Tag Archives: Fleeting

Forgive

I’ve been thinking for a while now how I might approach the topic of forgiveness. I could write a poem with metaphors, catchy alliteration, and laughable prose. The product, at least in my hopeful writer’s mind, would be a lovely illustrative vision that dances freely in one’s mind. My fear is that the meaning would be lost on many. I think it is best that I say what I need to say with honest and raw emotions.

Honestly, my aversion to forgiveness is one of the biggest sources of anxiety in my life – and has been since I was a young girl. I am the fruitfully sponned child of divorce. A nasty, exhausting, ‘heart-pulled-out-of-your-chest-and-to-this-day-still-learning-how-to-breathe-again’ divorce left me colored with a rainbow of dysfunctional qualities. Statistics looked at me and thought, “Yep, she fits in with us quite nicely: Binge drinking, pill-popping, suicidal, teenage mother. Couldn’t have predicted it better ourselves!”  

There are days, many days, when I look at myself and think, “You pathetic fuck; get it together!” And quite the opposite, there are the occasional coffee-induced bursts of confidence that allow me to smile at my story of survival and strength. But nothing is more constant than my aversion to forgiveness. I think to myself every day, “When will I let this go? When will I let my past be my past? When will I forgive myself for all that I did wrong for so many years?”

During my childhood years, my parents were faithful providers, careful teachers, and undeniably miraculous, loving human beings. Anything my sisters and I truly needed was provided to us without hesitation. Anywhere we wanted to go, we were taken. Anything we wanted to do with our lives – productively, of course – was supported, and more importantly – encouraged by my parents.

As I mentioned, this post is about forgiveness. You might wonder: Well, what is there to ‘forgive’ when you were so clearly loved back then? What is there to be hurt about when everything was provided to you before and after the divorce? Why suffer despite the fact that your parents did everything they could for you? Why carry this burden from childhood into your adult life? Well, my answer to you is this: When a change like this takes place gradually, it is difficult to comprehend its meaning, especially for a child.

It was a slow transformation. My parents continued to provide for us, take care of us, love us, and support us. But there was a shift, a moan of sorts in my soul. An aching moan for the loss I had endured. The loss of a united family. The loss of a faith in marriage. The loss of a sure and steady foot in this world. That little girl in me lost all sense of control and all sense of herself. She was loved, yet had no love for herself. She was taken care of, but had no will to take care of herself.

I made a choice that day when the ground broke underneath my feet and tore my family in two: I chose to give up on myself.

I tell ya, I was one angry little girl at fourteen. I don’t think I blamed myself for the divorce, but I sure blamed them back then. “They fucked this up! They didn’t try hard enough. They didn’t love enough. They should have found a way. They want us to suffer. They did this to me!”  Verbal cries of ‘fuck you’ and ‘fuck this!’ soon faded and crept inward, seeping into the dusty shadows of my mind. A silent poison echoed throughout my body: “Fuck my life. Why should I give a shit? They didn’t try; why should I?

It is so easy to give into sadness and pity for oneself. Even more so when you’re a child. All you know is ‘your’ life. All you know is what YOU want; what YOU need; what makes YOU happy. I was certain that divorce didn’t ‘feel good’ to me, so therefore it must be ‘bad.’ I had no capacity for compassion, love, or empathy for my parents or anyone affected by their divorce. I couldn’t fathom it. I couldn’t attempt it. I gave up – on them, on me, on the world. I just gave up. I gave into my suffering. I fed it, every day, every hour, every minute. Like a starving lioness in search of food for her young, my suffering would pounce on any ounce of resistance. So I gave in to every emotion, to every negative thought, to every path toward self destruction.

I am still haunted by that little girl’s voice. Her fangs latched onto me ten years ago and infected me with the vilest thoughts imaginable. Her suffering is my suffering. Her tears salt my face. I carry her with me. She is a friend. She is a foe. A downright parasite, if you ask me! I hear her when I hear no one else. Yet recently I tire of her weight upon my back. My once playful strides in life are now heavy trudges across the floor, and I wonder what it will take to forgive myself in order to set her free.

I think the most beautiful aspect of childhood is the freedom to be oneself with ease and grace, without hesitation or fear. This way of life and living is free from the restraints and concerns of the ‘ego,’ so much so that the influence of the outside world is paid no attention. It was at fourteen that I chose to see a world, once so open and fresh, as a dark and hateful place. It is in this choice – ten years ago – that my life stopped. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t know how to love anyone – myself most of all. I didn’t want to live.

So, forgiveness of what? –You asked earlier … As I said, with such a slow transition I could not see the depth and meaning of this life event. Ten years have passed now. Ten years of neglecting myself. Ten years of not loving myself. Ten years of looking in the mirror and repeating over and over: You are not now nor will you ever be beautiful, worthy, or lovable. You are broken, you are bruised, and you are worthless.” Readers, I have ten years of hate, lies, and deceit built up in my mind. And forgiving myself is the only option I have left in order to stay afloat.

Only now can I begin to feel compassion for a suffering little girl. I can’t tell you exactly what has changed or allowed me to see the necessity of freeing her. Only now can I see that she was drowning in fear, choking on the waves that crashed against her once pleasant and playful childhood. I now know that had she dived just a little deeper into the ocean and not stayed so closely to the shore, she would have found what she truly needed. As many others far more articulate than me have said time and time again, being caught by these waves of discomfort is our downfall when we fight it. Wildly fighting the undertow, we remain in the same place, allowing for fear to grow stronger and resistance to reign.

Maybe I’m at such a dark place that there is no option but to see the light. Maybe others closest to me have shown their lights upon my path and allowed for me to see the depth of my issues. I don’t know what this is – what’s happening in these moments. I think when I have these flashes of insecurity, of fear, of vulnerability; I’m beginning to see a tiny little light within. It’s not very bright, and I don’t have an eclectic vocabulary to express the vast array of emotions I feel or what is being shown to me. Really, these moments are very quiet, very still, very unfamiliar. I hear the voice of the little girl within me, yet simultaneously whispers are faintly echoed throughout. They are subtle, almost silent, but I hear them. They are compassionate and loving and momentarily guide me to feel compassion and love. It comes, and then it goes. As all things do. But I find that when this compassionate and loving feeling reappears, I begin to trust and love myself more and more each time.

I think the only ‘truth’ in my life will come when I can lay down all of the lies, the hate, the disgust I feel toward myself  – and put all of it to bed for good. I hope that in releasing this scared little girl, I will feel profound compassion and love for myself and everything around me. Perhaps that will allow me to accept my perfectly imperfect life just as it is. I’ll let you guys know when I get there. Until then, my journey continues.

I think in the end, you have to find your own way home. You have to find that place of comfort, of stillness within yourself. You must own your truth and take that first step toward healing.

My first step is forgiveness.

I hope you find the courage to take your first step too.

Cheers, readers.

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On the library floor

Laid on the floor of the library today.

Thought to myself,

This is really quite cray!

If a passerby comes,

Well what shall I say?

Excuse me kind sir,

It’s been a rough day.

So I thought it best to rest here and lay.

And what do you know – a beautiful display!!

Caught my eye and led me astray.

To the ceiling my thoughts now focus this way.

Take a picture, dear Ki, let your mind freely play.

Yes, that is surely what I will say,

If a passerby comes as I lay here today.

—Original Poem—

(Photo taken that fine day, as I quietly lay)

 

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*Based on a true story

*Inspired by the whimsical styles of Dr. Seuss

Cheers to embracing your weirdness and breaking social norms!!

-Ki

@kileybw

Why Not Now?

I am honored to have yet another opportunity as a guest author for The Easier Softer Way! It is an amazingly inspirational site with thoughts on healing, meditation, spirituality, Buddhism, recovery, and much more. It provides profound insight for those in need. I wrote a post about mindfully entering the New Year called Why Not Now?  — Check it out if you have a moment

Cheers to 2014, Readers!!

With another year on the horizon, I find myself wondering why we feel the need to wait for January’s coy signal to jolt us into making resolutions. Why January? Why do we wait until after the holidays have come and passed? Why do we wait for our lives to ‘calm down’ in order to focus on our goals? Why wait at all? What are we waiting for? What is keeping us from making these resolutions today, here, now? Why do we find ourselves distracted, busied with excuses, and comforted in our procrastination? Why must we wait for anything? What are YOU waiting for?

For the original piece in its entirety — The Easier Softer Way

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Related posts for The Easier Softer Way

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In Recovery

I am in recovery.

Aren’t we all? Every person I know is recovering from something —

A broken heart; addiction; loss of a loved one; failed marriage; estranged relationships; eating disorders; disease; depression and anxiety; foreclosure; abandonment issues – let me tell you, the list goes on. This is life. This is what so many of you are struggling with day to day, and it just breaks my heart each time one of you reaches out to me and shares your story. I feel your pain. I feel the struggle. I struggle too – you guys know this, and that is why I am so thankful I have this platform to share my story as it unfolds.

I am recovering from an abusive relationship with myself. You guys know this. It actually seems silly to say it like that – to articulate it in such a way that places me as the victim AND the offender, but this is my truth. It is the least I can give to you to show my appreciation for what you guys give to me each day. I’ll be honest; I am embarrassed to voice the terribly destructive thoughts that float through my mind just as a coy, fluffy cloud passes over a brilliantly blue, seemingly spotless summer sky. Within seconds of the clouds’ arrival, they chisel away at yesterday’s half-assed attempt to convince myself that I am worthy of anything. Sky is now grey with ash and soot – and all I’m left with are the tears that cleanse my soul. Back to square one, yet again. Confused, frustrated, angry with myself. How could I let this happen again? How could I let those innocent clouds become knives – cutting through each layer of my confidence? I bleed profusely, and my world is suddenly painted red with suffering and deception.

A fourteen-year-old Ki would have chosen booze…. Yes, alcohol was my friend at a young age. You’d never know it then. I was a ‘straight A’ student, a talented athlete, and I wore a pretty smile that I meticulously painted each morning as I awoke. Funny thinking about it now, I was never really awake. I was sleepwalking through my life. Yet, you saw all the potential in the world. I saw nothing but lies and pain. God, if I had only known then how much the world offers us each and every moment, every single day, I am certain I would not have slept for so long. You cannot sleep through life and truly live. As I think about her now, my heart breaks for fourteen-year old Ki. I carry a piece of her with me today. She’s still in recovery. I am teaching her slowly that hurt is a natural part of this life, but it can be managed and sorted through. Recovery is possible.

I recently found meditation. Or shall I say, meditation found me? For I am certain that the Universe offered it to me – crying out to me to take this opportunity and run with it. Fucking hold on tight, and run with it (I’m certain that this is how the Universe speaks – this is your cue to chuckle). A wonderful friend of mine sent me a link to Oprah and Deepak’s Desire and Destiny 21-day meditation class. Something deep within me whispered that day: This is a bit out of your comfort zone, but you have no other choice. You’ve exhausted all other options. This will be your therapy. This is where you – Ki — will rest easy. You cannot do this alone anymore. Being strong does not mean you must walk a path of recovery alone. Let this be your guide. You will not regret it. You deserve this. Yes, you DESERVE this.

And I never looked back. I have been quietly meditating since November 13, 2013. I am confident in saying that it has changed my view of this life completely. This post is not an opportunity to ‘plug’ Oprah and Deepak and sell you a CD on meditation (no, I did not get paid for providing the link). I’m telling you guys that you MUST find something that guides you in your recovery, whatever it may be. TRY EVERYTHING!! If exercise is your meditation, then get a gym membership today! If reading is where you find your bliss, then by all means get in the car and go to the nearest bookstore and stay until it closes. If going to church is where you feel your heart mends the quickest, go to the next available service – and if you’re too hesitant to try it out, send me an email and I will go with you! (Provided you are in the Midwest, USA)

Please, please, please take it from me – if you do not know your path in life and you do not know what helps you become a better version of yourself – then you must keep on trying. Dip your toes in foreign waters. Hell, I’ve tried on religion after religion; considered joining the police force (what??!); thought having a child would fix me (This IS NOT THE ANSWER, I PROMISE YOU. Children bring happiness and joy – but they WILL NOT FIX YOU); I even joined a local group of Instagrammers who share my obsession with photography, and this has worked out wonderfully for my social and mental health. My point is you must keep searching. You must keep testing new waters. Some of these endeavors will do wonders for your recovery. Some, well… just won’t. But that is the beauty of this life: You have the choice to try new things. You have the choice to overcome that which you perceive as a struggle. Release the fear. Let go of the thought that you are struggling. Recovery is positive. It is an opportunity to learn and grow. Your setbacks are beautiful because in the end, they provide you a new opportunity – a new direction – in this beautiful life.

The catch?? Only YOU can do this. Only YOU can walk your path.

As Oprah and Deepak often remind me — Moments themselves are the gifts. The journey itself, the rich reward. Find the gifts in every problem in your life. Start over today. It’s okay to admit you didn’t get it right the first time. Recovery is a second chance at life! A rebirth!

As I’ve said before, we can always begin again. I’ll be here; anxiously awaiting your emails, your pictures, your smiles as you tell me what it is that nourishes your soul and guides you toward a healthy recovery. I am with you.

And I will chat with you soon.

Cheers, readers.

Ki

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Inspiration for this post:

–The place where this little dove has flown and found a home; your heart; your love; all of YOU–

–Poet: Jules R. Ryckebusch

–Musician: Edward Maya

 

 

 

Just Be

Sometimes I think about how weird I really am.

  • Some of my best friends are people I’ve never met in person.
  • Being in a bookstore feels like Christmas morning; heart filled with joyful anticipation of the unknown. Eyes drooling over each untouched gift.
  • The smell of freshly brewed coffee makes my heart flutter. Coffee mugs, well, it’s embarrassing how much I love mugs (and coffee for that matter!)
  • I cry daily (to say the least).
  • I have too many obsessions to name: Hand sanitizer, soft pretzels with cheese (Oh my dear god), sugar, Instagram, poetry, the ocean, trees, the smell of fall, the sun…
  • There is an indescribable energy that floods my body each time I meet a new blog reader and connect with him/her on a level that far exceeds any expectation. The gratitude in my heart is insurmountable. I wish everyone on this earth could FEEL it.
  • Although I have an eclectic taste in music, I must admit that Romanian techno beats fuel spontaneous dance parties in my household, err, often.
  • The idea of backpacking through Europe and staying in hostels while simultaneously taking copious notes in hundreds of journals excites every inch of my being.
  • I’m a proud American, but the most flattering compliment I’ve received as of late is: “You’re looking rather Euro today!” (Ki heart gushing still!!)

The list goes on….

Are you getting the point? I’m So weird.

Then I stop and think – there is an honesty to my weirdness. It is pure, fresh, and innocent. It is the kind of honesty that breathes easily as it seeps from my pores – mirroring the honestly of very young children. You know, the kind that emanates from those who have yet to realize the vastness of the hurt, disappointment, and responsibility that hides in this life. Children play without hesitation. They laugh heartily in the present moment. They seek out answers with curious minds and hopeful hearts. In love with life, their souls effortlessly take flight. They dream. They believe. They live.

As the years blend – one into the next — We lose sight of this ‘zest for living’ with age. We become stale, young adults who complicate every facet of life and who spread suffering everywhere. We lose our curious spark only to make room for the desire to be like everyone else; to do what everyone expects of us; to be accepted in society. We are afraid to be happy just as we are. Blinded by fear, we forget to truly live.

Navigating choppy waters, we struggle each day to rise to the top; to be the best employee; to have the highest paying job; to live in the most adventurous city. As we climb the ladder of ‘success,’ we miss the gifts that reside in every moment – Smells that excite the senses; smiles that warm the heart; laughter that soothes the soul. We forget that loving others (and ourselves) is a responsibility and not a luxury. Instead, we are caught up in our extraneous activities and ‘To-Do’ lists, allowing the present to dissolve quicker than cotton candy in your mouth. Spontaneity feels like a foreign term. Schedules and appointments consume us – drowning us in our overworked, overbooked, overly exhausted lives. We forget the importance of simplicity. Sadly, we lose the grace of the child within each of us.

I laugh at my list of ‘weird’ qualities and gladly embrace them as I grow older. For as long as I can remember, I thought that life was one continuous struggle to be a better version of myself. I now know that life is about survival, and you don’t have to struggle to survive. Simply put, survival is existence. Exist and be who you are, right here. Right now.

Hey, I like weird! Weird looks good on me.

Embrace who you truly are. It looks good on you too.

Cheers, readers.

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LifeofKi is now on Facebook!

 

Life of Pi, I mean — Ki

What a difference a year makes. Where were you one year ago today? With what issues were you struggling? Which path in life scared you the most? What questions laid heavily upon your heart?

Religion was my answer, back then. Had you asked naive Ki these questions a year ago, my busy mind ticked: Why does religion scare me? Who is ‘God?’ and Why don’t I know God? I was confused about religion, scared by it, desperate for a connection with it – or so I thought, back then. I voiced my doubts concerning Christianity, hollered my inquiries regarding Judaism, and quietly hid my fascination with Buddhism. I laugh now because religion was not the issue at all! Religion was the symptom, not the root of the questions in my heart.

I blogged last December about uncomfortable feelings surrounding Christianity and ‘God’ in the post A New Year. A New Religion? (I know some of you remember!! I think I fluffed a few feathers). As I’ve said many times before on this blog, I was one lost, confused, desperate woman –pulling at the fray of ANYTHING that would prevent me from drowning in doubt, insecurity, and fear. I assumed religion was the missing piece of the puzzle. Yes, religion would save me from the negative feelings that flourished in my mind!!! I thought if I asked enough questions of each religion and fervently searched for a deeper connection that I would undeniably feel the presence of ‘God.’ I can assure you, life is never so simple.

There was a hole in my story, back then. I can truthfully say there still IS a hole in my story. The difference now is that I am fully aware that religion is the LEAST of my worries! The obstacle is not in finding ‘God;’ the challenge is in finding my true self.

I ask of myself this year – With what issues do I struggle? Which path in life scares me the most? I can assure you, religion is not my answer this year. I am not actually looking for God. I am not looking for a religion that fits me perfectly. I realize that searching for fulfillment in a religion leaves me feeling frustrated and defeated. Although diving head first into Jewish religion courses has been one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life, I am finding each day that a desire to know ‘God’ is easily translated into: A desire to know myself.  

Hahaha funny side note: I named this website after a novel that unbeknownst to me at the time of naming, is in fact about a spiritual, introspective quest. I mean, come on guys!! The answers have been in me all along! I just thought “LifeofKi” was catchy, and I kinda thought I might get a few accidental ‘hits’ from those searching for Life of Pi …. I had no clue that “LifeofKi” was literally THE MOST PERFECT name for what was about to unfold in my life. Thank you, Life of Pi!! Or should I say, thank you subconscious, true Ki?!

Okay back to seriousness………..

What am I afraid of the most? Honestly?

Knowing myself. Forgiving myself. Accepting myself. Loving myself.

Which road desperately needs fresh pavement and immense TLC?

The path to creating a healthier sense of self.

There is no need to look for a God (or energy, as I see it) because it is already inside of my heart. I thought I was waiting for God when in truth, I was waiting for acceptance. Acceptance from myself. I am beginning to acknowledge that I have neglected the one person who cries out for attention, love, and acceptance. I have let go of my mental self, my physical self, my spiritual self. Where I once saw a ‘yearning for a connection with God,’ I now see I need the one person who is keeping me from me.

I miss Ki, the free spirit. I miss Ki, the playful lover. I miss Ki, the confident woman with aspirations and dreams, big dreams.

I left my true self on the side of the road years ago. I gave my ego permission to reign over every ounce of my body, allowing for the rest of Ki to feed on the false perceptions of who I needed to be, ought to be, would never be. Readers, this is THE most frustrating dead end to find yourself. But wait!! Need a silver lining?? Well, you’re in luck.

When you find yourself in this destitute place, you will soon realize you were never lost to begin with. It isn’t about finding yourself. The key is in cultivating a true sense of who you are and who you are destined to be. You, like me, will get there. I promise you. Although religion has helped to calm my busy mind (and open my world to culture, compassion, and love) the only TRUTH is in getting to know myself. Readers, give yourself permission to let go of whatever it is holding you back. If YOU are what is holding you back, then smile. A beautiful ride awaits you. This is the toughest job in the world. Tougher than parenthood; tougher than tackling issues with others; tougher than giving birth! I say truthfully that cultivating a healthy relationship with myself has been the toughest challenge in my life thus far – and some of you know the hell I have seen in my short 23 years.

Let me show you that you can be in the midst of a hellish downfall and come out of it stronger than ever. Yes, as I said I have demons, but don’t we all? We all bleed the same; some of us just have a few more scars than others. And trust me: your scars are beautiful, just like YOU.

 

Begin with this:

Look in the mirror and say to yourself every day –

I am beautiful.

I am doing a great job.

I love you.

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Your life begins with you.

Your love begins with you.

Take the first step.

 

Cheers, Readers.

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***Photo courtesy of Courtney Venable Photography***

 

Related:

Love Yourself

 

Say Anything

If I could say anything exactly one year ago yesterday – I can assure you, I would not have uttered a word. My head was crowded with thoughts; my heart, corroded by fear. I was crumbling. Screaming, yet you heard nothing. Crying, but you saw no tears rolling. I was hiding, clinging to the demons that quieted my dreams and fed my fears. What a mess I was. A mute, suffering mess. If your eyes met mine, I’m sure the fog was too thick for you to feel me, to know me. If we chatted, I’m sure I lied. I told you I was fine. I told you I was strong. I told you I didn’t need you. I didn’t need anyone. As I said, I lied.

Even if I could say anything one year ago yesterday, I didn’t know how. No motivation, no courage, no confidence. I was shivering; I was sinking; I’m surprised my bed didn’t swallow me whole some mornings. When you called, I didn’t answer. When you wrote, your letter collected dust. I wrote you off. I wrote me off. Nothingness was bliss, for a time. Faith in nothing. Fear of everything. Darkness dug my grave, shoveling the heavy dirt that would suffocate my existence. I wasn’t living. I was sleepwalking in daylight.

What a beautiful time to start a blog, eh? I don’t remember the who, what, when, where. I don’t remember who encouraged me to write again. I don’t remember much. But I do remember the overwhelming sensations that rushed my body as I felt the sudden urge to brainstorm ideas for the blog. The creative flow flooded every inch of my being. Appearing like a sharp winter wind, line after line, word after word bit my flesh, awakening my senses to the core. It was the most intense experience I had felt in months. My heart raced. I began to cry. It just kept coming. The thoughts. The ideas. My spark. I felt it again. I was alive. I had a purpose. I had a duty. I had to share, with you guys. Something woven in my soul had had enough of my bullshit drone of an existence. It was my time, it said. And for the first time in years, I listened.

So I started a blog, and for twelve long months I cried, I wrote, I was frustrated, I was happy, I was terrified. Publishing a post felt like I was running naked in the streets of my hometown. Eyes upon me, judging, laughing, snickering, joking – or so I thought you would. I never thought anyone would take me seriously. I never thought anyone would see beyond the forced smile that I painstakingly painted upon my pale, sunken face each morning. I never thought you would look at me and hear what I was not saying – the desperate cries for a connection with YOU. A longing for support. A desire for acceptance.

Each new post was a little less scary to publish than the previous. I received wonderful feedback, and you have your favorites – but it wasn’t until Weeks Like This that I truly started to feel your warmth. It was as though my chilly, morning air was lifting – allowing for the sun to rise again. Peering through the blanket of trees that surrounded me, I could feel something more just beyond the brush. Within reach I felt something so familiar, yet so foreign. Something lovely and terrifyingly close. My dream was being realized. I called out for help, and finally my answer arrived.  

You guys trickled in through the cracks, my wonderful readers. I was broken, and you snuck in somehow. You took my hand as you witnessed my struggle. You celebrated my triumphs; we’ve laughed together; we’ve cried together. You know I doubt strongly and love passionately. You know I would do anything for my son and family, and I continue to take care of myself lastly. (I’m working on it! I need your reminders!) You guys know it all, and you still come back – to this day, this is not real to me. The reality of your support is something I am learning to accept and understand. It is difficult for me to accept that which I am not sure I truly deserve. I am indebted to you guys, really.

A year has slipped from my fingers again. Like sand through the cracks, it has disappeared forever, kidnapped by Father Time. I’m left alone with memories, burnt quietly into my flesh. I sit here just as I have many other afternoons during nap time, thinking quickly – pondering my next post. I’ve thought for a few months now – what do I write for my ‘one year’ post?? How profound do I need to be? Gosh, there are countless people to thank, where do I begin? You guys – I’ve cried over this, I’ve laughed, I’ve obsessed – as always. Yet now as I sit here, it’s funny because I’m just sitting here like an idiot, smiling. Grinning from ear to ear. In this moment, I am so thankful. I know without a doubt that in the end, I can say anything. And you guys will continue to support me. You’ll come back for a post here and there. I know that as long as this blog is a labor of love, you guys will be with me. Along the way. In the end, I just need you with me. I don’t need a thing from you. Just knowing that the passenger seat next to me is warmed by your presence is all I need to write my next post. I don’t expect much from others. I don’t expect a massive following with this blog. Honestly, I don’t even put faith in humans. I put my faith in love…  and as long as I’m sending love out there –to where you guys are – I know you’ll send it back, in whatever way you have to love.

That is what is so crazy about this life, my life – I receive so much love from you guys in many different forms. From ‘likes’ to ‘comments,’ emails to Skype phone calls – hell even some of you ‘argue’ with me until 1AM insisting that my views are limited (you know who you are – and you know I appreciate your efforts) you guys are with me, encouraging me to say anything. To always say anything. So for you, I am thankful. This outlet allows me to love and to be loved; to share and be shared with; to connect once again with my heart and now, yours. You know….. you really don’t break when you decide to let go. I am living proof. As I shed these layers, I feel nothing but a warm embrace from each of you as I continue to say anything.  

One year ago today, I opened my world to you guys. I started a conversation about love, parenting, sex, religion, challenges, sacrifices, fear, you name it. As a friend of mine often reminds me, I am an incorrigible dreamer. I love that, but I can honestly say I never could have dreamt of the adventures that this blog would take me on. I have met some of the most intriguing people around the world. I have reconnected with long-time friends over issues first discussed on this blog. Support from my family is astonishingly pure. And quite amazingly, some of my best friends are people I’ve never even met in person – people who at first simply connected with something at LifeofKi.com, and who over the months have grown to be a part of my life.

 

A year ago yesterday, silence ensued.

Today I can say anything.

There is nothing left to say now but Thank you.

 

-Ki

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Fleeting Thought

What do you know for sure? Think about it: What do you really know for sure? No, not that you own two cars, have a mortgage, three children, and a vacation home in Maine. What do you know about life? Have you ever truly loved? What about unconditional love; what does that feel like? And do we FEEL it, or do we KNOW it? Is there such a thing as unconditional anything? Can we experience true friendships? Are people ever REALLY altruistic?

Other than the fact that I know, for sure, that I was once fertile (i.e. a child passed through my birth canal approximately three years ago) I’m not sure that I know anything at all. When my son asks what color the sky is, I say blue. But how do I know that what I see as blue is what he sees as blue? How do I know that when I touch a smooth rock, Lucas perceives ‘smooth’ upon touching the rock as well? When I tell him I love him, and he reciprocates, what is his foundation of love?

When he replies with ‘Why?’ to every declarative statement I make, I find myself confused, challenged, unsure of how exactly to respond. He is so inquisitive, and I am at a loss these days. I don’t have any clever responses anymore. I tell him the train is passing our home, and he asks, ‘Why?’

All the while I’m thinking What do you mean ‘Why?’ So I answer: Because it has to go bye-bye to the next town.

‘Why?’ – Lucas.

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Lucas’ incessant questioning has led me to do just that: question the world… and my busy mind finds peace in one statement:

“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”

Socrates

I challenge you to tell yourself what you know for sure in this world.

Can you?

Cheers, Readers.

 

 

 

More fleeting thoughts HERE!

Just a thought

“Every new day is beautiful, you know.
Each newly passing cloud is a reminder that all things are temporary; this too shall pass – whatever it may be.
New life drinks in the warmth of the sun as it rises.
It is always there, you know. The sun, that is.
Even though you may not see it, it is always sustaining life, your life.

Maybe that is why people have faith that Jesus is our Savior.
Maybe He is the sun.
Not the Son, but the sun.
Maybe it was lost in translation somewhere.
It would make more sense if He were the sun.
I would believe if that were the case.
Reassured He is there, sustaining my life, our lives.
Although not always visible, but inevitably present to guide my day, advise me to rest, and wake me again tomorrow.”

 

Original poem