Time and Light Switches

  I didn’t have much to say, which really was that I had too much to say and had no words to explain it. Because I’m sitting here in a time of transition and change and I’m in the fourth house in 3 weeks. I haven’t slept in my own bed in over two months and there is nothing I long for more at this point. I’m a creature of simple desires and all I want is to go home and now I’m out in the sun when it should be snow.   This is the honest truth of what it’s like to live life. Its messy and contradicting and doesn’t make sense and doesn’t feel purposeful 100% of the time. And it’s the times like this where I lose my words and am only left with the colours to express the inside of me.  So often we idealize and praise success and accomplishments and fail to see the value in simply continuing on. At this point all I can do is continue and keep going and hope that its enough. Because in times of change things get real messy and my insides are all purple with confusion. And my...

The longer I stay in this early twenties paradigm the less I care about great and glorious purpose. The longer I stay here in this strange land of not knowing how to get to where I wish to go the more I long for the simplistic things. The more all I want is to have enough time to paint and to exist and invite people over for coffee. I really only want to continue and continue and continue and do little else.  I’ve talked a lot about this, or maybe just thought a lot, but truly I desire for a peaceful life. And if I were to attain this I would have made it, would be satisfied. Because at the end of the day small joy is the same a big joy and the small things in life are enough for me.  I used to be afraid of that. I though it made me shallow, that I would only desire for the quiet and the stillness. Now I find it is easy to want after all the glory and greatness and success one can possibly find. It is more rare to be satisfied with the time spent with family and friends ...

  Little boy, little girl where do you come from? From the sea, indeed but the sea is far and i am near Little boy, little girl where do you go? To the moon, up above  but so far to clime and i am tired Little boy, little girl where is the peace? In the sky, of course  but the sky is wide and i am small  Little boy, little girl how do you know? We hear, yes listen but what if i’m wrong and it all falls to the ground Little boy, little girl how do i go on? In faith, in hope but i am scared and don’t know the way Little boy, little girl will you show me? Yes dear, always 

  I went looking for inspiration in the backhanded alleys of forgotten words. Which is to say I went looking for inspiration in all my writing from the last few months. And what I found was good and it was real and it was raw. And upon reading them I remembered why I had left these words to collect dust. They were too raw, too real, too much of an insight into my life. And coming from me, someone who talks a great deal about the real parts of my life, that doesn’t make much sense.   But there is much of what I said, much of what I wrote that I’m not quite willing to share with the world. The last few months have been incredible but they have not been without their hardships. And if you ask me all I will tell you is of the amazing redemption and restoration I have seen. But as I said it hasn’t all be wonderful and good times. As a result my writing reflects this. Because I don’t write all that much about the wonder and glory, I write to process and often times the hard things...

I knew that leaving was the right thing to do. But I didn’t realize just how right it was till I made it to my childhood friend. It has been incredibly healing to see her again and to have the light of childhood come back to me. But even beyond that my creativity feels revived.   I have always been the kind of person who needs a creative outlet daily. If I don’t have that it can quickly start to take a toll on my mental and emotion health. It’s not something everyone understands but my mom always has. I had gone through an amazing season of finding my faith and building my life around it. But in the midst of that process I lost my art, lost my creative spark. It felt like losing a limb or losing a loved one.  I constantly tried to just move past it, to continue painting in spite of it, to just muscle my way through it. Every time I picked up a paint brush it would feel like I was lying, to myself and to the world. It is the most uncomfortable thing I have ever experienced....