1.27.21 What’s Next

8

What’s Next

I am a what’s next girl

for better … 

or worse

It is something I am equally proud

and 

utterly 

embarrassed of

While delighted in every new 

light (and sometimes too bright)

idea

I also cannot settle

Is it an asset? 

A flaw? 

Am I curating curiosity? 

Or chasing the thrill 

of a thread that never ends?

Am I incomplete somehow? 

Or … somewhere? 

Yes.

And no.

And does it matter if I’ll never know?

My heart throbs with an urgency 

to do

to create

to run and build and learn

My mind spins with a frantic need

to write

to read

to pray and meditate and understand that I never will

I want answers

but find they matter less than my questions

I want to get there

but not as much as I want to explore

From wander 

to wish

and back again

I come and go

inside and outside 

skipping stones across my imagination

and feeling the ripples in reality, 

until only one question remains – 

What’s next? 

1.20.21 The Beautiful In-Betweens

5

“In a paradoxical blush of cool hands and warm cheeks, warm nights with cool breezes, winter makes her entrance with dramatic grace and patience. There are so many beguiling experiences that, like the coming of a new season, only live in the in-between places of ourselves.”

I am honored to be featured in Bella Grace Magazine’s Winter Issue 26! From start to finish, this bookzine is filled with delighting in the magical aspects of the every day. My article focuses on looking at those in-between places in our lives that transition us from here to there. I’d LOVE to hear if you read it, and if so, which in-between time resonated most with you.

All my love,

Elle

1.12.21 Missing Light

4

Her name was Lucy

which, not-so-ironically, means light.

And OH, but she was.

Fiery and feisty,

she taught me what it meant to be made of 

perhaps

a dash more spice

than sugar …

though her sweet tooth was never fully satisfied.

She loved life

and laughter –

so

much 

laughter.

She loved fancy

and flirting

and the color red.

When I was a little girl,

she taught me songs the world forgot,

but I remember still  … 

songs about “Elmer’s tune,” and “The Man in the Moon,” 

songs my children now know the words to.

I loved the way she called me “Dolly,” 

the way she didn’t over-apologize the way I do,

the way she shamelessly said

what-so-ever crossed her mind,

whether it was mindful or not.

Living nearly a century, with immeasurable loss,

she had every right to be hardened – to be jaded, or sad.

But she wasn’t. 

She lived in a world of her own making, 

dressing up her goodbyes as “too-da-loo’s” 

somehow making every parting more sweet than sorrow-filled.

She chose joy, 

and taught me that even now, even without her – 

because of her … 

I can too.

1.4.20 A Single Word

4

I have never really been a person to start a year with a single “word.” I have favorite words … too many, and I suppose that is why choosing one to embody an entire year never seemed sufficient enough. And yet … I betray myself, because recently, I realized I do have a word. But before telling you what it is, I have one story, and one confession. 

A few weeks ago, I was in a cohort of teachers and was asked the question, “If you could speak any language fluently, what language would you want to know how to speak.” I listened to the others choosing beautiful languages that had always been on my list, but when it came to be my turn to answer, I couldn’t pick any. Surprising even myself, what came out of my mouth was “respect.” 

I went on to explain how I wish that I could speak the language of respect fluently to all people, because I have come to learn that as “alike” or “different” as I believe myself to be from anyone else, every single person in the universe speaks and feels respect differently. As humans we have nothing if not a consistent margin for offense, mis-intended communication and accidental conflict. It’s exhausting, actually … especially for those of us who feel everything and care perhaps a little too much.

Now, onto my confession. As I was thinking about my wish to speak respect fluently, a small voice in the back of my mind asked me very, very clearly … “Is respect the language you speak to yourself?” And guess what my answer was – nope. Not often. Not even once a day sometimes. Here I try and try and bend to the point of breaking to love and honor and respect others (albeit imperfectly), and I don’t even really try to return the favor to myself. 

I point out her flaws. I tell her of her shortcomings. I expect more and more out of her with less and less time, encouragement, and praise. I am not very nice to her at all. I am demanding and harsh and critical. Professionally. Personally. Physically. I tell her she is not enough. How’s that for honesty? I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but how will I ever become fluent in respect if I don’t start with telling myself the truth? So that is my intention this year. I hope to mend our relationship a little … or, a lot maybe. I want to give her a bit of grace, a bit of encouragement, and maybe even a long-deserved apology. 

My word for the year is RESPECT. I’m thinking it might take me awhile to get it right, but self … I’m sure going to try.