“You must learn one thing.  The world was made to be free in.  Give up on all other worlds except the one to which you belong.   Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. ” 

— David Whyte

“For me, writing is about control. Or, more accurately, loss of control. Maybe you are a writer, and you disagree because writing for you feels more like walking on the beach or getting a massage. Well, maybe you and I should never meet for coffee. Writing for me feels like getting naked in public.

And writing is when I let the hamster off the wheel and let it run loose for a while, wherever it wants, sniffing around. When I write, I believe the risky thought that all the ideas might have a place, instead of just running themselves around and around in a circle. Writing gives me a place to use all my flashes and thoughts and rabbit trails that rattle around in my head making me crazy.  Writing is my best chance at happiness, and it is the riskiest thing I can do.  But that’s how life is.  The riskiest things always yield the best, most beautiful things. 

One of the true hazards in writing is that you yearn to write deeply honest things rise up from lessons learned the hard way…and then you have to learn those lessons the hard way…You pray for wonderful, honest, gritty, tender stories to write, but then you have to live through them.

What writing teaches me, over and over, is that God is waiting to be found everywhere, in the darkest corners of our lives, the dead ends and bad neighborhoods we wake up in, and in the simplest, lightest, most singular and luminous moments. He’s hiding, like a child, in quite obvious and visible places because he wants to be found.”

Shauna Niequist

]]> http://jordanleah.wordpress.com/2012/09/13/the-greater-the-risk-the-greater-the-beauty/feed/ 0 typewriter jordanleah http://jordanleah.wordpress.com/2012/09/04/forgetting-you/ http://jordanleah.wordpress.com/2012/09/04/forgetting-you/#comments Tue, 04 Sep 2012 20:10:49 +0000 jordanleah http://jordanleah.wordpress.com/?p=1221 Read more]]> I realized something important today: I don’t want to be angry anymore. 

When I love, I wrap my entire body, soul and heart around that relationship and the promise of that love.  I expect too much, believe too hard and always wind up being disappointed in something that just could never be.  Love for me is everything.  And for me, friendship is no different.

I have to admit, I’ve been unlucky in friendships my whole life.  I’ve battled the backstabbers, the heart-breakers and the gossip girls.  Innately shy and reserved, almost painfully so, my nature would often come across as being standoffish.  But, I never really was.  I was the little girl on the playground asking the other little shy girl in the class to be her friend.  Only, I always knew in my heart that friendship wouldn’t last ­– it couldn’t.  I chose people who were just too different from me and my heart always ended up cracking into tiny pieces at the result of a failed friendship.

I’m 25 now and I can say that while I’ve sustained and maintained a few precious relationships, I know I’ve never really found my soul-sister.  Oh, there were plenty of imposters, believe me, but never the girl who would keep my heart into our blue-haired, Golden Girls days  (I was looking forward to being Blanche, but I digress).

One year ago, I began filtering my personal life and decided to suck all of the poison from my surroundings.  What was left you ask?  Me.  Only me.  In that moment, I realized something powerful: I am my own best friend.  Sure, I am blessed with a wonderful family and amazing loved ones to call my support system, but that best-friend never showed her face.  The girls I called best-friends were poison and I was angry.  As I rid my life of poison, every girl fell like a shaky outlier in a stack of cards and I fumed. 

There is an episode of “The Hills” I will never forget since its original airing (yes, “The Hills,” just follow me here).  Lauren and Heidi’s friendship finally came to a close when Lauren boldly told Heidi: “I want to forgive you, and I want to forget you.”

This statement overwhelms me with its simplistic power each time I hear it.  The answer was there all along, but I allowed my anger to claim me and my emotions to get the best of my heart.  Every girl I’ve ever been friends with has made the claim: I don’t have many girlfriends.  Well, Sherlock that should’ve been a clue right there.  But it wasn’t.  I always gave my heart openly and willingly and was shocked when it was handed back pretty scorched and tarnished.

Today I saw something that would normally upset me.  But I thought back to Lauren’s statement and realized something: I’m letting go.  This blog was built on the foundation of letting go and allowing life to take the reigns and bring you to a more beautiful, hopeful place.  I’m ready for that ride.  And I’m not angry anymore.  I loved each person with my whole heart, but things change and I can’t fault anyone for that.  People grow apart, life happens and some people were never meant to stay in my life for a long period anyway.  I continue to get seasonal people confused with those meant to throw down roots and stay with me for a lifetime.  What I didn’t realize at the time was that each person was meant to take her bow and I was never meant to stop her.

Continuing to look back doesn’t promise change, it promises that I’ll stand still forever.  I’m ready to take my ride with life because I know how beautiful it will be in the coming years.  I’ve loved them all, forgiven them all and now I’m forgetting it all.  And that’s a beautiful change.  That’s hope.

“Some people are meant to come into your life for a lifetime, some for only a season and you got to know which is which. And you’re always messing up when you mix those seasonal people up with lifetime expectations.

I put everybody that comes into my life in the category of a tree. Some people are like leaves on a tree. When the wind blows, they’re over there… wind blow that way they over here… they’re unstable. When the seasons change they wither and die, they’re gone. That’s alright. Most people are like that, they’re not there to do anything but take from the tree and give shade every now and then. That’s all they can do. But don’t get mad at people like that, that’s who they are. That’s all they were put on this earth to be. A leaf.

Some people are like a branch on that tree. You have to be careful with those branches too, cause they’ll fool you. They’ll make you think they’re a good friend and they’re real strong but the minute you step out there on them, they’ll break and leave you high and dry.

But if you find 2 or 3 people in your life that’s like the roots at the bottom of that tree you are blessed. Those are the kind of people that aren’t going nowhere. They aren’t worried about being seen, nobody has to know that they know you, they don’t have to know what they’re doing for you but if those roots weren’t there, that tree couldn’t live.

A tree could have a hundred million branches but it only takes a few roots down at the bottom to make sure that tree gets everything it needs. When you get some roots, hold on to them but the rest of it… just let it go. Let folks go.”

– Madea

Silence.

“Marco??”

Dead air.

“Marco!”

 Stillness.  Nope, no “Polo” to my “Marco.”

It’s a never-ending game I play to locate the truth.  Where is the truth and more importantly, why is my truth always in hiding?

I don’t know where I am right now.  As everyone walks their own path, I’m lost somewhere, straggling the lines of unknowns and always finding myself somewhere in the middle.

As a writer, I want nothing more than to give this story the happy ending it deserves, to give myself the happily ever for which I’ve passionately strived.  Only the lines of the paper blur together, the ink runs dry and I find myself stuck somewhere in the middle of the story. 

I never asked to be saved and I never needed a savior.  I am the heroine of my own story.  But this heroine is tired of having her lines twisted, sick of feeling unappreciated and done with the constant noise and interference of outsiders.  This is my story and its beauty is worth hearing.  So why isn’t anyone listening?

Sometimes, I secretly wish I could be the heroine who cries for help and didn’t always have to be so strong.  Sometimes, I grow tired of trying to coax the truth from his hiding place.  Sometimes, I feel so left out and deleted from my own story.  And sometimes, I need nothing more than this love and my truth to find me and meet me somewhere in the middle.

“Marco?”

In life, it’s so easy to lament at the things we don’t have.  My mother tells me I was born with an incessant need to be five years older.  I unfairly gauge myself with those in different life stages and whine to the world when my accomplishments just do not and cannot realistically compare.

As the quintessential broke college student, I can easily induce a series of heart-stopping, brain-numbing panic attacks just by mulling over the thoughts of loan installments, car payments and the mounting, yet impressive collection of debt accumulated just by attempting to live on minimum wage.  I think to my future and know that even at my best, I may always be scraping by, fulfilling the life of a starving artist who is chasing a big, beautiful dream. 

As a writer, perhaps the most frightening threat in the world is to lose one’s inspiration.  As of late, that’s just what has been happening in my life.  For the first time in a long time, I’m scared.  I’m overwhelmed by the possibilities of tomorrow and by the daunting tasks of today.  Finalizing one’s education is supposed to be exciting, yet it shakes me to my core.  It’s the ‘this-is-it, there’s-no-going-back-now’ realization and mentality that’s slowly eating away at my creativity.

While I’m slowly wildling down the massive piles of internship and scholarship applications, I find my fingers instinctively typing ‘Chanel’ into my search browser.  And while I’m supposed to be writing about just why I am the perfect fit for X Company’s exclusive and impossible-to-land internship, my eyes fixate on the fantasy of this bag.  There she is, those perfect curves, the girly pink of a pretty pout.  She waits for me.

Call it superficial.  Call it ridiculous.  But this bag plays a symbolic role in my life.  I have so many goals for myself, have always scraped and saved my money and have worked for nearly half of my young life.  And this is the first time I’ve allowed myself to dream a little.  To dip my toes in the  fantasies of luxury.  To think of a bag that doesn’t have to look like a passable replica or have to hope that Christmas comes early this year. 

Even this ring. I wanted to buy this for myself. That meant something to me, to be able to do that. And then he buys it for me. (Samantha)
Because he knew how much you loved it. (Carrie)
Yes, but now every time I look down at it, I see him, not me. (Samantha)

– Sex and the City

Sure, saving for and purchasing this bag is pretty feasible and realistic once my career begins.  And sure, maybe my boyfriend, or by then, husband or a family member could buy it for me and place it under the twinkling lights of a magical Christmas tree, or in the sparkly paper of birthday wrappings.  But this is my own symbol of accomplishment, my own signifying moment of pride.  To look down at a pink Chanel and see someone else will rob me of my moment.  I want to look down and see the blood, sweat and raw fingers of typing and editing stories.  I want to look down and see me.

But right now, the bag is out of my reach, and right now I prefer it that way.  A small part of me hopes I’ll never reach that day in which my feet find their way into a Chanel boutique.  I secretly wish to never cure that incessant hunger.  But one day, I know I will.  One day she will be mine because one day I’ll reach all those big dreams I never thought I could.  One day I won’t be starving anymore.  Until then, I’m feeding myself with the inspiration of tomorrow and a small side of Chanel.

(Images via Weheartit.com)

I’ve realized within the past year, that I will always be a round peg.  I’ll never fit into that square hole, but why should I want to?  Life is much more fulfilling in standing apart from the crowd rather than blurring into the grey background.  This year, I am embracing my round-peg-status.  24 was amazing, but I have a feeling that the best is yet to come… and I can’t wait to enjoy the ride.

“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.”

– Steve Jobs

On Friday, I will be 25, and while I feel blessed to have reached this mile marker of growth, I feel a nervous sense of confusion bubbling under the surface of my heart.  An immense amount of change will mark this year in my life.  Graduation, the beginning of my career and a possible relocation will stitch together the fabric of my 25^th year.

While such life-altering events should excite me, they make me wonder: have I reached my own expectations or have I somehow slipped and missed an important chain link in the circle?

At 16, I was a planner.  My plans had plans and I believed I was on the track for an amazing career in fashion.  At 22, disillusioned and beginning down the dark path of heartbreak, I lost myself.  My love affair with fashion didn’t last.  I had cheated and found someone new I loved more.  Someone who pushed me to my limits and tested my abilities.  The art of writing and the beauty of words intrigued and challenged me.  Following this unexpected career realization, I knew my past plans needed revamping and restructuring.

As I look ahead to the new year of my life, I find myself completely open to the possibilities of my life’s circle.  Upon graduating, so many people ask: What are your plans?  What if, for once in my life, I’m not sure?  What if this time around, I am just open?   I am open to detours, alternate routes and even the possible bumps of going off-road.  While it is exciting to have no commitment to a particular form of writing, type of job position or living location, it is also daunting.  Does such an openness of possibilities work against me and cut me off from a life of goals and structure?  Should I have reached an important mile marker by the age of 25 and have a particular set of goals in mind?

Sometimes in life, a person needs to quit rehashing the past, forget about analyzing the future, refrain from attempting to figure out how she should feel and just go with the moment.  Seeing what happens is not about forfeiting the goals of your future, it’s about allowing life to happen as it should and being open to a new, or different link in the chain of life.

At 25, I’ve realized that my circle is only beginning.  As Marilyn Monroe said, I don’t want to make money, I just want to be wonderful.  I want to be wonderful both in my professional and personal life.  At 25, I’m a girl with huge aspirations and an even bigger heart.  At 25, I’m allowing the restrictions of structure to fall from my control and inviting life to take the reins.  At 25, I am the girl flying by the seat of her hot pants and I think that’s beatiful, and maybe even wonderful.

I had a date in my mind.  A specific date for a very specific purpose.  1.3.14

It seemed like a triumphant tale of love.  A fairytale.  Sometimes in life, we wish so hard and hope for so long about the dream of a fairytale that we forget to look at reality.  The reality is that all fairytales are just beautiful dreams and that all it takes is the pain of a pinch to rouse in the delicate slumber that is a dream.

I was pinched and awaken from my dream.  And I guess I feel ashamed because I really believed in the potential of such a beautiful tale.  I believed in those silly numbers and most of all I believed in my heart.  I believed in love this time.  I believed that this time was different.  I believed in the wonderful possibility of wearing a crown and being a princess, if just for one day.

Sometimes in life, our hearts let us down, our dreams shake us back to reality and love pinches our hearts.  And sometimes, as painful as it is and as much as it kills our souls, a number is just a number and the meaning is gone.

Many blog posts are dedicated to my love affair with having a career.  And sure, maybe that’s liberating to me, maybe it’s even a little sexy, but maybe it’s not the perfect path for everyone.  I know that.  I also speak often about making my own money and the independence of relying on myself.  Again, my opinion comes from my very personal experience.  In this case, it was the experience with a former friend.

We were very close, so close in fact, I had no doubt she would stand beside me in my wedding.  A little over one year ago, we met and soon we were inseparable.  But things changed and in spending time with this person, I began to form my own beliefs and in doing so, realize how different our set of opinions were. 

I speak so much about my six year relationship, not only because it spanned nearly one-third of my life, but also because it changed me.  After that relationship ended, I realized I didn’t like who I had become.  I was needy, I was dependant and to me, that was unacceptable.  The downfall of the relationship became a mirror in which I was forced to stand and look at myself, really look at myself for the first time in a long time.  Since facing the portrait in the mirror, a spark has been lit in me, a spark that refuses to ever be diminished. 

I began to overcompensate in a way, and soon the thought of making my own money and providing for myself became an aphrodisiac and the driving force in my college career.  I already have one degree, I already work hard, but for me that wasn’t good enough.  I needed more for myself and back to college I went.

My friend, much like me, was obsessed with money but for very different reasons.  It became clear that we weren’t going to be lifelong friends once I understood our differences.  I am a label-whore, I love the beauty of high-fashion things, but I am obsessed with getting those things for myself and that’s where we differed.  I don’t believe in using a man or any other person in order to obtain a sense of worth.  I’m not going to say I don’t enjoy the surprise of a gift from my boyfriend, but the moments I truly feel his love are those when we’re laughing so hard together we cry or when he grabs my hand during a car ride.  Gifts are wonderful but to be demanding of them isn’t so beautiful to me.  The relationship ended.

Recently we spoke again, and in that conversation I hoped for a change and for reconciliation.  I loved her.  I have a huge heart and always hope for the best in people.  I have good intentions, but for some reason things seemed the same and the “click” we had the once brought us so close was gone.  I was devastated, so I turned to my blog for support and to share that my glitter comes from my dreams, not from material bling.

I stand firm in my beliefs, not to hurt anyone, but to respect those around me.  I feel that to be accepting of individuals who wish to live off others would be to disrespect those who work so hard around me. 

My beautiful best friend left Cleveland a few months ago. Everyday she works hard and dedicates her time to raising her two amazing boys.  To me, that’s beautiful.  A long-time friend and soon-to-be family member stays at home with her precious one-year old daughter and works hard to ensure her daughter’s well-being.  She keeps a spotless home and in doing so, has taken the role as the backbone of a wonderful family.  To me, that’s beautiful.  My other best friend works at a thankless restaurant job and both of my parents live by each paycheck.  They’re all beautiful to me.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t have moments of envy when the former friend would show off her latest gift.  She openly admitted that she didn’t want to work, and maybe that’s OK for her and fits her own life and I have no right to judge her.  But my opinion differs.  I think working hard for your dreams, whether they are about having a family or creating a career, is the most beautiful thing you can do in life. 

Whether you’re a stay-at-home mommy, or a blue-collar worker bringing home a paycheck, we’re all working stiffs in one form or another.  If working means bringing beauty into your own life and bettering yourself or your family, then I’m proud to be a working stiff.  At the end of the day, I know I’ll be doing what I love soon and that passion inside of me is relentless.  The quote “do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life” is so true.  Some people love waking up to those smiling little faces, others  love creating something wonderful.  I love to write.  And I’m proud to be independent, even if that means my sparkle comes from my heart and not from my empty wallet.