Seen and Heard

Hello, I am here. Here to read, and here to write, and feel the emotions within this realm of talented and curious artisans and poets.

I have a story. It is about a little girl who's all grown up now and knows exactly what she wants of herself and she hopes to give the world a love it so deserves.

I thought of a moment in my life when I was around 15. I went to camp with acquaintances and their friends. About this time was the hardest year of my entire life. If I could go back, I wouldn't dare, unless...it was to live the better moments again.

I had written something down in a cute little crafty pocketbook. I wrote something poetic about the animals and the river and nature surrounding everyone in the camping grounds. I don't know why or for what reason or how it came to be, but I read my poem aloud to a woman there. And she listened intently. As I know I was, shy and bottled up emotions, I didn't notice that the woman deeply understood the poem. I don't recall what she said exactly nor do I recall what I had written that touched her heart... but like with most better days that gleam bright in my soul, I remember the feelings that were had. The emotions tied to the occurrence. She loved what I had said. And it made me feel recognized and not as alone as I had previously imagined myself to be. It was sweet. It was a certain peace, a quiet, humbling acknowledgment of my existence. I felt unburdened for a moment. All the yuck and gunk from all the material and temporary worldy things in my life, clogging up my mind and shadowing my heart, shunned into oblivion. As my dear friend says from time to time. "Tar." All the things that make her, feel, anything other than good, is like tar to the soul. It sticks. It's tough to pull off, to remove, to be untouched again. Once it's there, it stays. Once it's acknowledged as tar, and noticed to be what it truly is, Unclean, action takes place in overcoming the world, to feel good once again. The tar stains are still there. But as time goes on, they become unnoticed, as goodness paints over it.

What am I saying. I am saying that I felt beautiful. The woman who heard me made me feel good. An emotion arose within me that made me see that I really am beautiful. I really am worthy of goodness and love and peace. I am worthy of a clear mind, I am worthy of my big heart, and I am more than worthy to have my friends and to meet new friends and enjoy life with the people I love. I am worthy of life itself. And I have always known life to be beautiful. For a while I just forgot what it meant.

It was perhaps...a weekend later...

The woman came to me with a gift. I didn't know I'd be seeing her again. I was grateful to see her, and it made me smile knowing she wanted to see me again. She picked something up. "Your words touched my heart, and I saw this and it made me think of you." A pink leather journal. "It's beautiful. Thank you." "For whenever your heart speaks to you, you'll have this to write your words." She smiled and I knew exactly what I was going to from there. I vowed to myself to write in that journal all the time. Whether I had it on me or not, I was gonna write in this journal to the very last page. I'd never finished a journal before. I printed from my phone and placed pages inside the journal when I didn't have access to it. And I did it! A year to a year and a half. I did it. And I thank her every time I see the journal. I accomplished the one goal I knew I could achieve at that time in my life. Graphite smeared on the spine, some doodling tats within the pressed leather designs. Barely held together by the thin pink band. It was perfect. All it's flaws and faded ink, within written adventures and to-be-lost memories, moments of unfulfilled dreams and the tenacity to fulfill them another day, O! I am glad to be the woman I am today. Every moment in life has shaped me to be the girl I am, closer to the girl I always dream to be. Every day growing closer, and yet every day I am the girl I imagine, I try and try to be exactly who I want to be. Myself. Imperfect, worthy, scars and wounds and bruises on every other edge of me. I am broken, and no, I'm not nothing. I am everything and more. I am beautiful and I am strong. I am good and I am worthy. I am free. I am alive. I am and always will be no other person than me. I am wild and I am a wanderer and I will not be put down, I know my worth. Because I finally love me. Because I finally accept me. Because I finally see me and my potential and my gifts and my heart and who I am. I am beautiful. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a princess from a celestial kingdom. I am who I am. I have never been alone.

Know your worth. Acknowledge the things your soul truly needs. Don't neglect your body or your mind or spirit. Don't abandon your heart. Listen to it. Listen to yourself. Would you still do the things you do, if you know what does more harm than good to your spirit and well being?

Love yourself because you have you when the sun goes down and the moonlight shines, the night carries on and the new morning appears and the day goes on...

Respect yourself and be loyal to yourself. Writing truly is powerful. These words, they mean something, they say something, and the mind recognizes what is being read. Language is beautiful and powerful.

I challenge you to write about a good moment in your life that has helped make you who you are now, and write how it helps you to keep on choosing to be who you are.