an encouragement to you: move forward.

these places have been my solstice lately. as a friend recently mentioned, sometimes we exhale breath we never knew we were holding.  This week at the ocean I let loose all the breath I didn't know I was holding back.

GRIT. 

10pm yesterday: in between editing, writing and assignments, I procrastinated on youtube but found an incredible documentary on Wim Hoff (you can watch it in snippets here, too).  Amongst other incredible feats, Wim Hoff has hiked the *freezing* heights of Mt Everst wearing bathers, swum frozen rivers in Iceland and has gradually built resistance to cold and is immune against most sickness.  He harnesses power of the sickness and cold though his breath.  By deep and rapid breathing, he stimulates the autonomic nervous system and this in turn - he claims, and science is proving - has power to reverse any sickness and protect his entire body from the cold.  He became more PRESENT in pain and by doing so, he harnessed power of the pain, the cold, the sicknesses.

 Growing up, we're often told to hold back from that which hurts us, from that which damages our emotions, from that which is painful.  What if walking through the hurt, damage and pain was the very thing that was needed for growth; what if moving into the hurt and damage and pain provided the very release necessary to move forward and through.

A large part of grit is becoming present in the hurt, becoming present to hear God's voice, becoming vibrantly aware, breathtakingly alive in this moment, the now.

 How can we know joy if we do not know pain?  How can we know the brightness and beauty of light without the dimness and strain of darkness?

Have you ever stepped outside and the sun and air exploded with life and breath, and you stood in awe and wanted to feel it in its entirety, into eternity - a taste of heaven from within our homes, our hearts.  This is a glimpse of what waits if we endure hardship and life with grit - opening up to the pain, surrendering to Christ, allowing and trusting Him to direct our steps.

Grit is tenacity; grit is courage in the face of opposition; grit is loving when your flesh wants to hate; grit is a paradox, wild and free.  

(A little encouragement to persist with grit this week :) Thank you to Leigh for encouraging me to write about grit and post it on this blog!) 

salty and whole

In the distance, the scent of morning and our farmhouse and muddy shoes by the door and eggs sizzling and wooden chairs around a paint splattered table by the open windows breathing sun and summer, by the path, by the thick foliage, by the stream.

Toes on cold rocks, sharp rock, smooth rocks. We wash our hair in the stream, earth and water rushing. Light runs through leaves touching water.

A rush of birds through leaves and the scent of running water and fresh cut grass. A mud path winding. Flies dancing in the light, wet hair across my eye. Lean into the sensation. 


By the path, by the thick foliage, by the stream, the world is alive and soft.

 Remember when we slipped into the ocean, breathless.  The sky, the waves, the water, ocean - lapping, pulling, swishing, calming.

 The ebb of life is a swelling and a release, a pushing and a pulling.  We, waves of longing, rush to the shore - only to fall, fall away.  Embossed with a quiet and gentle spirit and a Peace that passes all understanding, our souls do not grow weary because Christ breathes life into us again and again.    

currents: 

music - tear open your soul

listen: everything stays, right where you left it.

God - watch & listen 

food for thought - what is ruining you?

stay fresh.  stay wild.  happy Thursday!  

tears

listen

in spare moments, poetry

feathered aching

honey, milk and 

a life perfumed with salt water

dipping into cold,

the waves kiss the shore

 the taste of raspberries

sunsets and sunrises 

laughter
stories
a campfire

long, stretched nights

emotion that softly tears

fully alive

“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby