"A real friendship ought to introduce each person to unexpected weirdness in the other." — Jaron Lanier

Friday, May 30, 2014

Friendships are actually kind of a strange thing. 
Its two people mutually agreeing that they like each other. 
Which isn't always the easiest thing. But it can be. 

Sometimes friendships are halted: put on hold.
Sometimes it is easy to pick up where you left off. 
Other times you are left feeling uncomfortable questioning the "put on hold". 

There are friendships that come easy leaving you to wonder where this person was your whole life. 
There are those friendships you try extra hard to make work but you never feel completely comfortable.   

It all comes down to knowing...
Knowing what makes you happy.
Knowing you want to surround yourself with people who make you happy.  
Knowing that a real friendship should be mutually beneficial. 
Knowing that the other person is happy for you and you for them. 
Knowing their quirks and loving them. 
Knowing that if you make a mistake the other will understand. 
Knowing that if you mess up you better own up.
Knowing that trust is a key element. 

I want to believe that jealousy will never enter a friendship.
I want to believe the quirks will never annoy me.
I want to believe that I will own up if I mess up.
I want to believe that my friends will never hurt me.
I want to believe that if that trust is broken it can be mended.

Sadly this isn't always the case.
It can be hard to face and deal with that.
It has forced me to evaluate myself and my friendships; the areas I need to work on.

I'm still learning how to be a friend.
How to treasure them, love them, learn from them, take the hard advice given, to be happy for them and accept when they are happy for me.
It's a balance.
It takes practice.

The more I have been practicing, the more I have realized the gems I am surrounded by.
I feel pretty lucky.

But if you close your eyes, Does it almost feel like Nothing changed at all? - Bastille

Monday, May 26, 2014

“Know that everything is in perfect order whether you understand it or not.” ― Valery Satterwhite

Friday, May 23, 2014

When I juice I usually take the pulp or leftovers and mix them into my garden.
I have heard this makes terrific soil.
I had this small pot that had no occupant at the time, so I poured by leftovers into that pot.
One day something started to blossom.
It was thicker than a blade of grass, growing a strong stem to support some weight.
I started telling everyone, and dreaming of what it could be.
I was so excited that something was growing from my leftovers.
I thought through the ingredients I had placed in my juice that carried a seed.
I was convinced it was an apple or lemon tree.
I nurtured and protected that stout stem with its wide leaves.
I thought about where I was going to place this tree.
One day it would need a lot of space, space my pot could not provide.
As it grew my excitement grew.
I had invested thoughts and time into this tiny plant.
All until one day it developed a small bud.
It was then I realized it was a Sunflower.
A seed must have dropped from my previous garden into the pot and had been waiting for nourishment.
I am not going to lie, I was disappointed.
But then the Sunflower started to blossom and it was absolutely beautiful.
Things don't always go the way we dream they will.
It can be a real let-down.
It's not easy letting go of a dream at a designated time.
A time that we did not willingly agree upon.
The dream still exists, it's just not able to become real at that specific moment in time.
I find that most of the time following a let-down there is a let-up.
It may not be what we expected, but it doesn't have to be negative outcome either.
In time I will grow a tree but for now this sunflower is surprisingly delightful.

“If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!” ― J.M. Barrie

Monday, May 19, 2014

While in the gym the other day, attempting to distract myself from the fact that my face had sweat running off it faster than my legs were moving and that my legs were burning, I saw this question in my "O magazine" ...

" What is something you hope to never outgrow?" 

I immediately fell in love with this question and the responses, all of which I could relate to in one way or another. 

"My mothers hugs, even though I am 40." 
"My husband calling me "kid""

I started to think of what I don't want to outgrow, the child in me I want to preserve and protect. 

I hope to never outgrow...

  • Laying my head on my moms lap as she plays with my hair. 
  • My obsession and excitement for dessert. 
  • Exploring new water territories. 
  • My family and friends calling me "kate" 
  • My sister and I making fun of each other. 
  • Wanting to just purely play anything.
  • Learning a new lesson from my dad, whether with words or on the court. 
  • The excitement of thinking about summer. 
  • The feeling of not wanting a day to be over. 

What do you hope to never outgrow?

Past Water Adventure this Weekend at Big Bear Lake

Oh, how I wish this was true.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

We like walking. And we swing our arms. And our outfits always match. -Emily Wilkens

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

"What defines you?"
"What do you identify with?"
"What is your PASSION?"
My teacher stared out over the classroom waiting for students to peep up.
"Art" was whispered from the artsiest girl in our class.
"Motorcycles" came from a boy who wears any brand that supports motocross. He is essentially a "bro"some people would say.
The shout outs grew throughout the room.
I sat there hoping she wouldn't call on me. I was stumped, stuck in my chair, with a panicked stare.

I have always struggled with this idea of a passion.
Don't passions change over time?
My passion when I was 8 was to be a choreographer but over time it came to light that you need a dance background to achieve that.
I have felt this need to find a specific passion that defines me. A hobby that I could identify with.
Over the years I have attempted to piggy back on other peoples passions.
I enjoy Yoga but after a while I get bored.
I also enjoy baking but the hassle to gather supplies and cleanup usually deters me.
I love to garden but it's hard to do it when it is confined to a small porch and only 6 months out of the year, depending upon where you are.

The other morning I was walking and thinking about this idea of a passion.
Specifically my own passions.
Over the years, I have come to terms with not having a blaring passion that people directly connect to me. Not having a passion that is written all over me like a roadway sign. 

As I was thinking, a specific thing that had the potential to be mine popped in my head.
I was almost embarrassed to admit it. 
Is that even a passion I questioned myself? 
Am I even passionate about it?

Walking. I don't mean necessity walking such as walking to or from class, but purposeful walking.
There are criteria I can relate to something I would label a passion. 
Can you excel at it?
Do you identify with it?
Does it make you excited?
Can you help others?
I just couldn't decide if walking fell into those categories. 

I think of a cat. Its passion appears to be sleeping. I don't see cats excelling at a nap or people getting excited about a cat napping, but they embrace it. 
We as people have identified the cat with naps. 

I know it sounds a bit lame, maybe even a bit of a cop out. 
But as I started to think about it, walking is one of the things that calms me.
It makes me feel contentment, gratitude, confidence, pure bliss. 
It is one of the only things I can't turn down.

When I walk, windows and doors seem to open as if to let the sun in and the air to breeze through, allowing me to air out my thoughts.
It allows me to catch up with friends and family through radio waves.
It allows me to catch up on news and podcasts keeping me in touch with the world.
It allows me to sip my tea.

I am not sold yet on whether walking can be passion. 
To be honest, I am not sold on the idea of a passion and maybe that is partly because I think I haven't found mine yet. 
I sympathize with the people who feel average at everything and enjoy a multitude of things, thinking everything could possibly be a passion.  
I find that we are the ones born searching.
Trying to keep our souls from growing weary from our search.

But I like the idea of it, walking.
I like the image of sleepwalking until the sun hits my bed-tangled hair and I awaken.
I like the image of time being used to help make those who are important in my life, feel important. 
I like the image of taking my time to notice whats around me because I don't know what each day brings. 
I like the image of my feet stepping on the last glimpses of sunlight as it hits the hot cement.  

Passions change over time and I will probably add some new ones but if walking is mine, I hope it's a constant one in my life.

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