Breasy.

I walk through the french doors to my balcony and feel the beach breeze about me. It was the kind of touch like a whispering breath that sweetly swept by me and told me a secret. It was fleeting but profound, this wind, and in its voice I heard peace was mine. Relief. I sip the last drops of coffee which I decided to drink black. I felt empowered after that, mostly because of that phrase "you're only as strong as your strongest coffee", yet, today I am a little bit fuller all around. I step back inside to the smell of slightly burnt toast and coffee grinds. All around me are things I like (I believe in surrounding yourself with the nouns that you love), old journals jogging my memory of well, me, the color pink, Mary-Kate on the cover of Marie Claire which is somehow inspiring probably (for a quick examples sake) because Mary-Kate is the classy version of the girl who can wear chanel and unbrushed hair like I do, so really, I'm just feeling better about myself. I see my favorite book called Gift from the Sea, and it's phrases like these that won't leave me: relationship is not strangled by claims. Intimacy is tempered by lightness of touch. We have moved through our day like dancers, not needing to touch more than lightly because we were instinctively moving to the same rhythm. A good relationship has a pattern like a dance and is built on some of the same rules. The partners to not need to hold on tightly, because they move confidently in the same pattern, intricate but gay and swift and free, like a country dance of Mozart's. To touch heavily would be to arrest the pattern and freeze the movement, to check the endlessly changing beauty of its unfolding. There is no place here for the possessive clutch, the clinging arm, the heavy hand; only the barest touch in passing. Now arm in arm, now face to face, now back to back-- it does not matter which. Because they know they are partners moving to the same rhythm, creating a pattern together, and being invisibly nourished by it (pages 101-102).
Love comes as easily as the breeze. I could sit here and list the contradicting points to my said phrase, like a persuasive speaker on a debate team addresses all counteractive angles for the win of an argument, nor am I copping out of the opportunity to think and prove that I can debate sides, but I'd like to keep "Love comes as easily as the breeze" in it's truest form. It is possible for a pattern to be established and for these fleeting moments to be what we look forward to and what we remember mostly about the journey. Such is life in other regards. Think business, the interview, the phonecall, the first day, the awkward coworker that you learn to get along with, the day you got a promotion, and all of the in-betweens are groups of hours you spend planning and working and losing sleep (and eating crappy tv dinners and pb&j's) to get there. Yet, when that brisk moment happens, when that touch of glory comes, all that is highlighted in your memory is the day you exhale. The day you meet your destiny is suddenly worth all of the times you asked yourself am I crazy? The moment he holds your hand because he loves you is worth all the days apart. The time that you are no longer on the brink of your hopes, but you are basking in the gratitude of making it thus far. These are the moments worth fighting for. These are the days we pay minutes for. These are the breezes that catch us off guard in the morning when we hope today's a little different. The times of inspiration are few and far between for most nine to fivers, but we must remember that we are in control of today, we can let the breeze touch us and reignite the passion inside of us to live for more, even if it's just a little more hope that today is one day closer to everything we want to be. Living not just for more, but with more inspiration that may and I say may to hone in on the high possibility that living with more inspiration may give you an idea to jump start a culture all your own, a business idea you foresee maybe unleashed a little sooner because you let yourself breathe and think. We in America mustn't forget that we are able to go grab our futures. As new creations, we mustn't neglect the word of God which states in 1 Corinthians 3:22, "...The whole world and life and death; the present and the future. Everything belongs to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God." Let's be transformed by that refreshing breeze of truth. Let's live a little lighter today as we dance through our days, and realize those moments we've been longing for will come to meet us, as long as we keep moving.

cb

Maybe I'm falling in love....

Right Here, Right Now

The future is not for me to fully know right now. I'm okay with that. I'm content with the thoughts of maybe, and maybe a little bit of uncertainty. I am happy. I am whole. I am becoming all that I've sought after and I am grateful. My destination is absolute, my dream is concrete. Yet, the details and faces along the way are the ones I know now, and maybe there will be a new turn or a second take but for now, right here, right now, I am confident. Destiny will meet me and I will be ready.

Things take time.

Enjoying right here, right now.

Hello, Destiny.

Aboard, my face is swollen from the purge of stress, lack of sleep, and tears of good-bye. Everything is carefully bestowed, and my seatbelt tightly fastened, four hours, and I'm blasting Switchfoot as a nice introduction to my new home. The sky was fascinating. I see the overwhelming population, and correlate the reality that the majority of this town is buzzing to the exact destination as me: point A to point dream. Traffic, and a purple hue nicely compliments my immediate reminiscing, and makes fact from my prophetic thoughts on how much I will miss home.. that bright blue sky, and one lane high way.
Stale air, and a curious foreign couple squeezing into my window seat to preview the new land, we scope, point, and try to communicate English versus foreign language, hoping one of our words will click with the others' education; that led us nowhere, and left me dissatisfied with my education. I wish I was that bilingual gal -- only my super power would be that I would be able to morph my vocabulary to the appropriate language. This reminds me, note to self, learn sign language. And Japanese. Maybe French, too. Definitely French.
We point to the topography, and then the smog, and I say "smoggy" and receive a nod. Not sure if that nod was an even exchange of I understand or just simply the cordial way of acknowledgment in their culture to said phrase. Acknodledge..ehha.
Wheels extend, and here comes the this-is-frickin-scary-no-it's-not-I-love-this-part descend called landing. Good pilot, and exhale. I land with the specific thought of: I'm ready. Seatbelt signs off, and it is now safe to use our handheld devices, so I text my thoughts to validate to my friends, I am here, I am safe, I am ready. I began to pray for open doors of opportunity...and not to sound like I'm foreshadowing (although I completely am), we begin to get up and out arriving in less time than expected...but uh-oh...the plane doors will not open. Here I am, ready for destiny, ready to take on this new adventure, eager to run through the doors...and they are shut. I could not help but laugh. The list of obstacles I've gone through to get here, the incorrect equations for my being here right now was just increased and all I could think was: ARE U KIDDING ME?! I asked myself, with a smile of course, hoping to never adopt that sour-faced complainer look. I've landed, and the doors are shut. Optimism arose and I allowed this obstacle to be a milestone in my journey...when the doors are shut, believe that another will be opened! Sure enough, the scare was settled and the polite apologetic pilot pleaded for our patience which almost translated to a plea that we would not call the airlines and complain on his behalf. Maybe I am bilingual: I speak English and I interpret underlying tones. Oo yes, I quite like that. Expository writing is my favorite. I want to say I enjoy dissecting things, but dissect is a trigger word that trans-locates me to 10th grade where I sliced open a pig. Non-sequitor. Actually, very sequitor; how quickly we are ashamed of our train of thoughts. I quite like trains.
And to think about our thoughts, I have been fascinated recently with our memories. I would never want to lose mine. Or maybe I would for a day; perhaps that is why I enjoy acting. My memories are gone and I am a full embodiment of empty memories left to my imagination to create. I am responsible to see what's not there, to create and relate to this person I call me in this scene. There's much to learn, much to discover, and now as I try and come full circle with this stream of consciousness, tie the ends up with a phrase to encompass what I mean, I'll leave it here with this: I'm here. I'm ready. Open the door!

Wonderyear

Yesterday was my wonder year, 2009 my time of discovery. Calling those three hundred sixty-five days of mine a break is hardly true. Los Angeles got to know me better, I became very close with my mother, and I met one of the most passionate acting coaches next to Ms. M: Scott Rogers. Over the course of his classes, I have learned why I act, why I absorb the way I do, how to challenge myself further and how I can make every second count in my art. That is merely a sliver of what's enlightened me, but needless to say although I'll say it, I have grown tremendously. I sense a breakout season in 2010, with many victorious days and sure validity to my destiny. I know this will not only be for me, but my family, for my friends, for people all over the world. I am excited to live another day and to prosper in the way God meant for us to. Each day is a reward, and I how appropriately do we call it the present. I say, stay awake to the promises ahead, keep learning, growing, moving, making, and loving. There is so much more to be done.

Look out 2010...here I come.

cb