So have you heard this song? Because the first time I heard it on the radio, I thought 'hey, that's catchy.' And then when I really listened to the lyrics, I recognized life-giving words. And the first time I watched the video...well, yeah, I cried. Because running through my head for most of my life thus far has been this powerful (and tyrannical) question, mostly rooted in fear: What will people think? This song is an invitation to let go of that, acknowledging that it's hard, but showing the joy & freedom on the other side. I'll mail a dollar to anyone who can watch the whole video without smiling.
Keeping with the theme of things that require courage, I'm running the Rock n Roll half marathon this Saturday. Training didn't go exactly as planned (like most things in life), but I feel ready enough that I'm excited. Mostly because they're shutting down major streets in downtown Seattle, and I'll get to run on both a highway and a major thoroughfare with great views of the water. Also finishers receive a medal (not to mention a T-shirt and swag bag). Send your thoughts/prayers/positive energies my way on Saturday morning!
The self-imposed deadline I set as a naive young twenty-something is fast approaching. Five years in Seattle, working in the operating room of a major trauma center, will come to an end. Maybe not forever, but definitely for now. Next up, God willing and tentatively slated for 2014, is six months volunteering with Mercy Ships ... and then perhaps some time travel nursing in the UK. I have always wanted to live overseas, and it feels like this is the time to do it. Packing up and going to a new place (for any amount of time) feels like taking the deepest breath possible, a whole world unfolding inside my chest. I'm excited for the future :)
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Sunday reflections
I had just finished crossing a busy intersection today (at the end of an 8.5ish mile run/stagger...more to come on that) when I heard what can only be described as a blood-curdling shriek. I spun around, pulse racing, expecting to see something traumatic/tragic, and ready to leap into action. It was such a primal and visceral response that I'm wildly curious as to what I could have physically accomplished in that moment (when I thought I had no strength left). It did not feel outside the realm of reality to presume I could have sprinted 50 meters and lifted a car off of a human. Thankfully, that wasn't necessary. Upon spinning around, I saw a pretty blonde girl wearing graduation robes, half hanging out of a car, and hollering at some guys (I can only assume she knew) also wearing graduation robes who were across the intersection on bikes. Ah, youth :)
It made me nostalgic for the enthusiasm and wide-openness that accompanies such a momentous life event. While there are a lot of really great things about adulthood (and I honestly don't miss being 22), I find I must fight so hard to hold on to the beauty and potential in every day, lest the 'joie de vivre' be swept away in the constant plodding forward of the mundane. It seems like so many people become so bitter in middle age, and I never want that to be me...because it's both unpleasant to be around and unpleasant to live that way. Also, I suspect, not the abundant life Jesus was talking about.
After a lovely visit to St. Louis last week, I was laid up for a couple of days with a mystery illness (I suspect it may have been a cheesy enchilada from El Maguey that became lodged somewhere in my digestive tract and emanated evil in the form of headache, fever and general malaise, but I digress). I laid in the dark and surfed the internet a lot, but also watched a documentary called Happy which I must now recommend. It's been in my queue for well over 6 months (since my last 'documentary kick') and I'm so glad I finally watched it. Informative, induced introspection, and made me feel all warm & fuzzy inside.
Speaking of introspection, I spent some time yesterday perusing my old journals, poetry, and prose. It's quite an impressive and cringe-worthy collection, beginning with the poem eulogizing my first pet, followed by much lamenting about not feeling understood (except for those summers I spent at 'smart-kids camp') and a plethora of poems and gushing about love and various boys (that just make me want to pat the top of 14-year-old Rachel's head and say "isn't that precious" in a church lady voice). I've said it before and I'll say it again: life is long and weird and wonderful. My task now is to decide which, if any, of my works are fit for publication on this blog. Stay tuned.
It made me nostalgic for the enthusiasm and wide-openness that accompanies such a momentous life event. While there are a lot of really great things about adulthood (and I honestly don't miss being 22), I find I must fight so hard to hold on to the beauty and potential in every day, lest the 'joie de vivre' be swept away in the constant plodding forward of the mundane. It seems like so many people become so bitter in middle age, and I never want that to be me...because it's both unpleasant to be around and unpleasant to live that way. Also, I suspect, not the abundant life Jesus was talking about.
After a lovely visit to St. Louis last week, I was laid up for a couple of days with a mystery illness (I suspect it may have been a cheesy enchilada from El Maguey that became lodged somewhere in my digestive tract and emanated evil in the form of headache, fever and general malaise, but I digress). I laid in the dark and surfed the internet a lot, but also watched a documentary called Happy which I must now recommend. It's been in my queue for well over 6 months (since my last 'documentary kick') and I'm so glad I finally watched it. Informative, induced introspection, and made me feel all warm & fuzzy inside.
Speaking of introspection, I spent some time yesterday perusing my old journals, poetry, and prose. It's quite an impressive and cringe-worthy collection, beginning with the poem eulogizing my first pet, followed by much lamenting about not feeling understood (except for those summers I spent at 'smart-kids camp') and a plethora of poems and gushing about love and various boys (that just make me want to pat the top of 14-year-old Rachel's head and say "isn't that precious" in a church lady voice). I've said it before and I'll say it again: life is long and weird and wonderful. My task now is to decide which, if any, of my works are fit for publication on this blog. Stay tuned.
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