Update No. 1

Morning Air, Morning Light: Update No. 1

I have begun writing the first chapter of my poetry book—Morning Air, Morning Light. Although this book will contain a few pieces that remain accessible through this site, I have begun delving deep into dark times I’ve experienced in the past to compose this initial chapter. 

As I’ve been writing these lengthy poems to depict the earlier stages of my life, I notice that they spill onto the paper without reservation. The words bring me back towards memories that I’ve blocked out and play like a dark, painful parody within my mind. 

I revisit the recollections that have been quarantined. Each word penned tears away an unyielding nail from the boards which hide away an abandoned door that I rarely acknowledge. 

These experiences are raw and honest, evoking emotions that I haven’t endured in years. Although it’s almost unfathomable that this was at once the present time, I would have never expected my current state to be so vastly different. Embedded in my life now—a wonderful husband and family, supportive friends and a God that is ultimate—was a foreign thought in my previous condition. 

Through these poems, I am able to uncover the beauty of progress and healing. I am able to write through these distressing flashbacks without being overcome with anxiety. This is because I know that there is a God with overruling grace who provides comfort through any situation. 

Regardless of the grief and despair that’s exposed to me while writing these memories, with a solemn heart I will share them with you. They may be soothing words to your wounds—the areas within your mind that you rarely visit due to bitterness, anguish or anxiety. I am reminded that my words may be another’s healing, and that is more than enough encouragement to press forward. 

Morning Air, Morning Light will be available in Winter of 2017. Until then, I will maintain my letters and notes (as well as some status progression updates) through this site. If you feel drawn to catch these posts, I’d encourage you to enter in your email through the “Subscribe” block towards the bottom of this page. As always, reader, thank you for letting me share my heart with you.

Array of Ambitions

We are entrusted with talents—a pocket-sized gift hidden away within us. Unwrapped, it is a brilliant display of dynamic creativity and is within each of us. 

I recognized my art through an old sketchpad and pen. The notebook had no lined paper, and was already filled with my older brother’s illustrations; they were detailed, perfectly shaded and he always made them seem effortless. I decided I would etch a few notes or scratches and shuffled around in my bag to fish for a writing instrument. The pen I found was stolen from a waitress at a Chinese restaurant and was spotty in between strokes. I feverishly started to compose a letter, after scribbling out a few indistinguishable drawing attempts.

The letter itself was to my mother, a poetry-heavy depiction of my new life since moving cross-country. I was enamored with the potential the future possessed, but was fasted to the past. I was eighteen at the time. With each tiny word inscribed, came revival. I was able to comprehend my current state, dissolving each detail to paper. I snatched out the letter and spoke the words written to my sister, and shared the unfetter my mind felt when I wrote. I started habitually visiting a café where I would write every weekend, and revisit this same feeling. 

Six months later, I dropped my pen for about a year. Suffocating the seed inside that wanted to sprout, I was distancing myself due to self-doubt. I wasn't satisfied with the poems I was producing. Rather than practicing and being patient with myself, I quickly filled my time hollow diversions. Without writing, my mind was cloudy and unable to organize itself, a constant conveyer belt of thoughts and ideas that piled up against a wall. I felt restricted, bound, and apathetic. I thank God that I received support and encouragement from my husband and my sister to start scribing again. 

Over the past few years, the dedication and persistence has grown exceedingly. In the beginning, it was a therapeutic release—but has now madly matured into a passion. If I were to be commended on my poems back then, I would have thrown a shy smile and dropped my head. But this gift has been planted with purpose; it will someday be the orange tree that flowers fruit and blooms.  

These endowments are not always brought to our mind automatically or smooth at the start. Although it begins concealed, once uncovered, it is as if the habit can never be replaced. Writing and painting are sweet endeavors that pull my creativity and solidify my ideas. It embraces the moment, and channels it to a visual translation.

The trades you hold are exquisite and unique to you. Your background, experiences, perceptions, creativity, nor vision that you encompass has been planted identically within another. For we all possess these gifts—this array of ambitions—which have been entrusted to us to propagate and grow. 

Water-Streaked Window

A break within my afternoon, in the midst of the a foggy drizzle, I am given an opportunity to pause and reflect. Even though it seems as though my body has turned blank, contemplatively calm, this is when my thoughts are able to erupt and outpour. Buried beneath the depths of my mind, I’m lost within this whirlpool of thought. 

Routinely, I go about my days and take notice of circumstances that remind me of others, memories that slip out through various forms. There are the ideas that peek within my thoughts, but are silenced due to prior commitments of the day. Flashes of distress triggered through words, or healing that is tangibly recognized. There are thoughts reminded by the subconscious realization linking to a slumbered image experienced within my youth. Creativity, shapes and colors coat the insides of my mind. Even within the nighttime doze, every minute is crowded with hallucination. 

During this intermission is when I am able to digest and decompose this introspection. Today, this interlude transpires in the form of a coffeehouse I nest within this afternoon. For although my pen is low in ink, here I write—liberating the commotion of my mind. 

This is when I can provide these thoughts with identity and deduct their derivative. For I’ll nurture the words written, for they bring growth. They develop restoration, release contentment, and stimulate encouragement into my life. I analyze my thoughts through the devotion of words imprinted to paper—but also through the reading interpretation of the depiction itself. The thoughts, poetry and development are all intertwined—running together like this water-streaked window.

These thoughts and practice may be overwhelming at times, but the creation of poetry and sharing experiences through words is a gift I have been given. Transferring thoughts into tangible form glides smoothly, almost fluid. 

And now I share these pieces with you, reader. These letters and notes are the thoughts that have stained my mind, spouted onto the pages and bred discovery. As you browse these letters, I pray that they resonate with you; that these realizations that have altered my life will prove pleasurable to yours too.

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.