Always always always remember you are capable. You are capable of doing everything and you are capable of doing nothing. You are capable of saying yes and saying no. You are capable of thinking and dreaming and producing and achieving. You are capable of failing and you are capable of trying again. You are capable of standing up and you are capable of surrendering. You are capable of loving and hating and choosing which one to turn to. You are capable of smiling and frowning and crying and laughing. You are capable of helping and turning your back and apologizing. You are capable of anything you set your mind to, and an infinite amount more outside of what you can imagine. You are capable of all this at once and yet sometimes you’ll still feel small, and that’s okay.
In training to be a lifeguard, you learn how to control a chaotic, often life-threatening situation. When people are drowning or in fear of drowning, they are desperate for help, and it is your job to get to them, relax them and bring them to safety.
In learning to be a good friend, we are often faced with many of the same situations as a lifeguard, though they often exist on much more figurative planes. Life consistently throws the unexpected at us, knocking us down, pushing us under the water, and while we often try to teach ourselves to swim the best we can, we often rely on our friends to save us when things get too hard.
As a friend, we learn to hold our breath, we learn to paddle and to kick. We learn to stay calm when the person we are trying to save is too panicked to realize they may be drowning us too. Yes, as a friend we do all of these things, because oftentimes we are the only ones who will. However, we must always connect to the fact that we are not just a friend. We are not solely a lifeguard on duty during someone else’s swim. We too are swimming and we too are trying our best to stay afloat. So while we must always keep ourselves open and available to lend a hand when we are needed, we must also take note of where we are in the water.
So, Little One, I ask you to remember this: Love hard enough to want to save the ones around you from sinking, but make sure they put in as much time to help you float.
It’s the Christmas season, which always brings about a lot of anxieties for me. Not really from the season itself, but from what it entails. For example, in the weeks leading up to Christmas I’m often invited to a number of parties, be it with family or friends or both, and I’m always asked the same question: What have you been up to?
I don’t know why, but immediately after I hear these words, my mind always goes blank. Suddenly nothing I’ve done throughout the year seems of any worth and I’m left standing there, thinking I’ve more or less wasted a year. Today however, as I made a list of things I want to get done by the end of this year, I was reminded how important working years are.
You see, for the past few years, I’ve been making a lot of moves, and while they may seem small to the outsider’s eye, they are big and important for me. It is years like these that build up to the big, obvious, accomplishment ridden ones. And so this year, even though I know I’ll get asked that same question over and over and it will still be hard to answer, I’m not going to flee. I’m going to stand my ground. I’m not going to change the subject or avoid it by talking about the accomplishments of others. I’m going to tell the truth: I’ve been working hard.
Ever since I was little I was encouraged to be generous, to share, to give. And as I’ve grown up, I’ve noticed how often I associate those words with tangible things. I’ve shared toys. I’ve given presents. I’ve been generous with my money. But now, perhaps more than ever, I’m starting to believe that what the world needs more than anything is our generosity with the things we cannot see.
We need to be generous with our hearts, both in loving those who love us and those who don’t.
We need to be generous with our voices, using them to identify what needs to be changed and giving them to those who have had theirs taken away.
We need to be generous with our time, giving it to people not things.
We need to be generous with our hope, passing it along to those who have been given no reason to hold onto their own.
The world needs so much more than money and things, and you are worth so much more than your supply of either. So when you’re looking for ways to be generous, you need look no further than inside of yourself. Chances are if you look there first, the gift will be far greater than anything you could have given blindly out of your pocket.
Sometimes it’s weird thinking that the only thing keeping us apart is the silence of time. That which forces us to be patient and shapes us into who we’ll need to be when life weaves us together. That which teaches us and tortures us and turns us upside down. Until one day it calls out and without thinking, we answer.
More than anything in this world I want to write a book; to be successful in a field that I love. And while I continue to hold out hope, it’s hard to imagine everything I dream of really coming true. But I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it? To notice the doubt but allow hope to prevail.
I’m starting a story today, and it might be nothing, but then again it might be everything. Do you ever get that feeling in your gut? The one that whispers, “Maybe this is the start of something really big.” The one that wonders, “Is this the moment when everything changes?”
I don’t know.
But I’m at that starting line, a place I never would have put myself before, and I will focus on that small step, even if I can’t move a single inch further in this race. Today I am trying, and what success story has started with anything more?
The thermometer reached 89 degrees today, which is unheard of for February. There are people all over the world complaining about snow pack and frozen pipes and icy roads, and then there’s us, sweating in shorts and eating ice cream cones. I’m still holding out hope that we get a little more rain before summer, but I suppose we’ll see what the weather has in store for us.
Over the last few weeks, the heat has been pretty consistent, making it impossible for me not to fall into summer patterns. I’ve pulled out my flip flops, craved frozen yogurt, and opened all the windows in my house. I’ve also started to drive with the music up and the windows down. And while I’m not really someone who likes to draw attention to myself, there is a special kind of freedom that comes with singing your heart out into the open air. I downloaded a bunch of new country songs and have been letting the breeze sweep through my car, blowing my hair around as I hum along.
So even though I know the air conditioning is tempting, and on some summer days it’s almost imperative, roll your windows down and let the fresh air cool you off as often as you can. There’s just something about it that forces you to breathe.
I recently finished reading a book called “Let’s Get Lost” by Adi Alsaid and I wanted to tell you about it. Not to spoil it, just to let you know what it taught me. The basic premise is that a girl named Leila is going on a road trip to see the Northern Lights. The book is divided into 5 sections, each one dedicated to a person Leila meets and the adventures they embark on in their short time together.
As I read through the book, I came to a very important realization: there are lives happening all around us. This may seem obvious, but I think it’s really easy to get wrapped up in our own problems and forget. You never really know the type of day that someone is having or how much impact a little kindness can have on a person for the rest of their day or even their life.
One of my favorite quotes I got from the book was: “I urge you to please notice when you are happy.” A character quotes this line from Kurt Vonnegut’s book, A Man Without a Country, near the beginning of the book and it stuck with me to the end. Once I finished, I looked up the quote and found that in its entirety Vonnegut states: “And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”
It’s a simple request really. To just notice those moments that feel whole. Peaceful. Great. So I encourage you to do so. For even in the mere days since I’ve finished the book, I’ve found myself among more happy moments than I could tell you about in this letter. It’s funny how when you open your heart to feeling happiness, your eyes are far more prepared to discover it around you.
The great thing about music is that it finds a way to tell you things you already know, but in a way that finally makes sense. I suppose this goes for all art really, which is why I love it so much and constantly feel the need to share it with you.
Today I bring you “Bird Set Free” by Sia. She is one of the most artistic and unique musicians I’ve ever heard, and it is my hope that she continues creating for a long time. I fell in love with this particular song the moment I heard it, as it came to me on a day that I needed it more than I knew.
The chorus goes:
I don’t care if I sing off key
I’ll find myself in my melody
I sing for love
I sing for me
I’ll shout it out like a bird set free.
The premise of the song, or what I understand about it, is that we all have a voice or a “scream” inside ourselves, and throughout our lives we’ve either been prevented sharing it or were too afraid to use it. This fear stems from the voice’s potential to be a weapon. To the world, it is a weapon that could speak terrifyingly necessary truths. To us, it is a weapon that could leave us far more vulnerable than we feel comfortable with.
This is what I love about the chorus. Leading up to it Sia explains that the voice we are trying to hide is eating us alive and that holding onto it is preventing us from truly living.
For me, I’m very aware of all of the things I keep hidden inside; the fear of judgement or imperfection can be crippling. But what I love about this song is that it encourages you to share your voice even if it’s not perfect, because the fact is, you’re the one who needs to get it out. It shouldn’t matter what other people think of it because they weren’t the ones suffering in silence for so long.
She ends the chorus with perhaps the most meaningful line, a promise to not only speak her voice, but to shout it. To free herself from the cage she’s been in, whether it be stranger made or self-built, and fly into the world anew.
I hope you find this song when you too need it most.
Letters From Then 