Indexing the Journaling Marshes: an Anti-Rot Protocol

These are my current open tabs on my browser at the time of writing this: 

The National Park Service's page on wetlands, bogs, and marshes. 

Lyrics for the song "Lofty" by Propaganda. 

Search results for Presto Canner replacement parts. 

A YouTube tutorial on foreshortening using the coiling technique.

Vinyl record sales predictions. 

Cornell Lab's page on Dead Sea Sparrows. 

Various tabs on how to mod a Kindle and if it's worth it. 

Search results for images of tattoos on mummies. 

To name a few. 

I am no stranger to a good rabbit hole. A research topic a day keeps the ADHD at bay, or something like that. Though likely, the research topics and rabbit holes are encouraging the ADHD brain gremlins, but hey, at least I'm learning something.

I set out a few months ago making an "anti-rot protocol" because I, like most artists regardless of the craft of choice, reached burn out. Not because of the lack of inspiration, but quite the opposite. I have magpie brain. I know a good trinket, a sticker, pretty paper and pens. My screenshots folder is none of my business. I hoard information and photos and quotes as if I can absorb them through osmosis.  

Well. I take it back. My screenshots folder is my business, and that's exactly the problem. As it turns out, you don't need the internet to rot. The internet just makes rotting more easily accessible. 

The two main goals I have regarding my anti-rot protocol is to repair my attention span and my "retention span" which is just another silly way to say I want to improve my memory. Ideally, this protocol will be an integral part of my every day life, and to some degree, it's working. (See above list of open tabs on my desktop.) This kind of explorative research and play is something I've refined over the years, this new protocol being one of the refinements. Plus, there are major do's and don'ts when it comes to doing good research. Though I have other goals and habits I outlined in my protocol, a large practical facet of this is changing how I journal. Again. 

Over the years, I've tried all sorts of journal formats. I had a journal for big life events, one for gratitude, one that took me nearly seven years to completely fill... and many others. Juggling all of them not only made archiving extremely difficult, it also was overwhelming and defeated the purpose of journaling, at least, for me. I wanted to have a place to keep memories, freely express my thoughts, and for general processing as a means for stress relief. I also wanted to be able to find things I'd written to reference for later, or use in other writing. And recently, it's come to my attention by means of the "analog trend" that this process, though chaotic, was the act of keeping an "ecosystem". Through this analog sensation (ironically) sweeping the internet, I also discovered common-place books, having unknowingly kept one in my ecosystem. While the "analog trend" is new, keeping a common-place book is not (see John Locke's Method for Common-Place Books). 

With my disorganized and scattered system, it was less a pretty and glamorous ecosystem and more like... a swamp, with slimy moss-covered trees and murky water that definitely doesn't have Creatures™ lurking beneath the surface. Until sometime in 2022, my swamp became a cute little pond, and I started using only two journals. One for devotional notes, and the other as a diary. This pond, however, did not solve my archiving problem. The dates didn't overlap as well as I wanted. 

In an effort to make things less confusing, early 2025 I swapped to one thick journal that kept everything. My pond became soup, akin to a cozy soup on a cold autumn evening. Archiving was a breeze. Not only was everything in one place, I only filled two journals this way. See? Easy archiving. However, one problem remained unsolved; I still couldn't find anything in them. Even with color coded labels, paper clips, and bookmarks, those little one-sentence nuggets, random doodles, and prose were lost in the soup (not including the years worth of journaling swamp prior to my soup system). At this point, going back to index my journals would be a monumental task, and it is highly unlikely that I'll keep up a daily indexing system, because the executive is consistently dysfunctioning. 

As rewarding as it's been to fill two journals with fluffy pages stuffed with ephemera, it's time to break things apart again. I must face the facts. The magpie brain tendencies make it difficult to adhere to the part of my anti-rot protocol to improve retention, as I try to fit everything comfortably in one journal without losing the information or forgetting it in the process. Hoarding information for it to rot in my journals is counterproductive to the protocol. 

Since I understand my tendency to bite off more than I can chew, I took inventory before changing anything (pro tip for my fellow magpies with ADHD), and this is what I discovered.

I need the system to work for me, not me working for the system. Something that indexes and archives itself, where I have easy access to lists, trackers, and other important information, such as recipes for shiny hunting Pokemon, or for tracking my sleep hygiene, as means to avoid having a ton of lists in all of these different places. But this all has to be done without giving myself a monumental load and routine just for journals. 

Enter: ✨a glossary, traveler's notebook, and a media journal.✨

I still have my planner, my weird little commonplace travel sketchbook, and a catch-all journal like before, along with a semi-new "war binder" for my Bible study materials, and my very long-standing and growing book of recipes, however now my system includes as-you-go indexing and archiving, along with better portability and flexibility.

Because I was stashing everything in one journal, I found that as time went on, my journal became a liability. She got really thicc, with two c's— too cumbersome to fit in my purse, and too chock-full of very personal thoughts to be brought out in public. Which is why I chose to integrate a traveler's journal into my little soupy, swampy ecosystem. It's a perfect size to carry in my purse, without the stress of bringing my entire life with me in public. Here I carry separate inserts for my church notes, a quick glance glossary of Russian I'm building as I learn (gotta impress the in-laws), and soon, a commonplace book and sketchbook when I fill my current one.

My glossary is what it sounds like; a glossary. But, for life. I intend on putting business cards into it, along with any other academic notes and reference. I've mapped out a spring curriculum as an experiment this year, in line with my anti-rot protocol, so I hope to put this one to good use during that time. 

The media journal is designated for reviews and reference for movies, books, videogames, and music. It'll be more of a creative journal and scrapbook, as opposed to my glossary which will be mainly writing and charts. I want to engage more with the media I consume, and I'm looking forward to color coding my table of contents for what medium I'm writing about, and to have a place for the aforementioned shiny hunting recipes for Pokemon games. I recently rewatched one of my favorite shows, and I'm planning a small scrapbook spread for it, along with thoughts about what more I noticed watching it a second time.  

In my already existing journals, I've tweaked a few things, such as adding a sleep tracker in my planner, officially establishing my commonplace journal, and trying a different and much larger size for my catch-all; an 8.5x11 inch journal with two ribbon bookmarks, a velvety smooth emerald green cover, and 400 dot grid pages. A little different than my previous two A5, 300 page journals. Considering that I will be using the new catch-all as I did my previous ones, she's about to be thiccc (← three c's).

This system is a more structured way of doing what I was already doing, where the information I record while out in the wild is funneled into more manageable, findable, pieces of information. Ideally, things will be transferred from my traveler's notebook inserts into my catch-all, where it will then be funneled into my glossary, my war binder, or my media journal. I like to think I've gone from my weird soupy swampy pond into a marsh, where the cranes and herons glide over the whispering waters and the tall grasses teem with life. 

Will I be journaling more often? Yes. Will this take more of my time? Absolutely. Is it redundant? Slightly. But that's the point. I'd rather spend time sorting thoughts, recording things that inspire me, and putting them to memory, than to be at the mercy of a predatory algorithm full of AI slop, ragebait, and draining content about clothing hauls and poorly written skits posted by severely out-of-touch influencers doing their darndest to seem relatable. Not that there isn't substance online, but when you do find it, the algorithm keeps it from you? For some reason? Shareholder growth, or whatever.

Anyway, here's to combating The Big Rot™ with Anti-Rot™ and using our brains!

I'll end this with a quote I wrote down in my common-place journal (😏) from a YouTube video I discovered recently from a woman who's kept a journal for over 40 years, emphasis added. 

"a couple people wrote that they had actually been accused of being narcissistic for keeping a journal. And that to me is probably the most heartbreaking, because, I mean we can go back to antiquity and find people like Socrates who has said 'the unexamined life is not worth living.' I think that the moral there is that keeping a journal isn't an act of narcissism. It is an act of trying to understand the world around you and figuring out how you fit into it and how you can improve yourself to be of better service to others. It is such a shame for people who feel as though this is somehow a selfish act, that this is somehow a narcissistic thing to do. For me, this is self-care of the highest order.... but don't let the fear of an invasion of privacy steal your voice."

~ in short, a bog is acidic, a marsh is not, and a swamp is a marsh in a forest. The more you know. 

The (New Year's) Resolution Will Not Be Televised

Amidst the slew of "lock in for the new year" performative posts, and regurgitated lists of "things to do instead of doomscrolling" (though I prefer the term "scroll hole") I find myself starving for substance. Perhaps it is my fault that I'm setting such high expectations for general content online, but I digress. 

However, that doesn't change the fact that the internet is hyper saturated with shallow content about changing who you are in the month of January. Therein lies the problem; the inundation of the need for change. 

We are overly concerned with self development, over-therapized, and not concerned enough with what is already working. 

Which is unfortunate. So many wonderful and brilliant people are falling into the pit of I Must Change™ and end up sabotaging the very thing they think they are improving. Thus begins the cycle— unnecessary change leading to discontentment, leading to more change, leading to more discontentment, because why would you revert to the old habits you had before changing, because change is inherently good right? which leads to... ad nauseum.

It's good to have goals. It's good to check-in with yourself. It is not good to constantly change yourself, and it is not good to avoid negative emotions in the process. 

So, how do we respond? What do we do in the face of performative glow-ups and their empty promises for contentment and happiness? What do we do with the pressure?

For starters, let's recognize just that; a glow-up, especially when promoted by someone online, is an empty promise. Most of these influencers and content creators have all the time in the world to do the things they are listing in their videos. Their job is to sell you a lifestyle, to influence you, imagine that. Of course they're making change look glamorous, that happiness is one routine away, one glow-up away, one level-up away. If they can get you excited about getting your life together and making plans (which can be a form of procrastination, but that's an entirely different point), you are more likely to buy whatever it is they are selling. Whether it be a sponsored product or a digital planner that will actually fix you this year!! Because this time, it will work! Just like in the years prior! 

You know yourself better than that. The new planner will not get your life on track. Because that, my dear, is up to you.

Which leads to my second point, where we do some digging. 

Who told you that you need to change? Why does their opinion matter so much to you that you feel the need to give yourself a complete overhaul?

Perhaps there are things you want to change about yourself. But let's keep digging.

Are these changes about aesthetics and appearance? Routines? Do they require you spend a lot of money? Is the cost worth it? Or are these changes about your character? Your physical health?

I'm not going to say some changes are inherently better than others. Because for one person, spending a little more on a nice skincare routine could be a step toward taking better care of their hygiene as opposed to someone who is spending money they don't have on the same expensive skincare. Let's use our critical thinking here. Because that's the point.

What changes are important to you, and why? I urge you to really wrestle with those questions, and avoid taking advice from strangers on the internet. (Perhaps you can detect the irony.)

As you wrestle, you may find yourself feeling negative emotions. Which comes to my third point. 

If you do intend on making changes this year, nothing will change if you aren't willing to allow yourself to feel negative emotions. Not feeling negative emotions is not what self-improvement is about. 

I've noticed a common idea floating around online about therapy, and it is so far removed from what therapy actually does for a person. I'd like to clear the air— Therapy does not make the negative emotions go away, it does not "fix" you, nor does it take away whatever it is that you are processing. Therapy gives you the tools to handle emotions/trauma/relationships/life in general in a healthy way. Because every emotion has a purpose. Think of them as the "check engine" lights of your mental health. They are indicators, meant to reveal an underlying issue. Please treat them as such. *screams in DSM*

What if you crawled out of 2025 feeling exhausted and the idea of "reinventing" yourself is adding all of this pressure and you'd literally rather not. Well I have good news for you.

You can decide to change literally nothing at all! It's that simple! Because it's your life!

You like your routines? Keep them! Happy with the books on your shelf, even if they are collecting dust? Amazing! You don't have new goals but want to use ones from last year? Excellent! That's recycling!

Constantly changing yourself will leave you confused and discontented with your life. The idea that you need to change to be happy, to be your best self, is marketing. It's like tearing down a house over and over, and rebuilding a new foundation, over and over, while someone is yelling at you that you need to be buying their wall sconces and reusable paper towels. You won't know what you stand for, you won't know what you like as you emulate the trending posts online, and you won't stick with routines long enough to know what works, because not all routines are good for every season.

Look at the leafless trees in winter, then admire their blooms in the spring, and do it again the next year, and the year after that. Notice how much fuller the tree gets every year. Notice the tree doesn't hold its leaves all year. Notice its transitions with the seasons to accommodate for what they bring. Notice your capacity for patience growing along side the bark and branches.

Now that we've learned about making productive change (which can include not changing at all) the other hurdle that I rarely see addressed well, is how to make these things stick.

The idea that a new habit takes 21 days to form is fake news. Throw that entire idea away. That isn't how habits work. Fortunately, the way they work is simple. Unfortunately, they way they work is not easy. Because simple and easy are not the same.

Our brain is wonderfully adaptable. The more you do a thing, the more likely you will keep doing the thing. See? Simple. However, starting a new thing? Not easy.

To continue explaining this simply, the brain works in pathways. Every time you form a new habit, you are creating a new neural pathway.  Think about it as if the pathways are like hiking trails. The more you walk these hiking trails, the more packed the dirt is, the less overgrowth you get, and there is little resistance. However to start a new path, you have to walk through brambles and overgrowth, and it takes time for those things to clear. Over time, the new path becomes like the old one. Over time.

There is also the trap of planning. I say trap, because there is a point where it becomes a form of procrastination. It feels productive because you are thinking about the changes you want to make, however thinking about the changes, and actually doing them are two different things.

Want a habit that sticks? Keep doing it. Motivation comes after doing the thing, so never wait for it to start. The magic you're looking for is in the work you're avoiding. Consistency. Patience. All things we hate hearing. But there is no shortcut to lasting and meaningful change. Regardless of how long it will take, the time will pass anyway. 

The rush of reinvention and becoming the best and hottest version of yourself is presented as cute and trendy, and extremely desirable. However it insinuates that having a meaningful life only happens when you reinvent yourself. So let's make this abundantly clear.

Changing yourself in the month of January is not necessary for your life to be meaningful. 

This is your life. Change, or don't! It is completely up to you.

~I just want to be more organized and make stuff. Probably write some more. Or not. Who knows?

Perfectionism Is a Scam But Ghibli Stills Are Not

I've been thinking too hard about this whole blogging thing. 

The irony is that I'm working very hard at not being a perfectionist. As it turns out, being perfect at not being perfect defeats the purpose and the results are the same anyway; made out of frustration, anxiety, and probably an unhealthy amount of caffeine. 

*takes sip of coffee I made with three shots of espresso*

*no seriously this is me cutting down on caffeine*

*8 shots down to 5 a day,,,,,,,,,*

I nearly sprinted over here to write this after coming across a blog that had anywhere between 600-1001 posts a year, with high school-level graphic design text layouts, and some of the most profound writing I've read about film. I arrived at this blog because I was hunting for some decent stills of Ghibli films, specifically My Neighbor Totoro landscapes (iykyk), for drawing and color study. My son has been loving the Ghibli films, so lately I've been taking deep dives into film essays, art studies, and Japanese film making. Some of the best, and worst, takes I've seen on Ghibli films were from blog posts; normal people with the shared love of whimsy and childlike wonder. And this blog post was no different, except it struck me in a new way that I didn't expect, and honestly has very little to do with Ghibli. 

Upon first glance, it would seem that the author's strong suit is not in graphic design. If I stopped at this truly innocuous imperfection, I would have absolutely missed out on his thoughtful dissection of a household favorite Ghibli film. The funny thing (or perhaps profound or utterly normal thing) is, I didn't even notice the design faux pas until I started really looking over the author's blog as a whole. That's when I came over here to write — why am I stressing over the tiling of my background to the point of anxiety? Making sure my colors blended right in my header? Is this the right shade of blue? I spent too much time copy/pasting hex codes so my header didn't look out of place with the rest of my blog layout.

Granted, I'm an artist, legibility is important, and perfectionism is a beast. I've written about it frequently and I probably will never stop writing about it because of its chronic nature. I find great joy in designing an appealing, and readable, blog, however the problem lies in becoming afraid to write or post anything because perfectionism is holding me back. I can't fail if I don't try in the first place. But that begs the question; what is the standard anyway? (Spoiler: there is none.)

If someone can have high school level graphic design skills, but write between 600 and 1001 quality posts a year since 2007, I think I'll be okay. Not that my writing skills are better, or to compare artistic skill (though admittedly, as an artist it's difficult to not critique), but rather, I can write imperfect posts on my imperfect layouts about my imperfect thoughts and people will still read what I write. If they don't get it, they don't get it, but there is an audience for what I write. 

So, here I am, not thinking too hard about this blogging thing, sharing my favorite stills to study the landscapes and color grading of My Neighbor Totoro, because that's what's been occupying my brain lately. These will end up in my imperfect sketchbook, and will be imperfectly reproduced for me to imperfectly hang in my apartment, next to my other imperfect artwork for my imperfect enjoyment. 

*how many times can I say imperfect in one sentence?*

I will say though, these stills are anything but imperfect. I can't get enough of them. 

~ for those of you who didn't know, now you do. ^

all images are from My Neighbor Totoro, directed by Hayao Miyazaki, 1988

Resentment, Fermentation, and Three Important Questions

It’s winter. And for a lot of the U.S at the moment, it's a violently cold winter. Even Florida got snow. 

As much as I dislike my PNW apartment consistently sitting at 62 degrees indoors, I've lived enough seasons to appreciate the necessity of winter. Without a season of dormancy and quiet growth, we would not be prepared for the violence and rebirth in spring. So, in the spirit of abiding by the natural seasons, I challenged myself this January to not change anything about myself. At least, not yet. I've made the mistake of jumping right into my new year goals without taking inventory of my life first. Understanding what works, what doesn’t, and what I enjoy, better informs me of what changes need to be made in the first place. Otherwise, like in years past, I end up adapting the goals of others to my life, and quickly burn out. I don't want to waste time doing things that don't ultimately serve personal growth. 

I think the idea of new year resolutions has become so goal-focused that we lose sight of enjoying life. We make it about accomplishment instead of enjoying the journey, and there’s a lot of evidence that shows we don’t really know what “enjoying the journey” means.

Learning is exciting. Authentic growth doesn’t just “happen" because growth takes energy, and to have energy means you need to know what fuel is best for you. But it can’t stop there because fuel doesn’t do us any good if we don’t make time to fuel up. A car does not fuel up by simply parking at a gas station — it isn't a waste of time to fuel a car, so why does culture resent taking the time to rest? To resent taking breaks is to resent a part of our humanity. You cannot hate yourself into wholeness, even if you only hate a part of yourself. Being human is something you will be for the rest of your life. Even after death, once your flesh wastes away, the bones that remain are still human. Don’t waste your life resenting rest, and don’t waste time resenting the need for rest. To authentically grow is to not force something to fit into the season you’re currently in — the wise do not wear a thick sweater in the heat of summer. 

Look to the trees. Look up to the stars and into the heavens. Notice as the air grows cold and trees lose their leaves, there is quiet growth in the soil. And the beauty of winter is that, while natural warmth is scarce, it’s a time to create your own warmth. Wrap yourself in your favorite sweater as you pull a blanket over your lap, curling up with a loved one and a cup of tea, which seems to be just as much company as it is a delicious drink. 

I don’t count this as blind optimism, nor is this joy naïve. It’s naïve to think that rest is unproductive, to scorn the weather for not being warm, for the trees to be bare. Every season has a purpose. An eternal summer is to miss out on the rains of spring that bring summer fruit. It is to miss out on the dormancy of winter, where roots grow deeper and energy is stored to bring forth the blooms of spring. It is to miss out on the shedding of dead weight in autumn, in all its fiery glory, to prepare for winter’s storage. The low pressure timelessness of living inspired by the natural seasons makes for a life of clarity, patience, and nutrient dense fruit. 

Everyday since January first, I asked myself three questions, courtesy of Struthless’ video on journaling (go to 1:34 for the questions, but I highly recommend watching the whole thing.)

What drained me of energy?

What excited me?

What did I learn?

After looking over each journal entry, I found very obvious trends. The challenge for me was to patiently wait for the end of the month to start making drastic changes, per the boundaries I set up for this challenge. Without this boundary, I would have thrown myself headfirst into the rabbit hole of self-help and optimization, with journal prompts about longevity, no-waste swaps for my kitchen, and books on food preservation, theology, and sewing my own clothes. Not to say I didn’t completely follow this boundary I made for myself, just ask the second batch of sauerkraut I’m currently making and the new book I ordered about being an emotional healthy Christian. (I have ADHD and I'm unmedicated, leave me alone. 🫶)

It's important to note that I didn't just live in what drained me during this time of mental unpacking. While taking inventory, the challenge was to make no changes so I could accurately see what habits I have established, both good and bad. I have a consistent journaling habit in place already, which is where most of the draining things were placed and processed. Fortunately for me, much of it could be processed with my currently established habits. As for the other things that couldn't be processed this way, I admit that I didn't have a solid plan set up for this prior to the challenge. I did end up developing an unintentional list of habits I wanted to change or add after January is over, but the list was not formally planned, therefore I didn't have structure for it.

Which is likely why I purchased a book and have a kitchen counter peppered with jars of fermenting veggies. 🤠

But that's the nature of experimentation. I'm still very happy with the data I've collected, now having a better understanding of myself — including what I'm prone to do if I don't account for my rabbit-trail tendencies. Any data is good data.

As the first month of 2025 comes to a close, even with boundary-rebellion in the form of kitchen projects and a growing reference library, I look forward to the journey ahead. Embracing my bold side with more color and less fear, leaving my introverted bubble (aka my apartment lol), and finally learning to make a proper loaf of sourdough, after many comedically miserable attempts. 2025 will be a year of red lipstick and a well-used dutch oven — contentedness and unabashed self-expression. In leaps, or baby steps.

And I'm so excited to be writing again. ✨

~ learning to ferment veggies has been one of the best ADHD hacks of my entire life.

Redemption is Silver

Each blog post I've shared so far has been from a place of wanting to teach and counsel. I get great joy out of teaching and counseling, and I've gone through hellfire enough times to see some things and know some things about some painful things. And wisdom is best shared. 

But this bomb that recently blew up in my life has me feeling as if the wisdom I've learned and shared in the past is embarrassingly underdeveloped. I'm revisiting old journal entries, the books and materials I've gathered over the years on forgiveness and boundaries and healing, and I feel like past me missed out on something greater in my healing journey. (Hindsight is always 20/20 amirite.)

The healing journey naturally stirs up many questions, much of which asked while shaking a fist at the sky, demanding that God fix these wrongs — why did You allow this happen, why didn't I say something before, why does this have to hurt so much, why, why, why... Questions are great, invited even. Jesus answered many questions in His ministry, and He continues to answer our questions, though often times He answers them in a way that spurs more questions. The parables are an example of that. Here, in the topic of questions, is where past me had a narrow understanding.

When God answers our questions, He will never give us an answer that makes us believe we can be self-sufficient. It's not in His nature to give us something that will pull us away from Him. This is good news; our Creator knows what is best for us, just as the artist knows the painting's meaning through and through, and how the inventor knows their invention best. God loves His kids! He wants to do life with us, so God gives us answers that are straightforward enough to give us direction, but cryptic enough to motivate us to continue seeking Him. This opens the avenue to build a relationship with Him. 

In the past I sought the Lord so He could answer the questions I had during the storms I was navigating. And I 'm seeking Him to answer questions in this current storm. There is nothing wrong with wanting answers. But I realize that my underdeveloped spiritual eyes didn't see how I needed to seek God for Him. And the lack of peace I was feeling in some areas of my healing journey was precisely due to this issue.

Seeking answers from God should never draw us away or take precedence over seeking God Himself. That is idolatry and it will break your heart every time. 

I don't like that it's taken yet another storm for me to be made aware of this. In fact, I'm quite irritated and grief-stricken. And the questions I have are overwhelming, and heavy. 

This isn't a warning against asking God questions, or taking your raw and real emotions to Him. Again, He welcomes it. He wants to do life with us, and He isn't scared of what we feel. He knows your questions and feelings, but He wants to hear them in the form of honest confession because He loves the sound of your voice.

This is a message of encouragement — be honest with God. Bring your questions to Him, bring your concerns and worries and hang-ups and raw emotion. It's what Job did in his grief. It's what Hannah did in hers. His prayers and her petition were brought to God in the midst of their grief and suffering. Job made some wild assumptions about his suffering, and a priest thought Hannah to be drunk in the temple because of her gut-wrenching and tearful prayers. (Read in Job and First Samuel 1.) Honesty can be messy, even in the presence of God. But these honest and gut-wrenching prayers produce a peculiar glory and even more peculiar edification.

It's hard to articulate why bringing our honesty to God is edifying and glory-producing, because a lot of it is an experience in the spirit. Not a feeling, but rather a transformation and change. I've experienced spirit-deep peace after honest prayers. Not simply because I'm being honest, but because the power of confession releases the emotion to God so He can untangle the knots it has created in my heart. But that is only possible when I am honest, and when I ask God for forgiveness. This is a peculiar grace, because I know I'm forgiven, but asking God for His forgiveness acknowledges my need for it. It's to practice humility. It's essential, otherwise you're not really praying, but using God as an emotional dumpster. True healing can't take place this way. 

This isn't to say past me was only wanting to read scripture and seek God because I wanted something from Him. I love Jesus, I always have. But this current storm is giving me the eyes to see that I did not fear Him. Fear, in the Hebrew, means "to revere" or "reverence." Fearing the Lord is to respect Him. Therefore, it is entirely, and frustratingly, possible to love Jesus, but to live in a way that disrespects Him. I've heard it put as this: this kind of fear is the same fear you have toward your loved ones. You're afraid to do anything to break their heart or to hurt them. It's the same with God. 

I don't like that I was blind to how I was breaking God's heart, and I really don't like that it's taking another storm for me to see the extent of my blindness. I'm embarrassed. But that's how stormy seasons can be redeemed; God's in the business of redemption. And that was the word He had for me at the beginning of this season — I am going through this storm hand-in-hand with Him, Who is redeeming and restoring the years the locusts ate (Joel 2:25). This season is not just a storm, but a refining fire.

I'm reminded of the story about the silversmith. 

“And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver” (Mal. 3:3). 
This puzzled a Bible study group. One of the members offered to learn about the process of refining silver and inform them at their next study. He visited a silversmith and watched him at work. He watched the silversmith hold a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. The silversmith explained that in refining silver, you must hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest and most consistent to burn away all the impurities. The member then thought about God holding us where the flames are the hottest to burn away our impurities. Then he thought again about the verse. “And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.” He asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire and watch the process at all times, or if he could get up to move around and come back to it.
The silversmith answered that not only did he have to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was tested in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. You must leave it long enough to serve the purpose of purification, but not too long as it would destroy it. The member was silent for a moment. Then asked the silversmith, “How do you know when silver is fully refined?” He smiled and answered, “Oh, that’s easy — when I see my image in it.”

Past me missed out on cultivating one of the most life-giving relationships I'll ever have for all eternity, because I was so focused on getting past the healing stage, the refining stage, the firing stage — like clay in the kiln, or silver at the heart of the flame — because I wanted to be done with the pain. I was tired and over it. But pain from a refining fire has purpose: to make us more like Him, just like the way refined silver becomes a mirror for the refiner. The most beautiful part? He never takes His eyes off of us during the entire process. 

I'll make this clear: I have grace for past me. She did the best she could with what she had. Being able to recognize my past impatience and desire to avoid more pain is proof that God is working His redemptive power in my life, just as He promised He would. This brings me much joy.

This storm I'm navigating is intense. Some days I feel like I might shipwreck, and my first instinct is to measure the height of the waves.

However it's a waste of time to calculate the height of the waves in your storm when Jesus can walk on them anyway. All we have to do is take His hand and have faith, secure in the knowledge that storms pass, and He will never leave my side. 

I'm just grateful that this time, my eyes are locked on the King.

~It is not well with my circumstances, but it is well with my soul.

Embrace Doubts, Stop Doubting. Believe.

I finished reading the Bible in its entirety last Easter, which turned out to be very timely because I wrapped up my reading in John where Jesus rose from the grave and appeared to the disciples. (I literally could not have planned for my readings to land this way, it just happened and it was thrilling.)

Having grown up in the faith, I'm familiar with the story. But reading it this time, something else was revealed to me in the way Jesus appeared to Thomas. As I read the passage in John 20, my heart went out to Thomas, because the poor guy has such a bad reputation. Even now, 2000 some-odd years later, he is literally known as "doubting Thomas" — sometimes we're even warned to not be like him. It makes sense; he was one of the twelve disciples, who saw Jesus' ministry first hand, and he still had his doubts. 

Thomas responded to the news that Jesus rose from the grave with doubt.  "I won't believe it unless I see the nail wounds in His hands, put my fingers into them, and place my hand into the wound in His side!" (John 20:25)

Our natural inclination is to think "well I would never" but we actually "always" on a daily basis; how many times are we promised provision or healing, and we doubt that God will actually come through? We trust Him with our salvation, yet we doubt that He'll provide for us with the little things, like when money is tight or when we need healing from sickness. 

Despite the warnings and misgivings about Thomas, I think we should be more like him, because his doubt was not born of rebellion, but out of the motivation to find the truth. Thomas didn't stop at doubt, and that's how we should respond to doubt in our own lives. 

What I love most about this passage is how Jesus responded to Thomas in verse 20:27. "Then He said to Thomas, "Put your finger here, and look at My hands. Put your hand into the wound in My side. Don't be faithless any longer. Believe!"

It struck a chord in my spirit, so I made a sketch.

      

A few months later, I couldn't stop thinking about the drawing, so I put the drawing on canvas. I didn't start working on the painting until a couple months later, on March 4th this year. I finished the painting on March 7th. 

When I finished, I stepped back, looking at the way the gold foil catches the light. I wish you all could see it in person. Photos don't do it justice. 

The longer I stare at this painting, the more I feel an overwhelming joy rise up in my spirit — a response to an invitation. When we look at verse 27, Jesus could have easily condemned Thomas for those doubts, for not believing He had risen. Instead, Jesus invited him closer. 

What a wonderful love this is where instead of condemning us, God calls us closer to Him so we can know the truth. 

Doubts are not the enemy, and we need to quit looking at them as such. Instead, we should see them as opportunities for God to shine through and work — all we have to do is draw near to Him, ask questions, and listen for His still, small voice as He covers us in peace and bestows upon us wisdom to squelch our doubts. 

That's all doubts are — thoughts that have not been given a drink of the Living Water in a long time. Doubts are cause for refreshing, asking questions, and learning to listen. Do not allow doubts to turn your heart to stone, but instead, let it lead you to God who wants to show you the truth. 

Like what Jesus did for Thomas.

That is a love I cannot take for granted. He does not get angry with us when we come to Him with our questions born of doubt. When we bring our doubts to God in search of answers, we're acting in accordance to our design to be dependent on Him — that's what God wants from us. He wants to show us the truth. He wants us to depend on Him and to have a relationship with Him, to grow our faith and for us to experience the joy that comes with it. Acting in accordance to our design in this way is how we experience fulfillment; we were made for this loving interaction.

He does not condemn me for my doubts. When I worry or when I get anxious. When I decide to take my own path and do what I want. When I trust myself more than I trust Him; He still invites me close so I can see the truth, know the truth, and walk in the truth, with grace abounding. There is no greater love than that. 

Be like Thomas. Embrace your doubts, find the truth, and believe. 

Proud Imperfectionist

Perfectionism is a straight up scam. A farse. Fake news. 

So I'm quitting it, cold turkey.

Well, as cold turkey as I can get because even now, I'm struggling to write this. Because it has to be perfect. The irony is real. 

I've given a lot of thought to the perfectionism issue because I'm just one of many victims that fall prey to it. It's insidious, with the shiniest of exteriors — what could go wrong with perfect, right? However "perfect" isn't the issue because, as it turns out, ✨we are the problem✨

The age old "human condition" strikes again, which is why we shouldn't aim to be perfect, but to be better than we were the day before as we all run our own race. In order to do that, we need to embrace imperfection. It's the only way we can ever hope to find the peace and freedom to become our very best selves. 

Perfectionism exists in many forms, one form of which is in season; the infamous new year's resolutions. It's not surprising to see people fall off the wagon within two weeks of January first because the expectation that the "new year new me" mindset is going to carry them through the year is not sustainable. 

A "fresh start" doesn't actually exist, so expecting it to help you become the best possible version of yourself is a trap. The path to self-improvement based on a "fresh start" promises immediate results and lasting change with little effort. I'm not against self-improvement, however. (If you're new here, read some of my older posts lol) I'm not even against new year's resolutions, it's great to have goals. But there has to be an understanding that we never actually get a fresh start because we all start from experience. A fresh start mindset doesn't take into account your bad habits or the version of yourself that you're trying to change; your gluttonous-holiday self, your last-January self, your toxic-traits self. It's all brought into your fresh start; those bad habits took time to form, and it will take time to break them. 

It's healthy to expect mistakes, but only when you give yourself the grace to learn from them — mistakes are not true failures, neither is a lack of motivation or not being able to meet your goals with your all, every day. Quite frankly, that's also very exhausting and not sustainable. The only way you truly fail is when you dwell on your mistakes and give up entirely. It's why the diet never lasts beyond Monday, why studying is still hard this semester, and why a gym membership isn't used beyond the first session.

Perfectionism is relative, therefore, it can be selfish and manipulative. This is simply realized when we ask random people on the street what their perfect afternoon would look like. Who is one person to tell another that "perfect" only exists as reading a book on the couch, when the other's "perfect" is spending time with their kids? The "perfect" pizza for a vegetarian would definitely be different than the person who regularly orders a meat lover's. Perfect is relative, therefore, it does not exist. 

This is why it s u c k s. We are digging our own graves, killing our motivation and creativity with an expectation we've set for ourselves based solely on preference. It's the perfect poison. (Pun is so intended.)

You could argue that it does exists but only in the relative sense and that there's a word for it, so I guess, yeah sure, it does. But doesn't that defeat the whole idea of perfect? Isn't it supposed to be, by definition, a universal standard?

Philosophy aside, perfectionism is a burden. There is no grace in it, no peace, and no room for growth. It's a breeding ground for pride and anxiety, driven by the unnecessary pressure and panic of "getting things right" all the time. We weren't designed for this panic. God did not make us from dust and bone for us to run around like headless chickens, worrying and trying to get things perfect, as if God hasn't already done all of the work for us. We are fallible, and will never live up to "perfect." Without imperfections, there is no need for grace. And with no need for grace, what did Jesus die for?

I don't expect that with this epiphany I've had, I'll have all of this mastered going into the new year — that would be duplicitous of me and deliciously ironic. But I do know that making the decision to let go, let God, and to refuse participating in "perfect" I already feel unburdened. So, I urge you dear reader, to unburden yourself, and find peace by embracing imperfection. Peace is a bond and it ties us together in humility because of our shared understanding of the inevitability of mistakes. You free yourself from weighty expectations, and assumed responsibility and control that you don't actually have when you tell perfection "no." Imperfections are what make life so much sweeter, more authentic, more gracious. That is why I am a proud imperfectionist.

~Special thanks to Oliver Burkeman's newsletter and this Christian R&B playlist I found on Spotify for inspiring this post✨