About Vibrant

I have been sitting on this project for about three years. After my friend Carly captured these photos, they were so perfect I wanted to be sure that the right poem was paired with them.

I present to you, Vibrant: a poetry photo series.

This poem is near and dear to me. With how my brain is wired, I experience high-highs and low-lows. Working to bring balance into how I experience my emotions has been something I’ve been working on in this last decade. I found that with emotions, I would either feel completely consumed and dismiss or suppress others. Both the “good” and the “bad” feelings.

I had the tendency of leaning in so deeply into a feeling, it became my foundation of truth. I remember feeling hopeless one day and telling Ricky that life was hopeless. Other times, things was so blissful I was sure life would be perfect forever (lol).

Through this, I found how I cannot base my truth on something as fleeting as a feeling. They are not truth–instead, they’re my personal and finite reaction to the way I perceive an experience. Feelings make a flawed foundation, but are an important facet in the human experience.

We were created to experience all emotions, with balance. They are all needed. Our culture tends to favor emotions relating happiness and tries to resolve or “get over” more challenging ones like sadness or grief. Emotions help indicate what’s going on internally.

I grieve the loss of a friend, because I loved her so much.
I felt shame years after I was sexually assaulted, which helped me uncover unhealed trauma.
Noticing insecurity has shown me where I put my source of strength and identify–often in my own striving efforts, rather than resting in the stillness + steadfastness of my identity in Christ.

During these times of difficult emotions, I also experienced joy, happiness, and fulfillment! Rarely do we hold just one emotion at a time. You can have both: the difficult and the delightful. That’s why I made Vibrant–to help illustrate the importance and complexity of emotions and how we experience them.

So! This is your ~ formal ~ invitation to allow yourself to experience emotions, even if it feels messy. You can have both–joy and sorrow, excitement and sadness, gratitude and grief.

Vapor

I was reminded this week how my time-capacity has greatly expanded from several years ago. I used to have a singular (1, one) event planned for the week and require two days prior to mentally prep and two days after to decompress.

I’m an introvert through and through, meaning that I get my energy from being alone. Think complete silence, candle burning, tea brewing, staring-into-the-ceiling-and-just-thinking time alone–that’s me, 100%. Back then though, I really didn’t “like people”. Looking back, this was probably comprised of raging insecurity, shameless selfishness, and a touch of social anxiety.

But I challenged my selfishness and started (reluctantly) volunteering. My heart began to heal and I fell in love with being with people. It’s like my eyes were opened to this whole wide world I’ve never seen before–humans and all of their complexities; how each person has thoughts, dreams, insecurities, struggles. I sat and listened. I asked questions and learned about people’s stories. What came to a surprise to me was the amount of shared experience we would have and the amount of brokenness there is within each person’s life journey.

So instead of staying at home nearly 24/7, I shifted with great contrast. I booked up every free moment I had and not only carried the weight of blessings, but of other’s burdens. I’d have sleepless nights thinking about the hurt someone experienced in their life and how I couldn’t do anything to ease it. I saw vacant volunteer opportunities and overextended myself to fill them. Being an introvert, and gaining energy from being alone, I became depleted. I wasn’t able to show up for others in the moment and be present. I became burnt out and had to step away from everything for a short time to regain my energy and re-evaluate my schedule to be something I could realistically sustain.

I look back at these time and call it “undue responsibility”–where one carries the sense of responsibility for things that they cannot control. My lovely therapist frames it this way: “the need is not the call”. There will always be endless opportunities to serve others and no shortage of people in pain.

I had to come to the revelation that first thing’s first, I can’t save anyone. Other’s hurt is not mine to carry, rather to be present with them and partner in prayer. I also learned that no matter how badly I want to help someone, they need to want to help themselves. And I can’t heal anyone from their pain. When I released myself from undue responsibility, I was able to be more present, flexible, and empathetic.

Today, I ask my Creator to show me the “right things” to spend my time and energy on. Often, these things align with my talents or personal mission (to help women self-reflect, find healing, + grow). Other times, it doesn’t look anything like this and is outside of my comfort zone. I still pray for an expanded capacity, but only for these things. I’ve found that when I’m leaning into these “right things” I often see my: energy sustain, rest expand into a deeper depth of restoration, or I do less and see more fruit. In some seasons, it’s all of the above.

While these “right things” can change, for me it currently looks like mentorship, leading the women’s prison group, and working on specific poetry/writing projects. This is balanced with a day a week carved out with a full day of no-chore rest.

Maybe you share some of the same “right things” as I do, but it’s likely that it looks different. So I’d like to pose these questions to you:

• How do you spend your time in a given week?

• What is your purpose or mission?

• Do the answers to these questions align? What’s the next step you can take to invest your time in the “right things”?

• BONUS Q: Is there any undue responsibility that you’re holding?

We all know that time is finite. Days slip through our fingers like sand. Let’s live on mission, undistracted, and make the most of these moments while we’re here: full of rest, impact, and purpose.

I don’t have the words

I’ve been writing a ton but haven’t been editing or sharing much of it. I joke with Ricky that I feel super inspired, like too inspired, and that I need to spend time in a motel in the middle of nowhere to edit the pieces I’ve started (holler if you have a spot 👀).

With last year’s wild life adventures (some amazing–like my Barcelona residency + some well, traumatic) I moved through the months without intentional time carved to develop or edit my creative works. I made a commitment to extend grace to myself this year, which includes my writing.

Even still, there are some memories I know that I’ll never have the words for. I know you have them too–the ones you feel really deeply in your bones, whether they give you comfort or make you quake. The ones you try to share with a friend, but they come out all fumble-y.

This poem is inspired by the moments I want to have written to paper, but know I’ll never quite have the words for.

---

I don’t have the words

My words don’t hold the 
elegance they once did; 
I’m now a mess of raw, 
unpolished experiences. 
But some things I could never 
articulate by any arrangement 
of words; things like:

the sheer excitement, 
and nervousness of the 
unknown, held in the eyes of 
an incarcerated woman who 
received her date of release
after years of not seeing
the outside world

the sweet sound of waves folding 
atop themselves during rush hour
when rubber tires tread against 
the rough highway road

the independence of walking 
Spanish streets alone at night

the moment I realized that 
I’m struggling with veiled pride
and the simultaneous gratitude
and disappointment that emerged

the fragile heart fighting
for hope as she comes to 
terms with her forever home 
on earth being one behind 
barbed wire fences 

the generous gift, absolute
joy, and shifting challenges
of marriage 

There’s a special sentiment 
in some things never having
quite the right words 
to describe them.

Meek Women

TW: Former drug use mentioned.

I write a lot of poetry about when I'm in a vulnerable, low-low place. But I thought I'd share a poem that is a blend of my current state and the self of who I aspire to be. I have seen elements of growth and health that I’m really proud of. I’m also making tangible, incremental, steps towards who I want to be.

I wrote this poem in the plural since you may find yourself in these words. Maybe you share gratitude for the growth you have from past vices and unhealthy coping skills, or are also externally process through writing. Or perhaps we have some of the same commonalities of who we are today (a hot tub bb who enjoys oversized hoodies) or share the same aspirations of who we want to be (learning how to be meek + have a killer skincare routine lol).

Take a moment and think of how far you’ve come and what tangible, tiny, steps you can take to get to where you want to be.

---

Meek Women

Shoulders wet with hot
tub water; the sun shines
on our shoulders while the
breeze bites.

Even after stepping away
body’s still warmed; blank
pages now lay in eyeshot.

This same eagerness used to
be expressed at the sight of
bright white and parallel lines,
assembled closer together–
than a college ruled notebook,
but

we’ve been able to heal and
process past trauma rather than
numb and distract. Now the grain
we crave is when our palm drags
across cream paper with a pen
in hand.

With this in remembrance, we
write about our grace-filled,
abundant life.

Plant stems shoot slim feathered
roots into vials of water on the
windowsill; their growth is slow
until late-spring, but we’re patient.

Midday naps under a crumpled
comforter. We’re still learning how
rest requires self-discipline.

Our hearts are heavy for the souls
who feel unseen; it is our mission to
show them their worth.

We remember back to when we
felt unseen, too. Unheard. Alone.
So we hold space for them and
encourage them to extend self-
compassion.

We are the women who write
our worries in ink and never
read them again.

We wear oversized, zip up hoodies
and have good skincare routines.
We try to spend more time buried in
a book and less time finding validation
in a blue light.

We move. We breathe full bellied
breaths. We propagate our plants
and poetry. We exhale past our capacity
and pause for this next, new life breath.

Our life’s goal is to be meek
(humble and unwavering regardless
of circumstance) women.