a year of reflection: the divine order of chaos.
“there are years that question and years that answer.”
2018 was a year of rest. a quietude tempered by the humming of chaotic silent screams in the depths of my being, unanswered. 2018 was a year of questions - consider: cursing at the sky while i prayed for the rain to make sense - that came to me in metaphors, in riddles, in new winds, in absence, in Psalm.
things tasted funny in 2018. mistaking assets for liabilities happened in 2018. i mastered the art of living vicariously through my own body in 2018. (please understand that this is not easy to do and not recommended to try at home. it’s about as crazy as it sounds and even harder to articulate. see: “zombie”, the “sunken place”, “what the f*ck is my life”.)
december 31, 2017 is the day i moved to Los Angeles to start a life for myself, after months of working nonstop and doing what i could to elevate my spirit into a seat of deliverance. (in hindsight, i truly believed that seat of deliverance meant purchasing a new car. we’ll get to that later.) everything i cultivated the year before - ideas for businesses, writing pitches, content for my book, hope, belief, breathing easy - came to a halt; a halt that pierces the inside of your ears with a reticence so unwelcoming after the crash and collision of sound and motion and matter all at once. it’s haunting and it’s not easily understood. i felt like i was living between the nanoseconds of time and between the code of the matrix -- wherever i could fit. days passed and there was no mark of my soul, my existence, my heart on anything that i touched or did.
the closest encounter to death i experienced was watching my creative spirit dance around a fire and then jump inside the pupil of the flame to commit suicide. my faithless decision to choose a life of self-inflicted mediocrity to pay my bills came at the cost of losing touch with my innate light. it felt like cutting my umbilical cord that connects me to God. for a year, i did not pick up a pen. my blog is sitting like a haunted house on a hill with cobwebs as decor. social media (wut r those?) became a trigger for anxiety. i was living as a poorly dressed extension of myself but weeping between the inquiry of where ripe fruit was in my life. by failing to nurture the root, to tend to the core, i was lacking harvest. there was nothing that i could offer from a wilted spirit.
the rehabilitation period was of silencing my ego and crumbling at my own feet. everything that i knew, and that i thought i knew, was in question. things that i prayed for came dressed in unfamiliarity and i was forced to make amends with the materializations of the words that once left my tongue. acceptance was a thick pill to swallow in a throat that’s been closed for years from words unspoken. there’s not much room to work with. so i had to learn new languages (of love, of compassion, of forgiveness) to speak to allow the old to crumble and make space. with the birth of a new year, a decluttering transpired and gave way for vision of the sun again.
2018 was a year of growth. in question, in metaphor, in new winds, in hindsight:
how do i create a better life for myself?
after working a year at a dead-end corporate job in a field i have particularly no interest in, i understand the value of time. it’s simple: don’t do shit you don’t want to do. i have to stop living for the validation of others. my path, as beautifully confusing as it may seem, is mine for a reason. sometimes, i have to stop and smile at the storm like the sun is in my mouth. it’s the only way i can see through the darkness. chaos can be conceptualized as a feminine, creative energy, aligning with creation and death. 2018 was a chaotic year with a lot of death around me, of old ideals dying, friendships expiring, and old patterns disintegrating. this cycle gave way for life - a life that i truly want - to emerge.
how do i attract better people into my life?
i had to learn how to become a better friend and stop being transactional. people used to be disposable to me because i believed that that’s how i had been treated as a child and carried it into my adult life. triggers of mine led me to project and act out defensively and prematurely, ultimately leading to the destruction of a relationship before it could be planted. picking the same flowers that i expect out of the ground for old and new friends so i could learn the importance of empathy. those who want the rose must appreciate the thorns. as for maintaining the quality of spirits in my life, feeding my intuition by listening to it evolved into the art of discernment. silent soul whispers and spirit tugs are a compass that i no longer ignore. it’s about speaking what i want into existence and not apologizing for it, or succumbing to a lower level of acceptance because of fear or impatience. who is for me is for me.
how do i be more authentic in my purpose?
simple: liv, stop buying designer bags you can’t afford right now. figure out your priorities. figure out who you truly are. figure out who you want to be.
how do i stay down to earth in a city of fallen angels?
god humbled me real quick.
i asked for humility but kept an armour of ego on. it wasn’t until i got into a car accident that forced me to drive around, baring/bearing my brokenness, did i understand the meaning of being stripped. (and it certainly wasn’t by an auto body shop because i couldn’t afford it this past year.) the city i live is full of mirages, facades, and masks. my work and my purpose isn’t about me - it’s about expressing myself to feed others and help them. it’s about embodying the highest love that exists and being a mirror for others to look into. i had to be stripped to my core and get to know who i truly was and what the vision was. surprisingly enough, i liked the person at the root of it all. i take pride in being a person who seeks nothing but real in an environment where that is not celebrated. god has bigger plans for me than i could ever know & keeping that in the heart of my eye of understanding keeps me centered. grounded on a god level.
how do i find peace?
god knew chaos would bring me closer to her. chaos is nature. nature is the embodiment of creation. i had to create my peace for it to be found, and in order for it to be created i had to allow a lot of old things to die.
how do i love myself more?
i lost people i invested in more than i invested in myself. not until i was forced to look into the mirror, lock eyes with myself, and saw god, i began to understand the meaning of soul language. interconnectedness helped me with perspective. we are all part of this universe, and whether one believes spiritually or scientifically, there is an interconnectedness that links us all together. we are all made in an image of one another, sharing matter and space. if this gorgeous mass of matter could house me, my body, and my soul, i have the same capability to house the same magic that exists around me. each person born had a probability of 1 in 400 trillion of entering this life. we are miracles with skin! carrying these realizations with me is the greatest love note i could give to myself.
why am i so unhappy and how can i change it?
check your energy at the door and remove people around you who trigger habits of negativity. living amongst poverty in South Central rendered an unbridled amount of perspective. happiness is a choice, not a result. heaven is a state of mind and i can choose to carry it wherever i go. the moment i decided to be happy, i decided to commit to it.
why am i so emotional?
i’m a being of emotion, but i had to learn that fire is a form of cleansing, too. through repetition, i cultivated a ritual of baptism through meditation. through therapy, i learned that anger is an emotion as well, and it’s the same energy as any other. learning how to channel it worked wonders for my stress management & impulsive reactions. now i pridefully administer my emotions to mean my heart works and it’s full, overflowing, and available.
how do i break cycles?
in 2018 my question came back to me in the realization that dancing with the devil means circumventing around your own truth in a rhythm that you created by forming bad habits, day in and day out, the clock on the wall holding the beat for you. when you aren’t spending your time in service of your higher calling, the clock can become an instrument of doom.
how do i get back to owning who i am?
for me, owning who i was had a lot to do with re-aligning mind, body, and soul. i felt so disconnected from my body that any pictures i took broke me down into pieces. after finding myself in a trivial (and repetitive) situation concerning my body, i decided to go celibate; taking control of my body meant a lot of lonely nights. have you ever tried to tame the universe inside four walls? getting back to eating better in a disciplined manner and then slowly tip-toeing into consistent exercise became an act of commitment and self-love that brought me closer to myself. the small thorough acts of saying no to temptation helped me build trust within myself again. after not recognizing the woman housed in my own skin, it felt victorious to put an end to a victim’s mentality and do what was necessary to love my reflection and my shadow equally.
2019 is a year of answers.
looking into the mirror of priority and seeing myself. the word ‘commitment’ doesn’t fall so heavy on my tongue any longer because i know there is bliss at the completion of the cipher. 2019 is a year of holding funeral services for old identities whilst wearing white to thank them for the lessons of renewal. out-writing old narratives and inviting new stories to grace the pen that i write to myself with is me finding my voice again with words - finding myself in colors, in sounds of affirmation. last year was a year of rest, creatively; spiritually there was a demolition site inside of me moving constantly at the speed of light. the divine order of chaos will crush up the moon, sprinkle the remains on you while you sleep, and still give you the sun in the morning to make sense of it all. being born again can happen in the four corners of your room or in the four corners of a college-ruled notebook page; i’ve found that where the ego dies, the artist lives.
2019 is the year that all of the ghosts from the tiny little deaths i experienced turn to poems and prose, that the questions of 2018 come to life as metaphors to be breathed in and read, rather than wilted rose petals by the window. a resurrection: of growth, of strength, of love, of answers.