7-Day Candle DIY

I'm at my friend Stephanie's house, and we're both a little fixated on these intention candles from HOI. There are a few burning right now. She had a bunch left over that we decided to plant in, because it's cute and it's like giving new life to your intention and all of that. Blame it on my sense of sentimentality and/or mysticism. 

Before you start to think it's all serious, watch this. Half of the things in this video are things I have actually done. No shame. 

This one already got knocked over by the cats. 

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So, instead of giving you a tutorial on succulent arrangements, which if you need one, I already have two, here and here, I'll just leave these photos of aesthetic inspiration. 


Feeling a little cheesy for the first time on here, which is weird because I am usually cheesy and it doesn't bother me. But the above statement has been really true for me and I guess it's still pretty new. I came upon this discovery in a pretty unique way, looking over my body of work, as a freelance writer. Knowing that rejection is the crux of any writer. Submitting and being turned down, and re-submitting and making a real mess of things. So, why have I always have luck in this arena? And more importantly why is said luck bothering me? 

Well, it might have to do with the other crux of being a writer, which is to have to get really honest about insecurities, and failures, and all that life has thrown at you that you weren't quite sure how to deal with other than to write about it—because sometimes I don't always know how I feel until I see it down somewhere on paper. Paper that gets tossed into the fire and never shared.

And I guess in my definition of being a writer you have to be honest, really honest, and I also realized I very well might have spent the better part of my days figuring out what others want out of me, or worse what others want me to me to be, and then doing that, or being that, and while, yes, it is my job, there's still a part of me that feels a little sacrificed. And ironically, I don't think it has anything at all to do with writing. Albeit, it was the way I stumbled upon this bit of cleverly disguised self-depravity, but it's actually a part of a much bigger problem that I've had for who knows how long: looking to others for their approval and attention. And as certain symptoms have creeped up to let me know my failings I still persist in thinking that once I reach a certain place things will magically be different, feel different. And I'll be different, feel different. We've all seen that one documentary about the woman who lost all of the weight, and became a body builder, and then didn't even feel any better. It's like that. I haven't actually seen the documentary. I've seen the commercials, but I strongly identify with those commercials.

I stand in solidarity with the idea that there is nothing in the world that can make you feel accepted and loved and wanted, if you can't sit with yourself, and be happy, and feel love, and compassion, and indulge in endless run-on sentences, and not really give a shit, because it's never been about what you can achieve, but about putting out what is already in you. Honest, and gritty, and probably gross sometimes, maybe even shameful, and to bring a little bit of air to these places, and not feel that it matters, and to stop thinking about what you can get out of it, because that will never be the end result, because it's just not. There is no end result, and accomplishing things is great, but it does nothing for how well you sleep at night. Nothing at all. 

So, the idea is that needlessly, and selfishly wrangling yourself into a shape that others want to see, means nothing. I'm not saying it from a sentimental place. It actually means nothing. We all diminish our own worthiness by trying to be someone else. And while this isn't an appeal for narcissism, I think there's a seed that lies in all of humanity that says, "one person doesn't matter." That somehow the whole is greater than its parts, which again can be disproven over and over. So one person can and does make a difference, which is both empowering and terrifying in the way that it causes you to take responsibility. 

But if you watch this by Caroline McHugh, you'll see our selfness is our biggest responsibility. Not selfish. Not needy. Not for any reason at all, but to learn to just be. 

"She woke up every morning with the option of being anyone she wished

how beautiful it was that she always chose herself."

- Tyler Kent White