On the truth in the truths we try to tell-

Perhaps two of my most valuable habits formed in university is to start my day always with a cup of tea, and to walk in solitude. I must walk long and often. 

Also on that list of habits formed is to speak (in a safe space) on the heavy things. The shadows that hover, as often as they do. We all have them, they may take different shapes, but we have them nonetheless.

My friends--as I've said before, but never enough--are the best there is. Often sending messages like this one from Sam:

>>A few months ago, I was browsing through the craft magazines in B&N when I came across a magazine called Bella Grace. Perhaps some of you have already heard of it? (Maybe I already talked about it?) 

I liked the title, and the sound of it on my tongue. But the cover of the magazine drew me in because I wondered, what the heck is this doing in the craft section? The cover didn't look like a craft magazine. No bold headline or big tutorial claim. Instead, an image of a girl in an airy white dress (view of her waist and skirt and legs) holding out an old camera took up most of the space. On the side, written in small font were "Project Love Yourself," "Simple  Ways to Grow Your Soul," "Why Today is Amazing," "The Secret Lives of Books," and "Sweet Nothings Found."

I was an English major. Y'all know that. So I read a lot of anthologies and journals of short stories and essays. Even now for work, I read a lot of exciting, sad, fantastical, scary, wise and heart wrenching books.

But maybe because of work, I forgot that reading can be relaxing. Cathartic. Healing. When it's written as a sort of...meditation.

There is truth in fiction. But there is also a beautiful truth in the truths we try to tell.

As soon as I opened the magazine and read the first couple of paragraphs, I remembered that.

Here's what I read that afternoon: "We breathe. We gasp. We sigh. We breathe. We start our lives with that first breath...almost a gasp, really; and over the course of a lifetime, the pattern stays the same. We breathe. We gasp. We sigh. We breathe.

Life is an adventure. A journey that sometimes leads us to our dreams but more often than not, it takes the high road and propels us down detoured paths, brings us to dead-ends, up seemingly unsurpassable steep grades, or it plummets us over roller-coaster one-lane highways where our sudden intakes of breath are the result of shock, surprise, sadness, wonder, grief, or elation."

I continued reading from there. Stayed in the bookstore longer than planned, turning the pages and wanting oh so badly to underline sentences and add my own words. And the magazine encourages it. With heavy paper, no ads, and journaling prompts, it encourages the reader to stop and think for a moment.

How refreshing is that? Completely. For me, so wonderfully completely...

At Bella Grace, they say "we believe that every cloud has a silver lining. An ordinary life can be an extraordinary life. There is beauty and magic to be found everywhere. It's OK to embrace imperfection. Life should be lived with a full heart and open eyes."

Bella Grace reminded me of you ladies—and the tea times you had, the articles and poetry and photos you like to share, the adventures you're having and seeking.

So I thought I'd tell you about the magazine and how it's helping me. And in a way, how these random messages and hellos and how-are-you's in this group chat help me too. 

Tonight has been another thick foggy mind night, where all the energy and productivity of my earlier day has left me empty and lost. But picking up my latest issue of Bella Grace, and being reminded of then writing to you ladies, soothes me. 

I'll end this very long message now with another excerpt: 

"I like it when you invite me in and say, "Excuse the mess," and there really is messiness—a lovely mess, but even lovely messes count. I like the roll of striped fabric you've propped in the living room corner while you figure out what to do with it and where it should go; I like knowing you felt you couldn't live without it, I like that you bought it with someday in mind, and I like that you're ok with someday not showing up yet. I like that you know it will."<<

I read those words from Sam in tears because they are so beautiful and simply, I am missing my girls so indescribably much. Truly, I  needed a reminder that came through a magazine interpreted quite perfectly and eloquently by a friend. I didn't know it, but as of late I've been waiting on a cue for the next departure. That is, after all, where journeys begin.

So here's to breathing, to gasping. To sighing and then breathing again. Here's to the reminder that our 'start-over-agains' are not limited in a lifetime. We have permission and dare I say, an invitation to begin again, over and over again.

So what are we waiting for?