Where do I belong?

This is the question that has plagued me for, well....most of my life.

Along with the cliche others:

What should I do with my life?
What am I passionate about?
How can I become a better person?

Blah, blah, blah.

Anyways, this question:

Where do I belong?

When I was younger, graduating high school and running off to Africa, I thought that's where I belonged.

Then I came home and was convinced I belonged in school, getting an "education" and learning how to help people in a better way.

Well then I got antsy and bored and thought, "There must be something I'm missing."

So I set off on a journey to the Pacific Northwest to take time by myself and with some very dear friends to try and figure out where I belonged.

And I fell in love with that area and with being surrounded by people who blessed my life in big ways.

Well, but then...for some reason, I thought I belonged in Costa Rica...and so I went. And I had some life-changing, eye-opening, heart spilling out kind of experiences.

But then I came back home again and thought:: "I'm going to go to culinary school." Maybe that's where I belong.

Well, here I am now. A year and a half later. Absolutely loving everything I am doing in my life. But still not feeling like I belong.

I don't know why I have always been so obsessed with this idea of having to belong somewhere. Or having to figure out "what I'm doing with my life." I have just never been a person to waste time. My parents and the people around me growing up really encouraged me that I could do anything I set my mind to do. That I could help people. That I could change the world. That I was meant for something big. I think that's why it's so important. Because I want to be that person.

C.S. Lewis says this:

"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world."

I think more and more every day this is becoming real to me.

I used to always look for places to belong.

I would call myself a Missionary or a Chef.
I would define myself in some way, put myself in some box that was easy to explain to people.
I wanted to associate myself with a place or a vocation because it was easier. Because then I wouldn't get weird looks from people or exasperated sighs when I tried to explain what I've been doing for the past five years of my life.

I'm finally started to feel like I don't need to be defined anymore.

I don't need to belong, because I don't.
There's my answer.

Giving me.

"The saint is capable of loving others even in their sin. For what he sees in all things and in all men is the object of the divine compassion. The saint, then, seeks not his own glory, but the glory of God. And in order that God may be glorified in all things, the saint wishes himself to be nothing but a pure instrument of the divine will. He wants himself to be simply a window through which God's mercy shines on the world." -Thomas Merton

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"People first, and things second."

"I'm talking about a person who loves himself as being someone who realizes that you can only give away what you have, and so you damned well better work at getting something. You want to be the most educated, the most brilliant, the most exciting, the most versatile, the most creative individual in the world, because then you can give it away; and the only reason you have anything is to give it away." -Leo F. Buscaglia

Words from other people.

I'm a big fan of them.

Lately, these are some of the words I've been thinking about.

It's the holiday season and everyone is talking about what they are thankful for and buying Christmas presents and setting up lights and trees and ornaments. 

I love this time of the year and I have this constant warm glow inside of me.

And I love all these things, they put a smile on my face.

But I also like to remind myself of what's really important.

Something I've been trying to focus on lately is this idea of giving myself.

Not just presents and candy and hugs.

But giving me.

How do I give more of myself to people?

How do I give more love?

How do I give more time?

How do I give more joy?

There are so many things to give.

It seems like a "universal law," or whatever you may like to call it, that what you give away only increases more in your life.

While this is no reason to give things away, it does make you wonder why we hold so tightly to what we have.

All growth involves risk and giving things away is risky. 

It's not so risky to give someone a Christmas card, but it is a little risky to ask them how their day is.

It's not so risky to buy a TV for your family, but it is a little risky to have a heart-to-heart with your son.

These are the things that matter though. What's left at the end of the day aren't the things we own or even the earth. They are the things invisible to the eye. Our souls, our hearts, our connections, our love, our minds, our thoughts. What are we doing with those things?

Human connection and giving of ourselves is much more complicated and messy and terrifying than giving gifts. It's a lot of work. It takes a lot of dedication and time and commitment. It means realizing that people are always more important. 

I just want to remember that what I'm giving, this season and all year round, is much more important than what I'm getting.

And I want is to be a window or instrument or dump truck of all the things good in my life, of all the things that have changed me and all the things I have. I want to give "me" and all the "me-ness" I possess and hopefully I'll get something back, maybe something much greater.

A work of Art.

I'm so thankful that I have friends.

All kinds of friends.

All over the world.

From all kinds of backgrounds.

With all kinds of hearts.

And passions.

And personalities.

When I meet people, I often associate them with works of art.

This is probably the creative side in me bursting through.

There are all different mediums.

An array of colors, shapes, sizes.

There are no limitations.

Unlimited possibilities.

There are no mistakes.

Each imperfection just makes the piece more beautiful, more unique.

Each part of the piece was crafted for a purpose.

No piece of art is ever viewed the same.

Unlimited possibilities.

Every person is a work of art.

Handcrafted.

No mistakes.

Just beauty.

Not a single piece made just like them.

I'm really, really thankful for that.

I wish...

there could be justice for a broken heart.

I wish I could determine who will take care of it.
And who will toss it aside.

I wish I could tell it not to feel anything really.

I wish it were easier to let go.
And I wish it were harder for others.

And I wish I were better at caring for people's hearts.
Sometimes I feel like that's the reason mine gets broken.

I wish it were easier to live in the present.
And keep the past in the past.

I wish I wasn't so angry right now.

Right now, when all I'm supposed to be doing is loving and enjoying and laughing.
I'm just angry.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Responsibility.

Responsible.

I've always hated that word.
I can't pinpoint why.

By definition, responsible means to be:

answerable or accountable, as for something within one's own power, control or management.



When it comes to responsibility, my main tactic has always been ignorance.

Ignore the problem, and it will eventually go away.
Ignore it long enough and it will solve itself.

It makes me sick even admitting that, but it's the truth.

I'm realizing now that my ignorance has done damage.
Not only to others, but to myself.

Many times I find myself saying, "I just want them to take responsibility for their actions."
But what I really need is to be accountable for my own actions.

Everything within me is within my control.

I'm responsible for myself.
I'm responsible for how I treat others.
I'm responsible for taking care of me.
I'm responsible for my attitude.
I'm responsible for my motivation.
I'm responsible.

Avoidance doesn't solve any problem.
Even if it goes away, what have I done for myself?
What have I done for the person it affected?

While I am still bad at taking responsibility, I'm at least starting to realize the problem.
And I am starting to fix it.
It's hard. It will take time.
But I want to start making more decisions for my life.
I want to embrace responsibility and let it grow in my life in bigger ways.

I'm also learning that responsibility isn't a bad thing or a burden or a negative.
It's a step towards becoming more myself.
It's a step towards building better friendships and relationships.
It's a step towards achieving my goals.
It's a step towards being real.

It's actually a very freeing thing.

I think I'll give responsibility another chance.

laughing at myself.

Questions.
There are all kinds of questions in the world.
Some are easy.
Some are confusing.
Some make you think.
Some make you laugh.
Some are annoying.
Some are hard.

Regardless, they all are searching for an answer.

Where do the answers come from?

Textbooks?
Educated people?
Somewhere inside of us?

Are the answers always what we want them to be?
Is it possible to accept answers without a bias?

Where does the bias come from?
Experiences?
Our upbringing?
Our parent's opinions?

Are the answers to any of our questions actually our answers?
How would we know if they were?

If we only answer the questions we want to answer, is there any point to answering the questions at all?

Most importantly, why do I have so many questions?

Messiness.

Everything in my life feels kind of messy right now.

My clothes are strewn all over my room.
My school books are all out of order.
My vanity is overflowing with make-up and hair ties.
My mind can't seem to produce a focused thought.
My heart fell out of my chest, I think.
It left a big hole full of chaos.

I like to be organized and in control.
I like things to look perfect.
I like them to be neat and orderly.
Not just my books.
Not just my room.
Not just my vanity.

My heart.
My mind.
My soul.
My feelings.

But I'm learning that the messiness doesn't really need to be controlled.
It doesn't need to be put in its "place."
It doesn't have to be neat and it certainly can wander away from perfection.

The messy can be good.

The mind can produce beautiful words in the midst of chaos.
The heart can feel more alive when it's out of order.
My soul can find peace in the disorder, the inconsistency, the confusion.
That peace doesn't have to mean everything is right.
Or in its place.
Or perfect.

Messiness makes me more accepting, more open.
It makes me let go of control and just let things happen.
I feel more free inside, to let my soul be.

Embrace the messy.
It's okay.