Aging is Beautiful

I was at a local, Minneapolis restaurant on Thursday all nestled in a corner table secretly staring and admiring the table of glorious humans in front of me. Nine beautiful matriarchs sat discussing with one another. They spoke with intention, moving their freckled, worn hands, some brown, some peach, all soft and lined. They listened to one another beyond hearing, past the crow feet and weathered skin. It was like watching trees absorb rainwater. They were magic. I wanted to know them. I wanted to be them. 

This picture of me, 30, smile lines beginning to carve into my face as evidence of my time in this body, as evidence of my time spent in joy. One day those lines won't leave when I relax my face and this will be the true sign of decades of joy. This will be the sign that I might sit at the table too. Something to look forward to, don't you think?

More Than Meets the Eye

Did you ever stop and wonder what she could possibly be holding inside? There is a river there. It winds and aches. It bursts and blooms. There is absolutely always more than meets the eye. You know this because you feel it too. And yet people are just cashiers, people are just library assistants, people are just another driver who cut in front of you without permission. There is more than this brief encounter. We are more than we let on. And beyond this deep demure disguise there is also light. If you can, let it shine and if you can't I know it's there all the same.