“My feelings about art and my feelings about the creator of the universe are inseparable… it means attempting to share the meaning of my life, what gives it, for me, its tragedy and its glory.” Madeleine L’Engle

So, what gives your life “its tragedy and glory?” For L’Engle, she ultimately desired to bring glory to the creator of the universe through the life she lived, but how did she do this? She wrote novels of fiction from her experiences and imagination, to allow people to simply enjoy and gain new perspective on what it means to be human. She took wisdom from her years of life, then transcended them into concepts that would impact readers, not just on the surface, but also on an existential level.

The quote that you first read, comes from one of her novels called “Walking on Water”, where she explains what it’s like to live a life of faith and pursue the extraordinary life of an artist. Now, in my own words, I will attempt to find my reason for what brings my life its tragedy and glory. Along the way, I hope you will find your answer as well.

There are two things that are essential to the tragedy and glory of my life; faith and myself.

What I mean by this, is that the faith I have in the creator of the universe, will bring His glory to my twisted tragedy that I live as a human being. That He will bring goodness and beauty to my sinful story. It’s that simple, and in this simplicity, there is a beautiful, chaotic sophistication about it. As I continue to walk in this life, I have found that there is beauty in simplicity, but there is also beauty in the chaos of sophistication. Sometimes the simplest of answers, will require you to discover the chaos and the cosmos that is held within.

As an artist, my desire is to discover these “simple” truths about the tragedy we live, so I can then share the freeing and glorifying knowledge of Christ with people who are chained to the shackles of life.

With this truth, I don’t want people to simply accept or reject these ideas, but rather I want them to test and approve this possible truth for themselves. Living with this desire as the forefront of my passion, consequently brings positive and negative ailments to my story. What I mean by this, is that the life I live, will be nothing like what I expect it to be.

Up until now, the majority of my life has been lived with Christ, and from this, I can safely say that living a life with Christ is far from the idea of ‘normal’. From the places I’ve seen, people I’ve met, lives that touched me, experiences I’ve faced; never would I have thought that my existence would look like this.

It’s a mystical, yet magnificent story that I have been called to live.

But now, you’re probably asking yourself the question of, “What possibly could be the “negative” ailments to your life?” Before I continue onto these proponents, I must say that the negative ailments I’ve faced are no more different than anyone else’s; we all experience pain and we all suffer, the most noticeable difference within this, is the type of pain and suffering that we experience and how we cope with it.

Up until the age of 16; the perspective of driven optimism marked my life. Nothing I had faced or experienced as a child or teen, was that of anything that would alter my perspective on how I would live day to day. I had walked through life with the mentality that God is good, living is easy, and I am here to make the most of it. Sure, I went through a typical teenage liveliness of getting into trouble and my parent’s grounding me, ‘break ups’ (they were never relationships, but each one ended like they were), broken bones; you get the picture. But on the night of July 20, 2012, my esprit of walking with God had changed forever. The Aurora Theatre shooting completely shattered my perspective on what it means to have a heart driven by optimism.

Everything I stood for and believed in, immediately came crashing down onto me. I was crushed by the weight of my own convictions.

Somehow I escaped from this crippling tenet and I ran. In this time of running, I chose to live my life the way I pleased, away from the One who wanted to do life with me. I ran to momentary pleasures that would allow me to escape the reality of my life, but that’s the calamity of it all, each pleasure was a momentary escape, never a cure.

After searching and falling short time and time again, I decided that I would end my life. The emotional, physical, and mental dilemmas that I was experiencing, were far too great of a feat for me to handle. I had thought that nothing on this earth could save me… and I was right, but someone who overcame the world could. As I was on my deathbed, contemplating the how of my life, with tears running down my face; God spoke to me. I knew it was He because of the simple, compassionate, and still small voice that spoke to me. He told me that my life could positively impact somebody one day, but out of my own freewill, I would have to make a choice on whether to live or die.

At the time, it didn’t seem very compassionate of God, the One who dearly loves me, to say that I had the choice about my life; I expected Him to swoop down and hold me in His arms, to let me know it would all be okay, but there is something that God has blessed us with called Freewill. It’s the phenomenon of making my own decisions in life and accepting whatever consequences (good or bad), that will follow. Up until this point of my history, I knew and had head knowledge of His most prominent characteristic being love, but I was lacking of this truth in my heart.

There is a distinct difference between knowing and believing; I, was on the side of simple belief, but not on the side of arduous faith.

Because of this head knowledge, I knew that no matter what I would choose to do, He would still love me. Whether I chose death or life, His devotion for me would never change (but that is no excuse to begin living a life of sin). By now, you can probably guess which path of existence I chose. My reason for this option, was because my time on this earth hadn’t had meaning except for what I thought was to suffer, but now knowing that my traumatic season could impact somebody one day, to have a purpose; that was enough of a reason for me to continue on through the pain.

In the years that I was absent in my relationship with God; I gained insight on things that I could never have learned if I were still with Him. My time away from the light, taught me what it was like to live in the darkness. The amazing thing is, as I thought I was running away from God, He was actually running after me. He sought after my heart, wanting to restore the brokenness and help pick up the pieces, to put me back together. After a grueling four years through all of this, I had finally decided to let God back in.

In my brokenness, I found humility and In my humility, I found strength. I discovered that I cannot walk this meaningful tragedy alone.

Since then, in times of introspection, I now understand the darkness and appreciate the light much more because of it. Like I said, my purpose in the days that I’m given on this earth, is to bring the light of truth to the lies of darkness. I went from a cave, living as a shadow in the dark, hiding from people who wanted good things for me, to a now, bright lighthouse on a hill, desiring to bring the light of truth to those who are caught in the fog of life. In other words, God has brought His glory to the tragedy of my story. My faith in the creator of the universe did exactly what I had hoped He would do.

Now a new question arises, “I thought you just said you didn’t want to be with God?” You’re right, I didn’t, but apart of me wanted to be with Him. My flesh of sin wanted to resist God, but my spirit of truth wanted to be with Him. Confusing, right? Paul, a traveling evangelist writes, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” What Paul is getting at, is this idea that we are sinners, yet we are saints. Why do I do the things I know I shant do?

This is the tragedy and glory: the tragedy of knowing the beautifully, sophisticated paradox that I am.

How do I solve the problem of self? Who am I? These questions lay dormant in the story that I live out day to day; in the scripts I write, films I create, words I choose to use. It’s the chaos within the cosmos; the wisdom to know that which I fully am and the strength to accept that fact of my enigmatic ways. David, the once King of Israel wrote, “For the inward mind and heart of a man are deep.” We, I, are Homo sapiens; man who ponders thought. The One who created thought, knitted the fabric of our very souls in the wombs of our mother’s. By the breath of His lungs and the fire of His spirit, He forged man and woman with the essence of His love.

The last part of tragedy is this: to know that we were meant for so much more in life, but our beautifully sophisticated, paradoxical selves chose (out of our own freewill) to live within not just the cosmos anymore, but also in the chaos. As humans, we were never supposed to endure the pains and sufferings of the lives that we now live in the chaos. We were called to live a life with the Creator of the universe in the cosmos. Now, there are bits and pieces of both beautiful divines that we experience day to day.

Faith and myself, the tragedy and glory. To know the meaning of my existence; the why for my sufferings, and the wisdom to understand that who I was, am, and will be, is precisely the way I should be. I am a conscious, yet beautifully sophisticated paradox that chooses to live within the chaos and the cosmos, to bring glory to my Creator, and tragedy to self.

For me to live is Christ, to die is gain. To live for Christ, means to die to self, so that He may bring His glory to my paradoxical tragedy.

This is my story, this is who I am. A conscious child of God, who is beautiful, sophisticated, and paradoxical; called to live my life in an intimate relationship with Him, so that He may use the tragedy of my life, to bring glory to Him so that all may see, so that all may know, who they too, are; a beautifully sophisticated paradox, living amongst the chaos and the cosmos, in need of a Savior, who brings glory to their tragedy.

So, I leave you with this, “Sooner or later we must distinguish between what we are not and what we are. We must accept the fact that we are not what we would like to be. We must cast off our false, exterior self like the cheap and showy garment that it is. We must find our real self, in all its elemental poverty, but also in the its great and very simple dignity: created to be the child of God, and capable of loving something of God’s own sincerity and his unselfishness.” Thomas Merton

I now challenge you to go out and discover for yourself, the truth and meaning to your life.

Love continuously proves to be one of the most elusive concepts.

That is, for me anyways. How are we supposed to go about finding something that so few can even define? Yet, while I may not have experienced the kind of love that makes up fairy tales, some of the stories I have heard throughout my 21 years of life have given me hope. Hope that maybe the connections we make in this lifetime are worth more than a box of chocolates or a way to pass the time.

Some of the following recollections of love stories are from my friends and family. Others are random remembrances of conversations with kind strangers. Either way, from those I have encountered, I have found that it is love that makes life worth living.

My grandmother smiled warily as she recounted her love story for the last time, sitting with me on her bed.

The platinum beauty was standing overlooking the airplane tarmac with her father when he saw her. He was sitting in the café with a gaggle of stewardesses when he looked up and said, “That is the woman I am going to marry.” The young man got up, walked over and introduced himself to the woman and her father. As fate would have it, he worked for her father’s engineering company in Los Angeles. As the staff called for the boarding of their flight, the woman and her father took their seats in first class while the man went back to sit in economy. When the father got up to use the restroom, the man got up, sat in the father’s seat, drank the father’s martini and did his best to woo the young woman. When the father came back he politely asked if the young man would move, as he’d like to have lunch with his daughter. Phone numbers were exchanged, background checks were ran and a double date was set up between the young man and the beautiful blonde. Six months later they were married and proceeded to spend the next 50 years of their life together.

She chuckled while recalling the memory, sitting with me at an airport terminal in Dublin.

She was an English lady on holiday in Ireland with her friends. Her first marriage was not all that it was cracked up to be and she needed a break. Riding her moped down the winding Irish roads, he almost ran her off the road. It was meant to be. They got married and she moved to Ireland whilst her daughter moved to The States. She learned to love Guinness for him.

Her eyes smiled up at me over her glass of wine as we told her our well wishes, sitting on our hostel’s rooftop patio in Portugal.

They we’re both at a random Chicago Cubs game. He was from Texas; she was from Canada. They were seated next to each other and hit it off. He had just gotten into a relationship. They exchanged contact information and went their separate ways. A year and a half had gone by when she received a random call. It was him. He was out of his relationship and had been thinking about her after all this time. They began long-distance calling each other for months and eventually made plans to meet in Vegas to see if the spark was still there. She was leaving to fly to Vegas in the morning.

Watching as they joked for the umpteenth time about who is older/smarter/drunker I remember how much I adore my brother—and I couldn’t love her more as a sister if I tried.

They grew up at the lake together. He did a little more of the physical growing up then she did. It was the golden summer and feelings developed. Jokes were made and families looked on with barely-concealed amusement. There were many play fights to be had, lots of Bloody Mary’s to be made and countless childish jokes to be tossed out just to see who could toss it back first. She lived in LA; he lived in Atlanta. They carried on long-distance throughout the ups and downs over the years. They look forward to moving in together next year.

I could go on forever.

It’s true for many that love take time to grow. But for others, it arises and smacks you on the head like an out-of-control moped on an Irish holiday. To me, relationships that seem to be destined aren’t the ones you went searching for. They’re the kind that come out of nowhere. They are the kind that are messy, take work and surprise your common sense.

They’re the kind that I love to hear about.

I love to hear the stories about how people met, because they are never the same. They never happen the way you expect them to; and that’s one of the unsurpassed wonders and mysteries of life.  So to all those who have already found their love story, keep on spreading that joy. For those who haven’t, much like myself, there is nothing to worry about. Keep an open mind and heart and let fate do its’ thing. While it may not be popular opinion, I do believe that those who are meant to come and stay in your life—will. Life is long, but altogether too short to spend time with those who don’t fill your cup.

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” ― Pablo Neruda

When I was younger I always did exactly what was expected of me, but my laters years show that I’ve traveled a very unorthodox path.

In the beginning, I was Mama’s perfect little girl in ruffled dresses with matching shoes and bags; daddy’s little princess; and teacher’s pet. I colored inside the lines. I did what was expected of me.

Then I turned twelve and had an experience that found me (at not yet 5 feet tall) standing toe to toe with my 6’4″ pastor saying to him, bold as brass, “Pastor Mulvihill, I believe that’s called hypocrisy.”

And with that one sentence my world split in two. I still played the games I needed to to survive, but I began to question everything I knew or thought I knew to be true.

I pushed every boundary, every rule, every belief I had been taught. I’ve taken the unorthodox path. Instead I began to explore forbidden territory.

I began to read philosophy, to study world religions, to listen intently to conversations that prior to this I would have coward from. Coming from a very conservative Christian background, this was absolute heresy.

I began to write about what I was learning, experiencing, questioning, and where I might want to explore next. I did this in secret because no one I knew thought outside of the prescribed Christian norm. I had no allies on my quest, save my small town librarian.

Consequently, in little ways I began to rebel. I began to stand up for my beliefs, as unpopular or unorthodox in my community as they were. And I stood out like a sore thumb.

But I had gained access to my true north. Tenacious as I was and am, nothing was going to dissuade me from traveling the unorthodox path. Crookedy and unsure as it might have been, it was mine and not one deigned for me. It was a path that I was discovering for myself. One that fit the misfit I felt myself to be.

I have always listened to my heart. When I do, I am never led astray.

After I put myself through college, graduating with two degrees, I had my heart set on pursing higher education and Montessori certification.

But I had no visible means of paying for grad school. Daunted? Doubting? Never! I packed up my little blue Volkswagen Rabbit with everything I owned and hopped into the drivers seat to hit the road. I’d figure out a way to make it work.

I kissed my friends I’d been staying with goodbye and started my car’s engine. Then my extra dad, Dennis, said hang on a minute. He promptly returned and handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it. My mouth dropped.

It was a check for $1000. It would get me in the door. I could, and did, do the rest.

My life has been full of my convictions and passions leading miracles to my doorstep.

Allowing, as Frank Sinatra sang, for me to do it my way. And I have.

I have taught Montessori toddlers, pre-schoolers, kindergarteners, and been a school administrator. I have worked every station at a 4-star restaurant in the San Francisco Bay. I have had the joy of knowing Julia Child and Jaques Pepin, two of my greatest kitchen heroes. I was the solopreneur of Haute Plate, a fine dining and full service event planning company for over 20 years.

I am a jeweler. I have shipped my pastries and jams all over the world and have a loyal following of marmheads (people addicted to my marmalades). I have traveled with and worked for famous people. I have cleaned houses to pay the rent.

I paint the interior of homes. I sew for others. I make up words for fun. I fall in love constantly. I’m never afraid to take a chance, or to give a second chance. I look for the good and beauty in everything. My resume looks like stone soup.

I’ve done everything in life against society’s prescribed path, but I have found my bright star, my heart, my true north.

I have lived with challenges that could have destroyed me, but I have never lost my hold on my passions and my dreams. I have lived my life with the utmost gusto, my way. My unorthodox path has taken me to extraordinary places and I don’t regret anything.

Should I leave this world today, I leave no regrets. I have pursued every dream, every desire, and every passion of my heart to its happy, and in my estimation, successful completion. All this and a heart overflowing with love. What more could I ask for?

(To understand my life’s theme song more fully here are the lyrics to My Way.)

I am a person who prescribes to the thought process that all people are fundamentally good, or at least have the ability to be so.

I find that there is a basic level of good that can be found in all persons, and simply finding that is what can sometimes prove to be difficult.

There is a person I have met who has the kindest heart and the most gentle soul of anyone I have had the pleasure of spending an extended period of time with. Knowing when you are around people like this is highly valuable, because they will seemingly effortlessly improve your life without your notice.

I am thankful each day that I have the opportunity to spend ample time with an individual who improves my life in countless ways and reminds me that people are fundamentally good.

Admittedly, I am an inherently stubborn, short-tempered, and cynical person. Staying conscious of these traits each day helps me work against them, attempting to be more open-minded, patient, and relaxed. However, working alone can be difficult, and support systems are almost always necessary for many walks of life.

I have a person who shows me by example, practically every moment of everyday, how to be everything I am currently not. He encourages me when I am skeptical of my ability to do better. A heart as pure as his cannot go unnoticed, nor unappreciated.

Being an independent person is a quality I have always prided myself on having. However, if you are even better with a partner, why operate alone?

I’ve always valued working to grow, develop, and become better at all I do.

Having an individual in my life who pushes me out of my comfort zone and into a place of transparent change is arguably the best thing for me.

The person I am today is vastly different from the person I was a few years ago. That is because I am not just one person attempting to charge to the world as an island. I am a person more consumed by love, happiness, and trust—qualities I could not have attained by myself. I have become more fundamentally good with this amazing person in my life.

Just over a year ago, before I left for study abroad, my twin brother and I got matching tattoos. On his right wrist, in my handwriting, “Stay Free.” On my left wrist, in his handwriting, “Stay Free.” When we first got them, our mother was understandably furious. She said, “what happens when you get married?” “Hopefully when I get married I’ll still feel free.” Immediately slipped out of my mouth. It’s true though, isn’t it? Why shouldn’t we always feel free?

I used to think about freedom a lot. I still do, but now that I believe I’ve found an understanding of what freedom is to me, these thoughts are no longer frightening. I like to think of myself as a free spirit. I believe that anyone you ask would tell you that I am, and yet I often find myself trapped in the confines of my own mind. Still, I often appreciate being alone with nobody and nothing around, just my mind and me.

I would call this a curse if my mind worked differently. But I’m a dreamer.

My thoughts often become so vivid and so real that I can simply relax no matter where I am or what I’m doing because the reality is that I don’t feel like I’m stuck wherever I am. It would be so easy to sulk every time I have to go to class and it would be so easy to be upset about it and let it ruin my day and feel like a wasted hour. Why would I want to go through life like that though? Why would I take the easy way out when the easy way doesn’t lead to any sort of fulfillment or joy? It’s so easy to notice the negative aspects of everyday life and to let them poison your soul. So let positivity in. Don’t worry about how boring class is, focus on the friends you might make because of that class, or even simply appreciate the chance to learn.

For me, freedom isn’t something you can put into words. It’s not material. It’s just a feeling. I’m sure this is a familiar feeling for many, but it’s also a feeling I never want to go away. So how do we find freedom? How do we find that feeling and hold onto it? In my opinion it stems from optimism, open mindedness and love. If you can consistently project these qualities onto others then you are free. Free of negativity. Free of fear. Free of hate. It comes from within, but we need to project it.

I’ve stopped setting alarms and closing the shades at night. One of the most incredible experiences for me is waking up to the sunlight. It’s not a sudden heart attack at the sound of your alarm. It’s not a chaotic rush to get up and ready as fast I can after sleeping as long as I could. It’s a slow and gentle touch of warmth letting you know that morning has come. I can’t express how relaxing my mornings are when I can take my time waking up and enjoy the silence of a new day. I have time to reflect on the previous day and to think about the day ahead of me.

I no longer allow myself to stress about much. Socializing used to stress me out until I realized that most people who want to talk to you are going to be friendly. Some of the best people I’ve ever met are those who I accepted into my life at the most unexpected times. My friends from India who were studying in Australia when I spent a semester there are the most generous and open-minded people I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know. And what’s better is that I know they will be my friends for a lifetime. I returned home holding onto their values of friendship and generosity and continue to spread those values everyday.

Music is also a major factor for me in holding on to this enlightening feeling. Lyrics and sounds have the power to change the way we are feeling in seconds. I find it important for myself to begin everyday with some music. My father has always been a huge Bob Dylan fan, and I’ve found that listening to his music while I prepare for my day has always been inexplicably comforting. Whenever my Dad and I take rides together we always listen to Bob Dylan and Tom Petty, who is my favorite. We often joke that we don’t have to rush home because we simply enjoy taking the time out of our day to slow down and appreciate something we both love.

Tom Petty wrote, “most things I worry about never happen anyway.”

There is also an incredible quote by Tom about college and life where he says, “the work never ends, but college does.” I encourage everyone to look up the entire quote. This worry-free mindset has been engrained in me. If my friends are all going somewhere the night before I have a paper due and I don’t want to miss out, I’m going to go anyway. That’s what I think life is about. We shouldn’t worry about an essay that, when you really think about it, is such a minor part of your life. Time with friends can never be replaced and we should make the most of every chance we get to enjoy their company.

On the other hand, alone time is so important if you want to stay true to yourself and achieve your own goals. I think self-reflection is imperative to an all around positive lifestyle. All it takes is ten minutes each day where you can find a peaceful spot to think about what it is you want, what you want to become, and what you love about yourself. I would like to emphasize that last part. Everyone should love who they are. I often take at least thirty minutes to myself just to reflect and I often end up writing without thinking. In other words, I let the pen touch the page and I’ll think of maybe three words before everything begins to flow smoothly like a waterfall from my mind to the page. I often look back at what I’ve written and don’t know how I managed to get to that point. But let me tell you, more often than not I look back at what I’ve written and I learn something about myself.

To know your own freedom, you must know yourself.

Of course there are days when I lose touch with myself and this feeling, I’m not perfect, but at the end of the day life is too good and too precious and so I believe we all must do whatever we can to be happy and love each other. Part of that includes helping others remain positive. I often don’t know how to help friends who are stressed or worried, but I have come up with a simple solution for any friend who is feeling anxious. I simply look at them and say, “hey, buddy. You can do anything.” Honestly a lot of my friends love to hear that, maybe because we don’t hear it enough nowadays. I believe it’s true though, especially if we work together. Mother Teresa once said, “You can do things I cannot do. I can do things you cannot do. Together we can do great things.” Together we can maintain freedom.

I guess what I am trying to say is, we all go through traumatic times. We all feel stress and anxiety in everyday life. We are all surrounded by negativity. However, simultaneously and beautifully, if you can recognize it, we are surrounded by positivity, love and hope. Stay Free.

When I had just turned 16 years old, I had a stunning realization. For the first time, I knew my life purpose. After giving a self-confidence empowerment workshop to a group of 8th grade girls, it felt as though God had spoken to me and let me know that I was here to continue the work I was doing on media, body image, mental health, relationships, and more.

At the time, I had no idea what the actual path of my newfound life purpose looked like, but I knew that I had one and that it involved utilizing my passions, public speaking and organizational abilities, and more.

Four years later, it has resulted in co-founding an organization called MOVE, dedicated to empowering young women through workshops and week long summer programs. It has resulted in me publishing a book, giving speeches at several conferences, developing important connections with girls, and much much more.

For the past few years, I have been wholeheartedly and entirely fulfilled. It is to such an extent that my heart was constantly aching with emotion and the understanding that what I was doing was critically important.

The number of times that I have teared up with gratitude and contentedness that I found my belonging is too many to count.

It truly is an indescribably unbelievable feeling to know you are doing the work you are intended to do.

And then, somewhere around the start of this new school year, I started grew restless. For several months, I refused to fully confront it and instead commented on how unfulfilled I felt, without actually doing anything about it.

I hoped that my restlessness would go away, and told myself that when I gave workshops over my college break in January that I would feel better.

Yet, I didn’t feel better. In fact, it forced me to confront the sad but inevitable fact that I am growing and changing, and so was my purpose.

I am in the process of finding fulfillment again. Here’s what I know to be true, and perhaps some ideas on how you too can discover your purpose as I re-discover mine:

Give whatever you can a shot (even if it’s scary)

Growing up, my parents encouraged me to try everything I could. I learned that I hated sports, was not good at playing instruments, that dancing was not for me, singing was okay, and finally that I LOVED doing theater.

I was originally intimidated to try out theater and audition for the school play—so scared that I didn’t audition whatsoever in 6th grade—but conquered that fear a year later to learn that I really found comfort in creating something beautiful with friends.

Trying different things gave me an opportunity to figure out what I liked, and allowed me to develop my strengths in areas that I cared about. Taking the time to learn about and understand myself really benefitted me later on, as my public speaking and teamwork skills are critical to the work I do for MOVE.

So, try everything you possibly can. Especially if you’re a little intimidated to do it. I’ve found that a little fear (within a safe range) allows the most growth to happen.

Run with your ideas.

If you have an idea, take it and run with it. My friends and I decided at age 15 that we wanted to give a workshop, and so we ran with that idea and made it happen.

When I gave the first workshop, I didn’t realize what would follow. I actually thought that I would give one, it would be cool, but that would be that.

Your ideas are worth a shot. They really are. And I encourage you to go for it. I know that social pressure and a desire to fit in make trying out ideas scary, but sometimes you need to put yourself and your ideas before your ego.

Immerse yourself in learning what you care about.

More than that, devote yourself to doing what you care about. Currently, I don’t know what my next purpose is. But, I do know that the way I discovered my original purpose.

I had the idea to write a book, and made it happen, because I took the time to learn first about the issues I cared about. I’m dead serious. Learning led me to understanding, which gave me ideas, and led me to creating my own ideas.

So, I’m spending my time learning about what does currently interest me: Political Science. I am so interested, that I changed my double major from Communication to PoliSci.

I’ve also made it a New Years Resolution to read 25 books on political issues this year. Two done. 23 to go. Speaking of which, the learning that I’ve done already has actually given me the idea for my third book!

Learning about what you care about works. It gives you ideas because you’re able to see what’s missing and you can fill in what’s needed with your own work.

Combine what you’re passionate about, with what you care about, with what you’re good at.

At workshops, I always ask girls to consider the three things above. Previously, and to an extent still, I am passionate about ideas, bringing people together, and more.

I care about body image, media, self-esteem, mental health and more. And I am good at organizing, leading, and public speaking. So, I combined the three to create MOVE.

Today, my strengths and passions are still the same, but what I care about is shifting and I’m starting to consider how I can use what God gave me in another way. All I’m saying is that the more I learn and think about how I can do my part, that honestly running for office has crossed my mind more than a few times.

What are you passionate about? What do you care about? And what are you good at? What is your life purpose?

Now, how can you combine these? If you love it more than your ego, you’ve found it.

And finally, Elizabeth Gilbert describes her home as, “returning to the work of writing because writing was my home, because I loved writing more than I hated failing at writing, which is to say that I loved writing more than I loved my own ego,which is ultimately to say that I loved writing more than I loved myself.”

In other words, Elizabeth Gilbert loved writing more than she hated failing or her own ego.

For so long, I loved MOVE more than my ego. The things people would say to me or behind my back did not matter to me, and I would brush it off easily. Who cares what you think—I’m doing God’s work and nothing can stop me! And in many ways, MOVE is still my home. But I’m moving—or MOVEing—on.

Either way, think about what you love more than your ego. And that’s when you know you’ve found your purpose. To reach out to me, check out www.ashleyolafsen.com

The greatest gift my mother has ever given me was a love for books. As a little girl, she would often read to me; I didn’t realize it then, but those precious moments before bed would turn help me realize the importance and solidarity of girl power.

Long before I was interested in makeup or boys, I was fascinated with literature. It’s a running joke in my family that if I ever went missing I was most likely to be found tucked in a corner somewhere, too engrossed in a book to hear the cries for dinner.

My favorite stories growing up were those of heroes; I was never interested in tales of the damsel in distress, whose only purpose in a novel was to serve as the love interest for the male protagonist.

I idolized characters such as Hermione Granger  from Harry Potter and Jo March from Little Women because instinctually, I saw myself in both of them. Brash, bookish, and opinionated, these characters were not princesses but game-changers in the novels they resided in.

Now back to reality. Like many, I was shocked at the results of the latest U.S. election.

I was dismayed that my fellow Americans chose a man who dismissed claims of sexual assault because he concluded the accusers were “too ugly.” Horrified, I read articles that spoke of the possibility of criminalizing abortion, of women losing the right in determining their own healthcare.

In the same year that saw the first female presidential candidate and a chance to break a 238-year-old glass ceiling, we met a man who had a well-documented history of mocking and degrading women. A man who still managed to receive 62 million votes, and claim the title of our future president.

Women did not receive the right to vote in the U.S. until 1920. For many, Roe vs. Wade is more recent memory than history; the landmark Supreme Court trial disallowing state restrictions on abortions did not occur until 1973.

We make 80 cents to a man’s dollar, and in some workplaces women are still penalized for maternity leave. Although women have increased their numbers in the 21st century, men still historically dominate STEM careers.

In spite of the struggles overcome for gender equality and girl power, there is much more we can improve on in the future.

With the New Year comes with the promise of new changes. 2017 ushers in President-elect Trump, who many fear will doom the country to an unstable fate. But the time for fear is over; instead, it’s time for action.

In the face of seemingly menacing promises, women need to stand up for what they believe in and support their fellow women. We need to stand strong in the face of an administration that seemingly wants to suppress our voices; by electing an individual who so openly disrespected women in the past, his views are not likely to change anytime soon.

Most importantly, we need to educate our youth on the potential of girl power. The girls of tomorrow can be anything they want: a lawyer, doctor, or the first female president. One day, I hope to raise a daughter like my mom raised me; someone who’s passionate with a love of reading, who is inspired and encouraged to reach for their dreams.

There will never be another me in this World . That’s why I will tell you what does it mean to be me.

I wasn’t born in a wealthy family. I wasn’t born particularly talented or skillful either. I was born just as I needed to be born. I was born as a Fighter in life and in sports called Taekwondo. I was born to find my own way and leave my own trail.

I was born as Damir Pervan, an individual who has potential to inspire millions of people with its life and make this World better place for his fellow humans.

When I was 5 years old, I began to stutter severely. My life changed but my fire to make a difference in lives of others never went away. Life can throw throw obstacles on you, but you have the power to decide how you respond to these obstacles. You can be bitter or better because of them. I chose the latter.  I never gave up and I never will because that is what it means to be me.

You ask me, what does it mean to be me? Well, persistence is another explanation. When I was training Taekwondo actively and competing all over the Europe, I couldn’t win a single fight. Even though I was the best performer in practice and sparring session, for 3 consecutive years I had a blockage in my mind which was stopping from expressing myself in a Taekwondo fight. I used to watch my team mates winning their gold medals while I was in the stands, in some lonely corner depressed and sad.

I never quit. I kept training and visualizing that my time is coming.

Then, at one tournament, I knew that I was going to win gold medal. I felt it inside so strongly that it’s my time. I told my coach, hey coach, just watch me, I am going to win a gold medal, I am ready. And I did, the entire audience that day stood and clapped while I was receiving my gold medal. I guess, things come to us when we are ready for them. Persistence is engraved in my heart.

Courage, confidence, belief are all my describing adjectives.  So, as I began this story, there will never be another me, that’s why I shout: watch my actions, watch my life because I can promise you I will leave my mark and everybody will know that I was here. This is what it means to be me.

Ever since I was a little kid my home life was not in the condition it should have been. From the time I was 9 until the summer before my 14^th birthday I was abused. The only things I had were school, my baby brother, and music. School was my only safe place to be at, so I ended up spending a lot of my time there and my teachers tried to do everything that they could to help me to no avail for a long time, but when I moved back to Georgia everything changed.

When most people go home after school, they have some sort of mother figure around them to help them get through everything that life has to offer the best that she can. I however did not have that growing up at all. I did not know my mom and as far as I knew, she did not give a shit about me. My whole life I looked to my teachers trying to find that support system that I never had.

When I attended Unity Elementary School, all of my teachers looked out for me and truly cared even after my dad took me away from my nana which was the only happiness I had ever known. I remember my principal crying as she told my nana and aunt that they were not allowed to see me because my dad would not allow it. On the last day of third grade my teacher, Mrs. Moore held me as we both cried because I would not ever see her again and I believe that she sensed the trouble that was ahead for me.

That last day of school was the start of my five years of hell.

After I finished the third grade, I moved to Delaware with my dad and stepmother and things started out okay for the most part. I went to school and my teachers always had my best interest at heart, but my home life was another story. My dad and stepmother started fighting all of the time and it got to the point that I would go to school crying all of the time. The support from my teachers during this time helped me learn that the fighting was not my fault, but the turmoil that was to ensue was soon to come.

During my sixth grade year, my STEM teacher, Mr. Fragile started to notice my missed absences and my changing behavior, so he dared to ask me the question that my teachers have been wanting to ask me since I moved to Smyrna, DE, “Kyasia, have your parents been hitting you?” This was the beginning of many steps taken to ensure my safety over the next two years. The next two years would be the worst in my life and yet I would learn so much about myself and the teachers that I looked up to.

While in middle school, my Honors Social Studies teacher, Mrs. Prairie was the most supporting teacher I had had at this point in time. Every day she would make sure that I was alright and that things were okay at home. Most of my teachers at this point began to notice that I was having issues at home, but none of them knew the extent of these problems. I clearly remember Mrs. Prairie giving all of her graduating 8^th graders her cell number and telling us to use it at any time we needed her. This was the 3^rd time that someone actually cared and supported me since I was a little girl and over the years I would call her numerous times for advice or to just catch up. That summer after I graduated middle school, my dad told me that I was going to go to Georgia for the summer and here is where everything changed.

No one really understood my struggles until my freshman year of high school when I met Mrs. Slay. Mrs. Slay was my 9^th grade English teacher and the first person I ever told my life story to without being ashamed.

The next couple of years would prove to be the most life changing for me because as I got to know my teachers and as I gained the courage to tell them my story, the more they began to support me and encourage me. During my junior year the biggest milestone of my entire life began to happen. After we came back from Christmas break, I finally got the opportunity to talk to my mother for the 1^st time. The minute I told all of my teachers what had happened they were ecstatic for me and when I became nervous about meeting her my AP Language teacher told me not to worry because my mom would love me as I was and would be proud of me no matter what. The day I finally got to meet her was the happiest day of my life and I was able to share it with those teachers who supported me through it all.

Without the support that my teachers gave me throughout the years, I would not be here today. The support that I received from them is the exact same support that I want my students to receive from me when I become a teacher.

Do you know why people hug when they are in pain? To place a boundary on the suffering. To draw a line where the pain can extend to. Without such a line, one’s agony will push out and is inherently less controllable. I have only experienced this type of embrace once in my life.

As a high schooler, I arrived to school each day before any student and most teachers. This was so I could spend time with one instructor in particular. Every morning, without ever formally communicating with one another, we knew we would both be there. Before even the sun. After having multiple classes with this teacher throughout my high school career, he became a mentor as well as instructor. A friend.

Shortly after the holidays of my senior year, I receive word. The sort of word one does not wish to receive. The sort of word I never heard before. A panic ensued within me, spread from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes. It’s the same panic I feel in my hands as I type now, years later.

I knew he was suffering. I did not know, however, just how bad.

Immediately following my panic came my guilt. This was a kind of a guilt that was previously unknown to my body. Standing in the middle of a Chick-Fil-A, just after hearing the news, my guilt buckled me over and I grabbed my gut. It was at this point that I could feel my discomfort and pain reaching out in all directions, uncontrollable.

Rushing home, I told my mother the news. It was then that she held me. Held me together in one piece. She drew the line for my pain. I listened intently as she explained to me that there is devastation in the world that is difficult, if not impossible, to comprehend.

She advised me to not be angry, because there is no sense in focusing on the past or placing blame. Guilt is useless in some scenarios.

There will always be evil, she went on, but the good in the world is the remedy. The good in the world is how you cope with the pain.

After a while, the conversation came to an end. Her words were of comfort. And what remains with me years later is simply the feel of her arms holding me. Not allowing me to crumble. Placing a limit to how much sadness I could feel in those moments.

However, my mother was only able to help me back up. She did not do it single-handedly nor unilaterally. This is where one’s own independence and sentience is the final step to picking oneself up, because people cannot help those who do not wish to help themselves.

It was the combination of my own acceptance and strength working in tandem with my mother’s love that allowed me to move on and limit the guilt I feel on this 3rd anniversary of one of my closest friend’s suicide.