sweet disorder

gratitude day 363: "tim"

"In another very unexpected discovery, my research also taught me that there's no such thing as selective emotional numbing.  There is a full spectrum of human emotions and when we number the dark, we numb the light.  While I was 'taking the edge off' of the pain and vulnerability, I was also unintentionally dulling my experiences of good feelings, like joy.  Looking back, I can't imagine my research finding that has changed what my daily life looks like more than this.  Now I can lean into joy, even when it makes me feel tender and vulnerable.  In fact, I expect tender and vulnerable.  Joy is as thorny and sharp as any of the dark emotions.  To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn't come with guarantees--these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain.  When we lose our tolerance for discomfort, we lose joy.  . . We can't make a list of all of the 'bad' emotions and say, 'I'm going to numb these' and then make a list of the positive emotions and say, 'I'm going to fully engage in these!'  

Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.  Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy--the experiences that make us the most vulnerable.  Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light."  Brene Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

 

my high school drama coach said anger was an easy emotion for high schoolers to use in acting.  but the tender moments were much, much harder for a student to play well.  this year i feel like i have taken risks to share my vulnerabilities in my weaknesses and my pain.  but why is it that describing joy feels the most vulnerable yet?  how do you write  heart-cracking, light-filling- up-the-spaces, tear-inducing moments? 

 

"It is actually difficult to edit life.  Especially in regard to feelings.  Not being open to anger or sadness usually means being unable to be open to love and joy.  The emotions seem to operate with an all-or-nothing switch.  I never cease to be impressed by the capacity of some ill people to live life more fully than most, to find more meaning and more depth, more awe in the ordinary.  Perhaps it is because they have allowed the events of their lives to take them to some extraordinary highs and lows.   Meeting people there is a choice."  Rachel Naomi Remen, Kitchen Table Wisdom

a couple of weeks ago i was talking with a girl i had just met.  i mentioned i was married and she asked, "how did you know?"  i could tell the answer to this question was a sincere yearning for her as she leaned forward, perhaps waiting for the magic answer. 

i said, "i remember one night when we were dating.  it was late and i was falling asleep.  tim kneeled down next to me and started singing a lullaby.  the lullaby that his mom sang to him.  and i knew then that i would marry him." 

and i did.

and now he sings that same lullaby to our children. 

 

“Hope is hugging me, holding me in its arms, wiping away my tears and telling me that today and tomorrow and two days from now I will be just fine and I'm so delirious I actually dare to believe it.” --Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

 

tim--as i scrolled through some pictures of you--i saw lots of pictures of me:).  you taking pictures of me and telling me how hot i am.  pictures of you at the gym--so i could see how hot you were.  and hundreds of pictures with the kids.  on all the "daddy dates."  most involved donuts and grandma's house.  pictures of you at the dunking booth, the pie-contest, cub-scouts, primary all for the good of the ward.  there were only a few pictures of us snuggled up watching movies (or the bachlorette).  you are a brave man to take me to every showing of the twilight saga for several anniversary dates.  for the flowers again and again.  and as i scrolled through my texts i saw how many errands you run--sending me pictures of squash in the produce department--wondering if that's the right one or not.  or looking for obscure ingredients from good earth (and then eating them later).  as i scrolled through the pictures i found a short video you took of me cooking dinner.  you said, "aren't we the luckiest family in the world?"  and then little skyler said, "no."  when asked why he said, "because we don't have any treasure." 

skyler, i assure you we do.   

thanks tim for hugging me, holding me, wiping away my tears and telling me i'm just fine (well really the greatest woman alive) and that everything will be just fine.  and i'm believing it. 

. . . and thank you for singing "magic, magic, magic, mah mah mah magic"  over and over again since i chose that as my word for 2012.  and when i moaned last week and said my life wasn't magical you said, "it's not 2012 yet.  just wait." 

can't wait to eat fajitas at los hermanos with you tonight.  where the magic all began:). 

heather and michael graham (with timeless woods) surprised us with this beautiful proclamation frame on christmas eve.  i said it was too much (and it was)  but that i would happily take it. 

gratitude day 362: "flecks of gold"

on christmas eve, after the new-pajama-clad children were tucked into their beds tim gave me the most wonderful gifts.

but the one gift that will forever be my favorite christmas gift--was my 2011 blog put together in a book. 

it was a complete and total surprise and the most perfect of perfect gifts that i could ever ask for.  i could hardly look at any of it, because each little part made me cry anew.  i was hugging and kissing tim and wiping mascara away as i looked at each of the little details he had added.  to the cover, the back, the title pages. 

and then there were my words.

beautiful, beautiful words.  and my favorite pictures.  and my favorite quotes and talks.  and my children.  and my family.  and my friends.  all there together on thick, shiny pages. 

it was perfect.  and i was so glad that tim had spent the days at "work" working on my book.  i know i would have been paralyzed with all the decisions from fonts to pictures sizes to cover colors.  i was grateful that he made it--and it was just how i wanted it.  he captured all of my heart in those 251 pages. 

and it gave me hope.

which was the greatest christmas present of all.

a week ago or so i realized that somewhere along the way i had become afraid of life.  i wasn't sure that i could trust it anymore.  as i looked to 2012 i wondered what hard things i might have to endure.  what depths of anguishing soul-searching i would discover.  and would i get a phone call to turn on the news and see our business in flames again?  and i was unsure of my own abilities as well.  was i enough, in all the faults that i had seen so clearly in the last year, to raise my children well?  was i enough to be valued and accepted and loved--when i was textbook "messed up" in so many ways? i was afraid that life might not give enough and that i might not be enough. 

and as i looked at each page of my book, simple abundance, i realized it was enough--more than enough.  and that i was enough--more than enough. 

and the patient accumulation of daily flecks had left me with more than nuggets enough.  tim wrote in his "editor's note) that i had always wanted to write a book and that he not only believed that i could but that i already did.  that was his gift to me.  for him to give me a glimpse of what was already there. 

i told tim, "please, please remind me of this moment when i am in the depths of despair so that i remember."  he laughed and said we had tried that before.  but truly, i wanted to catch this moment and bottle it up to uncork on days when i needed to remember.  so i found a little bottle and filled with with tiny flecks of silver glitter and corked it.

so later, i could remember. 

that moment.

and all my daily gratitudes.

that added up to a full, abundant life.

earlier this year i had gone to an interview.  it was a project to help someone (who i greatly admired) write her memoir.  i wasn't offered the project and i have wondered several times why i went to the interview.  it was an awesome opportunity to meet a personal hero and i thought perhaps that was it --a tender mercy.  but on christmas morning as i thought of that interview again i had the thought, you did not have time to write someone else's story this year. 

you were busy writing your own. 

"leaks"

 "See your mistakes not as personal flaws, but as the source of your most valuable life lessons."

--deep thoughts from whole living. 

"lovers running"  brian kershishnik

"How splendidly human it is to practice. Everything we do is practice, if you will see it that way. This is an optimistic perspective; it suggests that the awkwardness, failure, or drudgery of our current task will, sooner or later (and probably gradually), give way to something lovely, even beautiful. 

For reasons that are difficult to articulate, art is vital. As we experience it, we increase. This is not necessarily to say that we gain information, but rather that we become part of a larger thing, and in some way we know or are known more completely. I believe it is this illusive quality that unites art as diverse as that of Rembrandt and Paul Klee. In this sense it is not a new thing that must continually be done in art, but rather the old thing, continually explored by new individuals. 

 Perhaps art is a rend—a hole, a place where a seam in the body or spirit did not quite come together, and as a result another pure authentic reality leaks out, not necessarily in intentional ways. Perhaps artists are the ones who through poetry, dance, story, music or what have you give shape to the issue and substance of that reality, such that it can be perceived as something more than just a mess that needs mopping or therapy.

I believe that the power of art is derived from this pure authentic reality, a reality which is concealed for what I trust are good reasons. Not all leaks from that world are to be broadcast or celebrated. Benefit can certainly be derived from these intentioned or unintentioned leaks. But only if treated with care. I believe that as an artist I should exercise such stewardship. The invasion to ourselves in creating art as well as the invasions to those who receive the art make it clear to me that the process should be handled with appropriate care, affection, concern and not least, virtue. Even in my pictures which are humorous and whimsical there is an element of danger because they must in some way acknowledge or address the existence of the very center of truth. In that truth, I have found that there is plenty to laugh about, but not at. There is plenty of comfort if I can learn how to receive it. There is plenty of joy, but it must have a foundation. And there is plenty of sorrow, but not despair. "--Brian Kershisnik

today i feel leaky.

today i feel full of leaks.

places where my body and soul don't meet up.

 

rent.

 

not enough fingers to plug up all the holes.

 

 

it's awkward to use my hands to plug up all the parts of me and find i have no hands left for living.

 

and i wonder if it is time to stop plugging up all the holes

in order to appear whole.

 

and as i stand in a puddle on the floor

i wonder

 

am i something more than just a "mess to mop up?"

 

scarred, and lined. . .

 

 

and wet.

 

can i be grateful?

in my mind i can.

but in my heart i can't.  

i'm mad, and uncomfortable, and embarassed.  

ashamed. . . 

of my awkwardness.

and leaks.

and it steals my breath.

and fears washes through my belly

at the thought of others seeing

holes

but the fear is greater what if others just see

through.

right through me and keep on looking.

and i'm nobody.

so full of holes that no one sees me at all.

and so i keep running

in an awkward way

trying to keep up

and hold on to the holes

and keep it together.

but i can see i am leaking

and it's time to stop

and let go.

and ask to be seen

as whole

as me.

and that is my greatest fear.  

and i worry

what i don't give way to something beautiful?

what if i am scarred

and ugly

and hurt.

and no lovliness comes.

and so i wait

and realize 

the puddle i've created

is from my own tears.

and i look down

and step through the saltiness

barefoot, and shivering

and wonder

is this really me?

i'm thinner than before.

not puffed up with falseness

i can see my hips.

and i claim my breasts.  

and look at what is me.

hello.

i say.

hello 

i say back.

there is an awkward pause of newness.

i don't know what do say.

you're brave, i hear.

i'm skinny and shivering

i say back.

and real.

i feel those words more than hear them.

i think it might hurt, i say.

and then i feel hope

and magic.

filling up all your broken places.

gratitude day 348: "symbols"

"Hear My Prayer" print.

"Hear my prayer, help us out of the valley of despair, let the darkness of the night pass us and here comes the light of hope..."

 

this print (along with its quote) is just perfect, perfect, perfect for my 2012 word. 

 

and i found the perfect silver hand-hammered wishbone necklace.  

 

time to stock up on the glitter and sparkles as well.

gratitude day 349: "beauty"

 

read "on beauty" by kiersten white.

perhaps the most beautiful, compelling thoughts on your own beauty i have ever read.

read it.

i can be bossy on my own blog and i'm telling you its fanastic.

and it made me cry.

 

 

" Beauty is in the stories of our faces, the people who have loved us, the people we have loved and do love and will love. Beauty is what we have survived and what we will create. Beauty is stamped into the way our eyes shift when we smile, the things our hands do, the kindness that comes out of our mouths. Beauty is not how the world sees us, but what we take of ourselves and give to the world.

Today when you look in the mirror, don't wish yourself away. Trace the lines of your face, the you that you are. Because you are beautiful."

 

as i have been sorting through photos and memorabilia i have often paused and sighed.  or laughed. or ached.  i found a picture from a shannon hale (book of a thousand days) signing.  me and a few close friends.  and i look so much younger.  it was only a few years ago. . .but i look fresher somehow.  i look at my cute friends in the picture and think of how our lives have changed since that day.  and part of me wanted to reach up and ease the current worry lines from my face.  but that is part of my story.  but perhaps i will trace them--because that is the me that i am.  

and that is beautiful.

and that is the same beauty i see in my mom and her mom and her mom.

and the same that i see in my daughter.

and i wouldn't ease that away.

gratitude day 347: "magic"

 

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

  --Neil Gaiman

images via jusbesplendidtumblr and kellymccalebtumblr

 

"The world at large has this attitude, “What makes you so special that you think you deserve an extraordinary life?” 

Personally, I think the passion for an extraordinary life, and the courage to pursue it, iswhat makes us special. And I don’t even think of it as an “extraordinary life” anymore so much as simple happiness. It’s rarer than it should be, and I believe it comes from creating a life that fits you perfectly, not taking what’s already there, but making your own from scratch. 

You can let life happen to you, or you can happen to life. It’s harder, but so much better."

--Laini Taylor, "Creating Your Life" (read the post in full--so awesome)

2012:  word of the year

***magic***

i had chosen a word.  a different word.  i even spent several hours "vision boarding" it.  

it was a good word.  perhaps a word for now.  

and then i read daughter of smoke and bone.

and changed my word.

to magic.

this has been a good year.

i attended a class where the teacher spoke of the constant cycle of "release and replace."

i've spent hours and hours unearthing and releasing.

and learning.  and crying and trying.  

and now, perhaps i have a space carved out.

waiting to hold what i choose to replace it with.

and i think the space is whispering for magic.

yearing for living moth necklaces, twinkly lights, tutu skirts, fairy houses, and hope.  

i've been evaluating my 2011 goals (hence the current massive upheavel of all things paper in an attempt to finish one goal of wrapping up three scrapbooks for christmas morning and if i can squeeze in a trip to manti before the end of the year i will have completed all my goals).  

and now i'm working on a list for 2012.  

so what is your word for 2012?  

and how did your word for 2011 treat you?  

mine , heal, treated me well.

and perhaps that's why the word i had originally chosen for 2012--whole--was no longer needed.

my word had already worked its magic.

gratitude day 346: "you"

yesterday i woke up to the word 'you.'

 

my first waking thought is often one of gratitude now.

because i am thinking what i want to write about.

 

 

so thank you.

 

you

and

you

and you.

 

for listening.  

and commenting.

and emailing.

and calling.

 

sometimes i think i may make another blog title change

to

"diary of a moody girl."

 

thanks for reading.

gratitude day 345: "hope"

 

(my vision board--photographed in the process--for family dinner)

 

 

"I hope for many things for our little family.  I have visions of eating family dinner.  I have cooked up another delicious favorite, perhaps 'Pasta Andreoli.'  The kitchen is the hub of our home.  It is where we scurry for breakfast and lunch sacks on the weekdays and where we savor sleeping in and maple-flavored bacon on the weekends.   I hope that the kitchen table is where we read the scriptures together and where we kneel in prayer.   I can hear our little children's prayers in my head.  A sweet voice asking to bless grandma and grandpa, the seeds in the garden, our sick puppy and maybe Elmo too.  I hope that we enjoy and savor those little moments around the table.  I hope that we linger over dinner and talk about our days.  I can't wait to hear the 'funny' jokes our kids will tell in imitation of their daddy.  AND i really hope that everyone carries their plate to the sink and helps clean up after dinner.  I hope that our house is filled with curious minds, helpful hands, full tummies and kind hearts.  I hope our children will tell us over dinner about befriending a girl in kindergarten class that no one else would play with.  I hope to hear you tell stories about your mission and teaching our children a few Spanish words.  I hope the kitchen table will later become a place for homework to be discussed and journals to be written.  I hope that our children's journals will be full of special moments of their childhood, a childhood rich in love, experiences, and laughter.  I hope that after homework is cleared away there will be just enough time before bed for a 'quick' game of Settlers and mom will read just 'one' chapter from James and the Giant Peach.  After the children are tucked in I hope that you and I will kneel beside our bed and give thanks that our hopes became our realities."  --written to Tim in 2005 (found yesterday while I spent several hours getting to know that tub of papers I photographed a week or so ago).  

 

 

gratitude day 344: "amy and julia and cali"

 (photo from a little impromptu back porch photo shoot after one of amy's classes)

(photo of julia shamelessly stolen from jamie's blog:)).  it's been fun to attend an herb group hosted by jamie and taught by julia.  and you have to try julia's raw peppermint fudge.  one of our family favorites!

 

(cali at my house--teaching a class on desserts.  i think it's time i try her recipe).  

 

 

each of these ladies asked questions.

and i knew i had to seek the answers.

 

perhaps that is the sign of a great teacher.

 

to each of you--you rocked my world.

truly, i know my life will never be the same after walking into your houses for my first class.

 

"There are few master teachers in life.  The rest of us are learning still.  Everyone presently human is unfinished.  But there are many who can listen to life so well that they can hear the vastness in everything and in you.  A teacher is someone who has learned how to listen to life.  Someone who has found a way to listen well.

Any real teacher is only a pointing finger.  In the end, we may find out more by not following our teachers but by following what our teachers follow for ourselves.  From a good teacher you may learn the secret of listening.  You will never learn the secrets of life.  You will have to listen for yourself."  My Grandfather's Blessings, by Rachel Naomi Remen

 

i'm grateful for each of these women and the classes they taught.  i find myself referring to their lessons again and again.  

gratitude day 343: "lynett"

 

years ago dale and lynett were looking for a house in utah.

tim was a real estate agent at the time.

we were driving around looking and came across a white house. . .it was a for sale by owner.

tim called.

the owner wasn't quite ready to show the house that day.

so, tim moved on.  like, that was that.

but i had a feeling about that house.  and i made him call back.

and that was the house.

 

lynett fills up that house. . .and makes sure it is filled up with love, and people and lots and lots of food.

and i am grateful for . . . um, how many dinners would six-ish years times almost every sunday be?

 

i don't know if we would have survived three kids under four (and three kids under five, six, seven, eight and now nine) without all the help from dale and lynett.  and i don't know if we would have survived every long sunday without dinner.   

 

thank you.  thank you.