Warmth + Gratitude

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A candle flickers in my peripherals, with its fragrance filling the air. Lavender. The same scent steams from my—laced with peppermint leaves. The warmth swirls within my mouth as I relax in to my chair. My eyes are met with a polaroid photo that I pinned to the wall. It’s of my mother and I at my brother’s summer wedding. Even the polaroid photo catches the radiance in her smile. 

I’ve always wanted to emulate my mother, and at a young age defined success as being a mother with many children. But I’ve grown to recognize that it’s her bright spirit I long to mirror, how she illuminates every scene. 

I step into deeper, digressing thought. My features are a fifty-fifty blend of her’s and my father’s. I love that. So perplexing how genes can mix and fuse and swap and join together. God never misses a moment to showcase His artistry.

I see my mother’s strength, and recognize that it’s fortified. It originates in her intimate encounters with The Creator. She’s an incredible showcase of her strength, for it’s in her nature. Her strength is her speaking openly, sharing words, hurt, her testimony–all to help and relate to others–meeting them where they are at, only to bring them to a higher place, bringing heaven down for us to dwell within. I’m so thankful for her golden heart.

During the trip for my brother’s wedding, we visited the California sand dunes. I stole this time to be still within the present, hiding away in the divots between the dunes. Here, I wrote this poem. 

My Mother

Eyes lining each petal, 
the soft and vulnerable centers, 
taking notice of every bundle of hydrangeas, 
black eyed susans and hummingbird sage. 

Your mind sketches them in charcoal, 
paints them with acrylics, 
writes them into a book, 
with a matching movie,
while treasuring this time. 

Your eyes
brighten by the ocean, 
by the mountains, 
by the coming-of-age of the brother of mine. 

Your heart is always heavy for others, 
but forever increases in capacity, 
unbroken by burdens, 
free like the swallows skimming over sand. 

My face is beginning to resemble yours 
with the passing years–
cheekbones prominent,
my almond-shaped eyes.

I pray that my spirit’s maturation, 
does the same.

• • •

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I retreated from the warmth beneath the bedtime covers and was greeted by the morning. Its light gently descended out across our home—spilling across the carpet and cabinets. My body was bathed in peppermint as the cool air brought a refreshing bite to my skin.

It’s Thanksgiving morning. Ricky is in the bathroom—water-on, water-off—brushing his teeth in preparation for his work day.

I read a while, and take Rollie (our little min-pin mix) outside. The frost has melted away, but the air is still pure. I think that’s my favorite trait of the end of year months, that morning’s renewal bleeds into later within the day. It’s free from the scorching, harsh heat, not weighed heavy from humidity. 

I brew some tea and refill the vase that holds goldenrods and peach roses. They were waiting for me in cellophane wrapping when I arrived home from work earlier this week and have since expanded out their petals to full-bloom. 

I fold laundry, the little load of white shirts, towels, socks. I dwell on the day’s purpose–the day of giving thanks. I name all things I’m thankful for, regardless of size: 

The overflow and outpour of Love, and how it spills and splashes about. 
The husband who kisses me before leaving our home for the day. 
My family who generously shares in conversation, despite our coast-to-coast distance. 
These quiet mornings, gifted with the intent for my mind to rest. 
These warm and freshly folded linens.

My heart is full, soul soothed, and my mind is in a posture of gratitude. 

• • •

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The moment I began writing affirmations, the sun debuted for the day. My skin, my shirt soaked up its warmth. After a few seconds, it withdraws, idling back behind the clouds. This cool, autumn afternoon, is to be spent sipping on a muggy coffee drink. 

I move onto the second string of affirmations, and the sun peeks out again. It’s an honest moment, and my hand and pen become a dancing shadow on these bright white, lined sheets.

This simple gesture has shed light on the significance that saunters about. Fullness.

Rebirth

For the past month and a half, I’ve taken a few steps back. I’ve been able to recollect myself and take a long, deep, cleansing breath. I’ve privately penned notes for myself as well as letters for my forthcoming poetry collection—its unfolding has held a mirror to my mind. I thank you, reader, for your patience and support during my absence.

I underwent some great alterations within my tangible life, with a sweeping growth within my mental state. I initially thought that by taking a pause from distractions, creativity would pour from my fingers. This happened, in a way. 

For the past five years, I’ve placed a careful emphasis on perspective growth. I’m constantly working on stretching the way that I perceive experiences, while kneading out negativity. These past couple of months supplied great opposition, yielding accelerated growth within my understanding.

There were nights that came quickly, leaving me depleted from the day’s thoughts—heat radiating towards my eyelids, sinking slowly. When my mind is sore and my perspective feels bleak, I am susceptible to slipping back into an inverted state. With racing thoughts swirling throughout my head and tears collecting at my jawline, I recognized that my mind would remain weak if I recluse. For I am undergoing deep rooted growth. My mind has been emotionally training—exhausted and distressed—but building up and strengthening towards a strong and brilliant future. The process can be tedious and taxing, but the outcome will be filled with tenacious endurance—but only if I push through my gasping lungs and my burning legs. 

These occurrences within this breathing space forced me to stretch out and hold onto my Creator, expanding within His peace. He has uncovered answers and holistic understanding—a quiet, yet boundless forest. The forest floor is densely packed with ferns and thick tree trunks of truth. Mushrooms and leaves from the magnolia tree are scattered, leading up to where the river runs by, seeping hope. The gentle wind invigorates freedom, as I’m amidst the comfort of the all-encompassing sun. He is the oasis for my brittle bones and weary mind. 

This sanctuary and its teachings have been translated into little notes written while I’m at my wooden desk at work, along with feverishly written pages stuffed within my leather-bound journal. By just taking a breath and recognizing the moment at hand, all distractions dissipate and my soul is calm. This is where my strength is regained, since I was never the source of my own strength. 

Gratitude, tranquility and eternity have been poised towards the top of my mind and have been spilled into each piece I construct. These past two months, I was able to handwrite, lick and send out some letters across the county—connecting through an old-fashioned and intentional way. I even received a few letters back, and have sealed and shipped my reply. My husband and I adopted a little rescue pup, who has showered me with such love; I’m eager to share him with you. Greatest of all, I’ve been able to thank, praise, and expound in joy to the only one who matters. 

I’ve been rebirthed, reborn, saved and strengthened; this epitome of perspective has been placed as paramount, and my gratitude never runs out. I am incredibly honored, to have you here, and to be able to share these pieces of my heart with you. 

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I will also be sharing this gratitude and joy through my Instagram as well as continue to through this blog, Introspective Collective. If you feel inclined to follow, you can 'Subscribe' towards the bottom of this page to receive emails when new posts are published on this site. 

What Awaits

I’ve resided within Nashville for an entire year this weekend. This time has sprinted past me, with the frequent change of the calendar’s months. Swiftly taken, I have been encouraged to grow in many aspects rapidly—utilizing all circumstances for a self-reflective glance with an unfiltered view.

Outpouring over the edges with enlightenment, this growth is the introspective iris—the persistent perennial. It inspires evolution within other aspects of my life, nurtured and guided from prayer to practice.

I look back on this growth fondly. For even my daily life has taken this impact and morphed a different shape. Patience is no longer a struggle and peace is much more prevalent. I’ve been able to become intentional with others and collect thoughts from various individuals. Through both readers and outside thinkers, ideas have sprouted and actions have developed. This advocacy has vastly altered my perception to where all previous mindsets are a foreign former self.

For this past year’s unfolding is in such magnitude that it's almost tangible. For this has been so elaborate, that I know the triumph which awaits will be staggering. I will strive to forever be open-minded in recognizing my flaws; engaging in altering my perspective for His purpose for my pen.

This is what awaits—a future of freedom, continued growth with many more foggy mornings of self-reflecting.

I appreciate you for being here with me today, reader, taking some time to read through this brief letter. I ambition my words to take physical form, looking to finish my first book early next year—with its publication in your hands in the latter of 2017.