You are a palace.

Dear You,

Or me.

A few days ago I talked to a dear friend. A friend who I swear has all of the wisdom in the world flowing through her finger tips and out of her mouth. She compared herself to a house—how sometimes you need to paint and learn to love the color tan, even though it’s hard to change, even if you love your blue paint. And I’m sure you’re reading this thinking, weird? I promise I’m going somewhere with this.

C.S. Lewis once said that we are all houses.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running towers, making courtyards.

You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come live in it Himself.”

But to be honest, sometimes I feel more like a trailer. Sometimes I feel trampled on by others. Sometimes I feel trampled on by myself. Sometimes I feel like God just needs to tear me all down and build me back up again. And lately I’ve had a hard time loving my paint chips, my withered creaks.

But CS Lewis also said that if we knew of our potential, we would understand that we are all possible gods and goddesses. And one day I want to walk into my house, or look at who I am, and gasp at all that I am. I think Heaven will be like that. I think our Father will grab our hands and say, “My dear Talor! Look at you.” And we will all fall to our knees when we see what we are really capable of, how majestic and beautiful we really are. We will see the beauty of those paint chips and withered floors. Because those are the things that make us who we are.

I am a daughter of a King. A King. A Father that loves the pieces out of my quirks, my flaws, and my chipped blue paint.

I will get there one day.

I will love myself as much as He loves me.

I think I owe that to Him.

Love always//talor.

Oh, there you are.

OKAY so I have been inspired from a lot of things this week. But last night I was reading a girl's instagram posts--Rachel Brathen aka yoga_girl. She experienced her best friend's death a few weeks ago (I cannot even imagine) and I stumbled upon this post which made me cry endlessly.

"You are gone but you are not. I have taught only two classes since you passed away and Savasana is almost unbearable. Your presence has been so strong. At the end of Saturday's class I had everyone put their hands to their hearts and as I walked around giving small adjustments, I realized...you are in every single person here in this room. I adjusted a girl's shoulders, she has a wooden earring in one of her ears. Just like you. Another girl has a dread, just one, nestled in her messy hair. Just like you. One person is smiling, just like you. Someone has toes that remind me of yours. A mat the same color as the one you always had in your bedroom. "Look!" you told me one day. "I bought a good yoga mat! Finally!" I looked at it and laughed, "no, you didn't honey. This is a crappy mat. You'll slip!" You frowned: "But it was $20!" When I told you a good mat will cost you at least $50 you looked at me like I was joking. "$50 for a yoga mat??? Tss. You super yogis are so picky. I'll use this one forever and it will be good you'll see." And you did. It's broken and dirty and smells a little bit like mold but you used that thing everyday. And I held it in my arms all the way from San Jose to Aruba but I still haven't rolled it out at home. I can't. It's leaning against the altar I made you, waiting for a time when I'll be able to think of these things and still stay sane but I'm not sure that time will ever come. But in that Savasana two days ago I saw you in every person in that room. And for every person I touched I felt you even more and at one point I felt my tears drip onto the girl beneath me and she grabbed my hand. She looked me straight in the eye and said "it's okay" and I knew right then: that was you, too. She came up to me after class with tears in her eyes. "I lost my husband, I am where you are." And I am understanding now more and more that we are all the same. We are all sisters. We're in this together. If you are in everyone that means you are in me also and that means you never really left. It's the only comfort I have and it's beautiful."

If that doesn't just make you weep, I don't know what will.

Throughout my life I have seen death come. Sometimes quickly, unannounced, other times slowly and patiently. But it comes.



It's hard and painful and that's all I'm going to say.




But then, days or months or years pass, and you begin to see things.
 
I can randomly take a breath of air and smell the same bush that was in my grandparent's yard. I can smell my grandmother's perfume she wore, and I will always be able to hear her laugh in my sister's laugh. And sometimes, I will randomly hear my uncle's voice say, "Talor," as he did when I was little--like when he was about to tell me to play a prank on my mom. And I will never forget my grandpa's voice when he would tell me I'm beautiful. I will always be able to feel his light hugs and my grandma's nimble fingers on my face.

And that knowledge is peaceful and full of love and spirit and connectedness.
I realize now more than ever that we are never alone. Not ever.

Because we are all human. We are all connected, and we really are in this together.


 They haven't really left.





 In fact, they've been in your heart all along,

and they will stay there.

A Letter to Myself

 Dear Me,

I cannot expect my body to be overly muscley, stick thin, or perfectly perfect. Why should it be? Will it make more people love me? No. Will it really make me happier? Probably not. Does it really matter? Not in the long run.

The women I look up to, who I inspire to be, I inspire to be not for their thigh gap, their toned arms, or their perfect body. I look up to them for their determination, their strength, their ability to love and to laugh and to be courageous. There is no correlation between thigh gaps and courage. So I should stop treating it as though it will give me such.

The man I want to love me for eternity will not love me more for having perfectly shaped legs or a perfectly flat stomach. Because eternal love is unconditional love, and he will love me when I work out and he will love me when I gain 5 pounds. Why? Because a flat stomach doesn't give me love and respect. Because a thigh gap doesn't tell you how lovely my personality is. Because there is no correlation between love and perfect curves. So I will stop treating it as though it will give me such.

 And how sad that I should be so harsh on my own body? The body that wakes me in the morning and puts me to rest at night.
The body that cradles my soul.

So, instead of striving towards a thigh gap, or for sleek arms, or a flat six pack, I will wish for other things.

I will wish to always have legs that can carry me up into the mountains and back down to my home. I will wish for lungs that make it so I can laugh for hours and run for miles. I will wish for arms that hug perfectly and cradle little souls. I will wish for a backbone that stands straight and firm. I will wish for hands that can always paint and inspire.

Because those things create love, laughter, determination, strength and courage.

Breathe.




I deserve love--whether I'm perfect or not.
(repeatx10000)

I love you.

Love, Me

i n n e r strength.

okay, so i think we all have short term and long term goals, right? as a woman, i think it's in our nature to make a goal out of everything. whether it's about school, religion, sports, fashion, etc., we always want to better ourselves (or be better than the person next to us--yikes). which can be beneficial or really bad. highly unrealistic goals are how depression, stress, and anxiety form--but when it's a realistic goal, great things can happen. but sometimes, it's nice to just--do things without any analysis.

today i accomplished a goal i didn't even know i had. and it was unexpected and great and made me feel super good about myself. which brings me to my point--i think we don't understand all of our strengths. i think we only see a very very very small percentage of our greatness. and maybe that's because of society, or personal reasons--but whatever it is, i think it's a great thing to get rid of all that we think we know about ourselves, and just embrace that we don't know everything and run into oblivion with open arms. i think when we do that, something really really great could happen--we could learn more of what god knows we are capable and less of what we think we are.

n o r t h b o u n d

So, something exciting: I'm selling candles. I know, I know. How is that exciting? Candles? How random! Well little kittens, let me tell you a story. Yes, I did just call you that.

Back in January, I made a very important promise to myself that I would be braver, that I would dive back into the arts, and that I would try my hardest to make my talents grow. 

Over the past few months, certain things have fallen apart to make way for certain things to blossom together. All of a sudden, I wasn't getting married in April, I had a small class load, and I wasn't working as much. So I stuck to my promises, and out of that came new hobbies...and brainstorming, and doodles, and....this was the result. 

So....that's something, right?

For now, I have opened an etsy shop. https://www.etsy.com/shop/NorthboundCandles

And soon my talented fiancé will have finished the website. 

Cheers to talents and candles and a whole lot of support! 

Women.

To celebrate women and all of their greatness, I've composed a list of five (out of many) reasons why women are so amazing. Let the clapping begin!

1. Let's go back to the days before anesthesia and epidurals. Did you know that women actually gave birth without any pain medication (not to mention, without a hospital to rest in)? Like they didn't have a choice. They just did it and had babies and conquered motherhood. Uh, what? I'm pretty sure that makes women the stronger gender. And I will believe it until I see a man give birth in the forest without pain meds (too much?) 

2. Defeating the age of oppression. From our history classes, I think we can all admit that there were way more male heroes mentioned than females. Why is this? Not because men are more hereoic than women, but because women were severely oppressed (and still oppressed in a lot of countries). I took a women's history class last semester and discovered that women did a lot of GREAT things but a lot of it went unnoticed because they weren't seen as great, powerful, or independent. But guess what? Women took a stand and they marched and fought and argued until they were given the same rights men have always been entitled to. Our ancestors were given nothing and fought for everything. They were warriors. We are warriors by blood. Awesome, right? Right. 

3. One word: fashion. 

We know how to look good and kick a**. A lot of men only know how to do one of those things. 

 Zooey Deschanel says it all. “Here’s the thing about being a girlie girl. I think there was a generation before us that felt like they needed to act like men to be taken seriously, like they had to use their sexuality to take control of people. I don’t judge people for that. But I don’t want to take all my clothes off and use myself as an object. It’s part of the machine and I don’t think that necessarily pushes us forward as women. I think you can still be girlie and maintain your power. The fact that you associate being girlie with being non-threatening, that is … I mean, I can’t think of more blatant example of playing into exactly the thing that we’re trying to fight against. I can’t be girlie? Why do I need to be defined aesthetically by someone else’s perceptions of what makes me seem like someone who should be taken seriously? I’m going to wear whatever I want to wear, because I’m expressing myself, and I deserve that right. And I like the way that looks. You’re not demeaning yourself by acting girlie. I think the fact that people are associating being girlie with weakness, that needs to be examined. Not me dressing girlie. I don’t think that undermines my power at all."

4. Women in politics. For example, Hilary Clinton. Before I start, let me say this: you don't have to like her or what she believes in (or her husband, am I right? Kidding, kidding), but as a woman, you should respect her progressive lead into equality in the political sphere. I mean, come on. She's the first American woman to run for president. She's been discriminated, mocked, and objectified by congressmen, senators, idiotic journalists and sadly, women. You can hate her actions and beliefs, but shut up and applaud her for stepping up. 

Also, lets stop judging her hair/wardrobe. She's dealing with a lot bigger issues than what color she looks best in. 

Unfortunately, women are still out numbered in politics, but they continue breaking down stereotypes, traditional views, and old political ideals. And can you imagine how hard that would be? Your environment consists of a lot of older white males who still largely believe that men should be in charge of government. So, congrats to any woman who is willing to fight her way through that.

5. Lastly, I'm going to bring up something that's always brought up in the work sphere, and tends to be true. A man can be tough or "mean" and is seen as masculine, but if a woman does the same, she's deemed a B word. Not okay, but that's life. And guess what? Women just shake that stereotype right off their shoulders and continue being their awesome fierce self's because they're women and they are full of class and sass. 

Also, look at our ever-progressing society. Our ancestors are probably so proud to see that women are in the working sphere. Not only that, but taking on what were once believed to be masculine jobs. 

So today, don't forget to celebrate your ancestors, your inspirations, and yourselves. Remember all that you're capable of and remember: you are a warrior by blood. 

j o u r n a l i n g .

 

Today I visited my old journal.

Old as in 2012.

I was surprised at how many times I had actually written, and what I had written about.

I remembered moments of pure joy, nervousness, peace, anger, and loneliness. 

For the first time in my life, I finally understand why writing in a journal is so rewarding and neat. 

 

I wrote letters to God all the time. For some reason, I found it hard to pray sometimes--I think that was due to my surroundings and friends. But I didn't want to stop talking to Him, so I wrote. (Which I'm positive were translated into prayers.)

 

 

Hahahaha. Apparently I decided I wanted to become President on the exact same day Neil Armstrong died? August 25th, 2012.

 I also just decided that regardless of my job in the future, I will never wear any type of suit. 

 

"Today. Today I went for a walk, hoping to find myself. Instead, I found God. I found Him in the clouds that swallowed up the mountain I call home. I found Him in the snow-kissed trees; the evergreens scattered along the fresh snow. I found Him in every inhale and exhale I took. I found God."

Success from a D-

In the year 2011, I made up my mind that I was going to be a high school English teacher. Why? Because I liked books, and I liked school, and Mrs. Nichols always seems really happy, so why not?

And then in that same year, I went to college, I took English classes and I just figured I was meant to be a teacher. I never questioned it, doubted it, or even thought about it. 

But then...I took an English class my second year of college and I fell in love with this thing that made 90% of Americans cringe...politics. My professor forced us to learn about our nation and government by making us read and question our ideals about society. And there was all of these statistics and arguments, and I l o v e d it. To this day, it is still my favorite class I have ever taken. 

And I finally got the courage to take a political science class. 

And I hated every second of it. I had this professor, who I will leave unnamed, who strongly believed in a patriarchal society, who made you feel like an idiot for asking questions (it's not my fault he had such a strong accent), and who did not care about politics, only his own opinion. On the first day of class there were 20 kids, and on the last day, 2 or 3 kids were left. I was one of the 2-3 and I got a freaking D-. 

So I got discouraged and I went back to my English classes, where I got nothing but straight A's. However, I felt different. I wasn't content learning about Emily Dickinson and how to tear apart a novel. I no longer wanted to be in a high school for the rest of my career. 

It took a while, but I finally gained the courage to retake political science (and I got an A so suck it unnamed professor) and I fell in love with it all over again. After a lot of introspection, tears, and coming to the realization that I was unhappy, I thought about majoring in political science. Even though I had plenty of people questioning my decision, telling me I couldn't do it, and that I shouldn't do it, that's when I became my strongest and I became determined to prove them wrong. 

That's when I started over. 

The point of this whole rant is that we should never be afraid to start over, to recreate our dreams, and to say goodbye to unwanted dreams. It's okay to feel challenged, intimidated, and nervous--I remember a teacher telling me once that when I felt excitedly challenged, that's what I should pursue. Because dreams are meant to be exciting and challenging. And no one ever tells you that in college you'll most likely end up wasting more than a few credit hours and biting your nails down to nothing because you just don't know what to do with your life. But it's okay. It's life and it's what we have to go through in order to evolve. 

So thank you, to the those that were doubtful and discouraging. Because of you, I'm going to be successful and I'm going to prove you wrong--especially you, unnamed professor from heck.

Nike says it all. 

Wedding Bells.

So since I'm getting married in April, I am of course all over Pinterest looking up colors, dresses, accessories, etc. I got engaged back in September and have changed my mind countless times. From a woodsy theme to a Gatsby theme, from pastel colors to bright colors. But I'm a strong believer that your wedding should reflect the love you share--not the latest wedding trends of 2014. So I started thinking outside of the box and it's really hard to try to capture the essence of the relationship sometimes (unfortunately for wedding planning his favorite things consist of movies that begin with "Star" and computer-geeky things) BUT I'm lucky enough to have a very easy going fiancé who supports every phase of the wedding planning, and I really wanted to capture the love we have. The theme of our wedding is basically an old fashioned tea party, with romantic quotes from old novels, famous love letters, and tea cups galore. I. Am. So. Excited. 

My inspiration? 

 

A few Christmases ago my mom bought me a book capturing the most beautifully written love letters of all time. Since then, I'm obsessed with writers and their love. Seriously nothing is more beautiful than Zane Grey's letters and John Keats. I burst into tears. 

Poetry is always, always beautiful. 

Jane Austen themed. Holy cuss I died over these pictures. 

I am such a fan of tea cups ever since I saw an Alice in Wonderland themed party. So whimsical and refreshing. 

My mom will be making my cake, which means so much to me. I hate fondant and the huge cakes that take weeks and weeks to eat. This cake is beautiful and simple and I love the use of wild flowers. 

I saw these boots on Pinterest and immediately wanted to be transported into the Victorian Era. From October to April I am only ever wearing boots. So I only thought it was natural that I had to have an old fashioned wedding shoe....which is why I took a whole week and finally found these. And I bought them and they fit perfect and I could cry. 

And these are our colors. Emerald and gold are the main colors (with an added hint of black) and blush and mint are in the details. 

Obviously I can't speak about my wedding dress, because Dean will read this. But it's so beautiful and elegant and timeless. I have never worn anything so beautiful.