What does it look like to love and show compassion in the midst of pain? How does anyone keep giving when they find themselves in a despicable situation? How do you combat the instinct to withdraw and shield your heart from further damage?
This is the first in a multi-part post I have been mulling over for some time. It wasn’t until I finished Part II that I Googled the phrase “Courageous Compassion” and discovered a book by the same title, written serendipitously by a woman with my same first name. I have added her book to my wish list because it feels miraculously like what I am working toward in these posts. The thoughts that follow are my own, and I look forward to reading her ideas on the subject at a later time.
If I were keeping to my new, rigorous schedule, I would be sleeping already. Rebel that I am, I’m typing away on my phone in bed instead. Like a teenager getting away with breaking the rules… My own self-imposed rules.
After existing as a lone wolf in this pursuit for about six months, I finally started reaching out for inspiration. I’m fairly certain I have an addiction to the Bullet Journal community now, and I have no intention of giving them up.
Something has happened. I’m hesitant to write about it, because I’m still fighting the fear that it won’t last. But since this happening is centered around encouraging my best life possible, I’m going to hazard to write about it anyway!
At long last, I have given my blog Categories and Tags an overhaul. I’ve been thinking of doing it for months and it’s finally done! I just have a handful of categories now. My goal was to make them more generic and use Tags for the details. It ended up being a surprisingly interesting exercise in self-discovery. “So that’s what I write about!”
Anyway… Enjoy the minimized category list!
I went to see Risen (2016) yesterday afternoon. I was hoping the story would put a new perspective on the story I’ve heard and seen a thousand times. I was blown away by the impact it had on me.
I’m still madly in love with my planning journal. The problem I’m having during the days of depression is that I feel a constant stream of shame over how fitfully unproductive I am. I look back on all those beautiful pages of ass-kicking and I can’t help but feel like a loser. Self-competition is the easiest form of competition to justify, and the hardest to stop. “I should be able to do everything I did yesterday and more, because I improve every day!”