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.

PG huh?!? No silly, PGA.

PG huh?!? No silly, PGA

 

When I was younger I took golf lessons.

My dad would take my brother and I down to the local golf course every Saturday morning, where we learnt all about how to hit the ball, perfect our swing and pretend to be Tiger Woods (the golfing part…wouldn’t condone the other stuff to 5 yr olds…). One of the random ‘drills’ we had to do, was place a big smiley face sticker on the head of the club. Now, at the time, I thought the sticker was there just to look super cool, but it wasn’t until recently that I realised that that sticker actually had a purpose.

It was to identify the ‘sweet spot’.

Sweet spot?!?!

Pretty much, there is a particular point along the head (the part of the golf club you hit the ball with) which when you hit it, makes the ball project further, seemingly ‘effortlessly’. If your golf is anything like mine (with maybe 5 out of 100 shots hitting that sweet shot) you’ve probably stood at the driving range looking out over the ball, placing your hand upto shield the sun, as you ponder why you haven’t joined the PGA tour (or at least how your golden talent remains yet to be discovered.)

So we’re feeling good about ourselves! Yeah! We hit that little sucker and it just so happened a cute boy walked passed at the same time and saw the whole thing! (Dying.)

HOWEVER…

When we don’t hit it in that sweet spot:

1.       Blimey, it hurts the hands (I’m a girl, I can claim that.)

2.       To get the ball even remotely close to the other one, A LOT more effort and strength is needed.

 

Soooooooooo…

I imagine at this point you’re probably wondering where I’m heading with this…

 

Soooooooooo pretty much:

 

 Knowing who we are can be just like finding that ‘sweet spot’ in life.

 

Let me explain:

A few months ago I bumped into a guy that I went to high school with. We had a little mini catch up (as you do) then he started explaining his engineering degree to me, talking about all the complex stuff he was learning in it. As you can imagine my brain exploded (not literally, thank goodness!) How this guy could come up with a draw bridge based off numbers and variables was totally beyond me. I had to remind myself on several occasions to shut my mouth again (because I was amazed at just how smart he was.)

Anyway, when we got to town, we went and got a coffee, which is where he randomly piped up and said “Hey Aspen, this has to be the best conversation I’ve had in a while. You’re really good at communicating.” Wasn’t too hard to be honest, but “Ill receive that compliment anyway.” (I didn’t actually say that. I mean who says “I receive that any way?” Oh….you do Cindy…woops sorry.)

I guess the point I’m trying to make is, I’m not my friend that’s an engineer. He’s talented at engineering. I’m talented at talkin…..g. (Is that even a talent? I don’t know, but I’ll claim it anyway.)

 

You see when we do things we are naturally talented and gifted in, it’s like hitting that ball in the sweet spot. Sure a little work is required, but it feels effortless.

 

Now this is gonna sound pretty harsh, but all too often, it seems, we are trying to achieve things that we just aren’t naturally gifted in. Sure there are times when you’ve got to just suck it up (and work on those assignments), but if your WHOLE DEGREE or job is a drag then why carry on?

Chase after the things you enjoy and are gifted in and watch how far you, like the ball soar (yes, I did just compare you to a golf ball. You’re a lot better-looking though, in my defence). Rather than strive at doing something which we may not get as much enjoyment out of, why not recognise the areas we are talented in and strengthen those areas in our lives.

It’s easy sometimes to forget that we are each uniquely encoded with different talents and gifts. These talents are needed. You are needed and valued. What you have to offer, even if it feels minuet, is actually very important. Imagine if the guy who invented aeroplanes didn’t wake up one day (probably more like a series of trial and error) and gave up. We would never have had aeroplanes (Yes, someone else MAY have come along and designed one anyway, but that’s beyond the point). That guy was needed, because he may just have been the one to suggest inflight entertainment, and imagine how horrible that would have been without that! (*cough* Jetstar *cough*)

At the end of the day, you’re important. The things you have, talents you possess are valued and needed in this big bad (not bad all the time) world.

 

Cool beans. Just a thought. 

 Peace and blessings y’all.

"I'm over our long term relationship. No judgement."

Spring cleaning. It has its pits and peaks.

 Pit: Apparently it only comes around in spring, which sucks cause if I left my room for a whole year without a good spring clean, I think you could comfortably call me a hoarder.

Peak: Every time you do you uncover some hidden gems; cell phone charger, hair ties, and your teddy bear you thought had gone off on some overseas adventure…

So, I guess you could say spring cleaning does have some perks.

The other day I was doing a bit of a good old clean up, and came across my folder I put all my written stories into. As you’ve probably (hopefully) discovered… I like to write, and have for a wee while. Actually, fun fact, when I was 10 I started to write a book I got about 30 pages into it, before I decided I just didn’t have the time to continue (don’t ask me why I didn’t have time, I was 10. I had all the time in the world!).

Anyway in amongst the masses of paper, I uncovered one of the poems I wrote a little while back (here’s a little snippet):

 

“You see I looked down on those I thought I was above,

And in my head,

I started to justify it as love.

 

With my distorted view,

I started to think that God looked down on us too,

Only able to come and love a few.

 

Only those like me,

Who knew the verses,

Who knew the bible,

And in my head I was the perfect disciple.

 

It was there I learnt I was an actor,

I’d put my hands up at church,

Sing the right notes,

Like that was the only factor.

 

But my quest to be perfect,

To meet the perfection,

 It only led my mind

Into a sickly infection.

 

Then I’d turn to God and point my finger,

Why’d you make me fat?

Why couldn’t I be smaller?

Because only then,

Could I truly be your daughter.

 

I’d pray and pray,

Oh God, send me a boyfriend,

Oh God, send me an angel,

Because I alone am unable.

 

I knew they wouldn’t help,

I knew it to well,

But my deepest confessions,

To Him I couldn’t tell.”

 

As you have probably gathered, my own perceived judgement of others and myself was something I was really challenged with when I wrote this poem.  But unlike the poem changing it wasn’t as easy as spray and wipe, where BAM and the dirt is gone.

You see it’s easy to judge. It’s easy to look down on others, just because they’re different. I’ll be honest, throughout high school I did just that, look down on others because I thought I was maybe ‘better’ then them. I didn’t do drugs, drink or swear, and those I justified were the things that defined me as ‘better.’

However, looking back it saddens me because I allowed my own judgements and perceptions to be so important, that it left little room to actually see people for who they were. Awesome. Unique. Rich in potential.

You see it’s easy for us to look at someone and stamp a label on. Limit them, or define them. Whether it’s based on actions or their past, I’ve come to learn that limiting others is toxic.

 

Like the poem said:

“With my distorted view,

I started to think that God looked down on us too,

Only able to come and love a few.

 

Only those like me,

Who knew the verses,

Who knew the bible,

And in my head I was the perfect disciple.”

 

As horrid as it sounds, I allowed myself to play the role of God, to be the one who filtered who was good enough. Because of this my perception of church became the place where all the ‘perfect people’ met. It seemed like everyone had it altogether. I mean they smiled and seemed happy. Ironically this contradicted how I actually felt, but I quickly found myself slipping into an ‘act,’ trying to play the ‘perfect little Christian girl’ cause that would mean my real hurts wouldn’t be discovered. It comes as little surprise that because of this, I grew bitter towards the idea of ‘church’ as I lodged my thoughts deeper away.

The irony of it though, was the further I pulled away, the more distant I felt from God and alone as a whole. The truth is God loves real. The performance. The façade. Totally irrelevant, and will not change how much he love us. He sees our hearts, he sees the hurt, and longs to journey with us. Haha he’s cool like that, when we think no one could ever cope with us, he says ‘try me’.

Since high school I’ve come to the conclusion, that I want to be more like Jesus (not because of doctrine, or ‘perfect Christian role model’), but because he was cool. He didn’t allow anything (race, religion, sexual orientation) to define how much he could love or care for someone. That’s the kind of person I want to be, one who loves instead of judges.

However unlike spring cleaning, which comes around once a year, choosing to love instead of judge is a daily decision, but by lying down my pre-conceived ideas and allowing love to be my driving force, it brings a lot peace into life.

Take care cool kids, y’all are awesome.