One month.

One month from today, I'm packing up my worldly goods and heading down I-5 to begin a new season.

It's beginning to feel very real.

It's so good and so exciting!  I absolutely cannot wait for a new pace of life, a new way of being.  There will be things I've missed - like books and discussions and OED access.  For the first time, I will be living alone.  And, since I'll be an Oregonian, there will be no sales tax and no pumping gas for 2 whole years.  I'm trading the corporate for a classroom and a bus commute for a 5 minute bicycle ride.  It's not going to be like undergrad and it's not going to be like working full time.  It's going to be wonderfully new!

At the same time, I'm leaving dear friends--the kind I feel comfortable around whether we're dressing up and going out or just popping up for a spontaneous movie night.  Instead of that relational ease, I'll be starting over from scratch to forge a new community.  Not to mention that I'll be moving even further away from a certain fellow.  But it's all enough to make me a little teary-eyed when I stop to think about it.

It's daunting and exciting and crazy and marvelous--all at the same time.  I'm so close, with so much yet to do.  But when I get into my car and leave the town I have always called home, I know it's just a turning page, just a new incredible chapter.  And I can't wait to discover what's written there.

New Year's Wishes

Copied in it's entirety from Neil Gaiman's Tumblr.  Happy New Year and enjoy:

The whole New Year’s Wishes sequence in one place…

A decade ago, I wrote:

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.

And almost half a decade ago I said,

...I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you’ll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you’ll make something that didn’t exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.

In 2011, my wish for each of us is small and very simple.

And it’s this.

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

 

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re Doing Something.

 

So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.

 

Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it.

 

Make your mistakes, next year and forever.

 

And last year, I wrote:

It’s a New Year and with it comes a fresh opportunity to shape our world. 

So this is my wish, a wish for me as much as it is a wish for you: in the world to come, let us be brave – let us walk into the dark without fear, and step into the unknown with smiles on our faces, even if we’re faking them. 

And whatever happens to us, whatever we make, whatever we learn, let us take joy in it. We can find joy in the world if it’s joy we’re looking for, we can take joy in the act of creation. 

So that is my wish for you, and for me. Bravery and joy.

Jon Acuff started a new blog today... and he's really speaking to where I'm at.  Check it out.

I may be wrong, but I'm hearing from a few of us who, for one reason or another, are re-attempting dreams.  And that is exciting.  And that is scary.

The truth is that as scary as the blank page might be, the harder thing to deal with is the one you've already drawn on. 

That page is covered with marks and mistakes

There is history there.

There are scribbles and lines and cross outs...

[But you also know] that something fun is going to happen, that the best concerts always have encores, that tomorrow always starts the day after today.

There are new stories to tell.

There are new adventures to have.

There are new mountains to climb.

... Today is a second chapter.

- Jon Acuff

"When we feel strong and ready, rarely do those life altering changes come. The real changes always happen just past our borders, when we step from our native soil and our feet find new and unknown, potentially unsteady ground. We don’t know if we’ll sink, if we’ll fall, if we’ll ever be able to move again. But then we do, and we just pray our movements have some grace to them, because we’ve little idea where we are and little idea how to get where we’re going. Courage isn’t that remarkable sensation of feeling strong – it’s not the memorized, sure steps down streets we own and know by heart – courage is the messy movements past our native soil."

- Katrina Hope

*Just some words from Uncommon to get your day started off right.

[via]



[via]



Wake up calls...

It's always good to get reminders that make you pause and "chin up." 

I thought I'd share a few videos, articles, etc... that inspire me.  It's easy as a young adult to see potential and think it should equal results.  But physics teaches us that to convert potential energy into kinetic energy (heat, light, motion), it requires a force applied or work done.

An article that Kati wrote today catalyzed this post.  You should go read it.  Here's a great bit:  "The world doesn't need any more amateur world changers - it needs disciplined young adults, with fires that have burned so long that they aren't flames on wicks, but coals, steady, hot and hard to blow out."  SO good!


Some of you may have seen the TED Talk called "30 is not the new 20."  Incredible!  Meg Jay is a psychologist who specializes in 20-somethings.  Here she articulates the physiological and neurological changes that make the decades of the 20's one of the most pivotal of your life.  I.e. Make the most of it!

The late David Foster Wallace (author, professor) delivered a commencement address to Kenyon College in 2005 entitled "This is Water."  The attached video is a portion of the speech set to some great videography.  He argues beautifully that the true value of education is awareness and empathy.

This year, author John Green (The Fault in Our Stars, half of the Vlog-Brothers) delivered the commencement address for Butler University.  Read or watch the speech for some  My favorite bit:  "Try not to worry so much about what you are going to do with your life.  You are already doing what you are going to do with your life."  He talks also about the fact that his job description didn't even exist when he graduated college - so don't give up hope quite yet :)

Some of these writer or speakers may seem to contradict one another.  But contradiction is also part of navigating the 20's (and life in general).  Hope you get a chance to be inspired by one of these.

What has encouraged you lately?

It's so strange preparing to move.

I should preface this by saying I have never moved before.  Ever.  I've lived in the same house my whole life.  And, though as I child I kind of resented that,  I'm really grateful for it now.

I'm a terribly sentimental person, and there is just something about being familiar with a place.  Knowing each of it's corners and creaks.  Being able to feel you're way in the dark.  But to be at home means more than being familiar with a place.  It's the difference between knowing about something and knowing it's meaning.  Home means all the trite things about comfort and security.  Those things are all true, but there is something deeper still.  Home means something you can taste but not name.

Despite being sure that you're taking the right step, it's strange to think of leaving that.

To come "home" only as a guest.

To forever try to re-create that flavor.

News-flash:  I love narrative!

Seriously - the past year, being out of school, has made me fall more in love with narrative than ever before.  I still can't articulate how awed I am by the power God gave us when He decided, "they will be story-tellers." 

I recently read an article on Relevant called "Why Christian's should Read more Fiction."  Excellent article! A few favorite bits:

I’d like to make a case for the imagined stories, the ones that can throttle our hearts and challenge our biases, and for the fictional characters who, if we get close enough, can become real...
The writer takes the chaos of what he sees, and does his best to weave a unified story that is somehow reflective of that experience. And it’s not necessarily his message or theme that is his offering of what is beautiful. The story itself is the offering. The story is the prayer...
We shouldn’t overlook the power of stories, both real and imagined, to move us, break down our walls and send us out wanting to love more...

I get all "jump-up-and-down-in-your-chair-excited" when reading this article.  Over the weekend, I was with extended family, all of whom were asking, "What's next for you?" or "Still thinking of grad school?"  And yes, yes it's still a thought.  But it challenges me to think, what comes after the summer?  What comes after this particular season of my life?

Then, today, my boss took me out to lunch and we spent most of the time comparing notes on books.  "Count of Monte Cristo - one of the best endings ever!" "Oh The Road was good, but terribly depressing..."  "Oh, you should get the goodreads app - it'll track your books and lists for you!"  "Julian Barne's, Sense of an Ending - now there's a brilliant take on memory and fiction..."   And there I am.  Coming alive, again, when immersed in a conversation about narrative. 

I have few specifics on what "career" I should pursue (I think I'm a bit too stir-crazy / "artistic" / hippy for a traditional "career"), but I know I need to be surrounded by and immersed in narrative. 

Basically, I need to find a job where people will pay me to read and discuss good books!  Does that position exist?

Fireworks - White

Pretty much since the album came out,  Mumford & Son's "I Will Wait" has been the theme song of my season.  Parts of the late fall and winter were extremely difficult - like being caught in a tight space - and my anthem became "I will wait..." [I think I gave that away here and here and even here].  The words spoke hope to me, that someday I would "know my ground."

Well, part of that process has been the desire and the need to discover and create my own place.  I can't quite explain the feeling.  Not just a sense of "it would be great if _______ [I had my own room, more bookshelves, etc.],"  but an urge that this year I must discover who Christ is through me - and that it would require a wider space to cultivate and become.

There's been a process.  There's been a search.  Waiting has become a disposition in the last 8 months - quite a difference between a temporary hold and a distant call. I had been in that tight space, knowing there was a wide open one waiting for me, like I had been waiting for it.

Then, just before Memorial Day Weekend, word came that just that place may exsist.  In between the chorus and the bridge at Mumford Live that weekend, my good friend Cami leaned forward and said, "I think this is the closing of a chapter..."  It was true (for both of us). 


[I will wait...]

 And thus began the summer of becoming. The summer of fireworks [I do apologize for the cryptic posts... but I couldn't talk about this yet].


Now, after hearing and waiting and becoming - it's here and it's real.

This weekend, my best friend and I are moving to a lovely little space near the lake.  She's been in a similar process, and, honestly, this place is more than we could have hoped for.  It's a new beginning.  A white canvas, if you will.


[This isn't a firework (duh), it's just a sparkler... but it's white - and I took the picture :]

 

I can't wait to share more with you (yes, there will be pictures).  But I'm grateful I could finally tell you about this particularyly bold and shimmering firework.

Light 'em up

7.4.11

Under my covers before the sky lit up, dreaming of the journey I would take the next day. A day of goodbyes & tears, but also of intense anticipation. 

7.4.12

Driving along the 522 headed back towards Seattle, witnessing bombastic celebrations to my right & my left. Just graduating. The pink tinged sky & fireworks pointed towards an encouraging unknown. 

7.14.13

Watching 180* of fireworks reflect off Lake Wahington. They might as well be reflecting off my soul. The fireworks have led me somewhere very different than I had imagined two years ago. But still, they point towards shimmering future. 

"That's it.  If I take one more step, it'll be the farthest from home I've ever been."

I'm discovering, this is what it means to be a writer.

While many focus on the introspection required to write and write well, I'm discovering that to write is to leave home, leave the familiar of one's own thoughts.  Each thoughtfully-crafted piece of writing - be it prose, poetry, essay, fiction, non-fiction, etc. - each piece takes me further into the wild.  After finishing one, I find myself contemplating where I am, what these surroundings are.

To identify as "a writer" is to accept a nomadic imagination.  One that is never "home," only settling here or alighting there before taking off to explore the next place.  It often means leaving people behind (or at least, characters who have become dear friends).  I think it's why so many writers feel restless, the "hopeless wanderer" syndrome. 

I think this is one of the reasons I feared becoming a writer for so long.

Being that we're at the half-way point of the year, I've been reviewing some of my journals and blog posts.  And it struck me that I had no goal to "write more" this year or anything of the sort.  It's just been a season where I can't. stop. writing.  I've given up, waved the white flag, and surrendered.  Yes, you were all right when you claimed me or labeled me as a writer.  I was afraid, so I hid.  But looking back at a full journal, blog posts, and draft posts I need more emotional distance from before publishing (or more courage... take your pick) - I see there's no more hiding it. 

But what I've written thus far, the things I'm about to attempt, they've taken me on a journey far from what was comfortable.  And if I take one more step, it'll be the farthest from home I've ever been.  I'll have crossed into the unknown, unsettled territory of my consciousness.

Until the day when, like so many of our favorite characters, there is the final homecoming.  "A far green country under a swift sunrise."  The writer's journey proves its worth in it's memories and in the field of our imagination... but only when we cross the threshold to that home we never knew but were always searching for does the creator find their pearl of great price.

This is the hope I hold onto.

Signed,
A writer

If you haven't already... go read these things from today on Uncommon Collective and Hope is an Anchor.

And do not fret in this summer of becoming... Embrace it's inconceivable, wild spirit and let it shape you.

When September ends, we are all likely to be very different people.  And that is a hopeful thought.

Fireworks

There are some seasons in life where everything is steady.

It's when you're saving for something, taking in ideas & input, you're waiting and just holding steady.

But then there are times when things actually happen.

And then there are specific times when a lot of things happen all at once.

Like you were waiting for all of these changes and BAM!

Change.

And it's amazing!

It just means my emotional capacity is getting stretched. 

It means overwhelming emotions.  Sobbing on the kitchen floor.  Silent screams in the bathroom at work.  Crying laughing.  All of the above.

All these things are finally happening!

The wait is nearly over.

It's like having the ticket in hand for a long awaited journey.

It's like the fireworks show is about to go off!

Waiting



It's a theme right now.

But change is just around the corner.



Questions

Ours is NOT a blind faith. 

"The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith is the firm foundation under everything which makes life worth living.  It's our handle on what we can't see."

Or according to the Amplified, faith is "the assurance (the confirmation, the title deed) of the things we hope for, being the proof of things we do not see, and the conviction of their reality."

So faith is not the absence of intellectual engagement.  Rather it is a stake in the invisible.  The soul's confirmation of an unfulfilled promise.

Christ didn't require that people shut off their minds, only that they quiet them and be open-minded enough to think in new ways.  To consider "re-birth."  To try "casting their nets" on the opposite side of the boat. 

In literature, there is a profound phenomena called "the suspension of disbelief."  A homo sapien, a being defined by rationality & creativity, can choose to abandon what they know of reality to enter and enjoy a story with fantastical components.  In this way, children fly to Neverland on fairy dust and a happy thought.  In this way, superheroes fight off aliens, toys come to life, and halflings save a distant world.  We are able to enjoy and even engage rationally with these narratives when we hush the voice that says, "That could never happen."

Faith acts in the same way.  But rather than reading, listening, or watching a story unfold, rather than merely "identifying" with a character, Christ invites us, dares us to enter the narrative for ourselves.  To suspend our disbelief and walk with a conviction of the reality that we hope for.  Like the best novelists, He has crafted a narrative we can trust - but not one devoid of questions.  There may come a day when we think "I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." There are, like in so many of our favorite stories, times when we wonder or question or even doubt.

And yet this is faith to.

We choose to believe "It isn't what it is" - that there is a deeper magic.  But we also choose to engage with the narrative and the Narrator deeply enough to ask the haunting questions.  For in seeking the answer, in wrestling with the Angel, in crying out with anguish, like David before us - in these moments faith is made real.  We draw nearer to Father.  We discover our real name.  We exchange the "title deed" for the Promised Land. 

Portlandia

So, I was about to update you all on last weekend's road trip - Vancouver, B.C. to see Mumford & Sons - but I realized I started, but never finished my post on the last road trip I took - Portland, OR as one of six "wild" ladies (my dad's descriptor ;).  But that weekend and these pictures are too fun not to share!  Plus, it's enormous fun re-living that weekend. 

So here goes...

* * * * * * * * *

It was the first weekend in April (I know, I'm like 2 months behind).  And a group of us piled into two cars, complete with latte's, good music, and smartphones (read: Instagram).  What an adventure!

I count myself really lucky just to have conversations with these amazing, smart, creative, gorgeous ladies. 



[Quasi-candid pic of our pit-stop on the way down.]

 Some of the ladies had either never been to Portland, or had never done a proper downtown excursion. So there were a couple must-see places.

The first,(and most important) stop being: Powell's City of Books, naturally :)



[Street musician just outside of Powell's]





[Myself, Kayla, and Ashley... second weekend excursion in a row for the "Crawley Sisters"]





[Becca & Cami]

Sizzle Pie is a little, punk-pizzeria kitty-corner to Powell's.  It's quite delish.  And you should go sometime :)

[Regina's personal pizza... just kidding.  a bunch of us split that.]



[I really, really love these ladies :) ]




[I really liked this shot too!]

Next stop:  Ace Hotel!  Someday, I'm gonna stay here.  But for now, their lobby and mezzanine are quite enough to explore!



[Ace Hotel Mezzanine - love the poem on the wall and I have an obsession with small, letter sized drawers]




[photographs of photography - it happened a lot this trip]





[A scrumptious dinner at Clyde Common, also part of Ace Hotel]

I told the girls this at dinner that night.  But, it's worth repeating.  I'm incredibly grateful for friends who are so genuine.  Friends who no how to have fun without alcohol or clubs or craziness.  Friends who are just packed with fun.  Ladies who know their value and have chosen to not settle for anything less than God's best and highest adventure for their lives.  Really, really grateful.



[How stunning is she?! C'est tres chic!]

 

[These gals are just such fun!]




[camera-baby]

Another favorite spot in Portland is the thoroughly French cafe, St. Honore's.  We rounded out our Saturday evening with another round of lattes and headed back to our hotel for a Moonrise Kingdom viewing :)


[St. Honore's]



[My pictures don't do it justice - Mother's Bistro]



Sunday Morning we did brunch at Mother's Bistro.  Oh my word!  I would go back to Portland just to have brunch there!  Such a delightful place!  And the food was yummm!



[Thanks to our barista for that amazing window shot!]

We meandered here & there that afternoon before regrouping at Barista.  They've won all sorts of competitions and our resident barista (Becca) was so glad to make the stop.  Bonuses: the decor was super fun and we got to watch them do pour-over coffee.  Fascinating!



[lurve these ladies]



After Barista, we found a stair case with exposed brick and were having a fabulous little photo shoot when we though, hey, where might these stairs lead? Well, it turns out they led up to the most amazing loft unit - with big windows & exposed brick - that just so happened to be left open on the weekend.



[a smidgen of mischief]

 So we did a photoshoot.  I'll let Cami post the awesome band-photos that came out of that one (ahem, Cami ;).  But here's a hint at just how cool this place was.


[another street musician in the Pearl District]



[Victorian Authors make just about the bestest of friends!]

On our way to dinner, 3 of us got a bit turned around (oops).  But we ended up near the Library downtown.  It has benches all the way around it with author's names engraved on them.  May be hard to make out, but we got pics with some of our favorites :)



[a weekend to not soon be forgotten]


And a final dinner at Portland City Grille.  Another "high"-ly recommended spot in Portland (forgive the pun!).  It's a fabulous restaurant some 30 stories up overlooking the city and the river.  Great food & they had a live pianist playing pop hits - Thriftshop on the piano had people all over the restaurant singing along and smiling. 

It made for a wonderful last hurrah before 3 of us headed home (the other 3 had an extra day to spend in Portland - lucky ducks).



[goodbye, Portland]



It was quick, but it was precious.  Dreaming & scheming & laughing & eating with these 5 was a hilight of my Spring.  I suspect some very good things shall come of it.

Including more road trips.

Till next time.

23.

"I don't know about you, but I'm feeling twenty-two..."*


Not anymore, Taylor. But thanks anyway.

So my birthday was already 2 weeks ago. Wow!

And yes, I'm just now getting to the post about it. But you can blame that on the fact that my family has 5 birthdays to celebrate in 11 days. So I was kind of busy eating cake.


[having my cake and eating it too]



I've had quite a few people as me lately, "How old are you?? ...Oh! You're so young!" Yes. Yes I am. But I don't feel "young." Not in the "you're young" sense of YOLO/you should do whatever you want/you can make totally irresponsible decisions because you're "young." No thank you.



[Lunch date - isn't she stunning? :P]



But I've always tried to be/act older than I actually am. A lot of my "peers" are actually older than me. I spend a lot of time with the 26-27 year olds... so each birthday feels more like a "finally!" than an "already?" I knew it was bad this year when in November, I had to intentionally remind myself that I was 22, not 23. I've even threatened to jump a year when nobody's looking. Just start tell everyone that I'm a year older than I am and then reclaim that year when I'm 39 ;) So I feel older... at least in comparison to contemporary 22/23-year-olds. But...I still get carded at the movies :/ Seriously? And when people find out I was born in 1990 - they cringe. As if a great cavern exists between 1989 and 1990 - a whole decade's worth of change between those two years.



[Truth.  Oh, and Mumford is ringing in 23 later this month]



All my life, I've had the overwhelming sense that "there's not enough time." There's not enough time to waste. There's not enough to read all the books - I actually teared up in a bookstore the other day realizing I would die with a long, long "to-read" list. Trying to decide what shouldn't be left on that list? "I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the heavens." But isn't that tragic when you think about it?  Anyway........



[10 years I've had this ring.  Oh... and there's my favorite freckle.]

I'm ready for 23.  Ready to see all sorts of adventures it possesses.  I've been enjoying 23's books already.  And 23's new car :D  But there's so much about 23 I can't see yet... and I'm eager to discover.

23, it's a pleasure to meet ya.

"A desk is a dangerous place from which to view the world."

- John le Carre

I agree.  But it's my view right now.

And some days feel (to borrow John Green's phrasing) "existentially fraught."

Well, most of you know that.

I've talked with you. Texted you.

You've read my ranty blog posts.

I keep saying this, but the problem isn't my job, per se.

I enjoy most of what I get to do and the people I work with.

I'm even saddened by the realization that, at so young an age, this is probably the best boss I'll ever work for.  Ok, sounding hopeful, at least top 3.

This job is empowering and is teaching me a lot.

And provides a rather beautiful paycheck.

So when I rant... it's not because I want to switch jobs.

I am restless and wrestling right now.

I don't know who I want to be when I grow up.

I'm going to be 23 this month.

Yes, young.  I know.

Several have asked me lately,

"How old are you?

...Only 22.

Well, you've got lots of time."

Yes.  I do.

But I don't want to waste any of it.

And there has to be more than this.

More than rushing to work

(Wo)manning a desk

Relying on Starbucks

Waiting for the weekend

Checking fb, twitter, insta, blogs for something inspirational

Constantly eating on-the-go

Crossing off to-do lists

Filling out "adulthood" forms

Filling out stupid-*@$%-car-accident forms

Maybe reading a little, watching a little

Doing laundry (if I'm lucky)

And checking on virtual life once more before bed

I mean, yesterday, I seriously had instant oatmeal out of a paper cup for breakfast.

Lameness has become a frequent guest :/

And I know I seem moody because I'm all "check out my fabulous weekend..."

"Here's a morsel in this stimuli-overload, inspiration-starved world..."

"You wouldn't believe this funny story..."

But a large part of my life is spent here.  With a view from the desk.

And sometimes I think I'm going cuckoo

Scratch that... am cuckoo.

I identify so much with my good friend, Prufrock.

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute, there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons...

Although it's pumps of chai, not coffee spoons, in my case.

But still... what is this modern life?

And why does everything inside me anxiously wrestle against it?

One of my selves (yes, I'm totally schizo... and so am I) tries to shush the other selves,

"Samara, you're too dramatic.

Bob's out this week so it's just quiet.

LBD is over and you're missing your fiction-fix.

You should just eat better, exercise better, sleep better.

Samara, be grateful!!"

Yes.  Yes, those are probably all true.

And yet.

I know that God is in the tedious and monday-ne (I made a word!).

I know that He is teaching me, like Jacob,  through wrestling.

Teaching me that I can rely only on Him.

For peace. For provision. For sanity.

For love.

I know those things.  I am learning those things.

But I have dared to listen to a distant call.

One that thrills as it terrifies.

One that challenges everything comfortable and calculated.

And it isn't specific.  I can't make out the call.

But I'm daring to incline my ear.

Because I don't know who or what or where I was made for.

But I know I have yet to arrive.

"This year is a sealed envelope;

With apprehensive hope

We brace for anything.

I swear, I understand that nothing changes that,

The past will be the past,

But the future is brighter than any flashback."

- January White