One cloud after another
fills our sky
day after day,
promising a new storm
when we are still cleaning up the wreckage
from the last.
But there’s something beautiful
in the collective,
And there’s something beautiful
in the fact that we don’t have to endure
even close to the worst of it.
The spectator’s seat is stressful
but we are shielded from the extent of the pain.
The sky above us is dim and dreary,
but at least it’s there,
and we have the privilege of watching it together.
All the lives we lead,
all the memories we bleed,
are just different shades of the same
Identical everyday habits
that define each and every one of us,
like a classic red that cannot be labeled.
Identical mistakes that we can either
fix or ignore,
like a glass of spilled red wine.
Identical childhood memories
that bring tears to our eyes.
We long for them,
and we see them through our flawed vision,
like a red candy that we crave,
forgetting how it truly made us feel,
forgetting the mess that surrounded it
and placing it in…
A phrase offered to the sufferer
as a gentle hand of comfort —
a soothing reminder
that this moment is not forever,
that whatever pain you’re enduring
is as fleeting as a road sign on a long highway.
It’s merely one moment in time,
and we move past it.
But in the quiet hours of the night,
these words are a knot in my stomach,
an ache in my chest.
Everything will pass.
I contemplate these words
as the hours tick past,
over and over
and all we can do is watch it happen.
Or even worse,
We tend to get overwhelmed by the big picture, and the more ambitious our goals seem, the easier it is to fall into this trap. But if we focus on contributing to our purpose a little bit each day, the final product will form in its own time.
We all wait for the day when we will finally be satisfied with our lives — when we get married, when we buy a house, when we get a promotion. But the only way to be satisfied with our lives is to take small, consistent steps in the direction of our goals…
The word “uncertainty” has been a favorite in the last couple of months. The confusion and shock and fear and morbid curiosity all bundled into one word. It bears a heavy burden, that word. The truth is, there’s always uncertainty. None of us knows that we will be here tomorrow or that everyone we know will be here tomorrow. But we tell ourselves that everything will be the same — everything we know and love and cherish will be here tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, and it will continue to be the same until Eventually…
Quality conversation is crucial to not only social movements like Black Lives Matter, but also to every political endeavor, to maintaining healthy relationships, and to the human experience as a whole. However, many of these conversations prove to be ineffective, especially in our current hyper-politicized society. This is a frustrating occurrence because there is so much unfulfilled potential in our interactions.
Being able to engage in effective conversation is a skill that — like all other skills — develops with practice and patience. It is difficult, but we are all capable of it.
We struggle to listen for a variety…
The Black Lives Matter movement began in 2013, but in the past month, protesters have taken it to a new level of passion, and it has gained a significant amount of support. The murder of George Floyd at the hands of three police officers caused widespread outrage and inspired the resurgence of the movement.
The newest wave of Black Lives Matter has been stronger than any social movement since the ’60s. People are filling the streets to protest police brutality and other manifestations of racial injustice. …
They say communication is the key
to all healthy relationships,
and I agree.
How is it possible
that people can speak so easily and freely
without ever really communicating?
If you were familiar with my troubles,
and I with yours,
would we still be having this problem?
Or would you sympathize
instead of turning your back?
We continually hurt each other
without realizing it.
And then we go our separate ways
and hope for the entire problem to resolve itself.
But it won’t.
(Please tell me how you feel,
and I promise I’ll listen.)
We repeatedly welcome new lives into our hearts, without so much as a whisper of a warning as to the inevitable chaos and wonder that will ensue. We fall into our memories of the past, before all the heartache and stress that we we now call daily life. We look to the future, when our dreams will finally have come true, and we’ll be living the lives we’ve always wanted. But so rarely do we remind ourselves to examine our lives in the present — minute by minute, day by day. To sit with ourselves in this moment and witness the beauty of our struggles. To remember that there is so much strength to be found in pain, there is so much perspective to be gained through loss, and there is so much love to be found in this world, if we only care enough to look.
Resting your head on the shoulder
of hope itself,
inviting it to greet you with open arms,
to gratify your longing with a congenial presence
that up to this point you’ve scarcely encountered.
This is the measure of an open heart.
Desperately seeking to distinguish the authenticity
from the misplaced sympathy
and from the rare but honest empathy.
Finding solace in shared sorrow,
even of a lesser or incomparable degree,
just to know that you’re not entirely alone.
This is the measure of a trying heart.
Folding your hands together so tight
that your knuckles turn white
and keeping them clasped
well into the night,
clinging to the
comfort that such a simple gesture brings.
This is the measure of a praying heart.