I love poetry. I like reading it, seeing it, and even writing it. I love slam poetry. I love spoken verse and the cadence of artist who speak it. I love the poetry of prose. And so sometimes I find myself writing and writing and writing. So I’ll share.
I knew this was coming. I knew I’d have to have lots of things to talk about. And so, like the writer in me, I started paying attention to the subjects that sprung up. And I have been keeping them cataloged in my notes app on my phone. Because 40+ days of writing is a lot. But I’m committed to making it happen. And this compendium will serve me well and keep me on track for what I “promised”. Things you can expect to see in the next few blogs:
I’ve always been what I’d characterize as a “clingy” person. Being the youngest of three, I was born into a world where there were always people around. And this is how I thrive. Noise. Energy. People. Closeness. It’s all been a part of my thriving. But at the same time those things are a double-edged sword when juxtaposed with being an HSP. A constant push and pull, something I don’t always understand (let alone expect anyone else to grasp).
The last week or so I’ve had the idea of “hope” running through my brain. I used this idea for a retreat for my kiddos and as a jumping off point for their Youth Sunday theme this year. And I’ve looked at it as a filter for my own life as well. Things can be tough, not go our way, be confusing, etc. But there is still hope. There is still faith. There is still me, letting my magic work.
For as long as I can remember I’ve always been a creative. Though it isn’t something I always claim, or feel competent enough to be called, I know deep down it’s true. Who knows what is at the root of this creativity, but like most things it is bound to be fueled by many things over my lifetime. My mom was an amazing seamstress. I can remember stories of college textiles professors laughing at her when she suggested creating her own patterns for a project (she did it anyway) and the famous family story of my dad’s mom and grandma being impressed when she could quickly mend her own clothes at a family function. But aside from the family roots, our parents surrounded us with creatives from an early age (whether they realized it at the time or whether they were just capitalizing on the eager youth at church remains to be seen). Crafts were typical when Annette would babysit us: I distinctly remember making t-shirts with fabric paint and sequins and stamps, and making sock puppets with paint and yarn and googly eyes. And she still uses that creativity to share her story and inspire the world. Make-believe ran rampant when Sara would babysit us: popcorn bowl hates and stories of heroes and princesses, games that bordered breaking the rules (and actually broke part of the chandelier–oops). And she still uses that creativity to write and envision fantasy world. And there were many, many, many more people who taught me to dream and create and get messy.
I’ve dabbled in many areas. I took ceramics and sculpture and two years of jewelry making in high school. I took ceramics in college, and opted out of metals (even though my talent was recognized and I was encouraged to be an art minor) because the professor was not my favorite. I taught myself to knit, encouraged by my grandma, and to crochet, encouraged by my talent at dropping stitches when I knit. I started journaling in middle school and do so on and off when the mood strikes. I write poetry (often brought on my changing relationships and grief). I started a novel for NaNoWriMo one year (but didn’t stick with it). I love to sing. But some of my favorite things include painting and hand lettering. I have a knack for being able to recreate what I see with an ease and elegance. To me this blog serves as a type of creativity as well. I enjoy it, and always say it’s more for me than anyone else but that if it helps someone else that is an added benefit.
So when I had a friend tell me the other day how much she enjoys my blog, I freaked out (because sometimes I forget people actually read what I share). But she used it as a springboard to tell me that she thought her girlfriend and I should start a podcast. I laughed, audibly (not just “lol” like people say, I actually laughed out loud). Nonchalantly I said something along the lines of “oh yeah, that’d be cool…” not really thinking much of it. But fast forward a few days and this showed up on my porch:
Well, that certainly got the ball rolling. We came up with a name (drat, it was already taken). So we came up with a second one (didn’t quite fit) and a third (YES! Winner!). And I created a logo. And we secured a gmail account and an instagram account. And now our daily conversation is about what we want our blog to be about. It’s exciting and daunting. But I am so humbled that my two dear friends thought I was cool enough to have a blog (and that I have enough to say to share with the world). Sometimes creativity comes easily. And sometimes you need a kick in the ass from someone else. So here’s to many, many podcast episodes about faith and mental health and relationships and silliness and storytelling. Feel free to follow along as Tara and I take you on a journey through our minds (warning: who knows what you’ll run into along the way). Instagram: @sparksisterspodcast or sparksisterspodcast@gmail.com
Does weather like this ever just make you want to hide? Just hole up, start a fire in the fireplace, grab a warm cup of grog, snuggle under the blankets, and delve into a good book. That’s what this weather brings out in me. It’s the way I wish I could spend my 24/7. Alas, life… But I do find myself longing for these bits of hibernation: surrounding myself with warmth, slowing down, and shutting the world out for the most part. It’s blissfully centering. I love the way this pandemic has made me go back to the roots of rest and self-cultivation. The ability to just spend the weekend at sloth-like speeds.
This hibernation has followed me in other areas too. Much of the pandemic has made me feel isolated and craving interaction and physical presence. It’s been a struggle. But I’ve had much time to think about the reasoning behind the need for attention and connection. And so through some thoughtful exploration I’ve realized that I need to narrow my interactions and hone in on those people/relationship that bring me joy, genuinely support me, and amplify my life. As someone with a love/hate relationship with social anxiety (and the anticipation of things) there has been a great release in recognizing that I had been misguiding much of my energy over the last several years. And so I’ve “hibernated” by concentrating on myself: my needs, my dreams, my magic, my direction. I realize some will see this as a “pulling back,” and I can imagine that some might be hurt by it (definitely in no way my intention). I have learned (slowly and steadily) that I need to put myself first, and only but cultivating that relationship can I best show up in my outward relationships. Not easy to do or embrace as a giver!
This means I’ve also taken steps away from certain social media platforms. I’d like to think I’m capable of distancing myself from the “comparison culture” and the “refresh addiction” but I found that I wasn’t. And so instead, I just took away the temptation. And there is a certain loss there as it means I won’t see what other post or communicate with them on those platforms. But if it’s important, I know it will be shared anyway. It has meant cultivating and maintaining my connects in different ways, it’s a learning curve for sure. It has meant not everyone understanding my choices, which I am more and more comfortable with as I age. It has meant each day stepping a little bit more into the evolving me.
Hibernating has also shown me I need more time to read and more time to create (actually, that may be a chicken or the egg happenstance–perhaps reading more and creating more showed me the need for hibernation–I digress). I have read 11 books so far this year (number 12 and 13 have been started in tandem). I finished my OWU t-shirt quilt (finally) and have several baby gifts in the making. It feels good to remember to make time for those things (and people) that feed my soul. Somehow, along the way, I got away from that. But day by day (cue Godspell, or Meet the Parents) and inch by inch, I’m getting back there. Hibernating, I think, is a. good thing. It lets me breathe, set priorities, and just be me.
Curly Sedge: 