On finding and cultivating a voice

Compared to a place like New York, Sydney's pretty small. But compared to a place like Milledgeville, it's big enough to feel like you're being swallowed whole.

I started blogging way before it was cool (think Xanga and LiveJournal), but the thought of sharing my life in this sort of virtual context didn't appeal to me again until 2013. There were journals and poems and essays far and wide, but nothing like this. I started to see how blogging could construct a vibrant community of likeminded people, and I wanted to be part of it.

So I started blogging. In part for my family and friends to feel included in a life that was happening halfway across the world, but also for myself - to find and cultivate a stronger voice. But then, something happened that I wasn't expecting: The dreaded nothing.

Nothing I wrote was widely read or largely popular. Though a few people here and there read my posts, my readers were almost entirely family and friends. People were accepting what I wrote, but they weren't asking for it. They weren't hugely challenged or moved or changed by it. I didn't feel like I was reaching people.

I didn't feel like my voice was being heard.

And then, I realised that it's okay if my voice isn't heard in the way I wanted or envisioned or planned. It isn't indicative of a voice that's too quiet or unimportant; rather, it's indicative of a voice that was created for a different venue. If there's one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that when things aren't going as you truly, deeply, in-your-bones believe they should be going, the choices are simple. We can either wallow in the un-happening, or we can change our approach. I had this version of myself all mapped out, but that version isn't what's real. I'm not one of those people who naturally gains thousands of followers on social media or whose pictures are bombarded with complimentary comments.

But what I've found contentment in is that the reason I'm not that sort of person is because I'm a different, just as good, just as important, sort of person. My influence is quiet, but deep. My opinions are rare, but profound. My confidence is secure in a way that doesn't call attention.

Once, when my dad came to pick me up from high school, he made a comment as we were leaving that it was wonderful to see how positively so many different people reacted to me. I was confused. It wasn't until years later (read: now) that I understood what he meant. I'd always felt somehow disconnected from people because I didn't belong to one clique, but the beauty of that was it allowed me to connect with far more people than I thought, in a way that was far more kind than I realised.

This is my voice. The welcome home for whomever hears it. And there is a stillness in that voice that took me years to be happy with. In the midst of a social media generation, a world ruled by virtual congeniality, it can feel strange to not have the kind of voice that is conducive to immediate popularity.

In a place like Milledgeville, it's hard to not fit in. But in a place like Sydney, a place that feels big enough to swallow you whole, it's somehow easier to stay afloat.

It's easier to find your voice, because there's more space to sing.

What's your song?

For when I don't feel like writing

Words used to come from me
like water pours from a faucet,
as if my insides weren't
flesh and blood and bones, but
letters, waiting to be delicately sewn
into a definition for everything I felt.
Then suddenly, a drought.

When I first stopped writing as voraciously as I used to, I thought it meant I wasn't a real writer. Or maybe, that I'd never been a real writer. When my blog didn't turn into a money maker and when nothing I wrote went viral, I wondered if it meant that I wasn't a good writer. I wondered how I was supposed to make sense of my life if there wasn't some constant poetic capture of what was happening. But then, as suddenly as the words stopped, they came again, and I realized that writer's block isn't so much the absence of words from my body as it is the inclusion of everything else. All those things, for all those years, that writing defined, started defining themselves.

That's an okay way to be, I think.

When the best adventure is the settling

People have a habit of telling us to never, never, never settle. As if to settle is to fail. Sometimes, I think this is really good advice, but, as is such the case with almost all advice, it's not exactly a one-size-fits-all diagnosis for life.

Sometimes, settling is good. Sometimes, it's necessary.

The past few years of my life have been the epitome of adventure. I graduated university. I moved. I got a job. I quit my job. I moved again. I met a man. I traveled around a country so grand it sometimes didn't feel real. I moved and traveled more and more and then, I got married and moved yet again. And finally (finally) things started to settle.

But then something strange happened: I started to feel like I was doing something wrong. Like I was somehow wasting my opportunity to live as a full-fledged adventurer. And the more I looked at the perfect highlight reels of Instagram and Facebook and the blogosphere and the more people I met who had just come to Australia, still fresh in the tourist state of mind, the more inadequate my own life felt.

How absurd!
 
How absurd that I would think this life of mine, that was so carefully and generously crafted for me, that allowed me to live and work in Australia, that allowed me to marry a man far beyond my wildest dreams, that allowed me to feel deeply, in-my-bones, at home, could somehow be not adventurous enough. And that was when I realized that the collective they, who keep demanding I never, never, never settle, were wrong.

Sometimes, settling is good. Sometimes, it's the best kind of adventure.

For nearly two years, my life felt like one giant transition. Nothing felt steady or substantial, and very few things felt like real life, whatever that means. But over the past few weeks, with visas being approved and jobs being provided and business ventures moving forward, life has felt more regular. More normal. I'd be lying if I said I never envy the vagabond lifestyle. But I'd be lying even more if I said this settlement isn't the adventure for which my heart has been aching.

Hopefully with the coming of cooler weather and the more regular schedules, we'll be able to venture out a bit more. No matter how often or how far out of our suburb of cafes and sights we venture, though, I'm glad to be here. I'm glad to have settled, even if it means my weekend trips are fewer, my social media feeds less extravagant, and my day-to-day grind more typical. To have the opportunity to settle, after all this time? What an adventure.

What's your adventure looking like these days?

On the usefulness of flowers

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted a home filled with flowers. And for a long time, I thought that it made me high-maintenance (which isn't always necessarily a bad thing and most of the time is an excuse for partners to be lazy and selfish, but that's a whole other can of worms), so I tried to pinpoint what it was about flowers that seemed to speak, as it were, my language. To see if I could fix my obsession.

Is it because my dad would go into our garden regularly and cut fresh flowers to put on my mom's desk? Is it because in high school, when he knew I was having a rough week, he would surprise me with bouquets at the kitchen table? Is it because the most popular girls in school always had flowers delivered to their desks on Valentine's Day, from secret and sometimes not-so-secret admirers?

See, the more I thought about it, the more it felt like everything about me adds up to flowers on the windowsill, the kitchen counters, the bedside table. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my insatiable desire to have a home filled with flowers is not so much about flowers symbolizing feminine normalcy as it is about flowers bringing life to a place.

I know some people think that flowers are pointless, that it's counter-productive to essentially kill something for the purpose of making something else prettier, but I'm not so sure. I see flowers and I think about life, in all its stages. I think about walks through parks and gardens and down to the neighborhood grocery store. I think about brightening that which is somber with that which is brilliant. I think that creating an indoors that incorporates the outdoors is not only nice, but that it is also purposeful, because we are creating spaces that allow us to breathe more deeply.

There are three bunches of flowers in our apartment right now; one fake, a leftover decoration from our wedding, the other two gifts from Stephen. When I see them, I don't just see romance and pursuit and all the too-cheesy things we so often associate with flowers. I see myself, reflected in each petal, full of life, flourishing and blossoming and sometimes, for a day or two, wilting.

Flowers are more than just tokens of appreciation. They're tokens of life. So I'm giving myself over, wholeheartedly, to this wish for a home filled with flowers. Because I want our home to always, always, always be filled with life.

Cup of joe

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you we have a lot to catch up on.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you how proud I am of my husband for continuing to push forward with his business venture, and how eagerly I'm looking forward to seeing it come to fruition.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you (with a huge grin and excited eyes) that I start a new job in less than a month. I'd tell you that the things that are quickly becoming possible for me are outsanding and as good as anything I've ever dreamt and I am just so, so excited.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd recount the last three months of marriage, because I've now been married for over three months. I'd tell you how it still feels brand new, but also as familiar as being wrapped up in a favorite blanket, and how I'm more in love with my husband than ever. I'd tell you that sometimes we get impatient with one another, but we're learning to tease out frustrations with kindness and gentleness and it is everything I hoped.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you that the past few weeks have seen me fighting headaches and fatigue and being frustrated with both, because it's not as if I'm inexplicably busy. I'd tell you that I'm slowly getting my body back to a place of total physical wellness, that I'm cycling more often and eating more healthily and coffee almost always helps.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd talk about my friends. How I've loved being welcomed into such a great community here and how it truly is home. How I sometimes miss my friends from the States with an aching heart, and how I am so grateful that technology allows those friendships to flourish in spite of the distance.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you how wonderfully my perspective has shifted recently. How my heart is more glad and less anxious, how my expectations are more easily met and my wants are far less exaggerated. How I'm learning to live in humility, in a standard of living that a few years ago would have seemed far beneath me, but I now understand to be so far out of reach, it is purely the grace of God allowing me to flourish here.

If you were to sit down with me for coffee today, I'd ask if you wanted to go get a pizza. Because between vegan ice cream and veggie burgers, I feel great, but pizza just sounds so damn good.

If you were to sit down with me for coffee today, what would you tell me? How's life?

25 things I know

Today, I turn 25, and in true twenty-something fashion, I thought I'd write a list of 25 things I've learned over the years. 25 things that have shaped me and made me. 25 things I know with great certainty. 25 things I think worth sharing.

1. Birthdays are important. Celebrate yourself, love your age, embrace the day.

2. Sometimes, the only thing that fixes a bad day is a nap and a second (or third, or fourth) coffee. Treat yourself.

3. Being introverted doesn't mean you're shy. Don't let other people put any label on you that you wouldn't put on yourself.

4. On that note, sometimes labels are bad. But sometimes they aren't. It's okay to push back from them, but it's also okay to accept them.

5. It's important to stand up for the equal rights and treatment of women, but that doesn't mean you have to be a woman CEO or that you have to agree with what every woman says. People who stand for the same causes are allowed to have differences.

6. Dessert is almost never a bad idea. You shouldn't feel guilty for indulging every now and then.

7. It's good to have at least one hobby that's just yours. Individuality is severely underrated, and it's good to have something that makes you you.

8. Not everyone is a gourmet chef, expert crafter, diligent calligrapher, or talented musician. It's okay to be average.

9. It's also okay to excel. But remember it doesn't make you worth more than other people.

10. Never underestimate the power of a true compliment.

11. Your existence is more important than you realise. Don't devalue your life.

12. Kids who were mean to you in school won't necessarily still be mean later in life. Give second chances.

13. Sometimes, we need to let go of people. The internet makes this really difficult, but you shouldn't have to feel guilty for needing to move on with your life.

14. Growing up is one of the greatest privileges you're given. Don't be sad when things aren't like they were in high school or university. This is a good thing.

15. Be strong in your convictions, even if other people don't understand why you are.

16. It's normal to have sad days. Sad days don't mean you're depressed or stupid or that there's anything wrong with you. It just means you're having a sad day.

17. Have at least three people in your circle that you'll let see you cry.

18. Don't skip breakfast.

19. Your spouse should be your best friend, but he or she shouldn't be your only friend.

20. Every so often, try something that you're certain you hate. Tastes change.

21. Pleasures shouldn't have to be guilty. You're allowed to like whatever the hell you like.

22. Compromise is necessary, and it doesn't make you a loser. Compromise means everyone wins.

23. The highlight reel is hardly ever accurate. Be wary of people who are incapable of vulnerability.

24. It's okay to disagree with what other people think. Often, it's an amazing gift, because it allows us to take in different perspectives and learn things we might otherwise have ignored.

25. Remember that you are loved, dearly and deeply and always.

What are some lessons you've learned over the years?

Words to live by

I have these mornings a lot. The roll-over-and-hope-it's-only-3am kind. The I'll-definitely-be-drinking-coffee-all-day kind. The mornings-are-the-worst kind. Recently, though, I've been trying to feel differently about mornings, to see them more graciously and greet them more eagerly and to use those five more minutes somewhere else in the day.

I think words, and how we use them, matter more than we usually admit. I think that when we wake up saying five more minutes, what we're saying, more often than not, is I'd rather not be part of this day. And even if that's only your thinking for a few minutes, I believe it has the power to impact the whole 24 hours.

When you wake up saying you'd rather not be part of the day, it's easy to see only problems, instead of successes. Mornings, like words, are gifts. They can encourage us or break us, and whether they encourage us or break us is largely our decision. And I get the not a morning person dilemma, because I'm not one, either. But if breakfast is the most important meal of the day, the thoughts with which we feed ourselves as we pull ourselves out of slumber are equally important.

There are countless words to live by. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. In order to have a friend, you must be a friend. Take the path less traveled.

Greet this day with love in your heart and be grateful.

Use five minutes, that could be spent sleeping, being grateful that you woke up. Use five minutes to be kind. Use five minutes to be patient. Use five minutes to spread joy.

In a day made up of five more minutes, how are you spending yours?