2015: Fierce

Last year I wrote in this post about how my word/theme/mantra for 2014 was surrender and I then declared 2015: fierce.

This year was about trying to be more intentional, braver, sassier and unstoppable. It was about giving whatever was in front of me my best shot and fueling my yolo spirit.

One of my friends said, “After surrender, fierceness is what is required.” Surrender felt a lot like laying down and dying, so I grasped on to a word that felt like getting the fuck up and living.

Be fierce, Tay.

It helped that a lot of people knew about this because then everyone ended up holding me accountable to this kind of ridiculous word I was trying to emulate in my life. Thank God for my work friend Sarah (who is basically Grandmother Willow from Pocohantas) who consistently asked me how fierce I was feeling or what fierce thing I had done lately.

I learned that being fierce was a lot about

Giving myself permission:

Yes, you can say what you honestly think to that person. You are not responsible for how they take it.

Yes, you can go on a hiking trip with three random people you’ve never met.

Yes, you can walk away from this and not have to fix it.

Yes, you can make out with that handsome stranger at the pub.

Yes, you can travel. A lot. Even though you don’t really have any money.

 and being confident:

You tried something. So what if it didn’t work? That was brave.

You will finish this dissertation and get your Masters degree.

You totally pull off those overalls.

You can do this by yourself.

You can complete Whole30.

You deserve better.

 

and having a lot of fun:

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2016: expectant.

Love,

Taylor

 

 

 

 

 

2014: Surrender

At the beginning of this year, I was nannying for these two little gems:

I know. The cuteness is too much.

During this time my friend Hilary gifted me a daily meditation devotional titled, Surrender.

Most mornings I would make myself a cup of tea, set baby Lola in her rocker and read an excerpt out loud until she drifted into nap land. Also, my favorite quote happened to be, “Surrender to what is, let go of what was, have faith in what will be,” by Sonia Ricotte. Due to the current events of my life at the time, the word surrender felt very fitting.

It became my word. My mantra. My prayer. My theme.

2014 became the year Taylor learned what it means to surrender. In some aspects, I didn’t have choice, and in others, I had to consciously choose to learn. I surrendered a 7-year relationship. I gave up a place I made home. I let go of certain hopes and dreams but yielded to others. I had to accept and become comfortable with a lot of unknowns. I relinquished control of what I could not change, and subsequently that meant enduring the most change I’ve ever experienced in 365 days.

If I were to summarize what I learned it would be this:

Surrender is equal parts freedom and defeat. There is a certain power and greatness in both. When I surrender to a higher power, I am no longer the center of my life and therefore I begin to see this power in everything and everyone. Sometimes it is impossible to have a plan and that is okay. And in all honesty, the stronger I realize I am capable of being, the more intense the desire becomes to just screw it all and have a breakdown.

So, 2014…(insert a string of expletives): You were hard. You were great. I’m glad you’re over.

What is my word for 2015?

Fierce.

You can laugh if you want. I am aware this is a word that is used to describe warriors, severe weather, lion cats and/or Beyonce. But I’m around a lot of Irish people and they use it as an adverb for “very” or “extremely” (ex: “She was fierce loud”).

So, this is the year I will be more intentional, braver, sassier, and unstoppable. I will love, work, and play fiercely. Give me all you got 2015. I’m ready for you.

Happy New Year, everyone.

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Love,

Taylor

On Break(throughs)

I just need a breakthrough.

I keep telling myself this.

I need a breakthrough at work, where a barrier crumbles and I’m let in. I’m allowed to swim through the tormented, beautiful minds. Where I’m listened to and asked to listen.

I need a breakthrough in my creativity, where it suddenly ignites as if I were a human sparkler.

I need a breakthrough in friendships, where the awkwardness goes away. Where I don’t feel less than because of the newly missing half.

I need a breakthrough in church or spirituality, where prayer isn’t a homework assignment, but happens with people organically and in the moment. Where there is time for honest questions and room for silence.

I need a breakthrough in therapy, where I learn how to gauge whether I’m doing something caring for someone else or if I’m actually doing it for me (which, for the record, is way harder than you might think). Where I figure out how parts of my personality and character make me wonderfully amazing and wonderfully unhealthy at the same time. Where I figure out how to let go, unclench my fists and foster some sort of pioneering spirit that pushes me forward into God knows what.

Break:

separate or cause to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock or strain

to lacerate; to wound

to put an end to; overcome; stop

to interrupt the regularity, uniformity, or arrangement of

I’m in the process of breaking. In some moments I feel completely broken. We’ve all been there, right? There’s that overly-pinned Leonard Cohen lyric about how cracks are what lets the light in. It’s true, though. Breakthroughs must be like that- never one single break, but rather gradual shifts…tiny cracks that reveal or expose what was once unseen and intangible. And it’s an active process. To continue breaking is an option I will always have. It’s the “through” part that I have trouble committing to. That part is scary. That means I have to find the flaw and see through it. It means that I some point, in order to get anywhere, I have to shift my actions to a forward and through direction.

It means I have to take a break from the internal mind chatter that doesn’t actually benefit me. It means I have to finds ways to make use of the time I spent devoted to all these old habits and ways of thinking. And it means I must stay mindful of all thee above.

While breaking is unpleasant and disorienting, I realize that when we break…newness and freshness floods in. It’s different, but it doesn’t have to be scary. I can lean into that. I can embrace the pain of the cracking if it means I’m breaking for a good sob and surrender. For the most raw and pure form of faith. For new adventures and relationships. For the breathlessness of anticipation. For discovering that I’m capable of this. For sunflowers and sweaty yoga mats. For new eyes and a wiser heart. I can break for those things. 

Away with the notion that breaking is about isolation, gross imperfection, and all things depressing.

Usher in the truth that breaking is about movement, growth, and light. God is in the beauty, sacredness, and humble gratification of the breaking.

Love,

Taylor