Perspective

As I looked at a sunset panorama I captured tonight with my phone, I began to analyze how some of the lines were crooked --- how I didn’t hold the phone steady enough, how imperfect it was. But I’m reminded now that often times the world is full of beauty – astounding beauty; and yet, we can’t see it because our perspective is skewed. We focus on what is flawed, what we’re doing wrong, what we could be doing better. But in that tendency to overanalyze, to think purely with a critic’s mind, we miss it.

Life. Beauty. Stillness. Love.

Perfection is pointless. Love cannot exist without first knowing pain. Beauty and peace and hope cannot thrive without us first feeling broken and lost and despondent. So I’d rather capture something in all its imperfections – in all its raw authenticity. Because that is the definition of beauty – in nature, in life, and in ourselves. Nothing else compares. Nothing else is worth our time.

Foreigners

Perhaps we are all out there, moving, seeking, shape-shifting into the people we believe we need to be to find solidarity in this foreign world. To find belonging. To find something that feels real again. To find someone to walk with. To find happiness, as ephemeral and erratic as happiness is. We do this because we know joy can be found - in the wild, untamable great unknowns we venture into. In nature, and travel, and music, and art. We do this because no matter how disillusioned we become over time, a tiny unadulterated childlike portion of our soul still believes that home, intimacy, and authenticity are not entirely unattainable. Our hearts may break in the process of searching, but we can never truly let go of the ideal, the dream, or the most hopeful of hopes - that we were meant for relationship.

Intimacy

Real intimacy is awkward silence that isn't awkward. Knowing spontaneity is possible. It is dirty houses, and last minute dates, and 1 am phone calls. It is ugly cries, swear words, tequila and cigarettes, doubts, fear, anger, and pain. It is also mischievous eyes sparkling with excitement or love, warm conversations, feasts of celebration, hope, grace, and incredible joy. Intimacy is all of these - all swirling around, jarring, colliding. And intimacy is you, never for a second, guessing that this entire spectacle is anything remotely out of the ordinary.

Imperfect Game-Changers

Let's be game changers -- a collective community who isn't afraid to do things differently. To show all sides, and not just the pretty, polished ones. We can say all we want is to be vulnerable and real, but unless we're willing to actually expose ourselves then these sentiments are just empty words in sermons or motivational speeches or on white computer screens. If we're going to impact one another, if we're going to heal our own hearts, if we're going to truly be in the trenches with the people in our lives, then it starts with showing our imperfect selves -- not just to our inner circles, but to the world.

If we only portray the image we feel others want to see, or others expect to see, we are missing out. We are missing out on embracing our own identities, and we are missing out on letting people know that they are not the only ones who struggle. That they don't have to be perfect. That they don't have to fit a mold. That they are not alone. 

If we only show our light, our triumphs, our perfectly prepared words, would people taken comfort in that? Or would they feel that no one understands, that no one gets it, that no one struggles or suffers as they do? If we censor our thoughts and stifle our stories, then we aren't being truthful. We aren't showing the full, un-edited picture. And it's truth that gives us freedom in a world chained by hypocrisy and lies. It's truth that moves people from the fringes as outcasts and lepers to a place of belonging. Truth, and love, and perhaps faith.

Real Friendships

I long for real friendships. The kind of friends that you can sit in silence with and not feel uncomfortable. The kind of friends you can argue in front of because you’re just an extended member of the family. The kind of friends you know the majority of the time are going to be up for one of your random adventures – even if that adventure could potentially result in jail time. The kind of friends you can just fall apart with and show up at their door looking like a batshit crazy person with mascara running down your face and they’re like, you know, it’s cool – let’s have wine and watch B-rated movies.

We have to find a way to be more connected – to work harder at reaching each other in an authentic, gritty, “I want to be in your life and I want you in mine” kind of way. We have to acknowledge our need for each other. We have to name it. We’re too afraid to ask for help. We’re too stubborn to admit we aren’t enough. But we can’t sustain life this way. And I don’t believe we were meant to.