a change is coming.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Hamilton lately.

Words like revolution, independence, and rebellion have echoed in my head the past month or so, a chorus so fitting to what’s happening in the world right now, our very own modern day movement.

A day doesn’t go by where I don’t see news of what’s happening in the world, this fight for rights and the injustices of racial inequality. All these years later, it’s still happening, this civil unrest.

It makes me sad, knowing that people judge and profile those who don’t look the same as they do. I was raised in a household embracing qualities that made me different, and I always appreciated that about the human race: everyone’s born to be different, and that’s what makes us the same. So it makes my heart ache seeing such hatred aimed at those whose skin color is the only thing that separates them.

I wish that vehement passion could be used for good, for spreading love, equality, and acceptance, not for perpetuating a grossly cruel cycle.

The past few weeks have been difficult for me, and I say difficult in the sense that I struggle with how I can best express my support in this movement.

It’s hard to become properly educated with what’s going on when most of the information I see is varied, opinionated, and coming from unreliable sources. And living in a state as far removed as Alaska makes it tricky for me to feel the same urgency, the passion, this necessity for change.

And so I’ve been quiet.

The pressure from others to do more, talk more, and be involved more, has also led me to internalize and overthink my involvement. Feeling guilty for not being as zealous and passionate about the marches or choosing not to follow a social media trend has stopped me from expressing my support altogether, and it wasn’t until I finally chose to let the pressure go that I was able to get myself back to you: my trusty keyboard.

I’ve always been private about my political beliefs and involvement in such matters, but that doesn’t mean I’m not caught up in fighting for what’s right, and I do so desperately believe that this world needs change.

This is what I’ve learned: change comes in many forms, marching, singing, educating, donating, writing, or simply starting the conversation. As long as my foot is on the gas, it doesn’t matter which lane I’m in: fast, slow, or carpool. If I am moving forward with those who are fighting for change and this much needed revolution, then I’m headed in the right direction.

If you are like me, unsure, conflicted, or not certain about how to best express your support, I encourage you to look within. Opening up the doors of conversation within yourself is starting somewhere, and the more of us that join in the race, the more strength we have to make positive change.

She blooms.

Spring is here and I’m so excited that I wet my plants.

(you definitely chuckled didn’t you)

It’s been a bit since I started a post with a pun, so while we’re on the topic of plants, I’ll tell you that my puns “stem” from a deep desire to bring color to an otherwise dreary day.

The world could use a little more color and humor, don’t you think?

And that’s something I really love about this time of year, the color. After a long, cold, dark winter, all life comes out of hibernation and I watch in fascination as plants bloom, stretching their stems to the sun, saturating their surroundings with color and life.

Birds resume their spring song, the rain that falls leaves behind the smell of hydrated earth, and all around me there lives life.

No wonder they call it the season of rebirth.

It kind of feels like something I’m going through right now, being reborn.

I had my first appointment the other day, and though it was but one hour, I feel I have taken this giant step over a murky puddle of doubt and I’m on my way to healing, understanding, and loving myself once again.

It’s funny, all these years, I’ve never paid much mind to spring. Sure, I notice spring “breakup”, but then I kind of skip ahead and by the time I stop to smell the roses (so to speak), it’s summer.

But this year is different. Every day, I’ve astutely observed plants around me root, ride, and bloom. I’ve appreciated the process of something coming back to life after being dormant for so long. And maybe I’m particularly aware of this seasonal shift because I feel it mirroring what’s happening within me, this momentous change.

It is possible to be full of life after a dark time, it is completely within my power to shine as brilliantly as the earth around me, and I have faith that I too will bloom again, I see proof of this miracle every day.

It will take time, patience, tenderness, and many more breakdowns before I can stand as strong as the flowers (and yes, that includes those darn dandelions), but at least I’ve begun, and I have hope outside of my window to remind me.

As Rupi Kaur says best:

to heal

you have to

get to the root

of the wound

and kiss it all the way up

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