Posts tagged August 2015
on learning how to breathe

I am, by nature, an anxious person.

It shows up quietly and I don't even notice. The tension and the stress start to rise, and before I know it, the anxiety asserts itself.

I notice it in my breath.

An extra yawn or two. The yawn that doesn't catch. The deep breath that is never deep enough. The tightness in my chest. The knowledge that if I don't stop, if I don't slow, if I don't focus on the how of breathing, I will lose. The faster I work and the more I try to breathe in deeply, the harder it becomes.

You see, a deep breathe requires slowness.

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on writing, words, and why

When I was 10-years-old, my mother handed me a composition notebook. On the cover, she’d written the word “journal” and the starting date — March 9, 1999.

I’ve always had a lot of words. I was speaking in full sentences at 18-months-old, beginning the perpetual cycle of exhausting my family and friends with what, I’m sure to them, seems like a never ending supply of words. In the years since my mother handed me that composition notebook, I’ve filled the pages of 24 other journals with stories, thoughts, dreams, prayers, and who knows what else.

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on racism and white privilege

"What can I, as a white person...I, how can I help it and not make it worse?" I asked, stumbling over my words, that first Sunday after church.

We talked and my anger swelled at the silence of our leaders and tears welled up in my eyes. 

She hugged me. Wrapped me tight in her strong, dark, beautiful arms as tears slipped down my cheeks. 

"I'm so glad you're my friend," I whispered into her shoulder. 

"Me too," she whispered back. 

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