Intention

We hum through the day, until the next sun rises. The beginning was a beautiful Black-Eyed Susan, warm and familiar. We were amidst the summer’s breeze, bedded by the green grass which supported our backs. We felt the gentle caress of the solar rays, kissing our faces with freckles. Within your arms, we could adventure together with ease.

Then it felt like a memory, fading away like melting wax. Brooding over the blank, our narrow scopes grasped onto displeasure and emitted offense. Like the seasons, I’d gradually step in and out of the vile, diluting the sweet drops of honey he spoke. My grief was his defeat, swelling the disputes until apologies were interchanged.

That was until autumn arose within me, an awakening of shedding the old. I know my love’s intention and I know his heart—always overflowing and pouring out in love. Our ambitions mirrors the other's, to have the complete love we have circulate through the other's mind. Rather than adversaries, we are advocates for each other.

Life is honey but sometimes we just choose to see the stinger.

For I know when the sun retires for the day, that regardless of any opposition—we will be tucked together beneath our crisp white comforter. We will be dozing off to the hum of the other’s heartbeat. Considering that this is the daily conclusion, I embrace the surrender of these oppositions. This burden is then dismissed and I'm able to breathe freely.

I am able to see through towards his intent, soaking within the nectar of his notions—knowing that his only desire is to love me to his fullest capacity. We are able to disagree without distress, discuss with only delight. Our individual minds contain so much beauty in their diversity, yet together we are a colony.

We are able to drift in conversation, harmonizing with the autumn breeze while witnessing the abstract hues of the trees from our hammock. From dawn to dusk, we only pursue the acknowledgement of the other’s appreciation.

Because now, we are the honeybees amidst the marigolds. We dance together aligned with the sun, our minds parallel with intention.

Patience

There are periods within our lives where patience is forced upon us. I currently reside in these hazy mornings of pause; I find that these moments evoke an array of emotion and thought.

The wind cannot be coerced on a calm day, nor can hot water be boiled solely from desire. Often, I find that even the Nimbostratus clouds are transparent, unable to drown out the rays of the sun. Once I became sober to the poetic posture of this state, I was able to recognize that these lapses within living are intentional. I think back to Emerson’s essay, Nature, and know that even the forests speak to the apparent beauty within tranquility.

This revelation of staying within the quiet resonates; it seeps like lavender tea—strong yet gradual, saturating my thoughts. In these moments, I am introduced to realignment, proportioning my precedences. I embrace this and continue to ponder upon it while I watch the sun rise and sip my tea. Recollecting what’s internal, I bring thought to priorities and their significance, for they have been made magnified during this occasion. When we are overwhelmingly occupied, this act is often overlooked. I recall what I savor and the natural practices I partake—reevaluating what has been manifested. I balance its magnitude—to decipher and develop, continuously growing even in this state of stillness.

This aurora exposes matters which foster restoration. This patience has encouraged peace, devoting time towards identifying thorns and its process of plucking them from my flesh. Focused forgiveness of myself, and others—truly understanding the progression of relief. This is a topic in which I could pen for hours, but those are letters read on a future date.

The future will be rapid but since I have realigned myself, I know that no compromises will be taken. Even during the dawn, as this current outlook overturns towards the next, this sequence has transitioned me gracefully towards the sunrise.

This expands the hope and anticipation possessed. For I am rejoicing towards the future, even if I am waiting within today. This is the foggy dew with its crisp humidity. By choosing to become saturated with this stillness—this serenity has become as sweet as honey, balanced with the tranquility and calmness of chamomile.

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.

When We Begin

The favorable conditions become tasteless, as the repetition of these conditions persist. Progressing through the day-to-day, the minor flaws become overwhelming and all-consuming. Devoured by the dismay of the minor deficiency, we become delicate and fragile. We shatter from the smallest imperfection. Calloused to appreciation and disregarding the positive, we become absorbed in this exaggeration of slight discomfort.

But then tragedy awakens.

Stunned and taken completely off guard, we feel as if we are raising our foot as the soggy ground grasps at the ankle. We remember our previous problems and admire them; we wish they could be so trivial once again. Amidst the trials, when we are at the most vulnerable state the self portrays the truth of ourselves. We begin to despise our former selves, wishing we had noticed how the sun shined upon our face. We wish that we would have basked in it’s rays rather than shading ourselves. To go back and to become thankful for everything we possessed—whether it was the company who entered our home, or the time we had to spend. We begin to realize that the tragedy we are currently facing is another’s individual’s dream—that to them, these woes seem miniscule. We begin to notice the positive. Every small feat becomes miraculous.

This is when we begin. This is when we take hold of our situations and view it through a positive light, admiring anything admirable—appreciating the very breath which is exhaled, and the precious oxygen we inhale. This is when we decide to live in the present—expecting nothing, but when provision is granted to us, it has been unthinkable and is remarkable. This is when regardless of our current standings, we value everything. This is when the negative becomes unnoticed and now we stand overwhelmed with favor. We pass through snow, and grind through grass and every provision becomes monument.