Beneath the still, reflective waters,
exists a world, most know nothing of.
The secrets, of both pain and joy,
are entrusted to but a few.
So, to learn of these hidden truths,
I will watch with indefinite pause.
You, oh silent waters, of quiet reserve,
are worth being heard.
You, oh still waters, so pristine,
deserve to be seen.
Is there a light here? I fumble around searching for the light switch in the dark, it wasn’t where I was told it would be. Being unfamiliar with the surrounds, I kept feeling around the wall….when I accidentally found the light, I realized I was in the wrong place.
“Wait…. this isn’t the bathroom.” I mumbled, embarrassed, as I tried to quietly close the door to the walk-in closet.
I had taken a wrong turn. It had even been in the right direction, but I had turned too soon.
And the truth is, I think I just did that now in my life. After a suggestion that I consider doing life coaching as my way of encouraging individuals, I decided to give it a-go. I started writing out a curriculum, I found two individuals to try it out as my beta testers, but everything was dark around me. It’s amazing how dim your dreams can go in just two days, but I instantly forgot where I was headed. I had to come up with a nicely designed curriculum, and that’s what I was doing.
It’s a lovely goal, and one that I my very well carry out—later. Right now it was a turn too soon for where I am going. I am still going to help the two individuals I agreed to help, and write out notes and coaching ideas–but just notes. And not with the goal of being a coach, but with the goal that it will become a book.
Because I want to write and I want to encourage, and the path just was not illuminated with the hope of finding my place in the world. It was dark, scary even, and I found myself thinking, “this isn’t what I want for myself right now.” I turned too soon.
Have you found yourself on a path where you are unable to find the light? The light I’m speaking of is the spark of life that awakened your sense of purpose, of love, and passion.
I want you to ask yourself when you last saw it? What were your eyes fixed on at the time you last felt hope and courage within you?
I’m not saying that following that path will always be illuminated, clear, and easy. It’s not. Trust me. I have no idea what I’m doing! I can’t figure out how in the world I’m going to get paid for this goal of mine…but it’s the path I was on when I last saw the light, felt the passion, and felt courageous enough to go into the unknown.
So, I have returned…even if you never noticed me missing. I will stay on this path even though I can’t see how I will earn money here. I will stay, because this is where the light last was seen.
I’ve told you my old story, but it is just that, an old story. The time has come for me to tell…no, write, a new story. It is time for me to unleash myself from the prison of self-imposed limits. Of living down to the expectations of others, because they haven’t allowed themselves to embrace the possibilities of dreams, nor to explore beyond the boarders of safety.
A new story for me, is in no way a spiteful act against the hopes of those who have hopes for me, it is just an acknowledgement that I have come to realize that there is more for me beyond those expectations. That, in fact, those expectations cripple me, not because I cannot reach that level, but because that life would make “me” obsolete.
I am defining “me” here as the spark of creativity, of intelligence, of personality–me as an individual, unique with potential yet unmeasured. This year, I will get to know that “me,” and I will follow her around to see where she takes me. So help me God.
I cannot tell a new story walking an old path, I can only tell an old story in new ways that way. So I must make my peace with the unknown, with walking where the light of predictability has not yet shone.
It is time to tell a new story.
And that is exactly what I intend to do, you see… I’ve decided to pursue writing. Don’t laugh, many of you led me to this place, whether you realize it or not.
There was the paper heart of compliments from grade three, where you praised me for knowing what to say when someone was discouraged, for coming to the side of those who cry. In 8th grade you encouraged me to submit poetry to a local competition, and I earned an honorable mention. Then in high school, you gave me the nickname of letter writer, note giver, you praised my poetry and prose. In college, you kept my essays to use for examples in your future classes. Recently, you’ve told me that you are moved by my words, the way I add poetic graces to the simplest of stories, and that you think my future is ahead of me down this road….and this time, I believed you.
I don’t know the path to getting paid to write, and right now, while it is a concern, the heaviest burden on my heart is that I must tell the story of hope. I must, by all means and all creativity, tell you that you are good enough, that you have so much to give, and that you possess so much more just waiting to be set free in potential.
You see, the story I have to tell is a love story. It’s going to be about all the many ways average people, like you…like me, can set love free. It’s a story how your little drop you have to spare can be multiplied exponentially. It will be my job, to win your trust and make you believe, and that is just what I intend to do.
So, journey with me, dear friend and reader, through the pages of this new story before you. One word at a time it will be revealed, spilling out into sentences, paragraphs, and pages of love… of hope…of mystery, and victory.
And I am not a jealous author, along these lines, because this is a story I hope you will all tell as well.
There’s so much I don’t understand,
I don’t understand politics,
I don’t understand every worldview.
I don’t understand every individual life path.
I don’t get the mathematics behind many people’s logic.
But that’s ok with me. I don’t need to understand it.
You see, I understand emotion.
I know that things aren’t easy
(even if you’re trying to be brave).
In my reading this morning, I happened upon a phrase that captured my imagination, and left me daydreaming of possibilities–“pedagogy of hope”.
I hope that what I do here, teaches someone to hope again. Helps someone to be brave enough to love again, and equips people to find joy no matter where they are in their journeys.
So, friends, let me. Let me be your friend. Read through these words and find the ones that fit into your journey and your needs.
I don’t know your story, and I won’t unless you tell me, but I will keep putting my drops of water out there, sending my love to addresses unknown, until they find the place they are needed most, and then I will continue still.
I have a couple message for someone out there. I’m not sure to whom they are written, but I wrote them anyway.
Your heart is breaking, broken really It feels like life is a thousand piece puzzle scattered before you you try to pick up the pieces and put it back together,
but in confusion you cannot make out the shapes,
you are blinded by the echo of the emptiness
and engulfed by the void of where your heart used to beat
shoving the pieces together sends shudders of pain
you’ve felt this before, physically
when you’d fallen from a tree and landed on your feet.
The pain reverberates through you, like the trembles of a gong.
Suddenly the space your heart once held too large a void,
and the place your lungs sat, too small to catch a breath.
You feel the blood drain out of your finger tips,
and ice runs through your veins,
and I wish I were able to say,
It will be ok, again….
but for today, the puzzle can wait.
Grieve what losses must be grieved,
and remind yourself you’re still
to figure this life thing out, and move on from here.
But today, you rest, and begin to heal.
Dear Sir sitting there,
What weight do you bare that has you stooped over under its weight?