My Hope for You

A few minutes ago, I loaded more than 900 pictures onto my computer.
Here is one I want to share with you:




Those robes are buried in closets.
That grass watched me take a piece of paper, a piece of paper that ended a chapter for me.
These hands belong to some of the women I love most in the world.
This ring connects me to a long history of women, a history of fighters, free thinkers built with a certain quickness and spirit.

I am proud of where I come from.
I am thankful for Meredith College.
Whoever you are, may you be given the opportunity to know the kind of joy and challenge I know in that place.

Cheers to you.

love.

A Recommendation

I know I have been quite absent this past week.
Sorry about that.
However, this post is not about catching up and offering my thoughts and words today.
It is more about letting you know about words from other people.

I read A LOT.
Like, my New Year's Resolution this year is to read 75 books.
And I am on track.
I love reading and writing with my whole self.
That is why I'm pointing you, dear readers, in the direction of Tessa Gratton.
She is a writer friend of Maggie Stiefvater, the author of Shiver.
Tessa writes books and keeps a regular blog, and she pretty much rocks.
Just to show you how much she rocks, I am going to share a drawing she made.



I hope you will head on over to www.tessagratton.com and spend some time checking her out.

Thanks.
Hope you all are enjoying the sweaty month of June.

love.
whitney

An Attempt at Consistency

My eyes are burning in that way that only happens when you have been awake too long.
They just want to close for long and beautiful hours of rest, dreams, and inactivity.
Bags and suitcases full of all the items that make up the home I manage to build away from home line the wall behind me.
I have a perfect new window seat that is momentarily occupied by boxes in The Yellow House (that's the name of my new home, as of last night).
The Temper Trap's "Sweet Disposition" is streaming through my headphones while I sit on my frameless bed.
I'm awaiting the sunrise.
I moved to Florida 9 months ago, and I've wanted to see a sunrise here since I arrived.
Today will be my first.
Sunrises are special to me because I never rise with the sun, since I've normally set not long before the sun rises.
Just after the sun rises today, though, I shall set.
The sleep will be thick and deep, necessary adjectives after this week.

Twelve hours ago, two of my friends got married.
Despite the teasing rain and soaked backyard, we celebrated.
In sweat and love and joy and hope, we most definitely celebrated.
They belong together.
It feels good to have witnessed, and I wish you knew them.
I'm still trying to figure out if that kind of love will be a part of my life one day.
Regardless, it is beautiful to see in the lives of people around me. :)

Now it is 5:32 am, and I am still awake.
My mind is crowded with jumbled thoughts of honesty and vulnerability.
I believe both are better than their alternatives, but I'm finding that I do neither of them as well as I would like.
Is that the tale of being human?
Always reaching for a goal we may never attain on this side of heaven?
I wish my brain had enough room to process and contemplate for a while.
But it doesn't, and after the closest star rises in the sky, I will recharge.

Perhaps this post is slightly splotchy and quite short.
But, hey, this is my effort to post more.
I hope that wherever you are, your Saturday morning finds you with a smile on your face and hope in your heart.
Know that you are loved in more ways than you know.

Let me know how you're doing in comments, and always if you have any questions post them there.
I am glad you're here.

A Welcome of Sorts

Last night into the early hours of the morning, I posted "So I Remember Later."
I shared it with the people who made yesterday meaningful for me.
Little did I know, one of them would go on to share it where we work and it would be posted on To Write Love's blog.
I am honored and thankful and appreciative and smiley. :)
I have worked for To Write Love since last September, and the blog is still one of the most powerful things for me.
Being able to have my own words posted there is a victory and a blessing and an answer.

I say all this to welcome any new readers.
If you look at the archives, you see I'm not the most frequent blogger.
While I hope to change that, it is always my first goal to string together words that move me and other people, words that are true and feel so real you think you might be able to touch them.
I'm glad you're reading, that you are letting your story intersect with mine.
I hope you feel the freedom to email or comment with questions, thoughts, or even your own writing.
Know that what you're thinking matters, that your story is worth telling.
I hope you'll stick with me through this season, that maybe at our intersection we will stop awhile and plant a garden.

For now, may your Tuesday night be warm and bright.
May you read good books with a cup of tea and rest in the knowledge that joy comes in the morning.
Whoever you are, wherever you are, remember you are loved.

whitney

So I Remember Later

Dear Today (or Yesterday as the case may be), I am thankful you happened.
I believe I can confidently say that today was the best Memorial Day I’ve ever had.
The others were fine, but they were just days, the possibility of a break from school or work, and (if I remembered) for remembering people who have served in my place to protect a freedom I take for granted.
(And perhaps I am a horrible person for not remembering, but that is a different blog.)
But today, I remember.

Today, I remember we are broken creatures.
I remember our brokenness is not the end, that we can let the light in through the cracks.
I remember intersections mean that we are coming from different angles.
I remember to be thankful for the crossing.
I remember we must work to sew ourselves to each other.
I remember pulling the threads takes steady fingers and commitment.
I remember that roots are worth it, no matter how temporary.
And these are pretentious and varying metaphors, yet they completely capture my Memorial Day.

Today was made of a few good conversations leading me to all those conclusions.
Tonight, I sat at a picnic table with a woman I should, by all potential intersections, already know but didn’t until two weeks ago.
As the water steadily slapped the rocks and the clouds moved like a slideshow above us, we talked about Ms. Britt and Meredith College, our love for the most beautiful of the Carolinas, the strings that attach us to where we come from and where we’ve been, and the women we believe we’ve always been and are becoming more of everyday.
When I talked about feeling like my strings are tight and the strain hurts, she tilted my perspective.
She reminded me that tight strings make for beautiful melodies and maybe my melody of this time will serve a purpose for someone else.
And maybe that doesn’t sound profound to you, reading this on a screen.
Maybe you need the darkness and streetlights and rock-slapping water to get the full effect, but for me, for tonight, she gave the metaphor a weight I needed to see.

And I remember why I wanted to come here.
It was for conversations like today, for the intentional and genuine curiosity of a stranger that plants the seeds of beautiful friendships.
It was for nights like tonight, where, despite the bugs and the heat and the humidity and the creepers, we were not leaving that fucking bench.
Days like today make me feel more alive and more myself.
And I remember my story is mine, and I choose how to tell it.
Dear Today, I needed you very much.

nostalgia and real life

Some boys and girl build forts when they're little.
They play tag, hide and seek.
They dig up worms.
They ride bikes.
But me and Tiffany?
We imagined entire communities together with plastic, creepily smiling dolls as our characters.
Barbies brought us together.
They were the common ground we built our friendship on.
She could be tomboy with the best of 'em, but we always ended up in my bedroom with the pink RV and the living room made of socks and small boxes.
I believe somewhere in these imaginings Tiffany and I were bonded for life through the love a good story.
Maybe I sound crazy.
Do you feel like that about anything from your childhood?

I hope in your reading lives that you'll consider picking up The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.
It is the first in a trilogy (the third is due out this August), and I promise you will not regret reading it.
The pacing is well done and quick--before you realize it, you've read 80 pages.
The story is dystopian, set in a futuristic world that is mostly awful and unpleasant.
However, the main character Katniss is so strong and fierce that you are compelled to keep going into this fragmented society.
Take a chance on it, and let me know how it goes. :)

I wish there was more to report on my life as of late.
Real life, it turns out, is actually quite uneventful on a daily basis when one works and doesn't have many obligations outside of that.
Perhaps my next post will be more creative.

I hope wherever you are, you enjoy your life.
I hope you are reading good stories and are in the company of great friends.

take care of you.
whit

short

I don't have anything much to say.
The week has been taxing for me, and stringing words together in sentences to capture how I'm feeling or where I am right now will demand more of me than I can presently give.
Since I said I wanted to write every two weeks at least, I'm going to give you something.
Even if the words are not my own.
Wherever you are, thank you for being a part of my life.
I hope your day is lovely.
I promise another post soon.

Now, for a poem from Anis Mojgani, a spoken word poet (who came to Heavy and Light).
I respect this man very much.
Enjoy.

http://vimeo.com/8746269

take care of you.
and remember hope.

love to you from miles away.
whit