Dancing Under the Rain by Angelo González

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

~ 2 Corinthians 12:9.

What scars do you possess that you're proud of? Feel free to boast!

• This DIY Record Side Table over at The Flourishing Abode is cute - and super simple! (I like easy things. And it doesn't involve sewing, which is not a skill I currently possess. Someday though!)

• I love homemade sugar scrub. It's super easy to make and this recipe over at Susan Tuttle's blog also includes a process to make shimmer lotion too! 

• I loved this quote by Mother Theresa that they shared over on Roots of She.

• A DIY Denim + Lace Shirt over at A Beautiful Mess! (Again, I have the weakness of not being able to sew, but apparently this is an excellent project for beginners. And so pretty!) 

• This Avocado Asparagus Tartine recipe from 101 Cookbooks has been on my to-do list foreeeeevah. Yum!

Lots of lovely, nifty things this week! Hopefully it'll give you some DIY ideas for the weekend!

0238 by Cia de Foto

• 750words.com: I love the idea of Julia Cameron's morning pages, but I don't really like writing journal entries out long-hand. This website helps keep me on track with completing my morning pages everyday, but I don't have to get hand cramps in the process. Wheeeee! 

• DashingDish.com: I don't think there's a single recipe on this website that I don't want to recreate myself. Katie is amazing and uplifting - and her protein shake recipe has changed my life. (My life! MY LIFE! I'm not even exaggerating! Go now!) 

• I really loved this japanese moleskine project. SUPER rad! 

• This post from Writing Our Way Home talks about using our best china now, instead of saving it for good (as my grandmama likes to say). Sometimes there's nothing wrong with indulging now, and it feels really flippin' good too! 

• I love Cassandra Clare's books. And her new book City of Lost Souls just came out. Goodbye, free time! 

• Looks like I'm not the only one learning major lessons about letting things go! Check this amazing post over at Roots of She about getting rid of thoughts and feelings that don't serve you. It's so nice to know I'm not the only person in the history of humanity who's learning this lesson!

Have a GREAT weekend. <3

 Macy's by vonSchnauzer

The furniture felt too big.

I am not a creature who adores change. I would much rather wallow in my habits - which are serving me just fine, thank you - than submit to something unexpected and outside of my control. I am a classic firstborn who would very much like to be careful, measured, and precise. (What I would like to be, of course, is a great deal different than how I actually am. It’s not my fault that your unplanned plans are throwing me out of balance!) I find great solace and comfort in planning my road trip stops ahead of time, instead of simply going with the flow and letting the car roam wherever it pleases. It took me years to learn how to ride a bicycle, because I didn’t like the out-of-control feeling it gave me. Roller coasters are a big no-no.

Being unpredictable is just not my thingy-thang, if you get what I mean.

Which is why furniture that felt a little too big for my room was kind of...overwhelming, shall we say? It crowded most of my older belongings out, pushing in where it wasn’t wanted and sending me into a mini spiral of panic.

New furniture was a good idea, of course. (My mom’s idea. She’s brilliant, that one.) I’m a big girl now. I need big girl things. But that didn’t mean adapting to the new scenery was going to be easy for someone like me, who needs plenty of time to plan and visualize before I can slowly and surely adapt my life to a new big thing.

Which left me standing in the middle (very small), empty space of my room, gazing at my new furniture as it crowded everything else out. My mother, who knows me so well, reassured me that this was for the best. That this would make the space feel like mine, instead of merely feeling as if I’m usurping someone else’s territory.

She was right, of course. (Yes, Mom, you’re always right. I realized in college how brilliant you are.) After a few days, I began to realize that this new, big furniture had helped me get rid of the things that I really didn’t need anymore. I’m starting to realize that peeling back bits and pieces of my life that I don’t need can be wildly refreshing. Enlightening. Uplifting, even.

I’m getting rid of the “fun time” activities that are no longer fun. TV shows I no longer care about. Books I no longer read. (Oh yes, I spent a whole Sunday afternoon cleaning my bookshelves of books that just don’t sing to me anymore - which is a big deal if you know my extended love affair with books. I gave them to someone special, who I know will treat them right.)

Slowly but surely, I’m giving up old passions to make room for new obsessions that will no doubt come flooding in when there’s an empty space to fill. And I have absolutely no doubt that they will be too big. That they’ll make me cringe and chew my nails and wring my hands, because that’s what I do when something new and big and scary rushes into my life.

But they will gradually start to crowd out the less important things. And I will stare and tilt my head and say, Huh. I guess I had room after all.

-----

Keep your eyes peeled for some changes on the site if you’re keen. We’re going to get all wild up in this joint. We’re going to (gasp) change some things. We’re going to make some space and shave off the excess and create some room for magic to occur.

And it’s going to be absolutely rad.

Huh. I guess I had room after all.

Day 80 / Rainy day in Copenhagen by velvettears

Over the weekend, someone asked me a question:  What makes you really really glowingly vibratingly joyful?

A simple question. An easy question. And yet I stared at it - at its pixelated enormity across the glow of my laptop screen. I stared at it...and drew a numbing blank.

A queer kind of horror was quick on its heels. My mind scrambled. Something heavy in my chest sank down to the pit of my stomach. That all-too-familiar voice was eager to begin its taunting dance, swirling around in bodiless cruelty to the tune of my growing despair. Why aren't you happy? What's wrong with you? Why can't you just be happy?

A moment more to linger in my uncertainty, and then I pressed my fingers to my keyboard regardless. I came up with the best answer that I could think of. The only answer that felt true in that moment. (I grew tired of pretending to be happy a long time ago. Masks are more exhausting than simply allowing my emotions to be as they are. Eventually, you just succumb to the tide and hope it doesn't rip you from the shore entirely.)

I...don't know honestly. I think being at peace is something I prefer over joy. But maybe that's just me speaking from my life and how I function right now.

I stared at the answer. I pressed enter. I let it be. Because even in knowing my own dissatisfaction, there was some sense of relief that you always feel when you're honest with yourself. But I couldn't shake the disquiet. The sense that I had to be doing something wrong. Peace over joy? What's wrong with you?

The words stayed with me. In my bed. At work. While I exercised. During my favorite television show. In the midst of my writing. Brushing my teeth. What makes you really really glowingly vibratingly joyful?  

I didn't know. And the longer that I allowed myself to dwell on it, the more distressed I became. Not being able to predict or control my own emotions is a fear built up from life experience and history. And knowing that I didn't feel joyful - under the presumption that everyone else did at some point or another - seemed like just another terrifying sign that I was sledding down the slushy slope. Careening, out of control, doomed to crash sooner or later.

But then a lunch break came. Errand breaks, as I call them now, since lunch is something done at my desk. (Another control issue. Another day.) The weather was warm - a teasing hint of spring and Vitamin D to make me uncurl like a flower about to be bitten by a frost. I let my car windows stay open, one hand dragging the breeze as I drove down the familiar path back to work. The air tasted good, and my sunglasses tinted the world into a seventies polaroid, too much cyan and yellow to look real.

I measured the pulse of how I felt in that moment - something I'd learned to do in high school when I couldn't trust the rampant mood swings anymore.

Peace. And with it? Happiness. I breathed in deep, memorizing the feeling, because this was where I felt best. Without trying. Without pushing myself. Without making Joy some sort of capitalized goal I had to reach or a hurdle to jump. It didn't vibrate. But it glowed, a gentle diffusion that made my limbs warm and my chest feel light. So maybe peace is the joy, I thought, still obsessed in some ways. And then, quietly, It's okay to simply want peace.

Later, in the new-old-amazing double bed I've inherited from my grandmama, where I'm learning to sleep in the middle of a space I've never had before, I felt a gentle pull to mull over words that I'm meant to be reading lately. Psalm 33, that voice whispered, and I found my Bible on the shelf by the shine of gold-edged pages.

Sing joyfully to the LORD, you righteous;

  it is fitting for the upright to praise him.

Praise the LORD with the harp;

  make music to him on the ten-stringed lyre.

Sing to him a new song;

play skillfully, and shout for joy.

  play skillfully, and shout for joy.

More joy, I thought wryly. It's a hymn about God's plans. A praise to His goodness and the absolute certainty that His will prevails. And then, at the end:

We wait in hope for the LORD;

  he is our help and our shield.

In him our hearts rejoice,

  for we trust in his holy name.

More peace, I realized. Because that's how I feel when I know I'm cradled carefully in His hands, His touch so tenderly unfolding His plans for my life. So maybe my joy can come from my peace. And my peace comes from ultimately knowing that it's all going to be okay. He's there. I survive. I thrive. I drink coffee. I write stories. I meditate. I pray. I work. I sleep. I do it all again.

Joy can't come for me from something that I do or something that I own. Maybe joy isn't something that I can control at all, but something He has to create in me. Something that just needs a little time and patient reverence.  

Perhaps when I finally stop pushing it so hard, it will blossom. Until then, I'm content with peace.

More joy. More peace.

I had a long Saturday with not much going on, so I took the opportunity that I was presented with to create some art. I haven't dabbled with photomanipulation for a long while, and I thought I would give it another go. Altogether, I'm pretty pleased with it considering I haven't done anything like this for a while. 

The idea for the scene came to me on my way home from work. I was driving one of the long stretches of road and there were these huge, dark thunderclouds rolling in toward me as I drove closer to home. It felt like a challenge, almost. 

Here's to being a wild, warrior woman. 

Credits for stock go to the following: 

Model: night-fate-stock @ DA 
Beach: eastop @ stock.xchng
Clouds: dimitri_c @ stock.xchng 
Grass: faestock @ DA
Lightning brushes: redheadstock @ DA

• Eeeee! Lace boot socks over at Oops I Craft My Pants! (We’re not going to talk about how stereotypical I am that my name is Lacey and I’m in love with lace. We're also not going to talk about how awesome this blog name is.) I will make them.
• If you’re on the internet at all, you probably know about TED talks. One of my favorites that’s been on the website for a while now - and I always seem to come back to - is a talk by Elizabeth Gilbert (You know. That awesome gal that wrote Eat, Pray, Love?) on Nurturing Creativity.
• Steven Pressfield talks about the 10,000 hour rule and about reaching the end of our ability to mimic others when it comes to our creativity.

Being an imagination warrior doesn't mean you have to be impractical or unfocused.

 It just means letting yourself dream every once in a while - even if other people might laugh at the concept. That's the beauty of the imagination. It's all in your head. No one else has access to it. 

So let yourself be free to imagine, even in your cubicle or at your plastic desk. No one else has to know why your days are so exciting.