An Introduction: Finding Harmony

You may have read my About page when you found my website (and I’m so grateful you found your way here), but I wanted to devote my first blog post to a more in-depth introduction and share with you a bit of my vision for this blog along with it. Thank you for being here!

2020 spoke to us all. It sang to me. It’s a year I’ll always cherish, despite the immense heartbreak it brought with it. It reminded me we’re not in control, and that’s something hard to accept. We all crave autonomy to some degree, but there’s so much to learn when we just sit still and listen. The last year forced us to do that; I embraced it. This is the year that took my hand and guided me back to myself—the me buried beneath so much fear and insecurity and heartbreak and even misguided ambition.

Since I can remember, I’ve had conflicting drives in life: to serve and make a difference, and to create and explore. I’ve since learned they aren’t entirely conflicting—not at all, really—but it took me a long time to learn it is possible to bring them in harmony. Much of that education has come from the excavation of my true self over the last year. While I pursued serving and achieving through the military and federal service, I neglected another part of myself—perhaps the largest part.

I started writing at the age of 12. I consider myself both a youngest and an only child, as my siblings were so much older and left the house by the time I was six. We lived in the country, miles away from any neighbors, so a solitary life is not something that was new to me at the start of the pandemic. Outside of school, I spent my time reading, daydreaming, writing, and exploring the outdoors with my golden retriever, Buck. I lived for the days my dad would take me hiking and camping.

I was only 14 when I decided I would join the Marines. I was pulled in that direction by a combination of 9/11 and family pride (my dad was in the Marines before becoming a state trooper before I was born). Looking back, that’s quite a massive decision for a 14 year old, but I saw it through. I was fortunate enough to get an NROTC scholarship and went to Texas A&M University, where I started out as an international studies major but quickly changed to English creative writing (those internal motivations coming into conflict almost immediately), and then commissioned in the Marines.

My plan was always to do 4-6 years in the Marines, maybe do some federal service, and then become a writer. Do this, earn your place, and then you can follow your real passion. Well, sometimes God has other plans. I was injured in training in my first year in the Marines. I spent a couple of years rehabbing and trying to get where I needed to be, but it never happened. I was medically separated. That was my first heartbreak, and it became a real mental health battle. My plan had fallen apart and I had no idea what to do next. Who was I without that?

I was flailing, and although a little voice inside said, “Now you can follow your heart,” I pushed it down. I repressed all feelings of uncertainty, and along with it, my passion for writing. A federal job fell into my lap (a blessing, truly) and I poured myself into it. I’ll touch more on this in another post, but from that point, I spent years chasing something. I felt like I needed to achieve, and achieve more, to make up for what felt like an immense failure in the Marines. I’m proud of the work I’ve done, but I did lose a part of myself.

Now, I’m getting reacquainted with that little explorer who would dance barefoot across the massive roots of a giant oak tree in my family’s backyard in the Texas Hill Country. So many memories hinge on that tree that helped raise me. I would climb and play, pretending to exist centuries before, and I also cried with her, curled up in those strong, woody arms.

I was once pulling my nephew in a wagon underneath its canopy when the family dog alerted me to a rattlesnake just a couple of feet in front of me that I never would have seen. Another morning, after that tree stood her ground against a tornado that tore through the land the night before, I was climbing only to come face to face with a poor dead goat, hanging from the branch just above me. That oak taught me about both magic and loss. I wonder now how many others danced under it, spirits connecting across centuries.

A friend recently compared me to an oak tree, which might be one of the best compliments I’ve ever received. If it has any merit at all, I must credit that ancient oak from my childhood and my connection to it.

With this blog, I’m finding harmony. I want to write and do big, good things in the world. The way forward means returning to that oak tree and dancing. If what I write inspires even just a few people, I’ll feel fulfilled, but I do have bigger dreams than that, and I’m excited to take you on this journey to explore nature, beauty, heart, mind, and soul.