Alma Led Me Here

“The soul may be trusted to the end.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

First Essays: Love

She didn’t tell me when I’d fall in love.

Alma, my soul’s asomatous guide, didn’t tell me that when I did, I’d feel as if struck by lightning, and that every romantic experience I had thus far encountered would be put to shame. She didn’t tell me anything.

I understood that she possessed a transcendental discernment that I would never know, but I resisted her pleads for my trust all the same. I didn’t believe in soul mates, and she all but gave up convincing me otherwise. Soul mates existed, she countered; beneath all the collected, clichéd goop there existed a bedrock of truth.

And so throughout my younger years I longed for a man I could love and tolerate, while Alma impatiently awaited her male counterpart. That’s how it worked, she said – each individual soul was not a fraction of another, but rather the male or female complement. I received many scoldings from her for even thinking about settling before she reunited with her mate. Saying things like that practically forced me into skepticism. What did she really expect?

I should have relied on her more. Wiser than I gave her credit for, she was guided by something I could neither see nor understand, and she tugged me away from the wreckages of relationships before they became unmitigated catastrophes through ill-formed foundations of commitment. I thought I knew what I was doing, but she knew better.

I was stubborn; if my affections were a ship, I was white-knuckling the handles of the wheel on one side, and she the other. Eventually I was taxed beyond my means, and when I fell to the deck in exhaustion, Alma took command of the vessel with unfettered gusto. Finally serving as captain for the first time, she steered us right into the heart of New York City. She didn’t tell me we were close to her counterpart there, but she accepted my apologies without judgement as I genuflected before her, relinquishing any and all authority over my affections. The consequences of my poor relational decisions previous rendered me weary; she could call the shots from then on. All I needed was for her to tell me where to be and when.

Eastern Psychological Association Conference, New York City - March 4^th, 2016

No memos appeared in my dreams, no ethereal hints prodded me on. Alma didn’t tell me that with one look I would know. With one look, I would recognize a man whom I had never met. With one look, I would feel the heart of the universe beating inside me.

Marbled eyes of orange-flecked green met mine and Alma wept in the long-awaited embrace of her mate. Burrowed deep in the plush hallways of a hotel conference room, lightning struck me in the form of a man named Joseph.

Alma prepared me for none of it. She didn’t tell me I’d fall in love with the way he said psychology. She didn’t tell me he was a man of deep faith, words, and intellect. She forgot to mention the profound attraction I would feel toward him in every conceivable realm of life. I trusted Alma with my soul, and what did she give me in return?

A man beyond dreams, ideals, and expectations – a man crafted by divine hands to be my match. A man suited for me beyond perfection itself. The male permutation of my own soul.

Alma led me here. 

---

I'm posting this here to commemorate my engagement to the subject of this piece. I wrote this on May 2, 2016 - almost six months ago. Like I said in Addressing Skepticism, when you know, you just know. 

Have a drink for us. We are blessed beyond belief to begin this new, exciting chapter of our lives together!

V

Suddenly Your House is On Fire

     What do you grab?
     Out of every single possession, what's the one thing you would save from the flames? There aren't necessarily any right or wrong answers to this common hypothetical scenario; however, there are some silly ones. Leo Buscaglia's book Love referenced an actual occurrence of this where a woman, the unfortunate owner of the flaming house, found herself running out to the street for safety carrying years and years of personal tax reports. Tax reports! That was the first place of importance her mind went, so she grabbed them and ran!
     This scenario has intrigued me quite a lot in recent weeks. I think I'm more interested in the overall loss of the other possessions rather than hung up on the single thing I would save. As far as what to carry with me to safety, my mind jumps to the most expensive things I own, and therefore the most costly things to replace: my laptop, which is quickly depreciating in value (already four years old), my cell phone (also old - it's an iPhone 4S), and my external hard drive, more for preservation of what's on it rather than how much it would cost to replace. These are boring, expected, and don't honestly boast much value. Even if I couldn't save any of these things, I wouldn't feel too badly about it. They're all just things. 
     Which brings me back to the rest of the hypothetical belongings perishing in the hypothetical fire. Some days I think it would almost be good for me to lose everything I own to something beyond my control. The tenacity with which we hold on to earthly possessions can reach terrifying degrees at times. It's grandma's good china from Germany; it's your children's kindergarten fingerpaintings; it's photo albums of long-dead relatives and friends. There's sentimentality and the desire for preservation. I get it. But you and I will no longer have the conscious of mind to care about all those things when we're packed six feet under. 
     Dark? Maybe. Difficult? Of course.
     Thoughts such as these really convicted me a couple weeks ago, though the seeds had been sown by my good friend Joanna at college just before graduation. Toward the end of this year she's going to India to be an amazing presence there teaching English. One of her first responses to such a calling was to get rid of literally everything she owned, as it would only weigh her down knowing she had so many belongings sitting in storage while she was away indefinitely. She was inviting friends to come raid her room, including her desk, dresser, and in the bins beneath her bed (I was one of those friends, and I took most of her office supplies as well as her perfume collection and some kitchen items). I was gracious in receiving these things without her asking for payment (I'll figure something out, just you wait Jo), but it baffled me how easily it seemed she was letting everything go. She watched numerous people dig through her things and take armloads away. 
     It wasn't necessarily easy, she told me later, but knowing it was the right thing to do was enough to help her remain steadfast in her decision. I knew without a doubt that I needed to maintain this type of attitude the next time I planned to pluck through my things. 
     And that just so happened to be a few weeks ago, when it accumulated into a ball of unnecessary stress, and the only way to alleviate it was to do a cleanse.
     I had too many clothes and too many books occupying the small space of my room - hell, my dresser barely contained only half of my stash of shirts! The rest remained in an unpacked suitcase, neglected since I moved back home after graduation (May 7th - over two months ago now!). I feel I have perpetuated this problem for years. Something had to be done, and with the help of Joanna's example, I had to force myself to get over any attachments that existed. I had to be incredibly frank with myself. My two requirements for this cleanse were 1) if I didn't wear it, I didn't need it, and its new home was the donation bag, and 2) if I had worn it threadbare or stained it, it went into the trash. No exceptions.
      There was a peaceful sense of detachment that happened during this process and I was able to execute it without much pain. It was a cleanse, a much-needed purge - it didn't need to feel like I was stripping myself bare. Those shirts were mere things, and very replaceable. 
     I ended up getting rid of a large, bursting trash bag and two smaller bags worth of stuff. I probably could have pruned back more, but my main goal was to fit it all comfortably in my dresser, and I achieved it, for the first time in years. It is liberating to know such a thing.
     Now, while I certainly hope your house doesn't ever catch on fire, I would encourage you to ponder your earthly possessions and any attachments you may have to them. If we really broke it down to the most primitive level, none of those things are necessary for survival if they don't fall into the categories of food, water, or shelter. I saw for myself through plenty of instances in Peru that the amount of stuff one has does not directly equate to the level of happiness. The true genesis of happiness exudes from within (but that's a post for another time). I am merely asking for your awareness here; what's your focus in life? What's your end goal? And how does stuff fit into that equation?
     V

The Plague of Pragmatism

     On this side of the new year I have been making the attempt of being better about gifts. In the past, my keenness in simply remembering birthdays and sending a nice, personal message is as far as my gift-giving abilities have gone. Pathetic, I know - believe me, it renders me distraught thinking about it now. Thus it comes as a surprise to no one that I possess very little talent in selecting and gifting the much sought after "perfect present." I wish it was an inherent characteristic of mine to somehow glean that what you desperately want most is an ornate birdhouse for your lawn; for those of you who have no trouble with this, I envy you.
     It has been difficult and stressful thus far planning ahead, calculating shipping speeds, and penny pinching, all before I even order a blasted gift, but it has also produced within me good feelings once it's all said and done and the gift is in the hands of the intended recipient. I can't deny that giving gifts feels awesome. However, I have found out very quickly that the talent was not lying dormant and it is not something I can cultivate. Still, I will sally forth.
     The main problem is I never know where to start. My relationship with the individual in question could boast several years of inseparability and enough wacky stories to fill countless journals, and I would still know diddly-squat what to gift them. That is, unless they told me.
     Pragmatism is basically my middle name; in every possible realm of my life I try to be practical. If it's useless, it's not worth keeping around (this principle counts for people, too). Therefore I have come to the conclusion that marrying pragmatism and gift-giving might very well save me armfuls of stress down the road. The only hesitation is that it's a little bizarre in certain cases and it's going to take some getting used to. But this is what it comes down to: when your birthday is approaching and I ask you what you want or need, I do not care if the first thought that jumps to mind is your nearly empty bottle of body wash in the shower or the fact that your printer is almost out of ink. If that is what will help you most, then so be it. I would much rather buy you your favorite body wash or an ink cartridge than a gift that might look pretty but has absolutely no real function, like a pillow with Jensen Ackles's face on it (sorry, Kylie - it was funnier more than anything, and I didn't know what else to do!). BUT I can't achieve this pragmatic-gift marriage if you don't tell me what you need. I'll buy you laundry detergent, brake fluid for your car, notebooks, a new case for your phone, air fresheners, a better welcome mat, a set of screwdrivers - I don't care! 
     SO the next time I ask you what you want or need for your birthday, and I promise I will ask you - rarely will a gift ever just show up on your doorstep out of nowhere - please please please don't hesitate to tell me that it's about time for you to buy your hamster some new food anyway. If there isn't something you want, I almost guarantee there is something you need or could at least use. Dish soap? Alcohol? Fertilizer? As long as it's within a reasonable price range, consider it done. Let me help you in a more fulfilling way and simultaneously satisfy this plague of pragmatism that has infiltrated my life. Help me transform this plague into a cheerful practice. Giving better gifts begins with you.

Addressing Skepticism

     My most recent relationship status has caused quite a buzz. Mostly excited and supportive responses thankfully, but I know there are skeptics among you. I do not blame you for this as a reaction. From the outside looking in, I believe it is warranted. Therefore I decided to give a brief window into what it’s like from the inside looking out. Allow me to jump right in.
     Let me make something clear from the outset: we don’t “complete” each other; it’s insulting to the other person to claim that until now, me without him or him without me we were incomplete, unfinished and the only way to be complete is to invite each other into our lives in an intimate way. That’s silly. The idea of “soul mates” is far from a biblical concept – it’s a romantically pressured one perpetuated by society. To all you single guys and gals, I’m sorry – it’s an impossible standard to achieve, and one many believe in.
     While we don’t endorse the soul mate concept, we do have our ways of describing the rapid depth of our connection. So far the best (and still unworthy) explanation I’ve conjured up is that he and I have recognized pieces of our own souls in each other; we have discovered a divine similarity between us. Personally I think Joseph portrayed it best when he said, “We are almost analogous to male and female permutations of the same soul.”
     These claims have provided the vehicle for us to transcend time itself. This experience has been incomparably ethereal. Between meeting Joseph on the 4th of March and my day trip to Baltimore to see him about a week later felt like a lifetime. It has been three weeks since we met, and from then till now has also felt a lifetime long. We have compacted a larger span of time into a smaller temporal container. Time is, like many things, relative. Our three weeks are nowhere near the same as yours. We understand each other on a level that has never existed before due to its impossibility.
     We transcended time, and continue to. I have never thought so clear or felt my mind so broad and challenged by anything, let alone a single individual. It may seem as if we’ve hurried into things, but there has been absolutely no rush. From the outside looking in, the pace is breakneck, but that’s the nature of our organic timeline. It’s like in algebra – when you know all the rules of the equation you solve it quickly, almost automatically, especially compared to when you were first getting acquainted with how every variable fit together. We’ve learned the rules, and this is the product of our combined equations.
     When I was younger and beginning to grasp the gravity of finding God's best for me, I often asked my parents to describe how it felt for them to get to know each other, and when they decided that they wanted to be together forever. This is a common question with an indescribable answer, and the common clichéd and useless-at-the-time response is typically, “you just know. When you find the right person, you just know it,” or “you feel as if on top of the world!” Being the way that I am, this always frustrated me; I wanted a checklist, or a litmus test or something. Rules to rely on. This feeling of “just knowing” seemed improbable and impossible. What if I didn't realize it? What if I somehow missed it? It all became complicated and worrisome. I was incredibly skeptical of it.
     Until now.
     Now I understand completely what they meant. Because I feel it. The indescribable feeling is in me. I “just know.”
     And I am so achingly certain of it that I would stake my life on it.
     It’s insane, I know. But having previous romantic pursuits to compare to throws this in stark contrast when placed next to all the others. It has far surpassed even the wildest expectations I could imagine.
     Neither of us went to EPA intending to meet anyone in this way, and yet here we are. We were not searching, and yet we found. We are swaddled in God’s divinity, cradled in His palms, and I have never been so certain of something in my life. (Yes, it even rivals my certainty concerning my passions for creative writing.)
     I wrote in my post from 2013 “Infernal Love Triangle Devices” that I was confident when God brought my future husband into the picture, the man He had hand-selected for me, I would know it. To quote the post exactly, “…I’m very particular about the qualities and lifestyle choices of the man I will marry in the future. … I, someone who always tries to have the lowest of expectations, am expecting a lot of the man for me. This makes it very easy for me to believe that once I find him, it won’t be long before I know he’s the one. God knows what I’m looking for and what I need, so once I’ve recognized all that, it will be obvious.” Such confidence!
     I know my expectations, standards, and requirements were tricky for any one mortal to score high on altogether. But I had finally seriously entrusted the worry about my future husband to God, surrendering the last thread I was white-knuckling. It did not need to be my responsibility to hunt for this man. If I truly believed all things were possible, God would have me covered. Obedience and trust were the only things expected of me. So I relinquished my human need to control, folded my hands in my lap, and made peace about waiting patiently for God to move. I had done my part, and He would certainly do His.
     The fruits were almost instant. God is faithful, y’all. His promises are far from empty.
     Earlier in the week leading up to EPA I did a lot of praying and ultimately let go of this obsession with stepping in front of God and arranging my future as if I knew better than him. (I don’t deserve his unflinching forgiveness.) Then, mere days later, enter Lightning Boy (aka Joseph). Unbelievable.
     I’ve always been skeptical of “just knowing.” Now I truly understand. It’s the closest thing to enlightenment, to Heaven, on this side of death.

Crazy Little Thing

For Joseph. The poet in me is no longer starving for inspiration.

Enter Lightning Boy, I

I was running for cover when you struck me.

Unexpected whip crack flashed my retinas, constricting pupils, and rang in the echoless open field. Heart stuttering, knees sloppy, my back kissed damp earth. You opened a door in the churning sky and walked to me on a path of illumination, offering a healing hand that blossomed open to show me forever. No conditions; just a bouquet of love and peace and rationality served on a blessed silver platter.

Enter Lightning Boy, II

I, the toiling
mathematician; you
the chalk dust 
burrowing in fingerprint
ridges – together
we harness genius,
the blackboard
of our calloused hands,
and drive toward
the indecipherable
equation of affection.

After numerous cold years
stinking of sweat 
mingled and hollowed, 
these hallowed 
walls of our minds churned
and finally
the variables click into place,
numbers flash together 
like old friends.

Control

     This week has been all over the place, and not always in a good way. While I try to consistently approach things knowing that I have nothing at all to complain about, there was a moment, a text, Thursday evening that knocked the wind right out of my sails. I was hanging out with a group of friends and it was so noticeable that my best friend pulled me aside and asked if everything was okay. She could read it plainly on my face.
     Yes, everything is honestly fine; some potential fun plans that I had been looking forward to since last Saturday changed drastically, and now my weekend is completely, utterly free. Harry Potter movie marathon, anyone? (No joke. I have them stacked by the TV, ready.)
     This isn’t the end of the world. I know this. Though as a planner, big last minute changes rock my world, leaving me reeling, so it took some time for me to come back to my center of balance. I fell asleep unhappy Thursday eve.
     In waking up yesterday morning, I told myself that it wasn’t the end of the world, truly. I’d had a bad moment, but I would not let that define my week. So I put on my gym clothes and smiled, pouring out those grimy thoughts along with the sweaty exertion of exercise.
     My message today is this: you have the power to determine how you feel. We all have bad days - it’s okay. It’s part of being human. But those bad days have absolutely not control over your mindset. Whenever you get thrown, pick up however many pieces have shattered at your feet, tell yourself it’s okay, and strut through the rest of the day or week like the majestic peacock you are. Your mindset matters, so make it positive.
     I leave you with a poem I wrote on a particularly rough day years ago and serves only as a reminder of how far I’ve come.
   Ta~

I
wish
I could choke
on stars
and implode
until there’s nothing left
just so
someone
could make
a wish.

     V

2016 - One Month Down!

     Friends! Long time no see! If you'll refer back to the very first post I made in 2016 (Welcome to 2016), I had quite a list of goals to achieve this year. Here I find myself already in the month of February, and nearing the end of my first full month back at college. Just as a side-note, there was a "100 days party" thrown for all graduating seniors last Thursday night. A week later, there are only 93 days left. Time is such a slippery thing, though I'm trying to take each day as it comes and suck all that I can out of it.
     Anyway, if you'll recall, my personal goals in no particular order for 2016 were these:

• lifting weights 3 times a week

• eating healthy (no coffee, much less sugars, less dairy, more veggies and red meats, and no processed junk if I can help it)

• doing Lumosity daily

• Duolingo (in Spanish) daily

• reading the bible and journaling every morning

• Praise Jar slip daily

     I'll use updates here as a way of keeping myself accountable, although so far I've done a great job keeping up on my own. All of the above are habits that I began at the end of September 2015 (aside from the Praise Jar), took me about a month or so to solidify, and have made it an overall goal of 2016 to maintain. So far, I have not missed a single gym day since January 1st (and I've added an hour of yoga twice a week!), have been eating tremendously healthy (following the close of the "holiday diet," of course), and since mid-December I've only missed two days of bible reading/journaling. I also haven't missed a single slip for my Praise Jar! As for Lumosity and Duolingo, well...I kept that up for the first week or so back at school and then fell off the wagon. My first two weeks at school were bizarre mainly because I had to maintain this routine in a totally different environment and Lumosity and Duolingo were throwing things off too much. However, my balance has returned, and I plan to toss them into the mix once more now that I've gathered my wits.
     Seeing as it is the final semester of my undergraduate career, people give me funny looks when I tell them this is the easiest/best semester ever for me. All of my classes are Tuesday/Thursdays, I work three days out of the week, and have three day weekends every weekend. With this newfound balance and routine, I am doing very, very well. Spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally...I have never felt this good. I'm seeing definition in my body like I never have before, feeling and seeing the effects of reading God's Word daily in my life, and my stomach has never been happier. Just to make things even crazier, I'm sleeping a consistent average of nine hours per night with a bedtime of roughly 10pm and an alarm set for 7:30am! How many "college kids" can say that with a smile?!
     Shifting my circadian rhythm has also been a huge improvement. In several years I have struggled to fall asleep before midnight and wake up before 9am. It was ridiculous and frustrating. There was a season where I was getting up at 5am every day to babysit for twelve hours (sometimes more) and then could not fall asleep until midnight. Five hours later, I had to be awake. It was maddening and I couldn't figure out what the problem was. My sleep schedule wouldn't shift. This has been a struggle for years. Until 2016. Still not sure how, exactly, I got my circadian rhythm to finally shift, but I'm clinging to it!
     I made it a point to include "emotionally" in the list above, too, because I have struggled with true, soul-shining happiness in the past. Freshman year I was the type of person who romanticized cynicism and maybe faked seeing silver linings, but never believed in them myself. I was hyper-critical of myself as well as the people around me. I didn't make many friends here at college because I told myself I didn't need them. Over the years I have made a gradual change, but this last semester saw the most drastic of it. I now have the "problem" of having so many people ask me if I want to get dinner that I either have to turn someone down or mold friend groups together. I have group chats with people where we talk daily about all manner of things. Friends are stopping to chat with me while I have lunch.
     Mercedes, one of the only real friends I made Freshman year (somehow), recently saw me interact with other friends while we had lunch together and was amazed. Later she said to me, "don't take this the wrong way, but I have never seen you talk to anyone like that here." She has taken note of my slow slide down the spectrum from introvert to extrovert. I now consider myself more of an ambivert than anything, which means I now enjoy the company of others in addition to solitude.
     In short, friends, I am the happiest I have ever been. I operate daily on the combination of God's promises and positivity. I treat myself with respect, accept my faults and mistakes, and continue on knowing that life is a constant process of betterment. I filter my thoughts, pray constantly, and smile often. I've never been so content in my existence, never been able to love myself so fully, and never felt so great being on my own.
     Thank you to those that have encouraged, put up with, and guided me over the last several years. I of course had to reach this point naturally and on my own, but a few pokes and prods always help. 2016 is shaping up to be the best year yet and I'm confident I can keep it that way.
     Love,
     V 

Time as a Construct

Time as a Construct

     I have never been able to fully grasp time as a concept. It’s the thread that holds everything together, and yet it’s something I can totally forget about for large periods of time. I’ve gone through moments in my life wishing for entire years to pass instantaneously due to some emotional desire, not caring what each individual day might bring - I wanted to fast forward and jump past all the experiences I would have had, only to get to that “ultimate” one. That’s idiotic. How could I be so heedless of time and its wonders? How could I not realize the same sixty seconds, or sixty minutes, could be spent in so many different ways? Perceived differently? Agonized over and forgot about? When I’m doing a plank hold for one whole minute during my workouts, it feels like the longest minute of my entire life. Later in the same day, five or even ten whole minutes could pass in the wink of an eye and feel more like a couple seconds than ten minutes.
     Relativity, I’ve found, is the best way to begin explaining time. Time is very dependent on what’s going on inside and around you at that very moment. If I watch the clock and listen to the tocks, time slows to its normal pace, somewhat reminiscent of the Weeping Angels in Doctor Who - if you look at them, they are frozen as statues, but if you blink or look away, they move freely, and very very quickly. Losing track of time is easy to do, friends, and I urge you to take on the challenge I have presented to myself in these past few months. Take each day as its own separate entity. Don’t be like the me of the past, always counting down to the next weekend, the next break, to summertime fun with family and friends. Look forward to each day, and suck all that you possibly can out of it. Be mindful of your time, as it is limited, though as a younger human being it might not seem like it. Just last spring, I came home from a psychology class dealing with mental illness, and we had just wrapped up the chapter dealing with latent illnesses - ones that surface in later years of existence. I was overcome with this crushing emotion of fear and anxiety about the mortality of my family. I am not afraid of death for myself, and in fact welcome it, but thinking about the eventual decay of my parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles, mentally and physically…well, it was not pretty, and I was torn to pieces.
     I came to terms with it and pasted myself back together, waiting for time to come weave the splintered fragments closed again.
     Time, then, is not merely a construct. Time is many things. It is a healer, a mourner, a comforter, a teacher - more often than not preaching tough love and resilience. Time is willing to be your friend, your guide, an invaluable asset in your life, if only you’d stop and take a moment to say hello and keep it wrapped around your little finger.
     Therefore I leave you with a warning and an encouragement via poetry, though it’s very much unlike my normal style. Enjoy, friends. This coming week we will all be back to the collegiate grindstone.
Chance Execution

Execute yourself beneath thought.
Feel your destruction galvanize
wrongly placid thoughts, shove askew naivety
past the earthquake memory’s afterthought.
Taste reaction boiling everything ivory because of her
over an experience of failed love.
Accept freedom - love ferociously despite her!
rather than pushing yourself down,
launching into her abandoned friends,
opinions she the exquisite nerve
under skin placed alluringly warm
regarding romantic language, during your everything
and nothing.
No surrender. Resistance shouldn’t prove difficult
back against gossip knots whispering down your spine.
Treatment via punishment:
skirting other years
near to days, near to weeks,
time poking among your sidewalk thoughts,
frail theories now keenly harden,
dreamt during the tranquil night.

Fight me with words.
Fight me with belligerent phrases -
upward, worthwhile phrases, tested for
warlike pollution, for warlike shame
beyond rage’s armament inside needles
after goodbye. Pierce the harmony chuckle
behind somebody’s animal eyes, beside somebody’s memory face,
until the poison from operation
spreads, pathetic
despite a stranger’s stride toward sugar song
unless a prison traps the fingers
in silver, below all light.
Cagey within a jealous box
beneath an agonizing name –
charismatically persuasive; offensive and vivacious.
All apologies she’s accepting now,
worming through your blended brain. Relinquish her, until
after her rhythms decompose one another,
all pictures and records
through the regret around accidental versus deliberate.
Walk away. This war is no longer yours to lie down for.

~V

Orchard

Orchard

My heart is an orchard, with soft,

loamy soil to dig your fingers

into. Each tree has a name, and

each name has roots, some longer than

others, some younger still. A couple

trees have been selected for

execution, roots and all yanked

from the earth, my heart. These pits, these

empty spaces eventually

get filled again with dirt, and a

sapling is planted anew. A mark

is always left, however; some

rooted veins remain.

---

Friends. It's been a while. I apologize - life grows busier with each day. 

This poem was prompted by an event that occurred a little over a year ago that rocked my world. This was my analogy for the results. Some rare poetry for you today. 

Enjoy!
V

Welcome to 2016 - A Year of Improvements

(Post pulled from group blog: StalkerSubtext)
     Just as the title says, Happy New Year! 2015 was definitely a year of learning, humility, and listening above everything else, which is to be expected. I began doing my own research in the Psych department at school, went to two marvelous concerts, celebrated my 21st birthday, did a ton of visiting with my immediate and extended family, finished my third year at college out of four, celebrated my Grandpa’s 75th birthday, broke off a relationship that was doing more harm than good (one of the best decisions of my life, let alone my year), started a workout routine, and made some priceless, awesome friendships. Overall, it’s been a wonderful year, and I have learned from all of these things how to best approach 2016.
     I know the bottom line for every year is going to be that I am blessed beyond measure. I’m in good health, have breath in my lungs, and am loved by numerous people. Can’t get much better than that.
     However, I know for a fact that I can actively take part in my own life and make it even better. How, you ask? Well, first of all I’m avoiding any New Years Resolutions - they’re usually cold turkey, drastic, or a 180 degrees turn around and therefore incredibly difficult to maintain. The amount of instant self-discipline and motivation needed generally doesn’t match up to how much one is willing to put forth for very long. My personal goals for 2016 are to keep up the routine I’ve been maintaining hardcore since the end of September, which entails lifting weights 3 times a week, eating healthy (no coffee, much less sugars, less dairy, more veggies and red meats, and no processed junk if I can help it), doing Lumosity and Duolingo (in Spanish) every day, and reading the bible and journaling every morning. Seems like a lot to keep up, especially when adding my final semester in college into the equation, but I already know I’ve maintained all but one of these things during this past semester, which was easily much harder than the one I’m about to begin. It’s feasible for sure.
     One new thing I’m planning to introduce to 2016 is something called the Praise Jar. Every day I will write down something I’m thankful for, or something I’ve been praying for, and drop it into this jar. The point of this is to accurately reminisce about 2016 on New Years Eve and see what all I was thankful for, and possibly what all prayers got answered. It’s just a fun thing to put into perspective the power of positive thinking and how the year really went. I decided to use paint swatches from Lowe’s as the cards I write on to give the jar color as I go.

     Needless to say I am ridiculously excited for 2016. My final semester in college will be the best so far, without a doubt. I’ve got an awesome group of friends, sweet possibilities for the future, and a very healthy relationship prospect.      Cheers, my friends. Remember that getting out of bed every day is a victory in itself and that you are never alone. Godspeed, and let’s make this the best damn year yet!
     V