No More Hashtags

No More Hashtags

To say the last week has been gut-wrenching and maddening is the understatement of the year. I created this blog as a platform to share what I am passionate about. And if you’ve followed me from the very start back in 2018, or you’ve ever read any of my posts, it’s likely that you’ve become somewhat familiar with my viewpoints on racism. In fact if you’ve spent any time on my page at all you would know that I am married to a black man. You’d also know that when I started this blog, I clearly stated on my “about” page that the entire point of me sharing my words is in my website name: relentless Sarah. So here’s a little excerpt about the guiding principal behind what I write and why.

“The title, relentless Sarah, stems from the direction I want to be moving in. It is my mantra for how I choose to live my life, and one that I take very seriously. Every day, I strive to be relentless. In my daily pursuit of my passions. To be relentless in loving others. Relentless in my advocacy for standing up for my beliefs. Relentless in sharing kindness and generosity. And to relentlessly spread the truth.”

The past week has sent me into a spiral of self-reflection, consumption of media (both good and bad), deep conversations with friends/family who do and don’t look like me, and research on how I can do better. Or perhaps do more. As I watched the world unfold this past week on the news and through my timelines this deep pit formed in my stomach. Am I doing all I can? What more can I do to help? I’m praying Lord, but it doesn’t feel like enough. How can I stay silent and still when so many of my brothers and sisters are hurting? I’ve donated, signed petitions, passed along helpful resources that have been enlightening to me and hopefully will be to another, showered my black husband and family with love, affection and support. But none of that has made a change.

I believe that in life, we are given gifts, or talents, predispositions, whatever you’d like to call them. And these gifts are anointed over us so that we may hone and utilize them to the best of our abilities. And as with gifts, they are meant to be given away, freely. From a young age, I’ve known what my gift was, and I’ve been reminded of it over and over again. My gift is my words, and the ability I have to articulate my thoughts, experiences and feelings sometimes before I even realize what I’m saying. Writing for me is a supernatural experience. Every time I write I’m reminded that my words and message are bigger and more far reaching than me.

Simply because we’ve been given a gift and know how to use it (most days) doesn’t mean that sharing your gift is easy. In fact most of what I share comes only after a back and forth inner battle to be vocal. But regardless of the fear I have to push back to speak up, I show up anyway. So here I am today, showing up. Speaking up and speaking out, because I have been compelled to do so.

I have friends on the front lines in D.C., Dallas, Houston, Austin, LA and New York marching for change, but that’s not where I’m called. I’m called right here to share my words in the hope and faith that they will benefit someone else. Right now, black people are hurting. This doesn’t negate your hurt and your struggles, but please don’t try and understand a pain you’ve never experienced and never have to. I’ve built a life with my husband. And while I have shared some of the negative and racist experiences, I can’t even begin understand and sympathize with my husband fully, because I’ve NEVER experienced what he lives through on a daily basis. I don’t know what it feels like to be racially profiled. To be called a “thug” simply because my skin is darker than yours. To fear for my life if I get pulled over. To be undervalued, underserved, under-protected and under-supported.

Last week I wrote a poem in reaction to the senseless murder of George Floyd. And I have read those words daily as a reminder to myself of what I must do in response. If you haven’t read it, I hope you will now. If you have already read it, I encourage you to read it again, because with each read, it rings truer and truer.

No More Hashtags

Using my words is more than writing a blog post or poem. Yes, I hope my words are able to facilitate conversations. Yes, I hope my words are able to offer a new or slightly different perspective. Yes, I hope my words drip with hope and encouragement. But I also hope they are more than that. I pray my voice joins in the chorus of enlightenment to affect change.

The reason that I have continued to reread this piece is because of the call to action in the last stanza. While justice can no longer be served for George Floyd, I’ve been mulling on how I can continue to honor and remember his name and the countless others before him. And this is what I came up with.

Screen Shot 2020-06-03 at 1.47.19 PM
No More Hashtags Shirt

I wanted to create something that would be a catalyst for dialogue. That when people see it, they will either open up a conversation about why I have so many names written on my chest or see it and know they are not fighting alone. Shying away from difficult and uncomfortable conversations is not it. Staying silent in the presence of evil is not it. Doing nothing when our brothers and sisters are in tremendous pain is not it.

While this post is an obvert nudge to do something, take some time to think about where and how your service can be most effective. If you’re a photographer, use your photos. If you’re a social media whiz, share resources and information. If you’re an artist use your art. If you’re a great purchaser, buy and donate necessary items for your local protestors. If you have margin, donate to one of the many organizations working tirelessly to affect change. Or maybe your eyes are truly beginning to open and your time is best spent right now reading, learning and soaking in all you can.

We are so quick to throw the word “love” around. But love is more than an emotion, love is a verb. So if you love your neighbor, friend, co-worker, relative, community members, show it.

xxx

Sig

If you are interested in purchasing a shirt, simply click on the link at the bottom of the photo and it will take you to the purchase page. I will not be taking individual orders, as I want you to be able to receive your shirt as quickly as possible. I am not making any money off of these shirts. All proceeds will be donated to the Black Lives Matter Campaign.

*I welcome dialogue about this topic and encourage any questions, comments and conversations. However, I will not tolerate hate or name calling. Just to come out ahead of this, please don’t comment or leave a message that “All Lives Matter.” Of course they do, but you’re missing the point entirely by focusing more on what you want to say rather than being open to listen. All lives cannot and do not matter until Black Lives Matter. 

Photo credit: Picheta, Z., 2020. Thousands Around The World Protest George Floyd’s Death In Global Display Of Solidarity. [online] CNN. Available at: <https://edition.cnn.com/2020/06/01/world/george-floyd-global-protests-intl/index.html&gt; [Accessed 3 June 2020].

I See You

I See You

I wrote a poem the other day as an attempt to vocalize the undercurrent of emotions swirling beneath my surface. And while it helped to isolate and identify my feelings, as time has passed I realize I’ve only scratched the surface. I wanted to take a moment to not only honor what I’m feeling but to also connect with you as you might be experiencing some of these same emotions. 

I see you

First of all, can we all take a deep breath? I mean a legit, deep-belly breath that makes sound as you exhale all that built up tension right on out of your body. 

Breathe in and out…

It’s interesting how noticing something as routine and ordinary as your breath can catalyze such a shift in how your body physically feels. Let’s talk a little more about our breath, the life giving necessity that our body does on autopilot. Of course our breath is vital to our existence and like a well oiled machine, our bodies naturally breathe in and out. But the breaths we take are efficient; just enough air in to function and just enough air out not to wind ourselves. Our natural state of being runs on self preservation…essentially we operate in the realm of just enough. But if I take a conscious moment, or several, and reprogram what comes so naturally, I can feel a physical response. My heart beat slows, my chest rises and falls more slowly and my muscles truly relax. 

Let’s take this a level further and circle back around to my water analogy. If you’ve ever been in the ocean before, you’ve felt waves. Now if you’ve ventured out further than where your feet can touch, chances are you may have experienced an undercurrent. If you haven’t, consider yourself fortunate because getting caught in one is a scary scenario. 

When I was 12 my family took a vacation to Hawaii, so naturally we spent the majority of our time at the beach. This wasn’t my first experience with swimming in the ocean, so I ventured out. Deep enough where my feet were nowhere near able to touch or even find the bottom. I was enjoying what you would call body surfing, or letting the waves propel you forward while you float. I was thoroughly enjoying myself until I was caught between two crashing waves. 

Water rushed over me, sending me down beneath the water’s surface. Several full body tumbles later and I was completely discombobulated. I began swimming towards what I thought was the water’s surface only to realize I was in the middle of the ocean, unsure which direction was up. Frantically, I began swimming in the other direction trying to navigate the tumultuous waters. 

Another dead end. 

My heart was racing, my arms and legs were coursing with muscle tension, my breath was running on empty and my mind was terrified. 

What if I can’t reach the surface? 

What happens when my breath gives out? 

Can you still be revived after your lungs fill with water? 

After twenty more seconds of swimming in circles and what felt like my final few breaths, my mind stilled. I stopped thrashing and fighting the current. I relaxed my body completely. And you know what? I began floating towards the surface. 

I emerged still slightly panicked, but relieved to have survived. Feeling out of complete control of your life is chilling to the core. I eventually paddled my way back to the sand and collapsed in exhaustion.

But my adolescent self learned a valuable lesson. The waves are going to come. And keep coming. They’re not worth fighting against. Better to be still and ride them out. In a panicked state, I only hurt myself and almost jeopardized my energy and breath. 

It’s been awhile since I’ve been back to the ocean, but I remember that experience like I’m still covered in sand and saltwater. Yet during a time in our country, where the waves are crashing hard, our bodies naturally go into survival mode. We operate from a panicked and frenzied place and only further succumb to the waves. And I’m writing this from a person who learned this lesson the hard way, and even now has sunk beneath the waves. 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been anxious. Felt the physical, invisible weight sitting on my chest, making it difficult to take in a full breath. Felt the haze that’s settled in over my mind making it difficult to think clearly. Felt the swirling of thoughts and emotions tumble in the emotional undercurrent; tossed around so viscously that I find it difficult to sleep at night. And then when the exhaustion takes over, finally, I’m not able to fully rest. I feel the overarching web of grief that we’re all collectively experiencing in one way or another. 

But I’m here to tell you, everything you’re feeling and experiencing is valid. But I don’t want the initial fear and panic to sit with you long-term. When we are in our survival mode, we are limiting and hindering ourselves. We are not able to process and receive information in a clear headspace, therefore our reactions/responses will differ and stem from a place of fear.

Don’t feel pressure to respond to this situation in a particular way. Don’t feel guilty for reading a “how to be productive from home” guide only to realize that none of those tips and suggestions are helpful. Don’t feel less than for not doing a daily at home workout. Don’t feel shame for not shopping completely healthily. Don’t feel embarrassed for snacking more than usual. Don’t feel lazy for slowing down and watching (or binging) a new Netflix show, I’m talking about you, Tiger King.

This time that has been placed in our laps does not have to be more productive, more purposeful, more creative, or more anything. In fact, I would encourage you to use this time in the opposite manner. For me what has felt the most beneficial and healing has been slowing down. Less hustle and bustle, less time on social media, less time in front of the television, less time rushing from one event/task to the next. Less time planning and more time being in the present moment. 

If painting is what helps you cope, then by all means, but don’t feel like you have to produce art daily for your day to count. If going for a run gets your heart pumping and makes you still feel connected to nature, then go for it, but don’t run because you’re afraid of putting on weight. If watching an episode or three, of mindless television helps your mind stop reeling, enjoy it, but please don’t use it as a bandaid to ignore your thoughts and emotions. 

There is no right way to respond. However, I truly believe that if we slow down our breath, encourage our bodies to relax, and choose to fill our days with at least one choice or activity that brings us joy, we’ll all come out of this on the other side in a better place than where we started. I also recognize and acknowledge that I’m writing this from my living room with working electricity and internet. I’m not diminishing the severity or ferocity or suggesting that times are not difficult. I’m merely sharing a life shaping experience that helped to reshape my perspective when responding to struggle. 

It’s my hope that this message is able to bring you peace and hope, even if only temporarily. You’re not in this alone. I see you. 

xxx

Sig
P. S. Since most of us are confined to our couches, I figured I’d upload a photo of me sitting on one of my favorite couches. In a field. In my wedding dress. Just a little different from what my daily routine looks like now, right?!

Radical Love

Radical Love

Every year, on MLK day I’m left in a reflective mood. We learn about who Martin Luther King Jr. was in school and see the same few quotes shared across social media platforms. As a white person, I’ve heard lots of remarks growing up about how white people “love MLK.” And it’s easy to look back at someone’s life 52 years after the fact and comment that you liked what he was doing because it was non-violent, it wasn’t as “radical” and he preached “love.” Yet these same people get outraged at a phrase like “black lives matter.” Responding with bigotry, lack of understanding and ignorance. “All lives matter!” is shouted back in retort instead of meeting hurting people in need with the same love MLK advocated and demonstrated and you post on your Facebook wall.

In general, I think as people we tend to stay in our own lane. If we don’t experience something first hand, we tend not to believe it.

Racism is dead.

I don’t see injustice.

It’s not like that in my neighborhood.

I’m not racist, I have a black friend/acquaintance/co-worker/neighbor/celebrity crush.

I love MLK.

I listen to rap music.

 I love watching football/basketball/(insert other sport here).

We compartmentalize an entire population and generalize their experiences and struggles and try to say that we have a grasp on reality. If we don’t see something, then it just simply doesn’t exist.

I was raised extremely sheltered. My life experiences were very controlled and I was not exposed to much going on in the real world. If it happened between the years of 1992-2010, then I didn’t have much awareness of it. My parents chose to limit my worldview with the intent to protect and shield me from all the pain, injustice and brokenness. And as an adult, I can appreciate that they were doing what they felt was best for me. However, because of my sheltered life, I had a very skewed worldview upon entrance of college. I grew up in a middle class, hardworking white family, and while of course we experienced struggles, my childhood was pretty close to perfect. It wasn’t until I made friends with people that grew up differently than I did that I began to truly open my eyes to all that was around me.

How many people have felt like the minority? Have you ever been the only person with your skin color, surrounded by people that look differently than you? Have you felt out of place because of your skin? Been looked at, or more so looked down on simply because of your genetic make-up? To be treated differently and worse because of how you look? I have. And let me tell you it was eye-opening. I’ve never really taken pride in being white or really given it much thought other than wishing I was tanner. (Welcome white privilege; I’m glad you finally decided to show up in the mix and call yourself by name). In Longview, where the population is much different than the places I’ve grown up, especially in certain areas I experienced a tiny miniscule drop in the bucket compared to what some individuals live with on a daily basis. I don’t know what it feels like to be profiled. To be viewed as frightening. To be presumed guilty even when innocence is proven. To be counted as less than, inferior, less intelligent. To be valued for what you can offer only athletically and nothing else.

Flash forward to dating and ultimately marrying a black man. You want to see how people really feel, be a part of an interracial couple. The comments I have heard on both ends of the spectrum are mind blowing. The racist comments certainly come from both ways. And while our love tends to magnify what was already in people’s hearts: either love, understanding and support or fear, ignorance and bigotry, I appreciate both outcomes. I’d rather know how you really feel than be friends with a façade.

From personal experience and experiences I’ve gained and learned through my husband, I can share that racism is not dead. It is just as destructive, hateful, deceitful and fear-based as it ever was. But now, it has evolved and learned how to hide better. It hides in complacency. It hides in affluence. Lurks around corners of mis-education. It burrows under lack of empathy.

So you share your MLK quote once again, one day out of the year. What have you done to put that quote into action? Have you taken the steps toward acceptance? Done your job as a free American citizen to attempt to understand a perspective outside your own? Watched any of the ground-breaking media shedding light on these stigmas that continue to be stifled?

Contrary to white-washed perception, Martin Luther King Jr was radical. The quality of life and the level of injustice during his time on earth was shameful. And in response, he radially and recklessly loved others. He spoke out for those who couldn’t. He marched for those unable or unwilling to walk forward towards progress. He shed light on the deepest and darkest ugly parts, exposing them with no regards for what it might cost him. All the while holding himself to the highest standard, when so many others would have complained, resorted to violence, acted out of revenge masquerading as justice, felt sorry for themselves and the list goes on.

It is because of MLK’s valiant efforts and the continued efforts of those after him that my husband and I can be husband and wife. Were able to obtain a residence together. Not be arrested and charged for loving and continuing to love one another. While some may categorize our choice to be “more difficult,” I count it an amazing privilege and responsibility. In the hollowed wise words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, “whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

You want to honor MLK day, do your due diligence and educate yourself. Start by viewing these necessary and illuminating pieces of work.

-When They See Us

-Fruitvale Station

-Just Mercy

-The Loving Story (Documentary and Film)

-Rosewood

-A Time to Kill

-Mississippi Burning

Consume this media for what it is. These are not just movies and episodes. These are TRUE stories. People’s lives and experiences and realities. Not 100 years ago. Today. In our country. In our home cities. Open your heart and your eyes and see what happens.

I’m not claiming to have it all figured out, or that the answer to eradicating racism is as simple and contrite as watching a few movies. But why can’t the start be that simple? Once you have the awareness and understanding that we still have so much work to do, what you do next is up to you. As for me, I will continue to live my life in a way that puts this concept into action:

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” –Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. 

  I plan to continue forward with love and light.

xxx

-Sarah

 

 

No. 52 – Someone’s Always Looking

No. 52 – Someone’s Always Looking

I am a person who when working out, wants NO ONE else around. I don’t dress cute, style my hair or wear make up. My shoes and outfit don’t match or even coordinate for that matter. I wear loose, over-sized shirts, whatever pair of clean bottoms I can find, and strap myself down under three sports bras so I don’t knock myself out while jumping or moving. Some days are better than others, but usually I have to drag myself there, and I try to get in and get out as quickly as possible.

The past few months, I’ve been boxing. Which is completely empowering and makes me feel like an all around bad ass. Until I see myself in the mirror that is. In my head I’m much faster and more agile than I am in real life. Cue why I don’t like anyone else around while I’m practicing.

But for the past few weeks, it seemed anytime I frequented the gym, so did this middle-aged gentleman. He almost always attended with his two young daughters, neither looking to be over the age of five. Put out that other humans besides my husband and best friend could witness my total lack of skill and athleticism, I cringed every time they walked through the door. Not to mention that the young girls were full of energy and very talkative. My initial thought was “why would you bring these two kids with you while you work out? They’ll just get in the way.” But to my surprise, this stranger was exceptionally considerate and went out of his way to ensure neither he nor his daughters interfered with anyone else’s workouts.

One day, the man and his daughters were in the gym before us. Immediately after walking in, the man offered to leave if his daughters presence would be a distraction to us. I reassured him that they were not and we each went about our separate workouts. And in trying to avoid the mirror while doing some squat jump things, I observed the man interact with his two daughters. He was seated on a bench set up at an incline while doing some shoulder press moves. All the while, one daughter was propped on each knee. Giggling, smiling and interacting with each other and their father. It was an extremely touching encounter to witness.

It was apparent these girls adored their father. And he clearly reciprocated. Never seeming irritated or frustrated at the modifications he was forced into utilizing while trying to entertain his two young girls. Never scolding if they needed to be redirected. Keeping them close while making it appear they were getting just as much benefit of the the gym time as he was.

The more times I ran into this family, the more I looked forward to seeing them. Not really interacting much, but a definite positive impact on my day. We’d exchange pleasantries, and the father would always make sure their attendance didn’t put any inhabitance on our gym time. Which I assured him it didn’t.

About a week after I truly began to respect and admire this family, another third party observation shifted my perspective even further. Jess and I were rotating through some boxing circuit reps, taking turns working on different skills. I was yet again doing some fashion of squats and drifted away from the mirrors that seemed to surround me. Jess was on the boxing bag looking like a pro while doing some round kicks.

But what caught my attention was the father and his two daughters. Again, they were seated on his knees while he managed to do some dumbbell presses. The look of awe in the young eyes is what first zeroed in my focus. “Do you see those girls?” He questioned both his daughters. It was apparent they noticed, because their eyes were wide with curiosity. “These girls are strong. And when you get older you will be strong like they are too.” Grins flashed across their sweet faces and they looked in amazement as Jess continued to kick the bag.

Even throughout the remainder of my workout, I couldn’t shake that brief conversation. What an impact that father made on his children. Not only by showing them what a priority their health is by creating a positive relationship between his daughters and the gym. Even before they are old enough to work out. But also by pointing out a stranger as a positive role model. Not a pointing out a particular physique or workout method. This father recognized strength in another female and created a foundation of awe to support it.

Now, in the grand scheme of these young girls life, this encounter may be forgotten in a few weeks. But as a stranger who overhead a personal conversation by being a semi-creepy eavesdropper, I have a good instinct these types of conversations are not the exception. They are the normal for this father-daughter relationship. And what a beautiful lesson to be teaching young girls.

All this to say that you never know who’s watching. Or listening. You have no idea who is around. So to Jess, keep it up sis. Just by you working out like you do every week, you taught two young girls (and a girl a month older than you) that strength is awe-inspiring. You had no idea this family noticed you being your usual bad ass self. And yet just by showing up, made a positive impact.

And to this exceptional father, I am encouraged by your interactions with your daughters. You’re instilling traits in them before the age of five, that this 27 year old is still trying to sort out. What was most likely a brief conversation between a father and his daughters was also such a positive experience to a complete stranger.

Even though you may think no one notices all the little things you do. Someone is always looking. You may never see your impact on others, but you are making one just the same.

Be encouraged friends.

xxx

No. 51 – Your Cup

No. 51 – Your Cup

Kendrae and I had a fight the other day over something so stupid. I’m embarrassed to admit that it started over a Mason jar lid. Yeah… But as any couple knows, it’s never about the lid. The lid merely served as a catalyst for what had been there lying dormant, unaddressed.

So we had our little “fight” if one could even call it that. We don’t often have fights so neither of us are very good at them. My feelings were hurt, and so were his. And we spent the rest of the afternoon in tension but weren’t able to discuss it further because we were around others. Which was fine, it didn’t give either one of us the opportunity to sit and stew in the fight. We had to get over it for the time being and go on about the rest of our day.

After an initial 15-minute car ride of awkward uncomfortableness we both moved on. We could either make our friends feel uncomfortable while we carried our personal fight into their time, or we could let it go. We didn’t forget the fight, it happened. We both apologized, but the interaction we had with each other didn’t quite leave the back of my mind.  When you live with a person, you’re eventually not going to agree about something. You may even grate each other the wrong way from time to time. But after the emotions settled down, I realized how trivial the entire argument was. Welcome to most arguments.

Today, my yoga teacher shared this beautiful metaphor. And it’s an explanation that I’ve heard before, but didn’t make much of an impression until now. It reads:

You are holding a cup of coffee when someone comes along and bumps into you, making you spill your coffee everywhere. Why did you spill the coffee? “Well because someone bumped into me, of course!” Wrong answer. You spilled the coffee because there was coffee in your cup. Had there been tea in the cup, you would have spilled tea. The point is whatever is inside the cup, is what will spill out. Therefore, when life comes along and shakes you (which will happen), whatever is inside you will come out. It’s easy to fake it, until you get rattled. So we have to ask ourselves… “what’s in my cup?” When life gets tough, what spills over? Joy, gratefulness, peace and humility? Or anger, bitterness, harsh words and reactions? You choose! Today let’s work towards filling our cups with gratitude, forgiveness, joy, words of affirmation, kindness, gentleness and love for others.

I sent a photo of this text to Kendrae and asked what was in his cup. He replied, coffee, then water. Coffee representing self-reflection and rejuvenation. Water representing life. You need it to live. “I don’t have tea because I stay away from gossip.”

I smiled because he gave the question deeper thought than I intended. But then I was befuddled when my own question was posed back to me. What’s in your cup?

Sure, I’d like to think that my cup is overflowing with sunshine and good times. But what about when I’m driving and I miss my exit? Not much goodness spilling out there. Or what about when a student of mine sneezes all over my face? Yeah…not my shining moment either. Or how about when I feel let down by my family? Yikes…forgiveness doesn’t quite flow so easily.

Or how about a few days ago, when I got into a fight with my husband? Did I emulate compassion, understanding and open ears, or was I merely focused on proving my point?

After some thought, I’ve come to this conclusion. Proving a point is not worth more than loving my partner. Coming from an exceptionally competitive person, this was tricky to admit. You don’t win an argument with your spouse. In trying to prove the other one wrong, you both lose. You win, by trying to understand where your partner is coming from. You win in trying to share your feelings in a way that doesn’t point blame. You win in being open to apologize if you’ve caused pain. You win by not trying to win.

Alright so my cup may have some gunk in there, but it’s not all bad right? Maybe I do have water in my cup, but it’s still a little murky. Needing some major filtration work to eliminate those impurities. Or maybe it’s deeper than selecting one metaphorical beverage of choice. Maybe what I choose to fill my cup with today, will not be the same drink I select a week from now. Maybe what’s filling my cup will change. Sometimes my cup is filled with wine. I’m sure not letting a single drop of that spill over! Maybe the parts of me that are more refined can constantly be spilled out and refilled over and over again. Because we’re all called to pour out our gifts in some fashion.

But maybe to rid my vessel of the ugly parts, they must first be exposed. I can’t refill my cup with gratitude if I haven’t first dumped out my selfishness. Which is bound to spill out at some point. I can’t replace bitterness with kindness if my bitterness hasn’t been emptied out of my glass. While it is beautiful to want to only pour out the good, I am also realistic. I am human. I will never have a cup full of only goodness and love. But I can work on dolling out those drinks to as many people as often as I can. And anytime I find my cup is dry, I can be intentional about what I’m selecting to hold in it.

Life, relationships, other people are always going to come along and shake you up. It’s inevitable. The moral of the story is not who bumped you, or how hard or for how long. Or how much coffee you had in your cup. We all have our own messes. What is important is that we work towards filling our cups with things that are lovely and pure. A more eloquent painting of the platitude, garbage in, garbage out.  You can only pour out into the world what you already have inside. You can dress up your cup with the most beautiful shell. But you can’t hide what spills over. No matter how pretty the dressing may be. So if you don’t like what spills onto the floor after a good hard shake, clean up your mess and refill.

xxx

Sig