Yelly Writes

Writing exercises

Like muscles, writing muscles must be exercised as well.  And like me and gym memberships gone by, I’ve let my writing muscles waste away.  

To be completely honest, real life has been quite full on and being creative, at the end of a busy, stressful day, took a back burner.  I’ve had a few things to work on (relationships, mental health issues – another blog entry completely, self-development, train delays, yadda, yadda, yadda).  Yes, yes!  They are excuses.  

So I thought I’d write.  Something.  Just to exercise the writing muscles…ease myself into the writing storm that I would like to enter the scene.  

I’ve been reading a lot of books (both fiction and non-fiction!), taking online classes (more on these later!), and I’ve been filling my head with all sorts of ideas.  All this in between taking photos and learning how to use my lovely little Olympus EPL-7 properly (yes, still!  I am constantly discovering the little tricks this lovely camera can do all with a twist of a knob and a click of a button)and my smart little dynamo GoPro, and working, FULL TIME.

Oh I spent a few days in Lovely London!  But that is, also, another blog entry!  Ha!  Yay me with all these writing projects (I have high hopes that they will actually get done!).

So let’s call this my excuse for a catching up entry.  

What’s been going on in your life?  Yes, let’s start a conversation. 

PLEASE!❤️

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Yelly Writes

It’s the small things that matter

Our actions are like pebbles thrown into a pond.  They create ripples and they spread, affecting the whole pond.  Because we are all connected somehow, what we do affects everyone around us.  We need to remember that what we do, however insignificant to us, will affect someone else.

Yelly Writes

Painful wakefulness

I started writing this entry at 23:23.   

I am awake, sitting on my couch and in pain.  I just wanted to stop crying about the pain my back was putting me through.  So I climbed out of bed, walked gingerly out of the bedroom and walked to my front room.  And then sobbed.  

It currently hurts to breath.  But it only hurts on the left side of my body.  My muscles are punishing me for doing something.  I’m not sure what.

So instead of focusing on the pain, I started breathing exercises to push through the pain.  Then I started thinking “Ooooh maybe I can read something to take my mind of trying to forget the pain.”  Because I always think engaging my brain helps me deal with whatever hurts – whether it’s a physical pain or something else. 

So now, I’m blogging.  Which is quite the surprise.  I haven’t actually written anything spontaneously in a very long while.  So in a way, I am thankful for the muscle pain that prompted me to get up.  It doesn’t matter whether or not this post makes sense or is at all positive (I’m writing about pain, so I’m thinking that’s a negative).  What’s important is that I’m writing again.  

I’ve got a few catch up posts to write.  Posts that I started whilst I was at home in the Philippines or in the weeks after I came home.  I need to be a little more disciplined about writing.  It is really like a muscle (hellooooo pain reference!), that needs to be exercised.  The longer I leave writing, the harder it is to approach the writing inertia.

And funnily enough, the only way to fight the writing inertia is to fight against the writing inertia.  What a predicament, eh?

It’s 23:34.  Not bad for 11 minutes work, huh?  It’s not exactly groundbreaking or profound.  But at least I’ve started writing again!

Yelly Writes

A decade of being lost in England!

“Change occurs slowly. Very often a legal change might take place but the cultural shift required to really accept its spirit lingers in the wings for decades.” ― Sara Sheridan

10 years ago I stepped off a plane at just after 6AM at Heathrow Terminal 5.  10 years ago, I was carrying a Philippine passport.  In July, I received my British passport and in it, confirmation that I was a British citizen.

A lot has happened in 10 years – that equates to 520 weeks or 3,652 and half days or 85,500 hours or 5,130,000 minutes or 307,800,000 seconds.  That’s a lot of moments, a lot of instances and a lot of situations.  It’s been quite a ride so far: I’ve met so many people, I’ve made new friends, lost some, learned about myself and the kind of people I want to surround myself with.  I’ve learned that you can’t please everyone, no matter how hard you try; that the opinions you need to focus on should be the opinions of the “right people” – the people who accept you for you, lift you up and respect your values and sensitivities.  I’ve also learned that you need to take care of yourself first.  Because no one else is going to do it for you, not really.

Yelly Writes

Learning the lesson in patience…again

55 Broadway, London

“A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us.” — Henri J.M. Nouwen

Yesterday my patience was severely tested. I was waiting for something important to be delivered.  A lot of things that will be happening to me in the next few days hinged on that all-important delivery.

I tried keep active and do other things to keep my mind off the fact that I was waiting.  But it was hard!  I had the TV on most of the day to distract me but didn’t even register that the great Roger Federer lost at Wimbledon!  But what I was waiting for did finally arrive.  I was just too impatient.

Note to self: when waiting allow yourself time to wait for the long haul. Your timetable isn’t the same as everyone else’s.

Yelly Writes

Wrestling with faith

St Paul’s Cathedral, London

Faith is not the belief that God will do what you want.
It is the belief that God will do what is right.
Max Lucado, He Still Moves Stones: Everyone Needs a Miracle

 

You know that Old Testament Bible story where Jacob dreams that he wrestles with God? That’s how I feel at the moment. I feel like I’ve gone 11 rounds against a bigger, stronger, quicker opponent.

I’ve been stressing over the what-might-happens, the what-ifs and struggling to control my environment. And oh my goodness, do I feel exhausted! And before I bungle any more boxing related metaphors, I’ll stop.

I’ve struggled so much to hold on to the idea that I’m in control. I’m not. Not really. He is…and I surrender completely. I’ve struggled with this, with the surrender, because of what it might mean, because of what might happen if I surrender what I think I have control over. At points, I felt as if I was throwing in the towel, giving in to the inevitable. But then I realised, God is in control. He has a plan, He always had one. He allowed me to choose but inevitably, He would prefer that I hand the reins over to Him because His plan is way better than mine. Surrendering to Him isn’t really giving up the fight. It’s allowing the stronger fighter to fight your corner, to take up the reins.

So yes Lord. Yes. Whatever is Your perfect will, God. Whatever it is, I know you’ll get me through it. I don’t have to worry about being strong. Because You’re more than strong enough for the both of us. With more honesty than I’ve ever said it before, in Your perfect time, according to Your perfect will.

 

 

Yelly Writes

The quiet times

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.” ― Ansel Adams

I’ve always had something to say, an opinion to express, or an argument to make.  My family encouraged vocal discourse; my father’s family fostered an environment where dry, sarcastic humour was used to drive home a point; my mother’s family encouraged debate – about everything: political opinion, religious dogma, the traffic, the path of the ants on the wall, you name it, my mother’s family would happily discuss and argue about it.  So naturally, I talked.  A lot.  It was the only logical development in my communication progression.  I had to fight to be heard, so I learned how to talk.

But lately, I’ve found that quietness is good to.  That thinking and not necessarily talking about the thoughts that run through your head is also a good thing.  I’ve learned that sometimes chatter is just a filler. Sometimes companionable silence is a sign of true acceptance and belonging. You don’t always have to say things to be understood.

Of course, the caveat to that is that one has to talk, so that feelings can be understood and there won’t be any misunderstandings.  There is that old maxim that says “actions speak louder than words.”  This is true.  I am also of the persuasion that things that can be said must be said.  It’s never better left unsaid.