publishing peace

Y'all, I been thinking again. I've been thinking about a lot of things. It seems like my brain is overcrowded with thoughts, teeming with ideas. It's been hard to narrow down what I actually want to say here, what words I feel like should be shared. There are plenty of things upstairs in my brain that are sifting around waiting to become ideas with a little bit more substance and a little more time baking in my Brain Oven. But let's talk, shall we (or I guess I shall, since this is my blog and I'm the one writing here), about  happiness. I have been thinking about this particular topic probably for my whole life. Recently, I've been thinking about what makes me happy. There are actually quite a lot of things -- I love sunshine-y days, banjos, my mom's sweet pork enchiladas, cheesecake, flannel shirts, swingsets, soft fabric, bright lipstick, pretty dresses. I love laughter, the sound of my fingers against the keyboard of a computer, Claire de Lun...

Recently I saw a screenshot of a tumblr post that was addressed to twenty-year-olds who've never been loved, and my heart and mind wanted to continue in a similar vein here. With Valentine's day coming up, I've been thinking a lot about love. About what it is, and how to give it, and how to receive it. I've realized that this is a lesson I need to learn better, and I've been working on it. So, know that this post is just as much for me as it is for you. So, say you're twenty-something, and you've never been loved. Sure, you've been liked. But I'm talking loved . You're twenty-something and no one has ever cared enough to ask you how your day has been for more than two days in a row. And you watch as your friends interact with their spouses, and you notice how he's gentler, and she smiles more, and you wonder what's wrong with you, why you don't have somebody to be gentle, to smile with. You're twenty-s...

In high school I went to an unbelievable program called "Be The Change". It was an absolutely indescribable experience focused on letting down the walls around our true selves and using who we really are to change the world. One of the exercises we did was called "Real Talk" where we would sit in small groups of strangers and share things about ourselves most people didn't know, starting with the phrase, "if you really knew me". Today, for those of you who read my words but don't really know me, I'd like to introduce myself using some real talk. This might be the scariest thing I ever write and let people read, because so much of me is in these words, and a lot of it is information you wouldn't know unless I told you. So here I am, telling you. Hopefully you can see me clearer. If you really knew me, you'd know my name isn't Em, it's Emily. You'd know I changed it in the seventh grade when I got fed up with how many ...

"Courage is not the absence of fear; rather, it is the judgment that something else is more important than our fear." All my life, I've wished I were braver. It's true! I have wished that I had courage to do things I saw other people doing. I wished I were not so cautious so I could go out and do crazy things with my friends without worrying about getting in trouble. I wished that I could say that funny thought I had in class loud enough to let people hear, and I wished more than anything that I could tell people what I really thought about them without worrying what they'd think of me. In a recent conversation with my mother, though, she told me that she thought I was brave. "You've always put yourself out there," she told me. "You knew you could fail, but you tried anyway, and because of that you had experiences other people won't have." This came as a bit of a surprise to me, so I asked her for examples, and she talked ...

Nobody can tell me there isn't a magic about Christmastime. There's something about the entire atmosphere of December that is ethereal, almost - it's by turns cold and white and silently peaceful, then glittering and wild, then warm and gold and flickering, cinnamony, feel-good and happy. This holiday season I've been puzzling, and puzzling, and puzzling some more, like the fabled Grinch, about why Christmas does what it does to me -- I am a little kinder, a little more giving, a little more willing to show my love during this time of year. My heart grows three sizes. And I've come to understand, like the Grinch before me, that it has nothing to do with packages, boxes or bags. I love Christmas because my soul loves Christmas. Because this time of year is the time we think about two thousand years ago, when a baby was born to a humble couple in a stable and laid in a manger. We close our eyes and it's almost like we can see an angel that came to shepherds in t...

Driving Marv Elders, post-Book of Mormon class Sisters' p-day Goats at the Tolmans' Light Up Inman Don't make me go. Sister Larsen & Kelsey Family. The Rushs The Suns, ft. Sri Racha Shelby & Cam, beauty in a photograph My hermanas At the Walters' farm Melissa Poggio, our best friend Sister Sith Joanne, who didn't want me to see her cry when I left Snow in South Carolina Christmas from Inman Dan & Pat Bubba's Diner John 3:16 Bug Friend Loved. The Life-Changer I've started and restarted writing this five times and I've come to the conclusion that if I were to memorize every word in the English language I still couldn't come up with the right combination to describe these happenings right here. All the above pictures were taken between the dates of September 20th, 2017 and January 23rd, 2018. You'll notice most of...

It took only so long for me to recognize that I felt completely at home with Charleston. But I did, and I'm sure that if I went back, she'd greet me with a sweet southern "Hey, little missus". That's the thing about Charleston; get on its good side, and it'll remember you forever. Much of the history of the city has been erased, at least at surface-level. It's an autumnal sort of place - a blend of something brand new and something left over. There's high fashion salons next to Civil War era homes -- the church graveyards, of which one feels that there is no end, are amalgamations of cracked headstones and shiny new plaques. The people have retained a charm, but have shed a lifestyle. Despite all that has perished here, though, Charleston is alive, and I'd even say it's alive and well. Some things just keep kicking, and no one can say Southerners ain't stubborn. Charleston is not your averag...