Photo of my nephew Ezra & niece Piper, taking life really seriously this winter.
This weird thing’s been happening lately, in which I find myself teary anytime I see or read stories about children or the elderly (stick with me here, non-sappy, children-apathetic friends). And when I say lately, I mean for several years – and most often since I’ve been in my 20s. Over the last 24 hours, I was overwhelmed to a point that I decided to sit down and really ask why, thus the fruition of this blog.
What I came up with: Fragility. Something about the fragile state of new lives and worn ones deeply moves and inspires me. Children and elderly are different from us in the middle, us in our 20s, 30s, 40s, etc. They have a way of engaging and a sense of reality that is less affected by the world’s standards and inhibitions. Whether cradled or seasoned, they teach us something important about the base of life: it is fragile!
And not the type of fragile that makes me want to fear risks and keep my head down, or stay in my comforter cocoon and bolt lock my doors (although my mother would sleep better). Instead, the type of fragile that makes me not want to waste my days doing anything less than what God’s designed me for. The type of fragile that pushes me to want to love deeper, to dance like music was actually made to move us, to share hope-filled moments and tiny miracles (like the first crepe myrtle bloom outside my bedroom window come spring), to serve people more extravagantly, to invite more people into my home and around my table, to weather the cold for someone who may need a kind word and a pair of hand warmers, to behold and point others to beauty, to laugh at myself, to celebrate silliness and to tell more of the truth.
Just think. If we take notice and listen to the thoughts, candor, giggles and wrinkles of the children and the elderly in our lives more often, we may find they’re on to something. I’ve found that I cannot ignore their wonder and wisdom, and that I am more often than not entranced by their fragile state. In fact, this is where the tears come in; I weep not in despair or because of girly-feely-stuff (estrogen, if this were a science paper), I weep in adoration and gratefulness for the perspective they gift me. The elder and the child’s eyes behold all the things we sometimes lose sight of in the middle.
So next time you see a kindergartner do the happy dance after a satisfying snack time in front of all their peers, learn from him. Next time you pass an elderly man limping in pain by you on the sidewalk who looks up to greet you with a warm and thoughtful smile anyway, learn from him. When your niece tells you why she likes her best friend or your grandmother shares with you what she learned from being a florist for twenty years, listen.
Life is a pair of fragile wings daring us to fly. Pay attention to those who soar, then join them.
This song is contagious joy and I hope you dance around your house like it’s a room without a roof this weekend. And while we’re here, I’ll tell you I’ve always really liked Pharrell. Here’s why:
This probably all started when I discovered he was behind all the jams on Justin Timberlake's Justified, making cameos in videos in which we had no clue who he was besides that one guy talking all whispery and smooth at the beginning and end of JT’s songs, often randomly playing a drum kit. Before and since then, he’s been in the credits of countless grooves – so many it’s ridiculous to list them. He’s one of the lucky guys who’s gotten to stay out of the spotlight most of his career while being behind dozens of our favorite pop and hip hop songs, writing, producing and mixing. He lives in the center of LA pop and probably phones Beyonce just to catch up, and yet we hardly know a thing about him or his personal life. I like that.
Not to mention, he’s ageless. I am genuinely just as impressed by the fact that he hasn’t appeared to welcome a wrinkle in 30 years as I am with his portfolio. Really though, you can google these types of things – and I have. It’s frightening, yet intriguing. What keeps a person looking so young? Maybe he’s on to something, or maybe he just has badass genes. Next google: Pharrell’s mom.
Also, I think he has a lot of fun. That’s important. I really hope Pharrell doesn’t trip me and laugh if I pass him on the sidewalk in The Grove someday, because then this post will be embarrassing. I’ll make sure to asterisk the top two paragraphs with a note in the footer that says something like *Update: Had an encounter with Pharrell in front of J. Crew after this post and he was kind of a jerk, so none of this impresses me anymore. Besides the age thing – he definitely still looks like he could have picked me up for prom at the age of 40. In hindsight, I should have asked him what moisturizer he uses.
In the meantime, I’m still impressed.
Keep doin’ you, P-Dub!
C
Alas, the best is yet to come.
I wonder when it falls quiet and all I have is a memory, if that memory lives in quiet moments with you, too. Moments where we may shed a few tears and teach our consciences to bid the past goodbye over and over again until we finally start saying hello to new memorable moments, new fillers of the quiet — holds for our frayed rope hearts, fruition of our wildest hopes, simple momentary grace, the making of our best memories yet.
Page 1 Intro: These are the honest thoughts. The thoughts left confined to the quiet of night, to an empty room, an audience of none. To the ones that can no longer hear them aloud. To the solitary chair by the window, to the tangled sheets and strewn pillows, to the untouched mail on the nightstand. To the colony of worn and unworn shoes peeking from the closet, to the dress on the dusty hanger that I wore to that wedding with him two Junes ago. To the day-old coffee in the teal mug I found in a thrift shop the Spring before, left carelessly by the windowsill. To the hat and faded jean shirt that hang from the hook in my wall, that if I catch in my peripheral too quickly, seem to be shaped like a figure of myself walking away from all that was, towards all that would be - to this day, to all that is. Let it begin.
These days, these months, this life: an endearing paradox. There have been moments bright and awing like a firework show and others humble and quiet – filled with deep sighs of both mourning and solace. I’ve lost my balance in waves of great change and sailed others into greater opportunities.
Though I am always watching beauty unfold around me, I am watching things wither, too. Some days the withering things feel like wounds, but most days I can feel them healing me: I breathe a little deeper, I see a little clearer, I give a little more freely, I am stretched. I’ve built confidence that each wound has hope.
So, I do not fret the rain cloud that hides the sun in a passing moment. For that hidden sun has taught me something true about life - that all good things reappear in due time, that the light we need never really goes out.
“The Colder Months” by Liza Anne, video by mikaelahamilton. Fun to see our home’s little stairwell in the intro and outro. Lovely & talented people.
For the first time in years, I didn’t move cities or houses, just upstairs with one of the best humans I know. I bought a car and said goodbye to my first. I left my first salary job and started a new one. I skiied for the first time. I watched Serena Williams win the Family Circle Cup in Charleston. I watched my Young Life girls’ graduate from high school. I celebrated dear friends get their dream jobs, engaged, married and even give birth to their firstborns. I took a six day solo roadtrip. I went to the zoo on lunch breaks. I met Tom Bulliet of Bulliet Bourbon, who swiftly served me a rye on the rocks and stole my whiskey allegiance. I bought an old picnic table from a small town and spent most of summer making memories with friends around it. I got tattoos. I saw Justin Timberlake perform 34 songs live. I sent off chinese lanterns for the heck of it. I rented a pontoon boat with friends. I floated, canoed, flipped kayaks and sank an iPhone. I set the table for a lot of meals. I had picnics in the park across the street. I read on the roof. I bought my first Christmas tree. I saw, hiked and fell in love with another part of Oregon: the coast. I joined a new church. I took a self-date to my first symphony concert to see Brandi Carlile. I attended my first Cardinals home game. I had the time of my life at my first music festival. I filled a journal with poetry. I met my newest nephew in the beer aisle of a grocery store. I ate with the homeless. I was changed by the stories of dozens of recovering addicts. I picked up loved ones from the airport and hugged many goodbye. I made new friendships to be kept for a lifetime. I watched friends consistently show up, stand with and give selflessly. I fell in and out of love. I hoped big, doubted, mourned, then hoped bigger. I was inspired by great art and great words. I danced more than I did in 2012. I laughed tirelessly. And this I trust to be most true: the Lord was good. In ways I know and am yet to, He was good.
I hope you’ll find pause before the ball drops. You may find you have much more to reflect on than you thought: I always do. Here’s to experiencing more of His greatness and gifts together in 2014. Happy New Year!
C
When I first thought about compiling a playlist of my favorite songs from 2013, I immediately thought about jumping out a window instead. That decision-making process seemed overwhelming. I listened to and adored what feels like thousands of different songs this past year. So, I’m sharing the 20 records/EPs that I wore out instead. There were many, many songs I loved, but not nearly as many records I loved top to bottom. These were my favorites, in no particular order: Best Albums of 2013 (A Playlist).
“London EP” by Banks
“The Movement” by Betty Who
“Wildewoman” by Lucius
“Give In” by On An On
“Days Are Gone” by Haim
“When The Night” by St. Lucia
“A is For Alpine” by Alpine
“The 1975” by The 1975
“Black Bear” by Andrew Belle
“From Nowhere EP” by Dan Croll
“Back to Forever” by Lissie
“The Weatherman” by Gregory Alan Isakov
“Nocturnal” by Yuna
“Phantogram EP” by Phantogram
“Don’t Talk To” by RAC
"Native” by OneRepublic
“Heartthrob” by Tegan & Sara
“Where The Kids Are EP” by Blondfire
“Pure Heroine” by Lorde
“Hummingbird” by Local Natives
I didn’t include JT’s 20/20 experience, Katy Perry’s PRISM or John Mayer’s Paradise Valley, because well, those just felt like a given. Each was as brilliantly addictive as the records above, so make that 23* favorites.
An exciting amount of debut singles were released in 2013, and I’m excited for those artists’ full lengths to become some of my favorites in 2014! Grateful that we get to enjoy and share beautiful music with each other. Enjoy.
xo,
C
