Poetry In Motion

Sometimes you have to take time for yourself, right a lot of words on a page, and then be inspired to do homework. So here's a weirdly formatted poem about dreams.


I think it's time to stop thriving, and start dreaming. To look up into the places above and see more than just a ceiling. There comes a time when you may feel hopeless, or alone, but don't let that time be short, because you'll look back and see that time that was wasted is gone. No more, no longer able to explore. A mystery that only you can see yet you choose to ignore. So vividly imagine what awaits is up to you. You have every choice you could imagine to make and are walking in your shoes. Love unconditionally, breath breathlessly, ignite the passionate fury for your dreams and hopes to immerse in the sea of life. Which is more than just a ride. It's a daily  journey that you will be apart of until the day you die. Where you can step inside and freely take a side. Focus on the now, maybe the future, but not so much that you can't enjoy what is before you. In the moment of bliss that turns into something chaotic will soon simmer down into the hopes of the less exotic. Where tragedy takes over and weakens your hunger to devote your time and energy to the things that you want to see. The believability that something will break free. Take hold of your right to ignite a flame of passion in the midst of madness and burn brighter than the darkness. Because it's you that might harness the flame that starts a fire of dreams full of desire. That impact the world and bring a revelation that this life is lived once, there's no reincarnation. Effortlessly give what you're willing to risk, but also realize if you risk it all you could live your life to its fullest.

Blood- Donate It

I've been hearing about the next blood drive at my school, and honestly I've been a little disheartened and even slightly irritated by it. I donated blood for the first time during Thanksgiving break last November 2013. But before that I tried to donate twice and those attempts were unsuccessful. The first time went from being fearless to fearful. It felt like I was being stabbed in the arm and I started crying uncontrollably. Let's just say it was not a "pinch and a burn." and the pain I felt did not feel like I was being stuck with a needle in my vein. I'm pretty sure it was my nerve. It traumatized me, but I decided to try again in September of last year. My iron was too low then, so I luckily didn't have to experience a terrible stabbing. The first successful donation, however, was barely painful and felt amazing. Amazing to have donated, not amazing pain because that does not exist for me.
When I tell part of my testimony, and how my arm started to go numb last April leading to me being in the hospital and having a crazy vision, I've felt a little angered. Angered that this was all from me trying to help people, and the person who tried to help me ended up hurting me. Partially because after talking with nurses, my acupuncturist and chiropractor, we've come to the conclusion that this problem with my arm stiffening stemmed from donating blood, and that's why I probably have a pinched nerve.
However, when I just read an email about donating blood, my heart released a lot of empathy. Even though I went through a lot of pain, I helped three people. In fact, I saved three lives. We tend to overlook that part, partially because it's said so often. A newborn baby, someone battling cancer, or someone who was in a car accident. Not just a random, ordinary, walking down the street smiling and drinking Starbucks kind of life, a quickly vanishing one.
 I think that compared to the pain that those people were going through, mine was and is miniscule. Even though I had to and who knows how long I might have to go through this arm pain, it happened for a reason. I don't know what that reason is in it's entirety, but I do know that the pain I felt is just a glimpse of the amount of pain experienced when you lose someone. Especially when you know they could have been helped. I would love to somehow meet the people who my blood went to. I know that's probably naive because it's done anonymously, but I will know one day because there's more to this life than earth. I never thought directly about that, but now that I think about it it's really cool to imagine who they are and what they look like. Their story. If there was any way to find that out or see how far they've come, that would be incredible.
 Now I don't openly encourage people like I once did to donate blood, but I do stop and think that I may need to reconsider that. I don't know if I'll necessarily be donating anytime soon, but I don't want my story to stop people from wanting to donate. People who are healthy and in the weight regimen to donate choose not to because they are afraid or don't trust people. Or, the saddest part, they just don't care. For some odd reason their life is more important than the lives that are being lost. I guess that makes sense, since we live in a society that tends to focused on your own life and is consumed with fulfilling wants and needs. But that doesn't mean it's right.
People tend to forget what it feels like to be in desperate need for something, partially because they've never been in that situation before. You might say you're afraid of needles. I get it. But the pain and fear combination of sitting for maybe ten minutes is incomparable to the longevity you can give to a person by giving away something you freely have flowing through you. They have less time then you, and they are desperate. Ten minutes of your time is adding on a continuation instead of an elimination of life.  So as a hypothetical math equation, 10 min = 1,000 or more minutes of life. That's amazing. Life is a gift, and it's been given so freely. So if you are able, you are more than capable to face fear and donate a pint of blood to someone who might be facing the worst challenge of their life. What you do does make a difference. Please donate!

 People tend to forget what it feels like to be in desperate need for something, partially because they've never been in that situation before. You might say you're afraid of needles. I get it. But the pain and fear combination of sitting for maybe ten minutes is incomparable to the longevity you can give to a person by giving away something you freely have flowing through you. They have less time then you, and they are desperate. Ten minutes of your time is adding on a continuation instead of an elimination of life.  So as a hypothetical math equation, 10 min = 1,000 or more minutes of life. That's amazing. Life is a gift, and it's been given so freely. So if you are able, you are more than capable to face fear and donate a pint of blood to someone who might be facing the worst challenge of their life. What you do does make a difference. Please donate!

Dreams and Thankfulness

I'm sitting here at my desk in my dorm room at 3:16 am. I'm working on homework and I couldn't ask for anything better. I just like to sit here and be immersed in a field of creativity and brainstorming. I feel like in my room I generate ideas and become so much more productive than I am in class. Where I can think.
I've been thinking about a lot of things I'm thankful for lately, and what I'm dreaming for. I'm thankful for water, intricately decorated ceramic cups, new sketchbook paper, macs, milkshakes, coconut and papaya soap, granola, moms, dreams, family, babies, children wearing sunglasses, frisbee, and sunlight. Pure sunlight. I have so many dreams, dreams that just escalade beyond my wildest imagination. I want to live in the city one day, like Maine or California. To walk down a cobblestone pathway pushing a stroller and laughing in the slight breeze. To have a husband who cherishes me and supports my dreams and runs with me. Who chases after me and accepts me for who I am. Sweet children I can bake for, cook for, clean up, and dance with. Lives that I can instill truth in and teach. Little hands that I can hold and put tiny mittens on. Paintings, murals, stone, vases, and flowers that will flood my home and make it mine. The pitter patter of tiny footsteps down the hall, excited or afraid- always knowing I'll be there. Humor, lots of it and endless jokes. A hilarious husband who loves the beach and takes me on traveling journeys across the world. Who likes the smell of saltwater the the feeling of the wind on your back as the sun beats down across your soft skin.  Who reminds me of who I am when I don't believe in myself. Who reminds me of the father's love. A job that I love, whether it's being a stay at home mom, a work at home mom, a designer, or an illustrator. A church that can impact people and raise hope and faith higher than ever before. Family that lives close by so we can go on dates. Bikes with bells on them that we ride down the street. A safe haven. A window with a view of lights and a seat of cushions. Dreams that never die. Hope that lives on, and a love for life so strong that nothing will ever shake it.

...just some early morning banter, and some processing of how much I love to live and dare to dream. Because I know these things can come true.

P.s. Or maybe I'll move back to NYC, you know, that "concrete jungle where dreams are made of." ;)

Keep Summer

I've been thinking of a lot of methods lately to bring warmth into these cold months. (And it's only August, I shouldn't have to be telling you about this yet!) I hate to break it to ya, but it feels like October. I saw a red leaf already on a green tree today. Yikes! But, there is hope for warmth. Yes, inside, but it's more than just heat. Maybe it's because I'm a lifeguard and there's sand in my veins (mostly from accidental grains of sand swept by the wind into my water jug,) but I love sunshine, warmth, and the tropical aspect of both of those things. So what have I been doing? Well, back in June I decorated some picture frames with seashells and sand. That alone, in my opinion, can bring an instant feeling of warmth into any cold room. It's also a great way to condense all of those seashells you collect from trips on vacation that sit aimlessly in piles. Or a cup. Or strewn about on the floor. So the frames I made are all coming back to college with me on Tuesday, in bubble wrap and despite my father's attempt to squish everything into our Toyota Camry.  They will survive.I also just opened up a Papaya Coconut soap ( perfection!) which is so rich and inviting, leaving a pure aroma of the beach on your skin. For the hair I've become accustomed to Brazilian Keratin Hair Therapy shampoo and conditioner that are awaiting their use in my shower caddy. A final, and the easiest way to bring some warmth into your life for these cold spells is Jesus. Simply put, let him come and seep into your heart, warm you mind with positive thoughts and penetrate your soul for something deeper. Oh, and don't cut your hair. Let it get beachy. Mine is only doing that because I won't splurge to get a haircut (I'm actually just stubborn and refuse to let someone other than my friend who now lives in Alabama cut my hair.) And eat chocolate, because that is a nonseasonal treat, so enjoy it as you gaze at your seashell frames across the wall.
Maybe I just have summer fever?
Well it's never leaving, so I hope you indulge on the shortness of the season and let it last much longer in decorations and beauty products.
I hope my tips were a little helpful!

About 14 years ago when my sister (left) was 5 and I (right) was 7. Duces.

My car ride home from college in May 2014

Poetic Beauty

Tuesday I saved a little girl's life. Yesterday I sun bathed in the beckoning sun while no one attended the beach, and today I was saved from being impaled by a strong and stationary (or so I thought) lifeguarding chair while illustrating. This week, and especially these past few days have been pretty incredible. Quiet, simple, and restful.  To say the least, Pennsylvania has been getting the best of me. Now that's something I never thought I'd say before I went to college in the big apple, and something I think about more often than not now that I'm home for summer break. Keep Pennsylvania Beautiful. Those signs all over the high ways and disheveled twisty roads? Yeah, they make their mark. Pennsylvania truly is beautiful. I can stare at the wispy clouds for hours, and I usually do since I lifeguard on the open waterfront of the beach in my community that's full of caring and quiet retired folk and families who arrive on the weekends to catch the sun's rays, watching their children squeal in the cool and earthy lake. The only litter I find is a sand filled cap of a Corona light or a cigarette butt (possibly some dinosaurs, the plastic kind)-two things I don't necessarily enjoy but it's better than piles of McDonald's trash and old items I can't recognize smelling of smog, death and pooled in a murky puddle. I can sing in the quiet as the notes lilt upon the breeze and make their home in the ever-growing pine trees. Pine needles. Fresh breaths of air that are quickly captured by the radiating sun that shines on the birds chirping high above the trees. A black bear eating my neighbor's suet feeder and trying to pole vault with the feeder's stand. Sand castles arrayed upon the soft ground as two children cackle and throw a squishy blue ball across the beach, creating a game they don't even know the rules for. Splashing into a lake that is full of freshwater and free of oil and harmful chemicals. Health. Diving, spinning, sinking, stroking, breathing. Swimming is my safe haven. The one activity where I glide effortlessly across an open body of water without feeling any pain in my body other than my lungs gasping for air momentarily. My life has felt like a poem lately, so I want to reciprocate that to you. To let you know that there is more than any struggle you are facing. Stop what your doing, take a moment, look around you, and see the endless beauty in this world that was created in six days. These things we take for granted have been spoken into utter existence in a sentence.  Appreciate these moments. There will never be a moment like it again.  No matter what the scenery is- city lights, country fields, raging storms- there is always a beautiful sky that you can get lost in, letting it engulf you and remind you of the endless beauty there is in the stillness.
Dream.
Delight.
Rest.
Hope.
Enjoy.
Breathe.
Laugh.
Pray.
Be.

My hope for you is that you can take the time to notice the little things that make up this great big world and create an even bigger and brighter difference than if you hadn't noticed them at all. That there is life, and beyond your greatest moment, there is an even greater life.

Dogs, Trust, and Grace

Lately I've been dog sitting. This is the fifth day out of seven, and it can get a little messy. Two pooches- a black lab/Australian shepherd mix, and some kind of terrier. It starts with a W, and that's all I've got. Let's just have a little dog discussion quickly if you aren't already aware of these two breeds. They are polar opposites. Labs lick people, have high speed energy, wake up early, are man handled into cages, eat all of the food, jump on people, jump in lakes repeatedly, fetch, and never.get.tired. Terriers sleep late, enjoy smells, lay next to you and apparently like macbooks, enjoy quiet, and eat slowly. Terriers are like me. Labs are not like me. Terriers and labs cofunction as instigators who aspire to make me yell.  Tucker and Nia. They're lovely when you sit down and write a blog post, like now, but they're full of exuberant energy and think I'm an impenetrable human chew toy whenever I first wake them up in the morning, stand up, throw a ball, or eat my own cookie.

 They firmly belief in the movie Yours, Mine, and Ours, yet in the sense of a two year old's perspective, so "mine." I feed them, and then I go to eat and they think it's time to eat again. I call it a cookie when they want a treat, yet open my package of cookies when I want a treat, and they think it's automatically for them. They make me think of what it will be like to have kids one day. And I become completely terrified. And maybe that's a good thing since they bite. Not, kids, dogs. Actually that's debatable. 

 A blessing is a burden. The downside of them is that they can't communicate with me, however, the plus side is that I can tell them what to do. So I am the dog trainer, communicator, food service representative, and authoritative green bean (I'm skinny.) They also can't read my blogposts, which is another blessing. For as smart as people say dogs are, you would think that they could read. Maybe they can. They can't speak to us in English, so I guess we would never know.

 Nia, the eldest and the terrier with the most well-behaved temperament is a cuddle bug.  He behaves, that is, until Tucker, the massive pup starts jumping and gnawing on my hands, and thinks I'm playing when I scold him or try to push him off. When that happens, Nia joins in, except he's short, so he jumps up and latches on to me, so I feel like I'm being bitten. 

All of these complaints I'm making on the negative aspects of dog sitting are good representations of distractions of this world. They make us angry, festering on little things. But when we stop, when we fix our eyes on the beauty and inspiration all around us, on the quiet, candescent moments, we begin to realize how much God is holding the world in his hands. He never falters, he never fails, he doesn't bite. He doesn't try to take your cookie. He loves you, he cuddles with you, and restores you with a peace that passes all understanding. 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Delight with him in all your ways and he will make your paths straight."

I promise you that there are good things about these dogs. Tucker shows his affection by licking your face eagerly, the only time it gets bad is if you just so happen to be singing a song when he does this, and then his head wacks your tooth. He also has the agility and speed to chase a ball in my neighbors giant back yard, and it reminds me of joy. Him and Nia sit on command. Usually it's with a "cookie," but at least they sit. Nia folds himself gently under your legs when you're only the couch. He gets warm and so do I. Free heater. Tucker wakes up at 6:30am with a few barks, the perfect reminder when I forgot to set my alarm clock the first day. 

 It's kind of crazy how God gives us relentless grace in the midst of our complaints and anger. And through that, we're reminded of what it is to truly trust him. The dogs are trusting me, so I can trust an even bigger God who puts up with my mistakes and gives me the responsibility of doing just that but with grace. Lord, give me more grace for these pups.

This is Rigby, another puppy of my life not aforementioned 

Creativity

I've been working on a painting lately, and thus I've been thinking about all things artistic. And then analogies. Oh how I love the analogies! Ever since I actually learned that term in AP US History in eleventh grade in high school, I've never stopped using it on a day to day basis. Analogies just paint vivid pictures for me in my imagination.
 Whenever I start a painting, I feel completely disorganized and out of sorts. I sketch my piece, see where the pencil marks are,  see how ugly they look, check my proportions, see how incorrect they are, erase, repeat. And I do that a few more times until it's absolutely perfect. Then I look at the whole picture of what I'm painting, and try to piece it apart in my mind, stripping away all of the layers to see  where the colors truly began. To see the simplicity. Then my mind continues to avidly think about that while my hands decide to dance across the canvas to the flow of the music I'm playing, emersed in colors that aren't even part of the picture. Then I realize how I've lost sight of what I'm actually doing. Whenever I'm in my creative zone (which is 99% of the time,) I always feel a constant battle. The battle between focus and being lead astray, I literally see that as my mind is focused on how to piece colors, proportions, perspective, and design together, while my hands seem to have a mind of their own- and it's not just since my right arm started going numb and I've been using both hands, it's actually something I've been wrestling with my entire life.
So I ask myself, " why can't I just focus, why am I losing sight of the simplicity, and making it harder for myself?" Then I hear the word "distraction."
 Distraction consumes lives and a lot of times causes us to forget how simple things can be if we just focus on what's important. What's simple.
Our brains were designed by a God who puts so much focus, time and energy into us. He creatively placed each and every brain cell in your brain for a purpose. And don't try to sit here and think of all the ways you aren't creative. You are creative. Except it. It doesn't mean you have to paint or make you tube videos. There's more to life and creativity than the obvious subjects of this noun. A lot of times, being creative can be as simple as just thinking of how to get to higher thinking. To stop thinking of this world and focusing on Jesus instead. So instead of focusing on a distraction like, "what am I not creative," think of all the reasons you are creative! You can't bash the creativity when you were CREATED by a creative God. Look at that, three "creatives" in a sentence. I'm sure you are thinking about a better way that could be said. That's creativity too. The creative gene has already been planted inside of you, inside your brain, and inside your heart. The only thing that keeps us from doing what we're called to do is distraction. But when we fix our eyes on the truth, that we were made for a purpose, that we were created by a creative God, the distractions won't weaken us so much. Since our eyes are fixed on God, he can piece together our lives, and before we know it, it'll all come together. Most of the time it's even better than we could imagine. It's creative.

A sneak peak of my current painting I'm working on for my cousin!