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ebb. ebb. ebb.

from a book i'm reading...

"well, learning to pray and communicate from the present seat of your emotions is part of learning to be awake and aware of life around you and within you. You are a very intelligent [person], (insert name), but sometimes we can get addicted to our minds just like an alcoholic becomes addicted to the bottle to cope. Sometimes we can overanalyze God's presence in our lives, always looking for sings to interpret. Sometimes the most faithful prayers are the questions we bring to God."

-pg. 67, Reluctant Pilgrim by: Enuma Okoro

questions are more than ok. not feeling present where you are is more than ok. mourning and grieving are more than ok. what's not ok is staying there. there is no time in our life in which we are supposed to stay exactly the same. we move back and forward. we ebb and flow [i'm never gonna quit bringing that up]. we are supposed to because that's how we change.

and if you're like me, i don't want to stay the same person that i am today. i need to change. i need to grow.

the real danger for me, today, is not the changing or the questioning, no. rather it's the having grace with myself in the meantime part. the number one beater-upper-of-holli, is me.

the present seat of my emotions is the only stable thing that i have [though it seems the most shaky]. it's my frame of reference. my starting point.

so, here i am, learning, relearning and unlearning, again. learning to be present, relearning transition, and unlearning to have expectations.

ebb.
flow.
ebb.
flow.
ebb. ebb. ebb.

sometimes our ebb is deep and takes a while to get back to flow.

that.is.ok.

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An ode to my wiser self

I've been thinking about blogging a lot lately. Well, writing, rather. I used to write a lot. It was therapeutic and life giving for me. It helped me to be in a constant state of process where I was not just taking in life but searching for and digging for meaning. It kept me grounded and real, for lack of better word.

I have been starting to write more lately and have several little bits I'm working on. In the process of digging out my blog from the depths of the internet, I found this jewel that I wrote years ago. Yes, that's right... years ago. I thought it was beautiful and worth sharing. So, in an attempt to revive this way of sharing my thoughts and processing...

Here is an ode to my younger (and probably wiser) self:


Welcome to The Chronicles of a Confused Citizen.

Here I am, residing in the country I was born in, living the life I knew from my birth to year 22.

It doesn't quite feel right, though.

Recently, as I found myself living in Mongolia, I started feelin…

bring it on, world.

October 26, 2011.

That is the day I last wrote a blog. That's not the day when my life changed but it is a day that I can recognize as one of the last ones when I knew who I was and what my purpose was.

I'm not generally a quitter. Sure, sometimes I quit on books or I quit on small projects but in life, nope. I  try hard at most things, usually right until the end. I won't say that quitting is not a thought that meanders through my being when something gets tough but I have come to learn that when I stick things out I come out having learned a thing or two.

But I did quit. I quit a big commitment. I said I would live in Washington, DC and I would do my best.

I tried. I also had my very first panic attack, too.

It was too much. I couldn't think or breathe. I couldn't cope with the devastation I felt for leaving Mongolia early that March morning. I couldn't cope with no one understanding what Mongolia had meant to me and how it had changed me right down to my bo…