Category Archives: Making a difference

Life is Short

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YOU ARE THE SOMEONE. TODAY IS THE DAY.

You don’t have to look very far to know that our world is a messed up place. People are hurting. Suffering is everywhere. It can be really overwhelming. You might wonder why someone isn’t doing something. Where is the help? Or you may think that if you’re going to make a difference, it will be someday … when you’re older, better educated, have more money, or have fewer problems of your own.

Well, this morning when you woke up, there were people around the world and in your own community who were hoping that today might be the day. The day someone stepped in between slaves and their oppressors. The day relief from suffering begins. The day they could feed, clothe and educate their kids. The day someone showed kindness to them, or let them know they had value.

Please. Know this — while you may not be able to do everything — ayou can’t solve all of the problems alone — working together, our generation CAN make a difference.

Don’t wait for someone else. Don’t wait for someday. Because, YOU are the someone and TODAY is the day.

Peace.Love.Justice
Zach

Credit to Zach Hunter.

 

She Actually…

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I adore this article and had to share. Credit to The Messy Life.

“She actually turned out to be pretty…”

A few years after coming out of the awkward i’m-far-too-lazy-to-wake-up-early-and-dress-like-i’m-going-to-Paris-when-i’m-actually-going-to-gym-class stage, these words were said about me.

Casually, someone told me about that conversation when we were in the car leaving Walmart and something about it dug deep into my skin. It had been a conversation between boys who apparently wrote the definition for pretty.

I had always known that braces, curly hair and untamed eyebrows were not a winning combo, but it did something to my core to hear those words actually said out loud (even years later).

“She actually…” 

As if there had been some town council meeting that had convened during the years when flannel wasn’t cool and nobody liked the messy/bed-head hair look. It was as if everyone had gathered to secretly whisper their doubt about me and my future cool status.

“Yeah, that girl? She’ll probably always be awkward, gangly and discombobulated.”

There was a fire that sat in my bones for years. “She actually…” Over and over again those words would follow me around. It took everything in me to keep blow drying my hair, or using any makeup. There was something in me that so desperately wanted to just go back to how I looked at twelve years old. I wanted to prove to them that twelve year old Ashlin? She actually had always been pretty.

Oh, and that she actually knew that people were pretty in their own way. No one person, or group of people, is superior enough to decide a universal definition.

I’ve seen so many gorgeous girls stand in front of a mirror with a look of disgust. Even if I thought them to be absolutely breathtaking, it never mattered, because they couldn’t see it in themselves.

I should have said something like this to them:

Oh, you were always beautiful, babygirl. It was never about your hair. It was never about the tag sewn into your jeans or how much mascara you could coat onto your eyelashes.

Pretty was that fierce way you stood up for truth in the lunchroom. It’s the way you love to make others laugh. It’s the way you choose to stay and hold others when they cry. 

 

Pretty is when you still cry at movies because you’ve got a heart beating inside of you that knows love is still worth waiting for and not so impossible to find.

You know, the world will say these words are stupid, they will roll their eyes and call this another inspirational speech or ridiculous piece of encouragement for people that I’ve never even seen.

But I hope you don’t really believe that we have to see someone to know if they’re pretty or beautiful. Those words are not lost on blind eyes, but rather on blind hearts. 

Whether we never sit across from one another, I will always believe there’s something breathtakingly beautiful about you.

Because to me, you will never be a number on a scale. You will never be just another face. You are entirely your own kind of wonderful, though some may never see what I do. How sad for them, that they’ve defined their own worth by what they see in a piece of reflective glass in the bathroom.

You were always enough. You actually were always pretty. Even in your awkward middle school years and even when you take your make-up off. You are beautiful because you are intricate and deep, and thousands and thousands of details make up the heart of who you are.

And you are worth untangling. You are pages upon pages of your own kind of story and it’s worth reading. You have value and I hope that’s what you see when you look at yourself. I hope you know that at the end of the day, it will never matter how tan you are or whether or not you ate that second serving.

You deserve to hear that you are incredible. I really know that, I really believe that. There is somebody in your corner who thinks you are worth loving.

But I hope you really believe that about yourself, too. Because no matter how many times I write it for you, it only matters what you see.

As for me, when I stumble into the bathroom to get ready, I see a collage of all the stages of the person I’ve been and the person I am. I laugh at her frumpy ponytail and oversized pajama shirt and I shove the lies from the back of my mind and think about those words said to me on that car ride and I reply,

She actually was born beautiful and lives beautifully and she actually didn’t ever really need anyone else to believe that but herself.

She actually wants the world to see the person behind the hazel eyes and tiny hands. She actually knows that there’s something put inside her that the world can be changed by.

And she actually wants to say thank you. To the girl who told me about that conversation and the two guys who never intended for me to hear that and most likely meant no harm. Because in their twisted compliment, they made me love that girl in a whole new way, the one I am and the one I’ve always been.

The Invatation

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The Invitation~

 

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know WHAT YOU ACHE FOR

and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

 

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool

For LOVE for YOUR DREAM and for the ADVENTURE of being ALIVE.

 

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…

I want to know if you have touched the CENTRE OF YOUR OWN SORROW

If you have been OPENED by life’s betrayals

Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

 

I want to know if you can SIT WITH PAIN – mine and your own

Without moving to HIDE IT or FADE IT or FIX IT.

 

I want to know if you can BE WITH JOY- mine and your own

If you can DANCE WITH WILDNESS

And let the ecstacy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

Without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic,

to remember the limitations of being human.

 

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to BE TRUE TO YOURSELF.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

 

I want to know if you can see BEAUTY

Even when it is not pretty- every day.

And if you can source your own life from its presence.

 

I want to know if you can LIVE WITH FAILURE- yours and mine

And still stand at the edge of the lake and SHOUT to the silver of the full moon, “YES!!”

 

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can GET UP AFTER THE NIGHT OF GRIEF and despair

Weary and bruised to the bone and DO what needs to be done to feed the children.

 

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will STAND IN THE CENTRE OF THE FIRE with me

and NOT SHRINK back.

 

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what SUSTAINS YOU FROM THE INSIDE-  when all else falls away.

 

I want to know if you can BE ALONE with yourself

And if you truly LIKE THE COMPANY YOU KEEP- in the empty moments.

 

LIVE YOUR LIFE ON PURPOSE MY FRIEND

 

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer