Pursuit of Life

The way I feel about our country right now feels really familiar to me.
I’ve felt this anger, pain, and heartbreak before.
I’ve felt dismissed as a human because of my gender.
I’ve been pushed out of conversations, placed under limitations, and blatantly restricted from both rights and privileges because of my gender.
It wasn’t my country where I felt it then, though. It was the Church.

I know the pain of being mistrusted because I have a female body.
I know I know the agony of changing clothes 14 times before you go on stage, only to hear the devastating feedback that some man in the congregation found your pants “distracting.”
I know the stomach punch it is to be restricted from a monthly meeting with regional colleagues because it’s “guys only.”
I know how isolating it is to open the Scriptures and see over and over again the devaluation and objectification of women’s bodies. And I know how enraging it is to get into debates with *men* about these passages.

And you know how I handled it? I quit.
I walked away. I said, “this is not my church, and that is not my God.”

But here I am, two years later, crying tears of frustration and gratitude because I know who God is, and I know that my skeptical, angry, wounded heart has found Her more and more through practice of my Christian faith.
I came back with more questions than answers (which, for me, is me at my best) and an honest, quiet rage that needed to be expressed so that I could hear the hurt underneath. I hurt so that I could heal.

And now, healed-and-healing, I know that I am called to serve this very institution in whose hands I was betrayed and wounded. When I see that the Church will never, ever be what I think I need it to be, I am freed to serve, and not rage.
I am free to love the people who make up the institution.

So now what? When I feel this way about my country, what do I do? When I see once again, that in this place, there’s no way my body will ever be taken care of, or even taken seriously?

Honestly, I don’t have a clear answer, but I do know that the path to peace is not to seek out more power, bigger guns, meaner words.
I’m seeking what it means to Love, even if I never get what I need.

Grown-up quiet time.

But honestly I’m surprised I don’t see more posts like this. I see you, internet, with all your posts, but what about the wine that quiets our minds enough to bring us to Jesus???

Living as a divinity school student means I’m only kind of joking about this. I live in my head. I’m analyzing, debating, deconstructing, reconstructing, reading, writing, interpreting, criticizing...
all AMAZING things my mind can do. And I’m deeply grateful.

But at the end of the day, when it’s time to pause (not stop ‘cause HELLO that’s not real), I get to quiet my mind and sit with God.
And it’s not easy.

I want to keep analyzing. I want to keep picking and connecting and building...and in the midst of my chaotic mind, struggling to get a grip on things so I feel some semblance of control,
I hear the voice of God
calling me close.

Rosé, the Spirit of God, a respectful but dissonant relationship with the Apostle Paul, and some evening sunlight make for a haven from my own head.

Take care of yourself, people. And do everything you can to keep the important things important and the first things first.

HELLO I was ~officially~ introduced to lil’ Baby Sq**rt as her Auntie Twinzie today!!!!!!!!!
😍
(tbd on whether she knew it was me, or if she just thought her mama was talking twice as much 👯‍♀️🤟🏼🤰🏻) @ Nashville, Tennessee

“If you only knew.”

As I sat on the porch swing outside of my yoga studio last week, everyone coming for the class before mine passed by me on their way in.

One woman ran up to the door right before the class was about to start, and let out the biggest sigh I’d heard all day—and I was honestly just glad someone else was feeling it too.

“You made it!” I said to her with a smile.

And without missing a beat or even turning her head towards me, she chuckled a little and said,
“If you only knew,” and walked inside.

It hit me as hard as ever: everyone I meet is carrying the weight of their own world on their shoulders.

Every time I realize this, suddenly the world expands outside of my own thoughts, my own fears, my own head.
Suddenly I’m filled with compassion for someone else,
and suddenly my existence isn’t just about me getting the life I want anymore.

We encounter a world of emotions and stories and beauty and pain in each person we meet.

Let compassion be your perspective, and let that set you free from your own world.

Your purpose isn’t hiding from you.

It never left you. It’s not even really something you have to discover. It isn’t a far-off mystery that requires a treacherous journey.

Finding your purpose is simply remembering who you are.
Not who anyone else tells you you are,
Not who you want anyone else to think you are;
Not what you’ve done or what’s been done to you.

Your purpose is your true nature—what you know to be true, even when there aren’t words for it.
And that’s with you now.

When you know who you are, you don’t need to worry about the next step (or certainly not the next 10).
You don’t need to worry about expectations for what life should be.

When you know who you are, you don’t need to worry about
who you’ve been
or what you’ve done.

You are Love. You are Light.
(It’s true.)
And every day you can become more of both.

Give up the search for the thing that will complete you—your purpose won’t be found “out there.”
Your purpose will work to make itself known: inside-out.

This, in the stillness, here and now—this is your purpose.
Not someone else’s story,
not getting to where you’re going,
What is your purpose
now?

Live your purpose today, and the rest of your life will follow.

This could be your breakthrough–could you let it?

Mondays, amiright?

I think I’ve figured out why letting go is so hard:
usually until I let go, I had no idea I was holding on.

This means, of course, that “letting go” is an exaggeratedly polite way of saying “having my clenching little fingers (that have trained my whole life for this moment of grasping) pried off of the object of my affection”

..or something like that.

But I think an important part of maturing for me has been in learning to let go.

I’ve learned to let go
of my ambitions, of my cravings, of relationships–all kinds from all seasons of life,
of what other people will think,
of “supposed tos” and “shoulds” that truly don’t belong to me, but that I picked up along the way somewhere.

I’ve learned to let go of all the extra layers I’ve worn as if they were a part of me.

And as I’ve learned to let go, it’s stripped me down.

Sometimes the grief of letting go itself will rub you rawer than you thought you could ever get.

The shedding of layers will make you feel naked and exposed. But you’ll see what you’re made of—you’ll see who you truly are.

And you’ll know what it’s like to be free.

📷:

I used to believe my heart was wicked and deceitful,
I rolled my eyes at song lyrics and fluffy advice to “follow your heart.”

“What terrible advice,” I’d scoff when they came on the radio.

I really believed that listening to my heart (or your heart, or anyone’s at all) was a map that led straight to to self-interest and directly away from God.

My background taught me that my emotions were something to be overcome–a burden to bear and a force to resist. They were wicked...evil, even.

I’ve cried hours of tears over this separation from myself as I’ve learned to hear what my heart has to say. And she’s finally found her voice again.

She’s shown me that my emotions are such a big, beautiful part of me, and I don’t have to be afraid of them. And because they’re vulnerable, because they’re tender, because they connect me to others–they’re precisely where I encounter God.

In a world where aggressive masculine force and violent power has fought its way to the top, we’ve stifled our emotions and hardened our softness just to survive. All of us–all genders, all identities–we are all swimming in this illusion.

At what cost?
Connection.
Tenderness.
Healing compassion.

No more.

There’s a shift happening. It’s happening in me, it’s happening in the city where I live, and it’s happening in the world around us.

No longer will we conform to the idea of success as the voice of damaged masculinity prescribes. No longer will we war against the emotions that open us up to connect with others.

No longer will vulnerability equate weakness.

No longer will my heart be mistrusted.

Enough now. Trust your heart–believe me, she has a LOT to say.

Sun’s out, tats out.

This is Light shining into the shadow. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned for sure in the last 2 years of my life, it’s that the place where we find new life and transformation is precisely in the place within us that we fear the most.

What I’d rather keep in the dark—even today—is my uncomfortable emotions. Stress, anxiety, worry…every time they surface, I’m tempted to shove them back into the deep darkness of the basement in my spirit, and paint the door shut so that no one will ever know or ask about it ever again.

😬

Because what I want you to believe about me is that I’m always fun to be around, always optimistic, and always smiling. Hell, that’s what *I* want to believe about me, too.
I decided who I think I’m “supposed to” be, and I sometimes fool myself into thinking that’s all that matters about me.
But that part of me is just the little, glowing crescent of the moon.

My true self *includes* my shadow, and the sooner I surrender to that truth, the sooner my shadow starts to light up, too.

As long as we keep parts of us off-limits to ourselves and to the rest of the world, it festers in the shadow. And as long as we keep genuine parts of ourselves in the shadow, those parts keep us from the full life found in the light.




📷:
aka personal photographer

Sometimes when you see the same things every day, you forget to enjoy them, yeah?

Like this tree. It blossomed a few weeks ago into this incredible canopy of beautiful flowers every time I walked into the door of my home yoga studio.

And every time, I thought, “I’ll get a picture of this beautiful tree tomorrow!” because I was in such a hurry to get to what was next.

Isn’t that life, y’all? Missing what’s right in freaking front of you because you’re so caught up in what’s ahead?

And you know what? This was taken one of the last days that tree even had flowers on it. And I wish I’d taken more time just admiring it, because now I have to wait A YEAR before it happens again.

(Ah the irony...too hurried to see the beauty in front of me, only to wait when it’s gone for it to come around again.)

Enjoy your holiday weekend, people. But like, really *enjoy* it.
The people.
The sun.
The food.
The laughter.
The extra time to rest.

Savor it all–beautiful and ordinary–because you may have to wait a long time before it comes back around.

Nothing is forever, so try to love what you have now before you miss it when it’s gone.
🙏🏾♥️✌🏾

I used to be at war with my body.

I hated it. It was an “it.” I bullied it, resented it, abused it.

It never looked how I wanted it to look–and how I wanted it to look was really what I thought it was supposed to be for other people.

I used to to think my body would never do things like climb into a headstand.

But I keep finding new, amazing things that my strong, healthy body can do.
After practicing yoga consistently for a year in a beautiful community,
I keep finding new things to be grateful for,
new ways to appreciate my body,
new abilities to enjoy and limits to explore.

I wrote a post sharing a lot of the background of my body image struggles–it’s vulnerable, and I believe it’s very important.

This conflict we’re in with our bodies is SO common for women, and I believe it needs to be addressed on the spiritual and emotional level–
where the wounds happened–
before it will be healed.

So I’m sharing my story on this post: https://www.pursuitoflifecoaching.com/blog//female-bodies-eating-disorders-and-spiritual-healing

If you don’t have a cheesey grin in you, just perfect your soft smile.

Work with what you’ve got.
There is nothing more you need to do,
nothing more you need to be,
there is nothing more expected of you.

You are enough, just as you are.

Today,
you are enough.