There’s an innocence to topless sunbathing in the midst of a Pandemic. 

Something akin to an ancient and timeless malaise has shrouded our days, so one will do almost anything to feel hopeful and alive again. 

Unencumbered by clothing, I greet the Sun.  “Hello, Sweet Friend.  I’ve missed you.  Kiss me?”  And, He does, without hesitation or reservation. 

Hot breath on my neck, he presses his warmth into my chest and I surrender, promising…”I’ll never make you wait this long again.”

I sit so quietly I can hear my own heart beating.  A steady, rhythmic drum of undefined purpose.  A simple insistence on existence.  

I tell Her, “I’m finally ready to listen.”

I’m learning to love this liminal space and all it has uncovered. The quiet longings that still surface just beyond existential dread. 

It is there, in this presence of body and alertness of spirit that I now imbibe - knowing that my perception has always been my reality. 

Is it now that I begin to perceive differently?  More acutely? 

Isn’t it always in the throes of pleasure that we make our most flowery and embellished of promises? 

“From this moment forward….and always...always...”

So, I ask, “Will you, Sweet Sun, promise to forgive me when I forget to greet you?”

And, “Precious Heart, can you vow to keep speaking, even when I distractedly chide, ‘Not now’..”

Time and again, 

I promise to return to Openness, because of your Devotion. 

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

i've tried to write - so many times, recently. 
i'll make the necessary clicks to get to this blank blog page - and blink at the cursor as it blinks back at me.

i am not empty - but, my words are

i haven't stopped reading though-and seeking music that awakens me.
lately, it feels like music is a kick-start for my tired heart

i don't know where i'm about to head with my life - but, i've been seeking out options and considering nothing as a limitation, except my own fear.

at 28, fear is a much greater factor in my life than i would like to admit. 
i've been a fearful girl my entire life. sincerely.
and, usually this fear is well based - because it's only been a matter of time before life would rise back up 
and smack me (or my family) in the face:

i realize, now - this is true for everyone.

and, so i don't feel like the thoughts i have any more are so original
or merit a blog - requesting of you - your time to read it and possibly respond.

i keep waiting for that epiphany moment of inspired writing. 
that laser focused moment of clarity which will release all of this energy that is collecting inside of me

i'm ready for a release 
and to find my channel for this next period of my life
once i find it - all of my energy will flow in that positive direction.

until then, though - i seek - and my cursor blinks..

To all my Oklahoma Friends -
If you live anywhere near campus - you should go to the Post Secret Event there on Wednesday. I SO wish I could go...I've been crusing the site for a year or so - every Sunday - and they never have an event near me!

PostSecret Events in December
University Oklahoma, OK
(Open to the Public)
12-3-08
www.postsecret.blogspot.com


If you haven't already heard of Post Secret, it is a fascinating social experiment that this guy name Frank started a few years ago. Essentially, he encourages people to send in their secrets on the back of a postcard, anonymously. He then publishes them on the web, every Sunday. Some of them make it into books, which he publishes every once in a while. I haven't bought myself a book, yet...but, I will someday!

Below, I'll post a few to show you what I mean. Warning: This stuff is addictive, and cathartic, sometimes disturbing, but almost always revealing.

Love you all,
Hill

"Since every death diminishes us a little, we grieve - not so much for the death as for ourselves" - Lynn Caine

Every death does diminish us a little - taking away a portion of our heart, only to replace it with an aching void. It is this newly created space that seems to devour any happiness or joy I might encounter. Because as soon as I figure out that I'm partially enjoying myself, I am reminded that perhaps this moment could have been that much sweeter - if only "they" could be here with us.

Yesterday, at 3:55pm, my Grandma Ludie took her last and final breath.

And, I understand that to grieve is the most indulgent of self indulgent acts. It is the darkest pit of self-absorbed, self-pity. 

But, please-just indulge me. Let me be the first to admit: I am consumed with this loss.

I am so completely exhausted down in this pit of despair, that I can only offer you space to curl up next to me in this darkness. My arms hang limply at my sides, and the half-hearted smile I might have been able to muster earlier in the week, has crawled down my face-creating a frown...a grimace. The beat of my heart will assure you that, yes-I will continue to breathe. Though, my heart feels as if it is stuttering and stammering to keep pumping. 

Lately, it seems that every time I come home to visit, it is to bury someone I love. 

Last night, I cried out until I was sick. Even then, crouched on the ground and emptying my insides - I could not get rid of the sickening loneliness. The realization that death has severed another relationship. Instead, I just clawed at the ground - and shouted out to God.

"God, I know you hear me.

I know you can hear me....

Lord, you can hear me....

You hear me, right?"

*Stiffening Silence*

I know He never forsakes us, but is it possible that he turns his head, at times, just to allow us to learn something on our own? Because, I've never felt so alone or so misunderstood - as I have recently.

I can say I need help. I can say I'm afraid of where my mind is headed - and how it seems to be off the tracks and running - pulling me with it - but for some reason, people seem to shrug it off....

please, please don't shrug me off. 

When I was a little girl, and I'd become overwhelmed with whatever may have been on my mind - I'd go sit on the porch and sing. Usually, my dog Pokie would come and lay his head in my lap - and lick the tears from my face. He seemed to just KNOW that I needed him.

Even Pokie is gone, now.

I've been riding my Mom's bike every day since I've been here. I keep thinking that if I'll just keep moving, I can trick my body into feeling more alive. I still swing by Reed's house - even though I know he won't be there. Just seeing his "Probe Testarosa" in the driveway makes me smile. I love remembering him, always dressed to the nines, pulling into the driveway to whisk Heather away somewhere for the evening. I keep lifting my eyes, waiting for my own version of Reed to pull into the driveway. But, that hope dwindles day-by-day.

Sometimes, I get so exhausted from emotion-that I'll just go to sleep in the middle of the day. Last Saturday was one of those days, and I lay on the couch in my living room, and drifted to sleep. In my dream, Reed came through the back door of my house with a basketball under his arm. He sat down next to me on the ottoman near the couch, as I was still sleeping (in my dream). He pushed the hair away from my face, and he leaned over me and said, "Don't lose your hope, Hillary. Don't you lose your hope." 

"You are going to have everything you need."

Then, he pulled a moving photo out of his pocket, and he said, "I want to show you something." This photo had a small cottage / cabin in the woods, with a spring river running through the back side of the land. He said, "This is going to be your house." 

Then, he said, "You want to know something else? You're going to have your own little boy. You're going to name him 'Robin'-because he'll sing like a bird."

To that, I began to cry. Then, he got up, spinning the basketball on the end of his finger the way he used to do-and he looked over his shoulder outside at the basketball goal. 

On his way out the door, he stopped and he said, "Hillary, your spirit is not broken - it's just the grief you are dealing with." And, he walked on out the door.

When I woke up, the ottoman was still sitting beside me in the same way it was when Reed had sat on it. The sun was shining through the blinds at exactly the same angle, and I felt this warmth-this true belief that it was he who HAD come to visit me. 

How could he have known that I am losing my hope? How could he have known how much I long for a family of my own? How much I desire to belong to a man, and to have that man love me for me? For all the quirks, and strangeness that is bundled up into this mess that I call "me"? 

I think that sometimes God will send us angels so we won't completely lose our hope.

Last night, Heather found me outside crying - I haven't cried in front of any of the family. And, she just sat with me. She just sat and sat so I wouldn't be alone. When she finally broke the silence to ask me what was wrong, I confided in her that I am beginning to lose hope. That all those dreams that I've held in my heart of hearts since I was a little girl, playing with my Barbie and Ken - they are slowly slipping away. That I'm starting to believe that love isn't part of my plan. That perhaps God won't allow me to have a love relationship because it distracts me too much from Him.

And, you know what she said, "Reed used to tell me not to lose my hope, Hillary. He told me to claim this verse: Jeremiah 29:11 'For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you. To give you life and a HOPE.'"

I can't tell you how many times, recently, I've cried out to God to take me, now. To end the heartache and disappointment that I have with myself. In fact, recently, my prayer has changed to one of simply asking God for forgiveness for all the ways I've wrecked my chance at life...and, to just basically ask Him if he'd just ERASE me-as though I never existed. 

I'm searching: 
For the place I belong.
For the sun.
For a reason to keep believing.

In that frame of mind, this speaks the most to me:
"It is neccessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live."
Alexandre Dumas Père

Go hug your mom. Call your grandma. Ask that old friend for forgiveness. If you Love someone... please tell them. They may need to hear that so desperately.
Release it all, because it is all so small in the grand scheme of things.

Until I can write something positive, I don't think I'll be writing again-
Until then, 
Hillary

my heart feels worn out and swollen, just like my eyes. it's that exhaustion you experience when you've cried for so long, you seem to have run out of emotion.

it's beautiful this morning. the sun is beaming through every slant-like opportunity to splash light onto the living room floor. i got a new rug last weekend. i'm so stoked about it, that it actually makes my heart speed up when i look at it. instead of a "boom-boom. boom-boom." it sorta intensifies into a "boom-bobba-boom-bobba-boom"...yeah, this rug totally excites me.
it's just that it's so...so...blue. 

and so BADASS! 

i have always enjoyed feathering my nest. i really like to explore the things that bring me joy. and, i like to remind myself of people and places and times in my life that represent experiencing true joy, or love, or excitement. and to try and lay things out in ways that surprise and delight my eyes. for instance, i like the imagery of a stack of books. there's an opportunity and an escape that lies within those pages. you can bet that there are books available within arms reach, in most every comfy seat in my house.

and, birds. there are little birds unexpectedly perched on the lamp next to you, or that stack of books over there. all different sorts of birds, but i especially like the really fat chested ones. they always make me laugh.

recently, a dove has taken to cooing its soft songs when i wake up in the morning, and when i go to sleep at night. i am so thankful for that sweet bird. i'll sit on the back porch and read, or lounge in the hammock and just listen. 

it is the quiet times, like this sunday morning, when i am more able to be truly present in the moment - and not projecting my mind into that meeting next week, or the flight i still need to book. 

my daily inner dialogue, and my personal time clock have been on nothing but business, deadlines, expectations, expenses, miscommunications, validation, and problems being reincarnated. it has been such a nasty brew of upsetting toxicity inside of my chest. at this point, it has begun to become difficult to breathe.

some things are imploding, some things are exploding, and some things are expiring. nothing, at this time, remains safe for me. my family, my career, my home, my relationships, my finances...all seem to be a part of this massive upheaval.

all of these things seem to be occurring somewhere outside of myself. as though i am at the center of this swirling storm, and the chaos and confusion are colliding about in a slow motion orchestrated opera outside of who i am. it is fascinating, and i stand in awe wondering where i will be left when my life finally rests in it's new shifted shape.

it is in this space that i observe this:
our homes are no more established than a swallow's nest. our imagined safety, and our barricades of items that somehow combine to define who we are and what we're about - they mean nothing in the eternal scheme of things. the stacks of books, the picture frames and kaleidoscopes, the pillows and the blankets...they are, in the simplest of terms, emotional clutter.

and, no amount of officially hung and/or framed photo can guarantee that the relationship it is glorifying will last. no, in my experience, the frames LONG outlast the relationships that they so lovingly capture.

i've got a lot of photos that i've kept in the frames. i mean...the picture frame itself sometime even becomes associated with somethign that you've lost...doesn't it? so, it's best to not be reminded of anything from the past right now. no, not anything at all.

well...i suppose i'm going to have to grab a hold of something slightly solid, that will make me want to wake up every morning and take on another day. so, for now i think that it'll be that lil' turquoise blue rug from Pier 1.

oh, and that dove in the back yard. we can't forget that dove.

i've been in a dark place lately. lots of changes are swirling about, and when this happens - i tend to pull myself inward to the core of who i am. 

and, really, at my core - i am dark. 

(this is not a bad thing, by the way. i quite prefer it, actually. in darkness there is complexity and mystery.)

it's difficult to explain myself when i'm so confused by all that i am and all that i've experienced. i can say this much: 

i'm finding that "hillary" is a pretty consistent individual, regardless of the circumstances surrounding her.

below all of the surface insecurities, the work-related stressors, and the external societial pressures is an original version of myself that remains unchanged.

wrapping words around all that in encompassed in my original soul is difficult for me to do, as well.

since i was a child i've likened myself to a "bleeding, beating heart". i just FEEL so much for so many different people. i truly get upset when i hear the daily news with murders, wars, and fraud so readily communicated. i can't stand to watch violence on TV or in the movies - it literally HURTS for me to watch it. i can FEEL their pain physically.

a few of my friends have told me that i am an "empathetic" - which i think is a fancy word for having an ability to "feel what other people are feeling". i believe it is true. 

i lose sleep over the war.
i pray for people i don't even know.
my stomach knots up when people tell me about accidents they've survived.

and lately, i've really been just sick of being alive. i know that sounds incredibly selfish, childish, and a number of other words - but that's the best way i can describe my feelings.

so, rather than bury these inclinations - lately, i've indulged them. and, what i've found is that even the prophets in the bible often felt the same. this "thorn" of having to live in such a cruel world can only be removed by asking God to do so.

so, i have. i've asked for a purpose. a reason to feel like i SHOULD be here. i haven't had any clear cut answers- but, i can say that i'm at least feeling "interested in trying" again.

i believe that there is a certain amount of "home-sick" in everyone's soul. and, if you've ever experienced the loss of a loved one, i bet you can relate. you just feel so home-sick for them that you want to be where they are.

some of the most influential people in my life are no longer living. and, i miss them SO MUCH that i cannot even begin to describe it. i've been home-sick for the place i originated from. i've been so tired of trying to "make something" out of my life.

so, here i am-and what am i supposed to do about it? i suppose just keep listening. keep praying. keep enjoying the people (and animals) that i get to encounter each day. just keep believing. just keep feeling-because it reminds me that i am, in fact, alive -

and being alive, alone, is a gift.

and being alive, alone, is enough.