sparks x

life does not happen to her.

life happens for her.

she was recently reminded that curious eyes sometimes find themselves upon these words, and even though it’s been nearly two years since she last found herself in these woods, she can assure you that a tree has fallen, followed by an ever astounding and reverberating crescendo, even if no one was near to hear it but herself.

nearly two years ago she found herself on these pages

unraveling

releasing her grip on control

removing the blinders, taking her eyes off the prize, and for the first time, observing what was naturally around her without her egos influence.

she found herself

at first, disoriented. culture shocked in every sense available. physical. mental. emotional.

but after some time, the seed harvested in the darkness began taking shape into a bud.

a womb of warmth and security.

and she took the fallen tree and sawed it in half. with her very hands. revealing rings upon rings of generational traumas, codependent relational patterns, disregulated embodiment, and old systems that no longer served her in this new world. this new life.

and so she decided to make something new with the trunk she knew well. to build a strong foundation based on what felt good. to repurpose the wood into something safe and secure. to sand over the scars she decided no longer to be defined by, yet also to keep and proudly display the cracks which gives her character and makes her uniquely her. the kind of cracks you want to sit and study while you’re imagination tries to decipher a secret code or make out an underlying design that is beautiful and wabi-sabi in it’s own way.

she decided to build this house in a direction which faces the sun. where the salt from the sea will weather at her veins and crystallize themselves into something unbreakable. she decided to remove all windowpanes, so the santa ana winds can bring her a bouquet of wildflowers, and the storms overhead will be welcomed with no barriers.

she found herself

building this house

big enough

for a family.

and although it almost seems unnecessary at the moment to have so much space, sometimes just sitting there… waiting… questioning it’s own existence and if it will ever be needed… she has decided this is the kind of home she wants. a home where company is always welcome. a home where she can dance in an empty room just as easily as a crowded one. a home where she makes space for you and respects that it is yours.

and so she begins to blossom.

and in this garden she’s decided how she wants to feel about every flower, every moment, every gardener and thought she comes in connection with.

and she wants to feel good.

she wants to feel good.

because life is too short not to. life is too short to shelter your heart from intruders who might steal or break it.

life is too short to hold yourself back until you feel ready.

life is too short to decide that a life alone is a safe life. an okay life.

she dosen’t want an okay life.

she wants a feeling life. a bold life. a life taken with risks and rewards. a life where she loves to be on her own. and a life where she loves to be in the company of others.

she wants a life where she lets a stranger into her house. and should they break a dish, or laugh too loud, or cry simply because being human is hard and they don’t have all the answers, then these walls are strong enough to support and welcome it all.

she wants a life where she lets a stranger into her heart. even if they might hurt her. even if they might challenge her. even if they might leave.

because she is enough on her own. and equally, she is choosing to share this wild existence alongside a companion and confidante and lover who might find it as equally beautiful and fascinating and curious as she.

she does not search for sparks outside of herself because she has learned how to light the fire on her very own.

she is her own flame.

a flame which she hopes you might one day sit at to enjoy, and share stories with, and find comfort within, and close your eyes behind its crackling embers and feel safe enough to sleep and know that you are home.

that is the kind of flower she is.

this is the kind of house she has built.

this is where she has found herself.

life does not happen to us

life happens for us

x lindsay