeling this emotion?  It’s the sense that you are all alone, and if only people knew the truth, they might treat you a little differently.”

So, I drove into D.C., parked my car, grabbed my faulty camera and walked with nervous excitement to a busy street.  I walked past a few stores, snapped a few quick pictures of some buildings, and finally felt the bravery I needed.  As I walked, I looked up a flight of stairs, and there was this gentleman sitting outside his store having a smoke.  He smiled down at me.  I hesitated.  I walked past him at first and then turned back and climbed the stairs.  “Excuse me Sir, may I take your photo?”  “No.”  He laughed.

Seriously, he actually told me no at first.  I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, “Okay,” I replied, but I could feel my heart rate speeding up again, “I’m just working on a new blog and I thought I would ask you a question and take your photo.  I have a business card if you care to see it.”  I pulled out one of my newly minted business cards that I had designed and ordered a few weeks ago.  I thought if I at least offered a business card to people, I wouldn’t feel so creepy asking to take their photo.  He reached for the card and said, “Okay, you can take my photo.”  It worked!  I squared up, and snapped a few quick pictures.  “Thank you,” I said, “The question I’m asking people is – What are you worried about this week?”  He was the start of an enriching walk around a small section of D.C.  On any given Sunday, this is what people shared:

I learned two things that day.  I’m sure it’s something we all would agree that we know if we stopped and thought about it.  That is, on any given day, we really have no idea with what someone is dealing.  There is no written rule that they are obligated to tell you the details of their life, and I’m sure you would agree you would prefer not to have that rule over your own life and personal business as well.  Nevertheless, we often find ourselves saying, “You would think that so-and-so would have remembered to do thus-and-so.” Or, “What’s wrong with him or her today?  Why are they acting so distant and distracted?”  Or our thoughts could even be more removed.  We don’t know everyone personally that we encounter on any given day.  Yet, we can easily get irritated by someone bumping into us, cutting us off in traffic, or not paying attention to us because he or she was looking down at their phone.  But what if that person wasn’t able to enjoy the sunshine or the view of kids playing near his park bench that day because he was trying to notify others that their coworker’s husband’s transplant didn’t take, that his body had rejected the organ, and that he had passed away that morning?

It’s easy to get so lost in the reality and worries of our personal lives that we often overlook the greater reality that we all carry worries – except for the select few that believe in life and so don’t need to worry.  Lucky guy…

…But maybe the gentleman I met on the park bench was on to something.  What was not captured in the photo was his handicapped wife sitting next to him.  She did not want me to take her photo, but I couldn’t help acknowledging her while I asked him my question.  This man wasn’t worried about anything, but it was not because he lacked challenges.  His wife could not walk without assistance.  She depended on him.  Nevertheless, he believed in life, and so he was not worried.

I tried to not over interpret what those ten people shared with me on Sunday.  But after walking away from that brief conversation with the last gentleman, I thought back over my conversation with the first gentleman I had met.  In this life there may never be peace.  Life will almost surely be filled with betrayal, new beginnings, unexpected goodbyes, pressure to make others happy, fear of missing the mark, and the constant demand to do more, be more, and achieve more.  But maybe what that gentleman meant by believing in life was that he finally understood that although life will always present us with worries, we have the capacity to give those worries power and influence – or to not.  Life seems to continue regardless.

Oh, and the second thing I learned was that 2 hours is my limit for this kind of activity.  As a classic introvert, I can only be bold for so long.  I loved every minute of that walk around D.C., but I got back into my car and was utterly exhausted!  I had emerged out of my shell enough for one day!

“I have something to tell you,” she said trembling, “I got a call from the doctor.”  I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so scared as in that moment.  I sat and watched, as she told him something had popped up during a routine exam, and the doctors wanted to monitor it more closely.  I knew she hated having that conversation with him via video chat.  Holding her phone in one hand, she wiped away a steady flow of tears.  In those moments of terrible fear and uncertainty, you want to be held by those you love.  She couldn’t reach him.  She couldn’t bury herself in his arms.  Instead she sat there, alone, tears streaming down her face and hands trembling.  Just then, something on his end interrupted the conversation.  “Let me call you back,” he said.

He never did.  And she never heard his voice again.

Grief is a powerful emotion.  The unexpected loss of a loved one can generate any number of psychological and physiological reactions.  When that loss is voluntary on the part of one member in the relationship though…the trauma of abandonment can cut so deep that your heart feels physically pierced.

We all handle grief in different ways, because we all process the world a little differently than the next person.  For many though, a photo can take us on a journey through time.  It takes us back to a particular day, a particular moment in time, and it almost always brings back the emotions associated with them.

Of course plenty of photos bring back happy memories.  These are the ones we share on social media, wanting to celebrate an achievement, an experience, or a milestone with friends and family.  But there are also those that when you look at them, your chest involuntarily gets tight and the picture suddenly blurs as your eyes fill with tears.  They take you back to a moment, a day, a week, a month, even year, that you wish you could forget.  Or at the very least, you wish you could remove that ache inside you and place it on the shelf for a little while.

Thankfully, with grief also comes healing.   The tight grip around your heart slowly releases.  Thankfully, the days that follow the nights of weeping so hard your knees buckle, and you can’t catch your breath, there are small blessings that give you hope to go on for one more day.  You woke up didn’t you?  That should be one indicator your journey isn’t over.

No one can predict how long you will grieve, and no one should tell you when it is time to stop.  The people who love you will walk that journey with you.  Perhaps not fully understanding, but their love for you transcends their own logic.  And don’t forget about those who have walked in your shoes, who stand ready to show you empathy, and whose embrace speaks more than a thousand soothing words.  Your journey of healing can help pave the way for another person’s healing.  No one ever said the journey must be traveled alone.

Terry Irwin once said, “Grief is never something you get over. You don’t wake up one morning and say, ‘I’ve conquered that; now I’m moving on.’ It’s something that walks beside you every day. And if you can learn how to manage it and honor [or forgive] the person that you miss, you can take something that is incredibly sad and have some form of positivity.”  

For some, that positivity is starting a new activity, taking a trip on your bucket list, joining a book club, or purging your house of clutter.  For others, it’s starting a blog.

Today was one of “those” mornings.  The mornings when you wake up at 2 a.m. and can’t fall back asleep.  I tossed and turned for an hour, bought some mistakes on amazon.com, and then finally surrendered to the reality that I was just not going to get back to sleep.  So, I got up, got dressed for the gym, and went and walked on the treadmill for over an hour.  I pumped that sucker up to 10+ incline and got a nice sweat in.  It’s become a bit of a routine for me to go for walks on Friday mornings – just not at 3:30a.m.  The other days of the week, I normally tune into my workout playlist on Spotify and get pumped up for the workout, but Friday’s are different.  Fridays, I get on gracechurch/va.org and listen to at least two of my pastor’s sermons.  During that hour of walking I find myself doing a lot of self reflection…but let’s be honest,  for anyone that knows me, I really don’t need priming to get lost in introspection.

As I was listening, I found myself thinking back on one of my favorite trips.  During the year I spent in an undisclosed, sandy location, I decided not to return to the U.S. for my vacation time.  Instead, I went further East, and traveled to Phuket, Thailand.

The first day, it was an all-day downpour.  I honestly wasn’t disappointed.  After spending nearly seven months in 90+ degree weather, breathing air that was roughly the same temperature as that which comes out of my hairdryer, and cleaning out sand from my ears and other crevices I didn’t know I had on my body thanks to the 30 mph winds, the rain was welcomed!  I just sat and watched it all day long.  It was just rain, but it was beautiful.

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And then the sun decided to shine.  I swear it was a different sun than the one I had experienced the months leading up to this trip.  The sun revealed an incredible landscape.  I took the hotel taxi and traveled to some hidden destinations, just to get an even better view of this simple island.

Simple…hm…

During the middle of the week I decided to go island hopping.  The taxi driver took me to the port, and I joined a group of tourists from all over the world on an all-day tour of the Phi Phi Islands.  It was a perfect day.  I couldn’t believe how clear the sky was, but I especially couldn’t believe how clear the water was.  I even conquered my fears of the big, wide ocean and went snorkeling.  I don’t know why I felt safer swimming in clear water.  That’s basically like choosing not just to get eaten by the shark but to watch it all happen on a 72 inch, High Definition, plasma screen TV…I literally felt my heart pounding through my eyes and reverberate off my goggles.  But I did it, and I didn’t get eaten!

Ok, I’m getting off track.  During the boat ride, our guide entertained us with stories about the islands and all the famous movies that used the beaches as their stage.  One tourist asked the guide if he had ever been anywhere else in the world.  “No,” he replied, “I’m not sure I have need to.  Thailand is very poor, and it’s likely that I won’t have a retirement.  However, I’m married, and I love my wife. I have kids that I love too, and my job is on a boat, with all this around me,” he said with a slow, sweeping wave of his arm, “I don’t think I really need anything else.”  Simple.

I don’t think that guide had any idea I was listening, or even any expectation that what he said would stay with me a year and half later.  But I found myself thinking about him and what he said during my walk this morning.  We chase after a lot of things don’t we?  Our society has a lot to do with that.  It’s really just part of our culture.  I don’t know about you, but sometimes it makes me really tired, and I find myself thinking about that guide and wishing I had a simple life too.  The scary part of chasing after what our culture tells us is important, is that we often lose sight of what’s actually important to us.

I habitually chase perfection.  I’m either not eating well enough, working out hard enough, improving my intellect enough, or setting the bar high enough at my office.  The good thing about striving for perfection is that you usually find yourself performing at a fairly high level.  The bad thing about perfection is well…that it’s impossible to achieve.  And so chasing perfection is not just exhausting, it is also often disheartening.  There’s always a flaw.  There’s always room for improvement.

I suppose I can blame this exhaustion on our culture.  But there was one thing I heard my pastor say in one of his sermons this morning that caught my attention.  He said, “we can blame our culture because we didn’t choose it, but when it comes to our character, we can only blame ourselves because we made the choice to be who we are.”

So, while I cannot change the feverish rate at which our society is trying to perfect our eyebrows, our wrinkles, and our thighs, I can choose to simplify what is important to me.  Thailand wasn’t beautiful because of any single person’s efforts.  The sunsets, the crystal clear water, and even the rain weren’t worried about opinions or the criticism of the visiting tourists.  They simply did what was in their capacity to do and were admired for it.  Simple.