Staying Home, No. 2

Staying Home, No. 2

Day 15 of staying home.

I felt the quieting and slowing down of the whole world a week ago when I went on a small drive. I was so curious to see what the suburb of Indy looked like. It was shocking to me because, for being rush hour on a Thursday, there were hardly any cars on the road. Instead, as I drove through town, people’s cars were in their driveways and apartment parking lots. The mall was stark, most restaurant lights were off, the only stores that you could see people gathering at were the grocery stores. I live in a suburb, only 20 minutes away from Indianapolis, and I’ve never seen it like this before. Never.

The midwest hasn’t been as bad as some other states. Even still, watching the country slow down to a craw is surreal. I don’t quite have the words for it yet.

The world is going to change in major ways. But taking the magnifying glass and zooming in a little bit, I can see so many things already changing just within this little house of mine. I’ve gone through waves of emotions within the last two weeks. Some days I’m great, others I can feel the cabin fever setting in. I’m trying to settle down in this space I’ve created, allowing myself all the feelings that come with living through moments like this one. Every generation goes through something (or multiple things,) and right now, we happen to be hunkering down in our homes. It’s not as bad as it could be. 

Forcing myself to slow down has been an interesting endeavor. I started off quarantine by getting up at the crack of dawn, cleaning daily, always keeping my hands busy with some type of work. However, I went through moments last week where I was going crazy because of the monotony of home, the internet wasn’t working, or all the warm water was gone by the time I took a shower. Since then, I’ve had days where I’ve slept in, let a few dishes stay in the sink, and the occasional not changing out of my PJs until 2pm. 

I’ve tried so hard not to let the worry of the unknown sink in, instead, being more present with each moment. I’ve worked on being here, and not in the past or way into the future. Slowing down to a point where I made brownies yesterday and had my full attention on the liquids mixing together with the dry ingredients—the eggs and milk combining with the flour, becoming one. The mixture bubbling slightly in the oven. Again, during my morning coffee, I had my full attention on the smell of it. The sound of it brewing, The time it takes for the hot water to drip through grounds and the black liquid to be poured into my coffee cup. My feet on the ground while I wait, one second after another lining up behind me, forming a life lived.

Trying to rest in the stillness, I’ve noticed so many feelings bubbling up from the surface. I let the emotions come. It’s exhausting but it’s crucial I think, for learning, growing, and allowing myself to be changed by this experience. 

So far, staying home has showed me what patience looks like. What living in the moment, right here, feels like. What really matters, and understanding that not every moment is guaranteed to happen again. When you kiss that someone of yours, or see them walking down the hallway and out the door, go after them. Sink yourself into that kiss. Allow yourself that much, that moment until you’re really there. Because it’s true when they say you’ll never get a moment like that again, or they can be very few and far between.

I’m thankful that the last few days have been so nice outside. I’ve taken the opportunity to go on several walks a day and I even got out my bike one to take a cruise around the neighborhood. There have been so many people out, at least where I live (and they all have been keeping their 6 feet distance). Kids have been playing in their yards, I haven’t seen kids play out in their yards for ages. It’s nice to wave at neighbors and occasionally see a familiar face on my walks. 

However, even though I’ve seen so many people out through my streets, I’ve been curious about what downtown Indy looks like. Most of the businesses are closed or their staff is working from home. I haven’t driven downtown in what feels like ages, but I found this video that was taken not too long ago and it shows what the streets of Indy are looking like. It’s mesmerizing and so quiet. Take a look

Before I end blog post no. 2 of Staying Home, I wanted to give a few shoutouts to local business I’m loving right now:

I won a giveaway for this amazing Indy Flag from Luna Mercantile Co. a few weeks ago. Based in Bloomington, IN, their flags are uniquely hand-painted. The ones currently in stock include a Brooklyn Pennant, an Indy Classic, and a Dayton, OH Spearhead flag. They also offer custom designs. I love hanging my Indy flag right above my desk. If you’re interested in that sort of thing and want to support a local business, you should go check them out. 

I also want to mention these candlesticks that I got from Humboldt House. Their shop is in Chicago, Ill., so not Indianapolis local, but I love their selection of tapered beeswax candles as well as their unique home decor. I’m not sure if they are currently shipping, due to the way the world is, but I would definitely go check them out.

How have you been while staying at home? I hope you’re staying healthy, safe, and well. 

xoxo

Midwinter sky

Those blue midwinter skies are always so magical. Unfolding themselves from the thick clouds that cover the midwestern sky during the months of January and February.

Regardless if you walk outside and your hands freeze or the air you breath is icy. Still, the sun feels warm and the hope of spring is just around the corner.

How is your week going?

What gives you hope?

What gives you hope?

January has stretched its days out far and wide. The new year feels like ages ago. None the less, when I look over the last few weeks, I have been been able to find hope in goodness. Here are just a few good things that have graced this month for me: Gloriously painted skies, coffee get-togethers with friends despite busy schedules, late nights baking even when the following morning is an early one, books that hold sacred words, museum visits, a Friday night swing dancing, picking up family who arrived safely from the airport. 

“What gives you hope?” A new friend asked me this over lattes and it’s been hovering in my mind since. I’ve been asking myself, what does give me hope? Growing up is not always a straight line.  What holds our hearts close to truth and joy? What holds us up when everything seems to be drowning around us? What keeps us alive when we are the ones who are drowning? I think every person, at every corner of the world, no matter what they are going through, is deserving of a little hope, even when all is lost. 

For me, the inevitable place where I find hope is Christ. When I look at this world, even though the tragedy (that I am blessed to not be directly affected by currently), I see his figure prints on everything. It gives me hope to live fully, embracing even pain knocks on the door because there is hope in eternity. But regardless of whether or not you are religious, there are many things around to find hope in.

My friend, the same one who to asked me the question, said she “finds hope when people love each other well”. I totally agree with this. It’s uplifting and wholesome when you see people care for each other, to show up for one another when life can just be so busy and demanding of our attention 

My boss told me once, “when something good happens, celebrate. Celebrate well. The good times will help you get through the hard times.” She told me this after a weekend when she celebrated her nephew’s engagement, but while she was also in a period of extreme challenge for her and her family. 

There is also hope to find in creation. In her book, Walking on Water, Madeleine L’Engle said, “We can either fall apart in terror of chaos or rejoice in the unity of the created universe.” There is so much chaos around us, but looking deeper into the chaos to discover the cosmos, where beauty is, that what makes life worth living. L’Engle says, “but unless we are creators, we are not fully alive.” 

Although each person finds hope in their own way and in their own time, it’s always there, waiting to be found. It is hanging in the air like a star, its hiding around the corner. Keep a lookout for it’s glistening and shimmer. Even among some of the heavy events that have happened within this past month, hope is still there to have and to hold. 

Life is so fragile, so precious. I’m thankful to be here writing this today. I was looking through my camera roll today to ground me in what is good, what is whole. These photos are some of the ones I found. They make me smile and feel grateful for this life. Sunsets are painted in the sky despite whether or not I take the time to look at them, despite what I did or did not do during the day. Just that fact makes me feel my own aliveness and makes me feel grateful for every breath I am taking. Everything is such a gift. 

Let us love each other well, let us celebrate when good times come, let us create cosmos from chaos. 

Where do you find hope? 

So this is twenty three

This past week was my golden birthday — I turned twenty-three on the twenty-third. 

I spent the day with my mom because, low and behold, it was her birthday too. We have always spent our birthday together. It’s been that way for the past twenty-two years and, even with a job and a full to-do list, this year was no different.

For our day, we went out to brunch at a local restaurant named Milktooth, which was dubbed one of the top 207 restaurants to eat at around the globe according to Conde Nast. I’d heard about the restaurant so often while I was an intern at Indianapolis Monthly this past spring, so I was so happy to finally try out their menu.

Both my mom, my brother, and I ended up ordering the same thing: Brochedi Donuts with bacon and eggs. Needless to say, it was delicious.

While driving this afternoon, I thought about how twenty-two was a good year. It was a year of learning, of surviving my last year of college, of figuring out what it was I wanted and didn’t want. A year of healing and finding patience in the unknown. Thinking about this next year, I can’t tell you where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing or how I will get to wherever ‘there’ is. I think that’s okay sometimes, not knowing your next step but trusting your gut, where the universe unfolds and leads you.

So far, twenty-three has looked like adding more business professional clothes to my wardrobe, going on a cleanse, and writing. Lots of writing.

Regardless of what I know or don’t know about this upcoming year, there are a few intentions that I know I want to move through. Here are a few:

  • Listen: to myself, to God’s soft whisper, to the voice of my mom and brother, to my friends, and my body. 
  • Read full books, finish them, stick with them, contemplate over them. Not rushing myself, but taking it slow. 
  • Focus on creating vs consuming. Scrolling through Instagram or Facebook, passively streaming a show, getting lost down the rabbit hole of YouTube. I spend way to much time with these consuming activities. It’s time to turn the table and start creating instead of constantly consuming media. 
  • Be mindful: about what I eat, about the quality of my breath, about listening to people, about each moment I find myself in, about what I’m working on and what I’m creating. 
  • Prioritize my health and the food I eat. Cook at home and bring lunches to work. Continuing my yoga practices. Be aware of what I eat and put on my skin. College was a good ride but I focused more on grades while my health was neglected. It’s time to change that. 
  • Have a heart of gratitude. 

No matter where I end up or what I do, I know that this next year is going to be a good one. A one of thriving, learning, seeking… and maybe hitting up Milktooth again.

Here’s to twenty-three. 

August’s Last Note

The last note to August: a collage containing a handful of my favorite photos from the end of summer. August was a full 31 days, brimming with books and soft pretzels at the state fair, warm letters and coffee, a wonderful boyfriend and puppy lovings. August was a month to discover that my closet is half full of clothes from Target and that I have a knack for playing duckpin bowling. August was a month to say yes to taking the scenic route, to devouring pizza after midnight, to meeting up with old friends, and to eating ramen after yoga class. August was a month for remembering the old, and remembering all that we’ve been given while being thankful for it, both in the past and in the now. August was a month that ended with a sigh of relief, followed by a cheer when the Hoosier’s won the first football game of the season.