buoy·​ant

There are a few words that I seek to describe me holistically: Excellent, Uplifting, Needed, and Buoyant.

On being excellent, I want to be good at all I do. I crave affirmation like coffee, and I crave achievement like dark chocolate peanut butter cups.

On being uplifting, I want to be a light in people's lives. I want to repeatedly tell them how beautiful and adorable they are, how much their opinions and feelings matter, and how confident I am in their aptitudes.

On being needed, I pine after a consistent feeling of being an indispensable piece of others' lives, a cherished aide that they both enjoy and require on a regular basis.

On being buoyant. I think this may be the culmination of my target traits, the pumpkin espresso bundt cake that melds together the aforementioned ingredients into a dish I proudly serve to those around me.

I write this post, not because I know what buoyancy really means, but because I want to find out. M-W says, "cheerful, gay" - honestly, done.

Another source bullet-points the following as "several ways to enhance your personality" under the heading of Ways to Build a Buoyant Personality (first of all, woof. it all feels insultingly simplistic, like a Weight Watchers pamphlet or books on dating):

• Create happiness within yourself

• Stretch yourself to reach your goals

• Find purpose in your life

• Be enthusiastic about your life and the lives of others

• Treat yourself like your own best friend - with kindness and caring

• Support yourself when you embark upon new and difficult tasks or situations

• Do things that make you feel special

Is it just me, or did we just duck into a Hobby Lobby in West Michigan in mid-November, smiling softly and clutching Starbucks in our mitted hands?

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Allow me to craft a new list of what the concept means to me:

• Compliment friends & strangers without hesitation

• Create goals but not expectations

• Take criticism as insight - choose to never be offended

• Tell people how you feel & honor their response

• Use your spare time to create things

• Try to be the same person in every setting

• Choose to care about the work you do - do it well

• Trust that people aren't speaking in code - we're all adults here

The latter is a mantra of my friend Rachel's and mine. We choose to counter our disposition towards overthinking & to believe that what people say is what they mean. And if it is not, it's on them to better articulate their intentions. It is not our job to dig layers deep into every interaction, seeking alternate meaning in someone's response time or tone. This does not mean living life in the shallows, but rather avoiding the unconfirmable and exhausting process of analyzing others' subliminal messaging. We aim to stay afloat, bearing the tide confidently with our head above the surface, like a buoy setting the boundary around the island on which we live, where only love is allowed.

pha·​ses

I went through a lot of phases growing up. Here's a taste:

• Legos

• Marbles

• Hot Wheels

• (Never Pokémon, obviously)

• Cake decorating

• Speed stacks

• Wanting to be a Fashion Designer

• Bead jewelry

• Crocheting (including Amigurumi…)

• Balloon animals

• Piano

• N64/Gamecube/Wii

• Lettering

• Concert/Marching Band

• Xbox 360

• Theatre

• Baking

• Dance/Choreography

• Reading nonfiction

• Greeting cards

• Podcasts (God is Grey, Liturgists, Where do We Begin)

• Line drawing

• Reading novels

Some lasted longer than others, and a few persist to this day. But most dwindled as quickly as they were kindled. My newest phase is blogging (I've linked my blog here, don't worry), and I'm loving it. It feels like an exhilarating mashup of free-writing, finger painting, and Subway Surfer. I'm confident though, that - despite how much I'm enjoying this adventure, this fast-travel exploration of my psyche (curated word-vomit) - I'll move onto another phase in the near future. And another after that. I could let myself look at it as a sign of wayward ungroundedness, or I could choose to see it as "keep[ing] the channel open," as Martha Graham encourages (shared by Austin Kleon). As letting my creativity breathe in and breathe out--gratefully drawing new oxygen from whatever source I pass by and exhaling as beautifully as I can.

re·​fram·ing​​

Chris just wrote a sweet little post about a picture frame (which was promptly followed by another well-worded, stress-relieving and -inducing post about being stuck in a stream). It offers the goal of only taking on a one-inch picture frame's worth of responsibility per creative day. It suggests, quoting Anne Lamott, "all I have to do is to write down as much as I can see through a one-inch picture frame." So let's try this on for size. I'm metaphorically constructing a frame, probably made of cardboard--no, clothespins. These pins are chomping each other's ankles, holding on like tiny Jacobs & Esaus, creating a window to look through. An inch of negative space, the borders and exterior of which are none of my concern at present. All I have to do is peer through and narrate what I see, right?

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I see a riverside. The right edge of the water is hugged and overseen by an imposing, light brown wall. It is wooden and well-made, apparently blocking anything that may fall off the side of the curving, unguarded roadway above. I'm curious why they chose to build a massive wall rather than a simple guardrail. The water is not clean, but it sparkles blue and green like an engagement ring, proud of who and what it is: the protected daughter of a royal guardian. Who needs guardrails when a wooden wall is erected in your honor? "No more will the threat of incoming road bikers or top-heavy minivans threaten my shimmering body," she boasts. The stream curves beyond my sight, beyond the clothespins, and the bank seen on the left is a lush green, Tuck Everlasting and The Hobbit giving a nod. There is no rush, no activity. Here it is, and here it will stay, nature secluded and secured by mankind's intervention.