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Musings from the laundromat: Truth Edition

Inspiration comes when you least expect it.

Mine came approximately 20 minutes ago in the form of a friend’s status on Facebook.

She was considering authenticity and how not sharing every detail effects it.

I have the same issue when it comes to this blog – and it spills over into other areas of my life too.

The conclusion I came to was that the grey area would have to be.  This is my journey and it is not fair to write about someone elses part in it.

But I loathe editing myself.  I loathe it, and yet, I do it every day.

I know the following truths about myself:

I love with abandon.

I detest lying.

I have an artistic soul.

I am not as strong as people think I am.

There is so much you don’t know.  Pieces of the puzzle that are necessary to make the picture clear are missing.


In the car, within a flood of thoughts and ideas, an image of a carnival came to mind.

I photograph everything.  I love taking pictures.  Snap shots – memories – art for art’s sake..  Whatever speaks to me is photographed.

Back at the carnival, I imagined lights and families – photographs of smiling children holding pink cotton candy.  But that isn’t a fair representation of ‘the carnival’.


I would want gritty photos of the staff setting up the rides – dirt on their jeans, sweat running into their eyes.  Pictures of parents with sad, tired faces – financial worry etched into their brows.  The litter – the splitting seams of the cheap midway prizes.

All of it.


This need drives me.  I stumble upon something I know nothing about, and I have to research to understand it.  A book ends in ambiguity and I’m annoyed.  A movie or documentary touches me and I must see ‘behind the scenes’.

I’m on a constant quest to discover the why.  What makes people tick?  When I ask questions of a friend or a stranger for that matter – I’m genuinely interested in the answers.

I question myself all the time too.  What was my motive?  What is this feeling?  Why am I doing what I’m doing?


I need it like air and water, calories and sleep.  I need it like dreams and love and knowledge.

I can respect the truth.  No matter if I like the answer.

I’ve learned to call bullshit on myself.  I am honest with me.

I had a thought this Summer that I wanted to bare it all – literally.  I wanted to do a very tasteful nude photo session – somewhere out in the desert.

I was comfortable enough with my body and the place that my head and heart was in to strip down to nothing.

I was going to use some of the photos in a post about baring it all.  But how can I?  I withold information all the time.  I haven’t earned the right to post modest nudes and speak about exposing every part of me (in writing, not the photos – that wouldn’t make them very postable would it?)

I used a photo in a post about ‘home’ that I edited.  It was a topless photo I took myself.  I wanted to capture the phase I was in of being free and naked – yet not completely there yet.  The outside world was still … well, outside.

This is the original photo.


And it says so much about me.

I am comfortable in my skin, in comfortable environments.

And that’s not very brave.  And it’s not very honest.

But it is my truth.

And if I can tell you that I’m not telling you everything, I think that puts me one step closer to baring it all.

I’ll keep searching.


Prelude to something big …

Not in my wildest dreams could I have conjured the events following my post “There is such good …”

The following day, I checked my email as usual and promptly sat with my ipad as if I were holding the most precious, fragile item with shaking hands.

An email – from Germany.

Not just any email.  An email from Rainer Hoess.

Two sentences:

“Thanks for your comfort article at your website (There is such good) Warm and friendly regards from Germany

I haven’t been in shock many times in my life.  I can assure you, I was, at that moment, in total and complete shock.

It’s not often the subject of something that touches you so profoundly contacts you.  Okay, NEVER does the subject of something that has touched me so profoundly been in contact.

I did not know what to do.  Other than sit – and stare at my email as if it were going to suddenly delete itself if I looked away. 

Do I reply??  I thought perhaps not – I didn’t want to bother him with my gushing compliments and over the top thank you’s for taking the time to write a note to me.  But, then I thought, WHEN am I ever going to have this opportunity again?

So I proceeded to embarrassingly gush and thank.

I hit ‘send’ while holding my breath.  I’m pretty sure I wasn’t breathing anyway.


A reply. 


I’m barely functioning at this point.  How to read when my vision is swimming? Comprehend the words when my brain is doing some odd dance in my head? And how to use the touch screen when I can’t feel my extremities??

I’ll save the rest for the big event, but let me just say, after some 32 emails back and forth later – he graciously agreed to allow me to interview him.

I know how huge this is.  I know. 

And a part of me is terrified I’m going to let this amazing man down.  But he trusts me. 

And I trust my voice. 

And I want to be a part of his generations effort to offer healing and hope. 

I want to focus on his journey.  A man who has struggled with coming to terms with his past.  A past he had no part in, but is still persecuted for. 

So watch this space. 

I’ll be continuing to get to know this funny, insightful, delightful, strong, brave and caring man.

Then I will share some of him with you.

Letting go


Another fork – and destiny, breaks our clasping hands.

(The path that we are journeying on, once more been split in two)


One stands on the desert floor, while one on ocean sands.

(But reflecting on the stars at night, affords a similar view.)


I know your scars, you’ve seen mine too.  We’ve shared our history.

(Reflect no more on what once was, but what His will will be.)



The littlest thing …

I sit outside at night, enjoying the quiet night, fresh air and the stars.  Tonight was no exception, but by my foot – about as small as this series of hyphens ________ was the littlest thing.

I have no clue what it will grow up to be.  But once it caught my attention, I had to capture a tiny portion of its journey.

Here it is making its way to the right.

Is it sensing an obstacle?

Prepping for the big event.

Not a problem – stretching itself over the ‘canyon’.

And a brief look back from under the plank.


The littlest things are programmed to keep going, to push forward – to overcome obstacles. Inspired by this little guy who came out at night, amongst the predators – to inch forward to its destiny.

Thanks for being by my foot 🙂