words like dalliance and demure. nicknames. new music. moose tracks ice cream. an old book. full reign of the piano in an empty house. singing in the shower at the top of your lungs. hearing someone else sing in the shower at the top of their lungs. playing just dance with the roomies. spelling things the European way. a travel itinerary. snowmobiling and hot chocolate at Cair Paravel. being with my family, when we are all together at one time. spontaneity. the smell of lavender. dryer sheets. anything breakfast. jogging in a spring rain. new shoes. getting an A on that test. general conference. endorphins. painted toes. mittens. the first day of spring (even if it is snowing, utah). zions. cooking in the kitchen with the music turned up in the company of good friends. the temple. the anticipation. being told you are a good kisser. driving with the windows down. buying your very own first car. sleeping in. climbing to the top. falling asleep to the rain. Easter sunday. calligraphy. colors. getting letters. special occasions. the singing voice of my dad. power zumba night. the sound of foreign languages. making it to the top of that rock wall. paris in the rain. the strumming of a guitar. campfires. summer nights. that feeling after the gym when your calves are so sore you can barely walk--you know you worked hard. the color blue. calla lilies. skinny dipping. renting puppies. colored pens. shooting stars when you least expect them. dandelion crowns on little girls. locking eyes with that guy across the room. realizing that you can move on. the empowerment you feel after standing up for yourself. vulnerability. kindred spirits. sunrises. first dam. late night talks. the breath before the kiss. waking up just before your alarm. chocolate milk. fall leaves. yogurtland. road trips. having a child fall asleep in your arms. horseback riding. street markets. the hbl library. midnight premiers. ticking clocks. backpacking. old photographs. a brand new, empty journal. harmonizing. poetry. candlelight. mix cd's. payday. temple square. soccer. sunflower fields. prelude on a swedish folk song. libraries. laughter. the feeling just before the roller coaster drops. the sound and smell of the beach. mourning doves. summer concerts on the grass. christmas morning. twinkle lights. sundays off. the smell of freshly cut grass. slurpees. the first day of school. that first snow. the sound of crickets. lock bridges. stone fireplaces. sunday dinner. aspen trees. just to name a few <3
This pretty much sums up my life lately.
Maaaaybe even applies to the last 4 months of my life.
Or something.
This post really has no beneficial value other than the fact that getting that idea out into the
cyber world somehow makes me feel a little bit better.
Good thing it is general conference.
Spiritual Endorphins make a world of a difference, you know?
And that's really all I have to say.
I wandered into an old bookshop today.
I had passed this particular shop every day for several months, always in a hurry and moving along to the next thing to check off my endless to-do list. I was charmed by the idea of this place, though, and I consequently dreamed up what it would be like when I was finally able to venture inside. I live for moments like that.
Today proved the perfect opportunity. Walking home in solitude on this grey day, after reading a book of great depth and I was lost in my mind. Moods such as this cause my mind to weave thoughts in ways that would sound strange in casual conversation. It works for me.
I opened the door and stepped inside-- and was immediately disappointed. The thing was in disrepair, books scarcely covered the cheap shelves. Instead of an old secret tucked away in the form of a corner bookstore I found a cheap, empty little room and not even a place to sit down. I was sorely disappointed.
I left quickly and my mind dissected the situation. How long I had anticipated this small moment--fabricating in my head the way it would be, walking in and discovering a gem. Breathing in the old books lining old shelves and of course taking advantage of the many niches to choose from to soak it all in, one book at a time. I do this all the time, envisioning how I think something is going to pan out.
Granted, there are many moments that live up to your expectations, even exceed them, and these are wonderful. But what I have really found is that I am quite the daydreamer, and I tend to build things up so much that when they finally come, they never quite measure up to the idea I had formulated for them in my mind. Exhibit A:
The truth of it, at least for me, is this: the moments that end up really meaning something in my life are usually the ones that take me totally off guard. I am talking about those moments that hit you on some idle Tuesday, taking you completely aback and casting a brilliant myriad of color into your life--unexpectedly.
And the other truth that I have come to realize is that, as Richard L. Evans puts it, maybe we should stop trying to force a life. Perhaps the one offered to us is just as full of joy, it's pigments just as bright-- just not what we expected.
I am still going to dream, and anticipate things in my life--that's just the way I work. But I think instead of being disappointed in their not measuring up, I will just enjoy those moments for what they are. There are more than enough bookstores left out there for me to explore. The trick is to enjoy those spaces in-between. That is the substance of a life. The tiny little moments throughout a day-- the boring, mundane routine of days-- the brilliant instances of unexpected splendor. Together these weave a life, and whatever that means mine will entail, I choose to open my heart and enjoy it.
In the words of Steven Walker: Expect nothing and strive for everything. You'll never be dissatisfied.
I had passed this particular shop every day for several months, always in a hurry and moving along to the next thing to check off my endless to-do list. I was charmed by the idea of this place, though, and I consequently dreamed up what it would be like when I was finally able to venture inside. I live for moments like that.
Today proved the perfect opportunity. Walking home in solitude on this grey day, after reading a book of great depth and I was lost in my mind. Moods such as this cause my mind to weave thoughts in ways that would sound strange in casual conversation. It works for me.
I opened the door and stepped inside-- and was immediately disappointed. The thing was in disrepair, books scarcely covered the cheap shelves. Instead of an old secret tucked away in the form of a corner bookstore I found a cheap, empty little room and not even a place to sit down. I was sorely disappointed.
I left quickly and my mind dissected the situation. How long I had anticipated this small moment--fabricating in my head the way it would be, walking in and discovering a gem. Breathing in the old books lining old shelves and of course taking advantage of the many niches to choose from to soak it all in, one book at a time. I do this all the time, envisioning how I think something is going to pan out.
Granted, there are many moments that live up to your expectations, even exceed them, and these are wonderful. But what I have really found is that I am quite the daydreamer, and I tend to build things up so much that when they finally come, they never quite measure up to the idea I had formulated for them in my mind. Exhibit A:
The truth of it, at least for me, is this: the moments that end up really meaning something in my life are usually the ones that take me totally off guard. I am talking about those moments that hit you on some idle Tuesday, taking you completely aback and casting a brilliant myriad of color into your life--unexpectedly.
And the other truth that I have come to realize is that, as Richard L. Evans puts it, maybe we should stop trying to force a life. Perhaps the one offered to us is just as full of joy, it's pigments just as bright-- just not what we expected.
I am still going to dream, and anticipate things in my life--that's just the way I work. But I think instead of being disappointed in their not measuring up, I will just enjoy those moments for what they are. There are more than enough bookstores left out there for me to explore. The trick is to enjoy those spaces in-between. That is the substance of a life. The tiny little moments throughout a day-- the boring, mundane routine of days-- the brilliant instances of unexpected splendor. Together these weave a life, and whatever that means mine will entail, I choose to open my heart and enjoy it.
In the words of Steven Walker: Expect nothing and strive for everything. You'll never be dissatisfied.
I am a mediocre person. I do not say that in a way to belittle my worth or put out a cry for validation-- no.
I speak simply- in truth I am not that extraordinary, I feel like a babe among giants as I stumble my way clumsily through this whole nursing school experience-- surrounded by some of the most put together, brilliant, ridiculously intelligent people I have ever met in my life. They inspire me more than anyone, it is thrilling to be surrounded by such remarkable human beings, constantly. There is nothing else like it. The energy they inspire is indescribable. And they frustrate the heck out of me, too. But that's okay.
Every day I question if I am really cut out for this and every day I receive a push upwards, a small confirming whisper that I can, that I will. And then they come, tender mercies usually manifest through the people who surround me, the people closest to me in my life (thank goodness for them). And something in me decides to keep going.
A good friend of mine explained to me the other day that the word mediocre actually has roots that translate to "halfway up a mountain."
Well?
I think I'll keep that idea. :) I am halfway up a mountain! I feel battered and beaten up but I am looking up... and even mediocre people can find their way to the top sometime if they keep trudging along, however feebly that may be, with a small smidgeon of hope and a ferocity unparalleled.
So this is what I have chosen. To dedicate the next two years of my life to learning The Healer's Art. So this whole running on 5 hours of sleep and working long hours and living in the Harold B. Lee library and hardly having time to breathe thing, well, I think I'll keep at it. This is a remarkable time of life and as HARD as it is, I love it. Sure, I'm barely standing, but truth be told:
I love it.
So let it be known, I am a mediocre person.
And you know?
I'm okay with that.
I speak simply- in truth I am not that extraordinary, I feel like a babe among giants as I stumble my way clumsily through this whole nursing school experience-- surrounded by some of the most put together, brilliant, ridiculously intelligent people I have ever met in my life. They inspire me more than anyone, it is thrilling to be surrounded by such remarkable human beings, constantly. There is nothing else like it. The energy they inspire is indescribable. And they frustrate the heck out of me, too. But that's okay.
Every day I question if I am really cut out for this and every day I receive a push upwards, a small confirming whisper that I can, that I will. And then they come, tender mercies usually manifest through the people who surround me, the people closest to me in my life (thank goodness for them). And something in me decides to keep going.
A good friend of mine explained to me the other day that the word mediocre actually has roots that translate to "halfway up a mountain."
Well?
I think I'll keep that idea. :) I am halfway up a mountain! I feel battered and beaten up but I am looking up... and even mediocre people can find their way to the top sometime if they keep trudging along, however feebly that may be, with a small smidgeon of hope and a ferocity unparalleled.
So this is what I have chosen. To dedicate the next two years of my life to learning The Healer's Art. So this whole running on 5 hours of sleep and working long hours and living in the Harold B. Lee library and hardly having time to breathe thing, well, I think I'll keep at it. This is a remarkable time of life and as HARD as it is, I love it. Sure, I'm barely standing, but truth be told:
I love it.
So let it be known, I am a mediocre person.
And you know?
I'm okay with that.
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