Eternal Rest

Moving into 2020, I’ve heard a plethora of resolutions related to taking a moment to breathe and be. To stop striving and working in a way that leads to burnout. This beautiful poem came right when I needed it.

Peyton Elise is the newest contributor to this collective, a bright and beautiful spirit. Her words and her heart always leave me feeling seen, at home, and reflective.

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eternal rest

by Peyton Elise

• • •

you know, 
the more i think about eternity
the more my mind settles. 
i think that it’s a constant battle within
that leaves us reckless. 
sometimes our own mind 
talks us into abandoning 
what is true. 
and the little false seeds
try to lay down in our bed of soil,
but they aren’t meant to grow there. 
we were created for an eternal purpose,
and that should bring us so much rest.
striving is such a stronghold,
and it creates nothing but the feeling of failure,
and lost hope.

so if you’re feeling a little weary today,
if you’re second guessing every little thought,
if your anxiety is riling up, 
or if you feel the slightest bit overwhelmed —
take heart in knowing that 
you were made for something much greater.
and because you were made for it,
you are just enough...
and you can rest in that.

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Photo also provided by Peyton Elise.

A Decade of Introspection

With the new year quickly approaching, I sat down to write and reflect on this past decade. I wanted to share it to be an encouragement to you, dear reader, in whatever stage of life you or your loved ones may be in. Life is complex, messy, and full of beauty and transitions.

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At the start of the decade, I was living within a world of depression, listening to my demons, finding solace in darkness, deafening my reality through near-daily drug use. 

I became addicted to that lifestyle, so encompassed that it itself tried to suffocate me. And in a last ditch effort, playing the odds of Russian roulette, I left everything and moved across the country. 

That’s where I was able to meet myself; I learned my love for writing, and drew closer to my sister. I learned to throw out religion, and draw into a relationship with God. That’s when the healing happened. 

I got clean from cocaine, opioids, and was freed from my long-standing eating disorders. I was able to begin to think clearly, openly, honestly, vulnerably. I wrote everything down. 

I met my husband and we fell in love quickly. We got married shortly after. There is such beauty when two imperfect people come together in partnership. We learned to embrace conviction and challenges. We learned how to speak to each other with truth and love. 

I learned that healing is a journey. For even though my freedom happened in a moment, the demons were persistent and continuously tried to make a home out of me. I sometimes succumbed to them, but more often, I rejected them. I was able to build this muscle. The resistance became easier. Depression is no longer my normal. I’m filled with so much more joy and warmth and happiness than I ever thought possible. 

I see my early 2010 self, and my heart is moved with compassion. I’m just so thankful that I held on for a little longer, and moved forward with the loving words from the small, still voice in my head. 

It feels like every year becomes challenging in different ways, and that our exposure to complex experiences increases. I think it’s meant to be that way. Even if our hours, weeks, years seem to be the darkest or the most dismal, there is a bright and beaming hope.

More than anything, I’m filled with anticipation for the growth to be had: the soil, the seeds, the shoots, the fruit. All I can be is full of gratitude and awe for the contrast between the beginning and end of this decade. 

And while my mind can’t fully comprehend it, I know that still, the best is yet to come.

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This past decade I wrote a book, sharing more of my journey: the struggles, healing and the all the in-between moments. It’s titled Morning Air, Morning Light and is available through this site. If you’d like a book, but are unable to get a copy due to finances, send me a note here; I’ll be sure to send you one!

Illustration by Regan Smith; photo by Eliza Miller.

2020's Expectancy

I’ve taken a brief hiatus from publishing and reviewing poetry submissions the past couple of months and will continue through the end of the year. Life has hit hard. It’s been beautiful, incredible, and terrible. Present moment has been encompassing, requiring all of my intentional attention. I wanted to add a note here and share some recent updates, where we’re at, what’s to come.

Recent updates:

• Ricky and I purchased a home! We moved in two weeks ago to our dream space. The house itself has a backdrop of a natural preserve; these tall trees with slender trunks make my heart so full. We’re both over the moon to be where we live, in the little town of Pataskala, Ohio.

• I had a car accident that swept me off my feet - a deer ran into my car as I was driving home one evening. It took me a while to get back to a steady state without migraines, dizziness, constant mood swings. I’m all better now (thank the Lord), but it really threw a wrench into my mental stability and creativity.

• Throughout the month of October, I really struggled with my writing. I’ve shared a bit of this on my Instagram, but I felt bursting with sensory overload, and had a hard time translating the mess in my mind to paper. I’m still working through this, but the promise and expectancy I’m holding for the new year is giving me a refreshed sense of alacrity.

• In September, Introspective Collective had a giveaway, consisting of 100 copies of Morning Air, Morning Light. The purpose behind the giveaway was to share the physical copy with those that may not have had financial means to obtain the book; sharing it without limitation. We reached the 100 copy within the first few weeks; it was the best way to commemorate the book’s one year birthday.
  

Where we’re at:

• More than ever, I’m fully in love with art. When Ricky and I visited Rome and Barcelona last month, it evoked a sense of romance–romance for my current moment, for my husband, for the art of poetry.

• I’ve been traveling for my day job more than ever and I have a love/hate relationship with it. I miss my husband dearly when I’m away, but love the sacred moments (even as I type this, I’m a visitor in my former home city, Nashville) where I’m able to selfishly write, read, and converse with others. I’m able to fill up my introversion wells, spending evenings quietly alone.

• I’m feeling bolder than ever - writing without reservation. While I haven't been writing a lot the past several weeks, I feel a shift in my confidence in sharing what I create. I feel a full excitement for what others are creating, too. We’ve recently opened up poetry submissions again for the new year. Submit here! Would love to read your work.

• I’ll be a featured poet at the Secret Midnight Press, Poetry Night event happening in Columbus, Ohio on 12/20. This is also an open mic event, so if you’re local to the area, come read or soak in some sweet, honest poetry. I’m so excited to share some new pieces and to meet new faces.

Where we’re going:

• I just finished the 2020 planning for all the hopes and dreams I desire Introspective Collective to grow into. I’ve identified areas where I want to grow in my craft, how I can share it with you, and how I can serve you better, dear reader.

• Raine Publishing and Introspective Collective are brewing up exciting dreams of printed submissions from artists around the word. I will share more updates as they come about.

• Strides towards another book are weighing heavy in my heart, in the best way possible. I can’t wait to write and illustrate until another printed artwork is born. It’s a long road, but I’m thankful to be able to hold this dream in my heart until it’s held in my hands.

If you’re interested in keeping a pulse with the new poetry and updates from this site, you can subscribe here. I also have a poetry Facebook and personal Instagram page if you’re drawn to follow those instead or as well.

On behalf of Introspective Collective: myself, all of our guest authors, and contributors, we thank you for offering your time to read through this scroll of text. My heart swells with gratitude because of your gracious support, and the time you share with us.

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Portrait photo by the incredible Carly from Authentic Narrative.

a list for the moon

Raine has recently reached motherhood, alongside the growing baby and her belly, her writing has become more refined. ‘a list for the moon’ is in my top three poems sweet Cheyenne has written.

This poem really pulls at my senses; it gives me comfort. It takes me out of my mind and connecting with the moon–connecting with the night sky.

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a list for the moon

by Cheyenne Raine

• • •

a list of times i have fallen in love with the moon:

- before the sun climbs into the sky, and a sliver
of lavender lays against the horizon,
the moon still grey as ever.

- when the harvest comes
and yellow tints the moon,
autumn brushing through the leaves.

- driving through my neighborhood
at three in the morning, peeking up
at the almost full moon,
wondering why the night couldn’t last
just a little longer.

- watching a storm off in the distance
the moon unfazed
the city receiving lightning
the sea calm and untouched.

- the moon’s reflection in the water,
milky crests finding their way
back into dark shades of blue.

- scribbling words under porch lights
and talking to the moon
when i couldn’t find the words.

- snapping a photo for a friend,
because their sky was cloudy
but mine was clear,
and the moon is always
such a lovely sight.

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Cheyenne Raine is a contributing author to Introspective Collective; illustration by Regan Smith.

End Still

I wrote this poem late last year, during a time where the hurt from family health issues weighed heavy on my heart. It was birthed out of the need to process, pen to paper, the hurt but recognizing that beauty still survives and thrives around us. That sometimes the best healing is staying in stillness. The photo that Farrah paired together brought me to tears. It reminded me of this once again - that everything is temporary, but the bird’s song still sings.

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End Still

By Regan Smith

• • •

The fall birds congregate in the trees,
greatly outnumbering the barely-shaken leaves.

Their rainstick roar
reminds me that everything is temporary,
nothing is fixed—
and that observing holds a special freedom.

The air is so beautiful here.

Stay still, saturate,
and hear their song.

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Photography by Farrah Emami.

Scarf of a Lady

Poetry is storytelling; it is capturing a moment in script. This poem by Bobbi Sinha-Morey holds both of these traits, tugging us to remember the ordinary. To relish what may be a simple encounter or act within our day. Alike Mary Oliver’s writings, a seemingly mundane moment captured in text can give a whole new appreciation, sparking a revelation in how we recognize the daily magic that unfolds around us.

We couldn’t be more honored to introduce Bobbi as not only our newest guest author, but as a Contributor to the Introspective Collective website. I pray her words hold a resonating warmth, as they did with me.

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Scarf of a Lady

by Bobbi Sinha-Morey

• • •

One morning I saw a lady's
scarf caught in a plum tree
waving to me, the growing
blueness of dawn reflected
on its cotton white surface,
and I recognized its cursive
emblem, a tea rose so carefully
sewn and I wondered how long
my neighbor Anna knew it had
been missing, if at all, before
it had been gone. She, a pretty
woman in her sixties who
always lit up whenever she
saw me, often brought over
soothing plum cherries in the
summer. And when I thought
of her and the light clothes
she wore, I remembered she
loved airy scarves in the spring.
This one I'd found must've
been wind-borne before being
snared on the limb of a tree,
a joyous flight all its own,
and it was so feathery when
I touched it to my skin.
I returned it to her that day
and she happily weighed
it in her hand.