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December 11, 2014

The Art of Reinventing Ourselves.

 

Norman Rockwell self-portrait

There are moments when we catch ourselves.

Catch ourselves falling in love. Catch ourselves when we are angry. Catch ourselves when lies are being told. Catch ourselves when we realize we are broken.

During these moments, the world slows down. The birds chirp louder than our thoughts and the sky is illuminated.

That’s when we realize something is going on. The heart races and we pause. Pause the world. In this moment of pausing, we can either change or continue to do what we think you should be doing. These are the moments.

It took me a long time to accept these moments. A long time to realize that those are the moments that I need to embrace. Hold them close to my heart. Listen to the world around me.

It was at a car rest stop, hours from any society, when I realized the moment. I knew that this moment was going to make or break me. So I sat there. Relished in the moment. Knew that I was in trouble and I had to do something. I needed to do something differently. I needed to change.

I began to write everyday about what I love—internally and externally. I smiled at people. I learned that most of the time they will smile back. Even if they didn’t smile, I smiled at them, it caught their attention for the rest of the day.

I walked. I walked through downtown and also found the highest peak near me.

I finally rolled out my yoga mat and laid there. No judgment towards myself. Then I found myself needing to curl up in a ball just so I could reaffirm how much I loved myself and how grateful I was to feel true emotion.

I found that if I remembered my childish ambitions, my smile always got bigger.

I read books. Books that had meaning and value for me. Books that I connected with rather than just reading for fun.

I sat in coffee shops and on trains without wearing my headphones. I observed that someone would speak to me—a definite message for me.

I bought a dress or a skirt when I was feeling down or in a flirtatious mood. It wasn’t the most expensive dress but it was something I found in an old thrift store.

I wore the skirt to live music. I wanted to dance all the time. There is art in my making.

Days went by, then weeks, then months, then a year.

I reinvented myself in those thousands of hours.

I changed. I cried. I laughed. I loved. I smiled. I pushed people away. Then I brought them back in.

I learned what compassion was. I fought compassion. Then I learned how to balance myself so I could learn to be more compassionate.

Finally, I found myself walking along the Irish Sea in a trance of happiness. I walked for hours and watched the sunset.

In that moment, I knew I was putting myself back together.

My life is a giant series of drawing paper. All of them decorated with colors of crayons, paint, marker, sand, dirt and words. The rest of the pages are blank, ready to be filled with whatever is next. I was compiling life into living art.

This is the art of putting myself back together.

Much love.

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Author: Stormi Belle

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: flickr

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