that perfect hand…

In Ocean's 11, Danny said that "the house always wins. If you play long enough, never change the stakes, then the house takes you. Unless, when that perfect hand comes along, you bet big… and then, you take the house." Here's the hand I've been dealt, sometimes it's risky and sometimes it's safe, but all the time… it's perfect. It's mine.

state[s] of being

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If you’re even out there still, thank you. 

Nothing like a long, deafening silence from my corner, only to be interrupted by a [complex] question…

There is an every growing chasm between what I am doing and where I want to be – is that normal? 

‘Restless’ can often be likened to a ratty old sweatshirt, one that is so uncomfortable, yet so familiar, that it is difficult to want to discard the feeling it brings. I am five years into a career that brings me challenge, joy, and growth. I find pleasure in the Sunday morning stillness, and in running so hard my lungs hurt. I am getting creative in my coffee shop and prairie scenery pursuits, and I am confident that I am doing the best that I can with what I have. I am also pretty certain that I could continue this for a long time. Unfortunately.

I’ve often wondered about the ‘right’ way, or ‘missing’ something, or if I should be doing something entirely different with my time. I watch furniture design shows and think I would be pretty good with a sketchbook and a skill saw. I watch TED talks or listen to pod casts and consider what I need to become a public speaker. I peruse the plant section of department stores or peek into scads of cookbooks and think I could be pretty good in the artistry of gardening and cooking. I stumble through the manual of my Nikon and laugh at the sheer immensity of what that hobby requires. I watch my latest guilty pleasure, Chicago Fire, and think that a fire station could be exactly where I fit in most appropriately.

My meanderings are not unlike anyone else’s; I truly believe that we all stumble on these thoughts. From a time that I was quite young, I knew two things: I want to teach and I want to write. [And be a public speaker, but nobody really knows that]. I considered myself fortunate to be in company of those who know who they are, what they want to do, and ultimately, even find out that I could do it pretty well. The dream, if we’re calling it that, was never in question, and I think I assumed an identity with it before I even had time to decide whether or not what I do could be synonymous with who I am.

It isn’t, is it? Call it turning 30 soon, or looking at all the ways that I am not where I thought I would be at this point in my life, but I am a little lost in this space of ‘what else could I do?’ or ‘how can I do it all?’ and being content with where I find myself at this moment. Is what I do, who I am? Because it sure feels like it, and I sure don’t think what I am doing is representing the very nature of who I am.

And then there is taking risks. You know, those big, huge leaps of faith (fear?) that I don’t do so well. So much has changed for me in the last year. It’s been 365 days of growth and healing and change that knows no bounds…I don’t even recognize myself, literally. Yet – still I struggle with saying the things I should, acting on conviction that has served me so well, and willing myself to make the mistakes that I know will have immeasurable, lasting outcomes. It’s as if I know everything to do, I just won’t. My favourite friend could attest to this, as I constantly listen, yet rarely act on, his encouragement to just go for it, Kate. Why don’t I?

I have this friend who’s [likely unknowingly] been teaching me how to analyze various types of feedback in my world – edifying and evaluating the words and insights of others, yet accepting and applying the ‘wisdom’ of only those whose voices we [I] actually trust our vulnerabilities with. So we take certain voices as truths, only to question why we allowed that power to them. It’s interesting how this squad of people changes over time…at one point, being grateful for certain voices, yet now careful to silence those same hearts when they forget how to know you. I’ve been watching some of my relationships shift this way, and it’s been good to face the value of those changes.

We’ve all heard those words by Wendy Mass – ‘be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle that you know nothing about.‘ I am beginning to consider applying these words for myself, to myself. I think the person I am least kind to can be myself…especially when my battle seems non-existent, until I am sitting on my tush, labouring over that question above…

Is there a right way to do this? My mom would say ‘bloom where you’re planted’, and I am doing that [I think]. But does that nagging wondering, oh-so-whispering sense of ‘is this what and where I should be?’ ever really dissipate?

Yea, yea, yea. I guess the fact that I am even articulating this, after almost a year of blog-silence, must mean I know the answer already. But where’s the fun (confusion?) in that, really? I thought that by 30, I’d be a little more sure of where I fit and how to curb the loneliness. It’s an interesting place to be.

I want it all. And my all looks different from everyone else’s, absolutely, but surely the sentiment is the same for everyone…

…just different. Different goals, uncovering needs, changing avenues, evolving hearts…

various states of being [exactly who we are].

Now, back to Chicago Fire.

grace and peace.

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