When Doves Cry

 

 Have you ever had a splinter?

I used to get them all the time; especially when I jumped over the fence while we played ‘Lord of the Rings’ as kids.

I had forgotten all about the agonising pain of them until this weekend when a little sucker magically showed up in my foot. Not cool.

As any logical person does I got most of the splint of wood out ASAP. But then, lazy Aspen decided to show up and I couldn’t be bothered getting the last little bit out.

Anyway later on it started to get infected and became more of a nuisance than it had originally been.

Once I finally plucked up the courage to dig out the remains of wood, it dawned on me that in a weird kind of way this splinter was a reflection of my past few weeks.

 Where are you going with this, Aspen?

Well a few weeks ago I chose to a make some decisions which weren’t exactly the best for me.

I probably should clarify what I mean by ‘decisions’.

As you may know I spent a majority of my teenage years, stuck in the all too familiar world of insecurity, lacking any sense of value and worth. However earlier this year I was really shaken up with the unanswered questions:

 Where and who, had ever said I was unworthy?

After finding refuge and identity in the only One that had been constant the whole time. My identity felt pretty sweet; the places that were previously filled with worry, bitterness and insecurity where exchanged for grace, peace and joy.

Now I don’t know why but since then I have become more aware of what I ‘fill’ myself with.

Eg: filtering what magazines I chose to read, time I spend of FB, Instagram, Twitter, Keek, Vine……yeah you get what I mean.

 

Okay cool story bro, why are you telling me this?

Why I tell you this is because in the last month all of that, my identity, has been challenged.

Like that splinter, I made decisions which seemed minor, choosing to absorb magazines that I knew would make me feel like rubbish. I was completely aware of what I was doing, but brushed it off saying “it won’t affect me.”

From that small choice my self-esteem and identity were ripped out from underneath me. Feeling distant and unworthy to even turn to God, my worth and value plummeted to a new low.

Which is why I didn’t write any blog posts. I didn’t feel worthy enough to do so; I didn’t feel like I had anything to offer you so silence and withdrawing altogether became my go-to option.

 

So where’s the silver lining in all this?

Like that splinter, it got to the point where my choices were becoming detrimental to not just me, but others.

Reality check hit, and I got pulled up big time.

I have certainly been humbled in all this and like I did with the splinter, I’ve had to revisit the wound/infection and clean it out so that it can heal properly.

 

BUT:

I’m not the only one who goes through these tricky times. That I know for a fact.

Which got me thinking, what about you? Instead of me dishing out advice; I’d love to know what golden truths you have got (everyone has something cool to share, so don’t shake your head and say “no I don’t know any.”)

 I mean:

·         What do you do in hard times?

·         Who you turn to when you’re feeling low? Friends and Family, or Acquaintances and people that don’t challenge you?

·         How do you get back after those tricky times in life?

 

I LOVE hearing from you and look forward to it.

Monkey Bars to Mountains

Monkey Bars to Mountains

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0Fbfo33mXs

 

I don’t know about you, but I really like this clip.

I think what I like the most about it, is that it shows us the main character, Jim Hawkins, feeling a bit low…and glum. He’s transparent and vulnerable.

To be quite honest, it’s actually quite refreshing.

We all too often see others when they are relishing in their triumph (the ‘good times’), when life is going smoothly, but very rarely do we see them in their struggles; and yet, here’s Jim, a young ambitious fella who many people would look at and think “wow that guy is awesome! He sure is going places.” As we see though, even HE struggles with self-doubt.

I guess what I’m trying to get at, is that it is very easy for us to compare ourselves with the success of others that we forget about the reality. We can look at them, and almost ‘exalt’ them into this place of ‘perfection’ or the ‘ideal person’. That’s not to say having role models or someone that inspires you is a bad thing, but it’s just being conscious that we don’t place others on that blessed ‘pedestal of perfection’ where we suddenly begin to find our identity in them. (Trippy thought…finding our identity in SOMEONE ELSE, but it can happen. I can vouch for it.)

Exalt others based on our perceptions of them, can actually be pretty gnarly, as it devalues both our own worth, and theirs.

AKA. (what happens)

                           Us                                                                          

• We feel worthless and inadequate  compared to them
• Lowers our self-esteem
• Which makes us feel pretty unhappy                  

                                                                   

Others/person comparing too

• Comparison places expectation on them; an expectation that is unrealistic and unattainable
• Increased sense of pressure and stress
• Feeling inadequate because they don’t meet that ‘perfect’ perception

 

 

Not exactly a ‘win-win’ situation, right?

So with that said, here’s where I’ll leave you.

When we compare ourselves to others, we are basing it off the good things going on in that person’s life; often neglecting that they too, go through different struggles and hard times as well.

Just because you aren’t seeing the things you want to be seeing right now in your life, doesn’t mean you’re a failure or less important than others.

In fact, maybe we can learn something in all of this.

Rather than growing resentful towards those who are going through ‘good times’ be encouraged, because it’s like a friendly reminder that we are important, because we are just as valued and as precious as that person… our ‘good’ season is just needing a bit more time to brew.

Life-long Marathon

Life-long marathon

 Sometimes it takes an adventure, within the journey, to remind us of our initial excitement.

In my last year of school I was a Performing Arts Prefect for the coolest (and winning) house, Batten. At the start of the year, before school went back, our group of about 30 or so prefects went away for a weekend up north with the Deans of the school. It was an awesome opportunity to grow closer as a team, overcome challenges and have those good old late night sess’s of ‘Never have I ever’ (no better way to really bond then finding out about…oh sorry can’t say, besides what happens at camp stays at camp. I guess you’ll just never know…)

Anyway, one thing which really stuck out to me was one of the team building challenges we had to do. A 16km run, where you only finished once your whole team was across the finish line.

Now you may be wondering, why did that stand out so much for you Aspen? Well, not just because Batten (our house) won with a record time of 2 hrs and 5 seconds, but there was a variety of things:

1)      Majority of my teammates were/are excellent athletics. Two were part of surf club and the other, part of the first 15 rugby team. I on the other hand this chubby white chick, who wasn’t much of a fitness guru, having given up all social sports at the ripe old age of 12.

2)      I didn’t want to let the team down by dropping out. Well either that, or I just had too much pride to do so.

3)      I secretly had been running every day for the past year and wanted to see if I could stand the endurance, having only clocked in a regular distance of 10-12kms.

 

Okay I lied about the not having done sports in years, but the only sport I had been doing was running and skiing, two fairly independent sports.

Now I’ll be perfectly honest, there were certainly times in amongst that run when I just wanted to stop and give up. (Round about the 12km mark, it hits you like a freight train). Despite that, I do remember the occasional time when I would just get this little boost of hope. A bit closer Aspen. You can do this. Whoop lets go team.

I needed those brief moments of motivation, to get me to the finish line 16kms away.

 

You see, it’s motivation that will get you started, but it’s discipline that will see you to the end.

 

Unfortunately it has taken some time for that pill of truth to finally get into my system. The reality is, is that if we want to see change, whether it’s in our own lives or in our support of others, we need to hold true to the encouragements that come in the times of motivation and support.

Also important to note, if I had allowed self-talk like “Aspen you fat lumpa laad, you’ll never do this just quit now,” to be my motivator then I would have dropped out in the first 200…metres, not miles.

Essentially it is being conscious of what we allow to motivate us, to become our driving force.

·         Is it something that is lifting you up or pulling you down?

·         Does it motivate you do the best and you feel encouraged?

·         Or is it devaluing your worth and minimising your significance?

Whatever you allow to become your motivator, prepare for it to become your fuel for the journey. Therefore choose wisely and be discerning about what you allow to speak truth into your life, and motivate you.

Look beyond what you see

 

Standing on the side of the street,

This girl,

Lost in a world of lies and deceit,

Hanging around for the man who will come,

And for one moment,

Make her forget she is alone.


He takes her in his arms,

Giving her false security,

Neglecting the fact that she is twelve,

And he is thirty.


Yet what does it matter,

Who really cares,

As long as he pays,

He can lust over her with his creepy stares.

She’s only twelve, twelve years old,

Imagine, if it was different,

And not a random,

but your sister being sold.

Maybe you don’t know her,

Standing late at night,

Whistling down strangers,

As she conceals her internal fright.

 Maybe you know her sister,

The girl on the screen,

The one posing naked,

Seen by multitudes of misters.

 Yeah you jerk off to her,

But what does it matter,

She wanted to do it,

It’s her job, she’s an actor.

 

Why? Why is it such a big bad issue?

Well, while you dream of her,

Imaging her all over you,

The reality is she’s slumped in the corner,

Weeping as the director barks yet another order.

Do this, do that,

his voice carries round,

if she doesn’t comply,

it’ll mean another blow to the ground.

 

Have you wondered why she’s covered up in so much makeup,

Its not to look good for you,

But from the abuse she suffered,

That part,

that part must stay covered.

 That smile,

That pose,

All a mask,

To hide the fact,

Inside she is broken apart.

 

Here’s my question,

My question to you,

What if you were too look beyond,

deep into her heart,

somewhere further than the superficial façade.

What would you find, the sexy girl in the picture,

Or a fragmented person,

or something of that mixture.

 Now, take another step back,

imagine she was your daughter,

Would you still lust over her,

Would you still be all for her.

 No didn’t think so,

Oh what’s that your say?

That’s disgusting, that’s really gross,

Oh I agree,

but I’m not the one growing this sickening industry.

 Did you ever wonder, maybe, where all the girl’s came from?

Was it a certain country,

Or school,

Because I would love to find one.

A girl that would be so willingly do such crazy things,

That I didn’t have to tie down,

that I didn’t have to buy her a ring.

 

Well, my dear, if you thought the daughter thing was bad,

You haven’t heard anything yet.

Some go through traffickers,

who sell them to the one with the highest bet,

others are stolen from home,

often eastern Europe and taken to Rome.

Where they don’t know the language,

Don’t know the people,

Similar to a newbie,

Sitting in the pew below the steeple.

But that’s lucky.

What happens to them if they get pregnant?

If they have a baby?

They send the child off to a farm for training.

Instead of plants and crops,

Perverted men lay with them.

Defiling their innocence,

Teaching them the life of corruption,

Know do you finally understand my burstof furious eruption.

I can’t stand back and watch this happen,

Close off my ears, close off my eyes

and let the darkness shout out these lies.

 

But I can’t do it alone,

That I know as true,

And after hearing such things,

 it is difficult to know what to do.

But I know there is hope,

There is a One,

One who can seep into the deepest cracks,

 The darkest places

And bring out the beauty once again onto their faces.

 

To see the video blog that explains this poem, check out: https://www.facebook.com/thatrelationshipcolumn

Quarter life crisis

Quarter life crisis

 20. Twenty. Twwwwwwwennnnnty.

Nope… still can’t manage to wrap my head around it. Yeah so I have like 6 more months until I ACTUALLY turn 20, but even the thought of that sends a little rush of anxiety through my old, aging body.

Its like a quarter life crisis; the marker between youthful days and those of great maturity and intellect (or something like that).

You see when you’re in your 20’s if you do something like write a book, climb Everest, or finally learn to tie your shoelaces, they aren’t that big a deal. Their adult things and because you’re now an adult, they should just be simple…ish.

Maybe I’m just overanalysing the whole thing, but there is so much I want to do before I leave my teenage days: leave something of significance, other than crazy mood swings and week-long crushes.

Things like:

1.       Finally finish the first draft of my book!

2.       Get an internship

3.       Fight against human trafficking

4.       Become the president’s PA

5.       Who is secretly a CIA agent, sent to protect him/her

6.       Buy a bunch of cute rabbits then let them loose aka. Watership down

7.       World peace

8.       Stop world hunger

9.       Eradicate poverty

10.   Okay, yes, the last 6 were a bit exaggerated….but do you get what I mean?

 

Dwelling on this unfortunate reality (old age and achy joints, coming in only 6 months), I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like if I started the things I wanted to pursue earlier.

          What if I had continued working away at the Everest book back in the day?

         What if I had continued doing Drama?

 I don’t think it’s a regret at the situation as such, but more so on what I allowed myself to believe.

Quite frankly, I sat back and allowed for excuses surrounding my age to define what I could and couldn’t do: “I can’t do anything because I’m too young’ or that ‘I don’t have a platform in the REAL world to make a difference’. Bullocks! (I say that to my younger silly self that believed that, not you.)

Youth is a gift, it’s awesome! It’s one of the few times in life where a smidge of hard work goes a long way; it’s a place where you have supporters all around you: teachers, families, small group leaders, and friends.

So take it from a (nearly) old and ancient; seize the day of youthfulness and delight in all it brings.

Peace and blessings y’all.

Follow the Leader, leader, leader...

Leadership

Boil the jug. Snuggle under the blankets and get out the Wheatie bag, cause its STORYTIME!!!

Every year over the weekend of Easter there is this big event called Easter Camp. For the last few years I have been going as a camper, but this year was my first time as a leader.

Even though I was stoked to be going, I went into it completely drained: mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. I had just come out of a wave of assignments and all that fun jazz (aka. Life in general…)

As a small group leader I had the honour of being grouped with a legit as group of girls. However on that first day, I’m not gonna lie, I totally had a little freak out. Each of these girls had come from different backgrounds, social groups and beliefs, and somehow a rather I needed to figure out  a way in which I could lead that would allow them to have the best time at camp.

Let me reiterate, I was SHATTERED, DRAINED AND STRESSED going into camp….

But, and this is where it gets super trippy…I remember spending the majority of the bus ride down, wondering and praying about how on earth I was going to last the next five days running on complete empty.

 Over the course of those 5 days something happened within each of those gorgeous girls. I got to see each of them for who they REALLY were. Not who they were amongst their friends. The stigmas created by society dropped and I realised the reality, that each of us are beautiful when we are our true selves. Often we hide it away, worried that no one will accept us for who we are. And that’s where it hit me.

These girls showed me what being a leader was REALLY about.

You see, leadership isn’t something fancy, it doesn’t mean you are more ‘enlightened’ or ‘elite’. To lead means to merely be yourself, so much so, that it gives others/those around you the permission to do the same. Be themselves.

A ‘good’ leader will lead out of their own strength; however an ‘excellent’ leader will lead out of His strength.

You see, it’s not about the title. It’s not about how many people follow you. It actually isn’t even about you, necessarily.

Sounds super cheesy, but to be perfectly honest I want to be a leader like Jesus (Christ, not the guy that used to date Madonna…I wonder what he’s up to these days…). He led out of a place of love. He saw the potential in others even when they couldn’t see it themselves. He challenged, but he also supported. Flip, the guy got down and washed the feet of his followers (pretty yuck, imagine where they would have been.)

Now, I don’t know about you, but that is the kind of leadership I aspire too. A life lived out of seeing others grow into their potential. It’s not about being the one that everyone exalts.

Society identifies leadership as the person who is exalted, or looked up to by others. Sure that may be a by-product of leadership, but I don’t think it should be the definition of it. Some of the greatest leaders are the ones that chug along, unrecognised by others. Those are the ones you want to follow.

To finish up, just a little thought: What if leadership isn’t exclusive to those that possess ‘leadership’ qualities, what if, in fact, each of us are ‘leaders’ in our own right. We each are in a position of influence.

We have our family, friends; and our choices do impact them. Whether you believe you have something to offer or not, you are significant. You may never see the bountiful fruit of what you invest into, but nonetheless, don’t be discouraged. Some of the greatest influencers never saw the fruit of their work, yet they choose to carry on steadfast, led by the drive of the dream.

Try not to forget how cool you are this week, okay?

Peace and blessings y’all!

Speak to me

If there is one thing I hate it’s writers block. It’s like a hurricane circulating inside a glass ball, thoughts running wild in your head and yet, somehow it is impossible to put them on the page.

For the past year I have been quietly chugging away at my first novel, and have become all too familiar with writer’s block. You so long to conceptualise what is going on in your head and yet words just won’t do. The only way I can describe writing would be like being pregnant; you carry this story, your baby, for so long. You feel it move within as it kicks around, yet no one can fully understand what is going on. There may be physical signs of it; dark hollowed eyes, coffee breath and the lack of make-up, yet no one really knows. Until the day it is released. Your work is published, launched out into the mercies of the world. Like a mother you do your best to protect your baby but nothing can hide it from the criticisms or the encouragements that you may receive. It is there were you find out what you are truly made of. That is where you begin you’re parenting, cultivating the potential it has until others can see and understand your baby like you do.

But it is not easy. Writing is harsh. It is brutal. Last December I printed off the first 137 pages to my book, but the victory was short-lived. What I had in my hands needed attention, so much so I had to wipe the slate clean and start again. It hurts, is painful, yet with it comes liberation. It is an art, a way in which we can conceptualise and process thoughts. It is like a dear friend who you tell you’re secrets too.

We are surrounded by it. The songs we sing, the movies we watch, the businesses we shop from; all coming from a sheet of blank paper. A masterpiece waiting to be written.

I have come to appreciate it; writing has the ability to persuade, to agitate and to provide comfort. It is an alluring companion that strikes when we least expect it. This, this post is a reflection of that, here I sit in the library (my escapism) and can’t help but be overwhelmed by the capacity in which words affect us. I have always loved reading, but saw little relevance in it, particularly in the busyness of life. However recently I have been challenged with the reality that if I long to grow more in knowledge and acceptance of others, then maybe I should pursue after the truths I long to acquire and maybe, just maybe, the answers I seek might just be behind one of these paperback books.

In order for this to happen: our ability to grow. It is based on our ability to seek. To sit in the silence. For it is in the silence in which clarity can be found.

Often we resent the silence, because our interpretation of knowledge has been perceived as the amount of words we say. Quantitative rather than qualitative.

But what if silence is a reflection of peace. You see when we reflect and ‘live’ in the past it grows bitterness and resentment, likewise if we ‘live’ in the future, always thinking about what decision we need to make in order to end up where we want to go, then we grow anxious and worried. However, when we live in the present recognising the value of each moment: ‘Capre Diem’, then true peace is found. So silence, rather than being a bad thing, may just be a by-product of peace.

 Silence, cease it, and make time for it, for it is within the silence we may just find the answers we look for.

Not a God to FIND praise, a God TO BE praised.

Not a God to FIND praise, a God TO BE praised.

I’m very narcissistic. I get very proud and arrogant. I love to receive praise and I even plead for praise from God.

It’s painful, because it is true and sometimes truth may taste bitter at first , but that is just the medicine part required before deeper healing can occur.  

This post is a bit different and I’m gonna give it to you pretty straight because in reality, we (I) tend to fluff things up,  make them sound pretty and nice, so be prepared. Here we go.

 

God has a purpose. A plan so big, so endearing. He is at work, in fact it is happening right now as we speak. The restoration of his kingdom. However….

Reality check numero uno:

·         It’s not actually ALL about us.

We ARE important, to a certain extent. Mercy and Grace, two words chucked around Christian circles a lot; words which encompass a small fraction of God’s character. But to be perfectly honest, in sermons and talks I find they always appear as superficial words. Words with little substance, just chucked in to paint a cool picture of God. Labels. However, what if those words contain something far more personal than what we first perceive.

Look at it like this:

·         A farmer one day decides to bring in an apprentice, someone who he’ll train up in hopes that eventually, he (the apprentice) can run the farm.

·         As the apprentice is being trained up he will often refer back to the farmer asking for his approval, double checking that what he is doing is right.

·         However, after 6-12 months on the job you’d imagine the apprentice would be pretty clued up on what to do (or at least have a general understanding of what to do).

·         However, wouldn’t it seem odd if, after 12 months of working this apprentice, continued to refer back to the farmer in the same manner he did when he was being trained up? I imagine it would really test the farmer’s patience, particularly when you consider the time taken to walk back and find the farmer. Time which could be spent working. In all honesty, I imagine the farmer’s probably thought a few times, “why don’t I just do the job myself?”

Why doesn’t he?

That my friend is mercy.

Despite the Lord having the capacity to do it (restore his kingdom on earth), he chooses us. His grace and mercy is a tangible reflection of his patience towards us. Even though we doubt and question EVERYTHING about God, he still chooses us. He still chooses to make time for us. Can you imagine how frustrating (if God was a human with limited human characteristics) that would be.

1.       This reflects exactly why God is God and we are not. WE are far too limited. So limited in our understanding of grace and mercy, that even when a God so abundantly merciful is standing right in front of us, we don’t even see it. (PS: I share this because it’s totally something God is revealing to me as well. Certainly don’t have this down pact yet, may never, nonetheless he is pulling me up on this too.)

In our western culture, it is difficult to not perceive ourselves as God. Our culture thrives off, it’s created from it; making us believe we are the most important thing out. So much so that our thinking towards death is “if we are gone what will happen in this world, ‘the world will forever be ruined.’” I reckon it’s chasing after those things, ourselves, which make us forgettable. Only the ones who chased after something beyond themselves are the ones remembered, yet even then, that in itself is insignificant.

What if….we were to live a life for Him. A life far from boring and mundane.

Want a life of remembrance; lived to its capacity?

1.       It starts with submission and surrender- realising that actually we ARE blessed. God could easily complete his plan right now if he wanted to, but he is PATIENT, teaching us and using us, mere humans, selfish beings, to reflect HIM.

2.       A radical life is understanding that there will be sacrifice and suffering. Realistically in every aspect of life these elements will pop up:

·         Sacrifice

·         Suffering

The question is whether we think God is worth making a sacrifice and suffering for. If not, then what is?

I don’t know about you, but I would much rather live each day radically, uncertain of what will happen in my day, but certain of who I live for, then live the stereotypical ‘Sunday attending church’ life.

Imagine if each of us recognised that we are a part of something significant, the picture of  ‘Christianity’ would look a little different. We ourselves aren’t the ones that define that significance, we just have the choice and opportunity to facilitate in that significance: seeing GOD (not us) be exalted. In whatever form that may be.

Just some food for thought.