Five Minute Friday: Change

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Signing in from Kate Motaung’s blog Heading Home where she hosts the Five Minute Friday now. The goal is write for five minutes flat with no editing, no thinking, just writing. Just breathing those words into a post. 

And today’s prompt is: Change 

GO

 

And can we change this world? This place filled with brokenness? Do my contributions matter? 

The darkness swells like material shadows, swallowing the light. Hatred lurks in all our hearts, covers up the sins committed in back rooms and in front of us and lulls us into averting our eyes. 

Surely sometimes we have to. Our hearts would surely break to stare down evil all the time. Staring down evil changes you and breaks you if there is no light to counter it. 

And what can our response be, we who want to cling to the light? We who see the evil and are broken by the hatred and the abuse and sheer weight of the broken glass that shreds our world? 

We create. 

Small acts of kindness or art or beauty can change this world. They can light up our dark corner of the world and they can bring hope and love. Because sometimes the way to fight evil doesn’t look fierce. Sometimes the way we push back isn’t with a flaming sword but instead with a paintbrush, or a smile, or a laugh even when we can barely draw breath for the weight of the pain. 

This is how we fight back. 

This is how we fight for the light. 

This is how we shed light on abuse and rescue the broken. 

This is how we change. 

It’s a slow, daily battle, a constant prayer begged under ragged breaths. It’s waking up and doing it all over again. It’s relentless and steady as a river. But rivers change over time. They change the land with their sheer insistence. 

And so we can change the seemingly immovable shadows of darkness. By holding on. By contuing. 

STOP

 

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{Five Minute Friday} Belong

Today’s Five Minute Friday is hosted by the luminous Crystal Stine. The idea of Five Minute Friday is to write based on a prompt for five minutes straight – unedited, unleashed, unfettered.

And so without further ado, I give you today’s prompt: Belong

START 

Belong. The little girl inside me reaches for that word, wants to taste it and feel it and wrap it around like a hug.

There’s never been a sense of belonging. I’ve always been cursed to be the nomad, settling in a place for a time, but never sinking down roots, a potted plant that’s moved from place to place. If I were to travel the stars and galaxies or plumb the depths of the oceans or travel every country, I doubt I’d ever find a place where I truly, fully belong.

My heart’s a nomad’s heart, a wanderer and a wayfarer, a searcher and a yearner who is lost but seems never to be found.

There have been people along the way that almost felt like home. There have been instances where my heart rests for a moment and I think that this could be it, perhaps, but I have no roots to sink into the ground, even if it was my desire.

It’s as if my roots have been seared off.

Yet the flip side to this is that everywhere I wander, I carry a piece of “home” with me and am able to blend in everywhere. Though I might not fully belong to a people or a place, nor even myself, I can still adapt to wherever I find myself and blend in, pretending to belong, a perpetual outsider moving through. In each new place, I throw myself into my new surroundings with abandon, dancing the dance, forming quick relationships, but always under my bed is a packed suitcase.

Just in case.

STOP

 

 

 

 

Five Minute Friday: Exhale

{Five Minute Friday is a brilliant blog exercise started by the lovely and eloquent Lisa-Jo Baker. The idea is that, the world over, we gather together and write completely unedited for five minutes. We turn off that inner critic, the one who says we have nothing to say. That our stories and words are too small. No one will listen. And we take a deep breath, set the timer, and let it out.

Today’s prompt is Exhale.}

Exhale. 

It is finished. My soul work. My soul distilled into over 10,000 words of fiction. 

Pain and hope crafted and forged into words and story that hopefully will reach beyond me and touch others. 

And now I let it rest. I put this soul work aside for a month before I revisit it. 

And sit back. And wait. And watch. Entering into this season of exhalation is difficult. Oh, this, this waiting, this resting of the mind and hands, I am not good at it. 

It’s frightening. 

it’s not where I want to be, if I’m quiet honest with myself. 

Because i want this, this thing that I’ve poured so much of myself into, to be right and perfect and good. It’s nakedness and hope and fear and joy. It’s me. Or at least, it’s a part of me. 

And I’m far more comfortable working feverishly, fingers outyping the shadows that nip at my heels day in and day out. 

But there is a time for fast typing and crafting. And there’s a time for waiting. 

Exhale. 

It’ll be okay. 

Exhale. 

Breathe, baby girl, breathe. 

This is my daily refrain. this is what I say when I wake up and when I do dishes and comfort baby-cries and husband sighs and then lay myself down to rest. Exhale. Don’t hold it in till you explode. 

Waiting is the hardest part sometimes. 

But it is also healing and necessary. The exhalation releases the toxins, it releases the tension. 

Besides, if I never exhale, I’ll never again get to inhale.