To Breathe – an open letter to my someday daughter

The days, weeks and months become hypersonic, and before I can pull air into my lungs, the sun sets again.

And again

The most beautiful, precious thing anyone can own is good character. good manners. Good temperament. People wont remember what you wore or what car you were driving or even where they met you. They remember how you make them feel.

Cultivate a habit of kindness

Be a birthplace of joy.

There will be boys. Selfish ones and sweet ones and they will look exactly the same. There will be dangerous ones. I pray you never encounter any dangerous ones. These… boys. The one thing they’ll all have in common is that they will try to assert some unfounded authority over you.

(Sometimes within the first 30 seconds of meeting them, believe it or not)

There will be friends. And sometimes, friends walk in your life, fulfill their purpose, and leave. Take the lessons, and the memories, and tuck them neatly next to your nightstand. Let them guide your new relationships.

There will be assholes. A multitude of them. In every shape and form. They are bitter and crude. Don’t be an asshole. Don’t become bitter. Don’t become crude.

Avoid them like I will teach you to avoid traffic.

Keep people safe from your tongue.

To inhale all the toxicity around you and be able to breathe it out again, takes so much. It takes so much work; my asthmatic lungs struggle to hold it all. But don’t exhale until you’ve forgiven the people that have hurt you, until you’ve acknowledged your own misgivings and stopped belittling your own achievements. Allow your small victories to sink into the diaphanous tissue of your consistently beating heart. They are the roots of all the kind words you have to give, of all the love you have to give, they are the roots to all the success you are capable of, the amount of people whose lives you are capable of touching. THIS is how you achieve self-love and stop looking for it everywhere else. You reach within yourself; you fill yourself with clean, raw content, from all manner of places. Look for it in the smile of someone you love. Find it in

that first sip of coffee.

the sound of waves crashing or rain falling.

a documentary about sharks.

Find it in your chest.

Traverse the arts, the country, the food. Speak to new people or learn a language.

Grab life by the shoulders and ask questions.

The point is to fill yourself so that you have enough to give. More than that, so that you have substance. Meaningful interactions. It creates bonds and love and allows room for growth. So much growth. Be an active participant in society, in your family. And be kind. To your friends, family, to yourself.

and don’t yield, or retreat when things don’t go your way.

A line from Sarah Kay’s poem “Point B” comes to mind, “This life will hit you, hard, in the face. Wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach, but getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air”

I’ll be there to remind you of all this 100 times.

hello friends, I know it’s been a while since I last posted.  I do want to start a new series about being a wife and student, so we’ll see how that goes. 

you can watch the spoken word poem mentioned in the blog post here:

Point B – Sarah Kay

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character sketches

 

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I love how, when you meet someone, they’re just an outline.

a stick-man sketch of a person.

a vacant space to be filled with details.

I love how, when you’re getting to know someone, they’re just an acquaintance.

a vague piece of person that you know by name and face.

unidentifiable except by their recognition of you and how you met.

I love how those holes fill themselves to the brim with characteristics specific to that person. I love the plain, unbidden human reaction to simple information. The days sew themselves together until the days are counted in stitches and the hours are stretched but they don’t last long enough and the only way you kept track of time is by how many times they made you laugh.

I love how you start noticing other, intimate things, like the small smile they give-to you and only you- like the way their hair curls when they’re sweating.

I love how you fall in love with the way they say your name, and the sound of their laugh. and you don’t know why but you need to hear it again or the earth might shatter into a million tiny pieces.