Our greatest adventure along this transient soul-stop comes in our journey to be found.
Becoming found is freedom. It comes when you realize and employ your power. When you hear your own voice without fear of lifting it up. When you own responsibility for your life and experience and let go of the need to control how others experience you. When you breathe in unabashed recognition that you are worthy. Of time and space and support and love and to be treated well and to treat yourself well. So often we mistreat ourselves after others have down so. Becoming found allows us to say, “no more,” and, “I matter.” Full stop. Becoming found allows the sloughing off of what held us back, what no longer deserves our attention. Allows the petty to be shelved. Makes room for the swans we are bound to meet as found.
I've been lost. Maybe you are lost this day? We find ourselves as we journey, as our stories - full of bunny trails and dead ends, u-turns and forks, veers and fresh starts - lay the paths we walk. Sometimes the paths we crawl.
Pain is a part of my path. A big part. A word full of complex layers. Up close, in real time, it can be distressing. Yet, step back to see its sedimental impact and it is utter beauty. I write a lot about my pain journey and its haunting hues that richly colored in my path to being found.
I grew up inside the patchwork farm edges of Columbus, Indiana. The summer before my ninth grade year, my folks moved us twenty minutes up the road to the Surprisingly Little Town of Hope. Acres of wood and field were my haven during my rites of youth. Hunting, motorcycles, and sitting on my rooftop writing filled my time. I graduated from Columbus East High, then Purdue University - Boiler Up! I'm a big fan of nature, especially the creepy-crawly variety.
After college, I set out to become a park ranger and ended up designing suits for robots at NASA. One obscure day along my journey, I felt a pain in my ass - Friends this is literal, not Houston traffic - thus began a pain journey that has lasted well beyond a decade and changed my everything. My love of creation and its intricate creatures holds major influence in my life and my passion for writing is the calling I have no choice but to obey.
Otherwise I'd be lost.
Today I pursue wellness. In the strata of life and pain - I no longer hustle. I no longer hurtle. I live for the slow burn. I spend my days writing, portraying cases as a Standardized Patient, drinking raspberry black tea and volunteering for a local homeless nonprofit. I published my first book, The Fishing Well, in October 2018.
My name is Heather and I'm a Hoosier living in the Lone Star with my hubs, Joe, our two bugs (kids) and two cats and one lizard and a bunch of fish and whatever spider my daughter happens to have trapped in a jar. From my vantage - Hope to Houston, country to city, resignation to resilience, passion to purpose - Pensive Impulse is one of the spaces where I choose my response, to connect Mr. Whitman's gossamer threads of our humanity. Themes include self-discovery, failure and fear, chronic pain and compassion.
Pensive Impulse is about excavating that marrow of spirit we each hold deep inside, that tenacity thing; demanding we never give up, keep going, onward-ho. It's about our shared navigation of the human condition and how we are each searching for the same thing - finding out who we are and acceptance of that person.
In becoming found, inside the pulse of our substance, there is only one that truly matters.