There is Nothing So Stable as Change

My sister brought that up today. She’s a Bob Dylan fan and he’s the one that said, “There is nothing so stable as change.” In the following posts, you’ll see me mention her a lot. She, family (including friends I see as family) are an integral part of who I am and who I want to become. We were talking about change, and I was saying how I liked change for me (i.e., me going off to different countries, me doing different things), but I didn’t like change for those around me. It’s a bit selfish, I know. Okay, a lot selfish. If you truly love someone, you want what is best for their happiness. Typically, change is the answer to that question. On the inside, now after this post on the outside, I want to come back to what I know as familiar and know it, more importantly my position in it, hasn’t changed.

However, life moves on. It makes me sad because I want to hold onto every moment. Me wanting to savor every moment links back to my beginning.  I’ve been trying to resolve the past for the longest time. I had bitterness for wrongs done me and it held me back, which is why I was trying to resolve it. And I did. The part I’m trying to resolve now, or perhaps gladly accept is a better term, is the past I can no longer have. Kids in typical, even dysfunctional families, don’t always see what’s going on with the family dynamic. When I was younger it seemed like we had huge family reunions all the time, my grandfather being the central adhesive and that my family got along really well. You hear about sun-soaked or sun-dappled memories. That’s what they are for me.

However, when I got older, after my grandfather died, things seemed to fall apart. I’m not going to go into all the things because it is a very long story and I’m trying to be concise. There were things, tensions I noticed I hadn’t noticed before. Even going back and watching home videos (which always make me cry by the way and those who know me know I’m not a crier), I notice the tensions. Of course, I see little me toddling around oblivious, simply seeing those I love and who love me hanging around. I just shake my head at her.

Ever since it stopped , I have found myself, mostly subconsciously, longing after then searching for a new family. Sure, I still get along well with many of my family members, but more as individuals and not the unit I always thought it was. When I think about it, it’s actually quite pathetically funny. Through the years, I have tried to immerse myself in groups, because I liked the people obviously, but I was always searching for what I’d had. I had a cold dose of reality, or rather a few, when I realized time and again, that you can’t force yourself to become part of a family, not really.

You’re going to think I’m insane when I tell you that in times of deeper grief, I had considered, multiple times, the idea of marrying into various groups throughout time, just to be part of their family. That was how bad I wanted it. Nuts, right? Well, being that I am a much more logical person than emotional, that idea flew out the window. From an emotional point of view, it would be cruel to whoever I married because I would be marrying them for their family. It’s not much better than marrying someone for their money.

Furthermore, I am getting the feeling that things really do work out the way they’re supposed to. It is something I have resented and grieved about for a very long time. Maybe I am meant to be alone. (I know, cue the violin.)

In all seriousness though, it all stems from my past. I’ve always felt the need for family, to belong. I’m not the only one. That’s why there are so many lonely people in the world. It is harder I think because I feel I once had it, even though my logical side knows it was an illusion to shelter a young child. I want it again. I always hope, if I ever do get married, that the dude will have a really big family. That would be really nice. However, I feel as if this is a character-developing period in my life. I already have pretty good character,with flaws obviously, but I am guessing God’s not done with me, and this idea of feeling alone, feeling lonely, will make me stronger for bare years down the road.

Those who are believers would say, “Oh, well you’re never alone. You have God.” There are times I knew God was present and my spirit was at peace, but my human self, this need to have interaction and to belong, felt very much alone. It’s something I’m working out with Him and something, hopefully someday soon, I will gladly accept. I do what I can, love those that Dad calls “My People” with all the big heart that I have, and continue trudging on.

For a disclaimer, I am genuinely and generally a very happy person. I have everything to be happy about. There are certainly those who don’t have what I have, and I have no reason to be unhappy, but I’m one of those people, because of God and how He made me, that values the things  that are immaterial over other things because they are longer lasting and they mean more. Occasionally my past memories will rear their head, and I’ll remember that it’s something I have to resolve so I can move on. It’s very hard to move forward when you are tied, especially by the organ that keeps you alive, to the past. But despite everything, and with God’s help, here’s to letting go and moving on.


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An Imperfect Diamond

Most of the time I am quite lighthearted and I don’t participate in deep thinking. This is most of the time a good thing as I am merely enjoying the moment and not succumbing to the recesses of my mind. Often times when this happens, I retreat into myself and am not the usually happy-go-lucky person. However, there are other times when I am skipping along the path of life and a bright flower of knowledge catches my eye. This type of deeper thinking is good though because it inspires me to learn more about whatever has caught my attention, which in turn, enriches my life.

The word Paragon is the bright flower that caught my eye this morning. Like many words, it has different contexts, but one general meaning. Referencing the Google definition(s) that popped up when I searched the word, paragon is:

  • a person or thing regarded as a perfect example of a particular quality.
  • a person or thing viewed as a model of excellence
  • a perfect diamond of 100 carats or more

They have varying contexts in their meaning, but all in all, it means perfection or the thing or person upheld as perfection. If we’re going by broad standards of  perfection, it is one without blemish, innocence, cleanliness, something sweet and/or virtuous. However, I also like to think perfection is subjective. The saying “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder” comes to mind. No, beauty is not perfection, but it’s the same principle. What one person might deem as perfect another might see a flaw.

My second cup of coffee is imperfect to me this morning because it doesn’t have my beloved Coffee-Mate French Vanilla creamer in it. Because of my new health standards and because I am doing Insanity, I only allow myself one cup of coffee with creamer. My second cup of coffee is not bad, and it’s a taste that I’ve acquired and enjoy; however, it is not perfect to me. There are those, like my father, who love their coffee black. To him, this would be a perfect cup of coffee.

In my opinion, no one and nothing is perfect. Perhaps it/they are perfect to the human mind, but speaking from my beliefs, the only being that is perfect is God. There are those who don’t share my beliefs, and the previous statement was not intended to make anyone uncomfortable, but is merely sharing my opinion of what people see various things or people as being the idea of perfection. Perfection is something to strive toward but cannot and will not ever be achieved. My idea of achieving the closest thing to perfection is to form a closer relationship with God, which in my mind, makes me better at everything else I do or achieve because He is helping me. For others, it is perhaps to practice something endlessly, dedicate themselves to perfecting an art or an idea in order to get as close to perfection as possible.

My point is: Perfection is subjective and can never be fully achieved, but it can be striven for. It is perhaps a good thing that we never achieve perfection so that we’re always continuing, always  trying to improve but enjoying the process, and therefore, life.

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Food for Thought

Anyone who knows me knows that I cook, quite a bit. Especially on special occasions. It is this fact, and the fact that I enjoy it, that has me thinking perhaps I should go to culinary school. While going to culinary school is no guarantee of working in a professional culinary environment, I think it gives one a leg up in that department. Yes, I can start out by becoming a Commis chef (lowest level chef) and work my way up, but I feel the knowledge, rather the specific knowledge I want (pastry and baking) would be best achieved in learning from an official program.

I will continue to pray about it and search, both information wise and internally, but it’s something that I get really excited about. In the right setting, I could cook all the time. I’ve discovered that I don’t like sitting inside all day. I love to do something different everyday and my soul lights on fire when I have a challenging creative project in front of me. This can span various career areas: writing, decorating, event planning, travel writing, food writing, business owner (probably food related), all of which I’m looking into as possibilities. However, I feel my foundation will be culinary school and a Master’s (that is one of the things I am still researching, in terms of a specific area). The point is that I feel my possibilities are endless, open but most importantly, mine.

I went through some rough seas in college. No, nothing was happening externally. Externally, life was perfect and I was one of the lucky few that had been given a gift of God: a scholarship that paid everything plus some. Internally I was in turmoil, asking that question that plague so many, especially in the college sphere: What am I going to do with my life? For the longest time, up until the last half of my senior year, that question tortured me.

There’s this pressure that nearly everyone feels. It’s a pressure about starting out young with a bang and showing those who know you, showing yourself, that you are indeed making something of yourself in an acceptable way. I.E., choosing a career, moving up the ladder, and following all the supposed steps of life. I was feeling this pressure for the longest. I wanted (still want to, btw) to do and try everything. I wanted the world to be my oyster; however, I was feeling that pressure, from myself and others, to choose a more solid path. I almost quit college at one point, but thankfully decided that would be a huge regret down the road. I’m only a year down the road after graduation and I know, I would have regretted it. Through talking to trusted advisers, friends, family, myself, and most importantly, God, I just let go. I had felt that pressure because I had been given an opportunity others would have seized and flew with and succeeded in their careers. I felt less, ungrateful, and quite like someone who didn’t have it together because I didn’t have it figured out like everyone else.

When I finally chose a major (Thank you Dr. W), it was perfect. Communication Studies. The study of communication. Who knew it could be so fascinating? I had always been fascinated with the skill I seemed never to be able to attain: effectively communicating. Sure, I’d given speeches, but they were bare bones at best. Furthermore, I was/am a people person. At the time, mostly because of lack of self-confidence, I wasn’t a great communicator. I’m not a great communicator now, but I certainly know more about it and am always improving. Due to various events in life, I was stilted and awkward, especially around new people. But I knew this was my path. Communication Studies with a Public Relations minor. What I liked best about it though is that it didn’t box me in. One could say no particular area boxes one in; however, I had been a fashion design major for about 30 seconds, and that path is pretty set. With Communication my career possibilities were blown wide open because everything, especially nowadays, is about communication. I could/can/will do anything. Once I realized this, I no longer felt like I was constantly having a heart attack: This seizing panic that I needed to choose something and fast so I could get ahead of my peers. I felt relaxed and happy when I realized I didn’t have to participate in the rat race.

Except for world-changing events that would alter society, which may very well happen, I am all-in-all free to do whatever I want. I realized the degree was a springboard, an opening of doors to do whatever I wanted. I decided to move to Ireland and work for a year. It’s something I had wanted to do since sophomore year and, through the optimistic insistence of my sister, I went with it. I had all these thoughts: oh, it’ll set me back professionally (I don’t really have that figured out yet, so I’m good), oh what if I regret it later (I don’t think I’ll regret Ireland), what will people think, specifically those who have supported me and paid my way? They’ll just think I’m blowing my life away. To myself, and to those who are reading this post, I am making something of myself. I’m not sure what that will be yet, but I am freeing myself to try different things, different flavors (literal and of life), different places in this life to try to find ME. I’m doing all of that with God’s guidance, creator of the universe and the one who knows exactly what I’m meant to do in this world. So, be confident in the fact that I will choose something one day soon, something where I can give back to those who have paved my way, where I can feel that my existence wasn’t pointless, where I can contribute to the world, even in the smallest way.

I am not foundering. I am searching. I am going on adventure. The one of a lifetime. The one for a lifetime.