the accidental bohemian

healing. family. spirituality. growth.

January 28, 2015
by thebohemianjournalist
0 comments

the day sunny died

The day Sunny died was a very strange day. The weather was unusual. It was mid-September. It was unseasonably warm and extremely windy.   

Her living room is pumpkin-spice orange. The very pleasing kind. And it smells the same way, spicy and warm. It’s a very sunny day and everything glows. Kari is cheerful and beautiful, the kind of beauty that has been enhanced by simmering for a very long time. She has long curly silver hair and bohemian earrings that dangle over her shoulders as she talks and laughs. She laughs a lot.

She doesn’t cry when she tells me about the day Sunny died, even though I do. It was so long ago. And so much has changed…

Q: Tell me about how you and Sunny met.

1972, Brainerd, Minnesota…

Kari: I was sixteen. Sunny was a bit older than me. I met him through a mutual friend and he had a motorcycle, he took me for a ride. He took me to where he was staying and we talked for hours. I was on speed then. But somehow in this conversation we had talked about it and it all got flushed down the toilet. I went home and it was late. I woke my mom up and said, “I was just with the guy I’m gonna marry.”

They rented a place in the country and moved in together.

Kari: A mutual friend came over one day and said ‘I need to talk to you.’ He said, ‘Sunny’s gone and he’s not coming back.’ And I absolutely fell apart… ‘Well it’s just not gonna work and I’m sorry I had to tell you this…

We left and I sobbed, it was uncontrollable. Then I said, ‘No, we need to go back.’ And he took me back and Sunny was there waiting for me. No cell phones, no nothing. And he said, ‘I’m wrong, I’m wrong, I’m wrong.’ That’s when we knew we were gonna get married. 

They set the date for the middle of February.

Sunny and Kari1

Around this time Sunny decided to go into the Army. Only weeks later, just before he left for basic training, Kari contracted the German Measles. And she found out she was pregnant. The doctor assured her that the baby would be unharmed by the disease, but he wasn’t entirely correct. They wouldn’t learn this though until years later. Their son Joel was born in El Paso, Texas on Halloween day.

After Sunny’s training was complete they were sent to Germany. She was eighteen years old. Married. Moving to a foreign country. With a new infant. The year was 1974.

Q: Tell me about living in Germany.

Kari: Our apartment was vaulted. As with most European apartments, there was a main hallway with all the rooms off the hallway. And you had to turn the water on to heat it. There just wasn’t hot water. We lived downhill from the base, so whenever we went to the commissary we walked uphill all the way. The shopping section was “old-city European”, with cobblestone walking streets and small shops of all kinds.

While in Germany she became pregnant again and their second son was born. They named him Justin.

Kari: There was no telephone. The people downstairs had one. In order to call the US to tell our parents we had to put in a call to the operator and then wait twenty minutes or so for the operator to call us back with the connection.

Shortly afterward they moved back to the states.

Kari and Joel2

They bought a mobile home and in August, they had it moved to a trailer park in a suburb of the Twin Cities. Sunny got funding to go to school for architectural drafting and he started in September. He began working with an architectural firm and he had such potential that the owner was talking partnership before he was done with his first year of school.

Q: What was Sunny like?

Kari: Sunny was artistic, and did a lot of drawing, plus he was very quick at learning new things, and the architecture came easy for him. He was very sociable, and had a sincere charm that made him friends easily. People were not only comfortable with him but I think he made them feel very special. He was also very quick to assess the situation around him and gain the advantage. Everyone loved him. Everyone. 

Q: Tell me about life with Sunny.

Kari: I guess I would have to say we lived a kind of “hippy” life-style. You nursed until the child was done nursing, even if they were five. And you all sleep in the same bed together. We had two beds we pushed together and that was where we all slept. We loved being parents, and planned to just keep having babies.

The next summer he had gotten a new motorcycle. The neighbors took the kids and I went riding with him one day and I was really uncomfortable. And I loved motorcycles, that was our only transportation when we were first together. I never had been uncomfortable before. But here I was, suddenly feeling so uncomfortable now that we had the kids and we were both out riding together. And that’s the last time I was ever on a motorcycle.

Q: Tell me about the day Sunny died.

Kari: The day Sunny died was a very strange day weather-wise. It was a year after we had moved. It was mid-September. The weather was so weird. It was just really warm and there were strong strong winds. 

He called to tell her he was coming straight home after school instead of going to work because the weather was so bad for riding. She hung up the phone and felt very uneasy. Over the next hour the uneasiness grew and he did not return. Then the phone rang.

Kari: Nobody came to tell me. I got the telephone call and the person said, ‘Has the Chaplin’s office been there yet?’ And I hung up the phone. I never even asked who it was. And then I just panicked. And nobody was around. I ran from door to door in the trailer park, but nobody was home. So I just made myself go back and sit and wait for the phone to ring again.

When it finally rang they said, ‘He’s been in an accident.’ And I said, ‘Is he okay?’ I thought they’d say, ‘Yes, he’s in the hospital.’ … ‘No. He’s dead.’… On the telephone. Nobody ever came to my door.

[Relatives] must have identified his body because I never had to do that. Somehow I got the stuff he had in his pockets, but I don’t remember how. I called my mom and my parents drove right down. Then I had to call his parents, and it’s like how do you tell people this? ‘Sunny’s dead.’ I mean that’s all you can say. ‘Sunny’s dead.’

The day Sunny died she was 22. Sunny was 23. Joel was almost 4. Justin was 2. It was 1977.

Q: How did the boys react?

Kari: It’s really interesting, shortly before that we were all sitting outside on the picnic table and there was a dead butterfly. And Joel was just fascinated by this butterfly. And he didn’t have much speech. He was hearing impaired from the measles I had when I was pregnant with him, but we didn’t know it yet. So he didn’t have much speech. It was like, ‘How do we tell him about death?’ So we said, ‘The butterfly has a broken body.’So when Sunny died that’s how I explained it, I said, ‘Daddy has a broken body.’ I knew that God had provided that butterfly. 

We would sit and cry together. It would just come in waves, the sorrow. And you just cry through it. We went up to my mom and dad’s, we were out there for a week. I remember being in the basement and it just hit me. I just sat down on the steps and sobbed. And then it would pass and it would be okay. It was kinda this back and forth thing but I cried with the kids. And I knew it was good that I was doing that. And we had talked about it, that we would cry together and all three of us would be sad.

Q: What kinds of things would trigger the grief?

Kari: We used to get high and watch Carol Burnett. So one day I decided I was going to do that. So I got high and watched it. And it was a big mistake. It was awful. It was awful. Didn’t do that again.

One thing I read is that you can kinda go insane with that type of sudden unexpected loss in particular, you go a little bit insane, but you don’t know you are. And I remember thinking to myself, ‘Oh I’m glad that’s not me, I’m doing really well with this.’ Oh my goodness, no I wasn’t. I was in shock. And I didn’t know it. I mean I went into this state of rebellion, like a teenager. Starting a physical relationship with a friend, getting high… I quit wearing bras and everything! And this was all around the kids. Looking back I think, how did Joel and Justin turn out so good? But they were always the focal point. I know I loved them. They were the center of my life and everything was around them.

Justin and Joel1

Justin and Joel2

Kari and Joel1

Kari, Justin and Joel

Q: How many years ago was this all?

Kari: … Thirty-seven

Q: After all these years, and all the healing you have had, what kind of emotional response is there when you talk about this?

Kari: There’s an internal thing that happens because it goes back to that person, who I was back then. And I had the whole split personality thing too, so it feels kinda like that, it’s like experiencing it as a different person, but I don’t feel emotional pain or anything with it. But I can relate to how I was feeling then. I can remember the pain, but I don’t feel it anymore. It’s not there.

 

But the story isn’t over quite yet. There’s still more I want to tell.

When Sunny died everything was paid for. The trailer, the bike, everything. With social security coming in, she had more than she needed to live on. She put the money away and in time she purchased a house for herself and the boys. And that was when things took a bit of a dangerous turn. That was when she met Billy.

Q: Tell me about Billy.

Kari: I don’t know how I connected with Billy. But not long after that he moved in with us. He had a drinking problem. He was very verbally abusive. I remember one time we were going to visit family up in McGregor and he decided he didn’t want me to go with him and he pushed me out of the car and chased me with the car to run me over. And then decided, no it was okay, we were going to be together. The remorse was so gentle it makes you forgive.

Q: How long were you with him?

Kari: I think it was probably only nine months, but I think that last three of it was, ‘How do I get rid of him?’ I had called a friend in the trailer court and said, ‘Please pray for me.’ I knew I needed prayer and I didn’t know what to do.

Q: When did you realize that you were in an abusive relationship?

Kari: We would go to the plasma bank for drug and booze money. One day when I was done and waiting for Billy this woman  with a couple little kids came up to me and she whispered to me, ‘Do you have any money? I want to get a cab and get out of here before he’s done.’ It was a boyfriend she was referring to. And I knew she was abused. She looked terrified. And I had this little thought… ‘that’s me.’ And then I thought, ‘No. I’m above that. I’m not abused and needing help.’ But whatever went through my mind I knew, I looked at her and I saw myself.

Q: Was there a time when he really harmed you?

Kari: Yes. I sold Billy’s dog to somebody. He wasn’t around very much and I couldn’t take care of the dog. Well he lost it. Thankfully not til after the kids were in bed, but that was the only time that he was really really physically abusive. He nearly put the piano down the steps. That’s what this scar is from [she lifts her head to show me a sizable mark on her chin].

He didn’t cause a lot of damage in the house but he got me pretty good. I just prayed that the kids would stay asleep and then we went to bed and he passed out. And I just lay there. I kinda moved to see if he moved and I got up and I gathered up the kids in a quilt and I don’t even think I put my shoes on. I went next door. It was a lady and her mom, and they did quilting and sometimes they would have me help. They couldn’t stand my kids because they were so wild. I didn’t discipline them. They were just wild, I didn’t know they were wild. But they were aware that there was something that was wrong, they were concerned for me.

So in the middle of the night I’m knocking on their door. And they gathered me in. I was terrified of calling the police. I called my mom and dad and Sunny’s parents and they came down in the middle of the night. And in the meantime he had woken up and had called looking for me. They lied but he could see the light on. He didn’t come looking for me. But we called the police in the morning and when they came they removed him. We put a restraining order on him.

Q: When did you find out you were pregnant again?

Kari: Probably a couple weeks later I heard he was in treatment. He wanted me to come down to the treatment center. So we went and started participating in some things there and that was when I realized I was pregnant. He was talking marriage and I’m thinking, ‘I don’t think so!’ He quit the program and said he’d do AA.

Q: Did he stay clean?

Kari: No he did not stay clean. I met some people in AA and I became very close with them. They really helped me. I had the restraining order on him. He would show up sometimes. The neighbors would call and say, ‘I think he’s in the backyard.’ And I would panic.

Billy was allowed to attend the birth of their child, another son, they named Tobiah. He came and went for the first year of the boy’s life. Then he disappeared. They didn’t see him again for thirteen years.

Justin, Joel and Tobiah

But over the next few years she got connected to a church. She and Sunny had talked about it right before he died and they had attended a church once just before it happened. She began to heal. She began to find peace for the first time in her life. And then she met Brian.

They met in bible study. Brian was twenty-one years old. He was very excited to get married and assumed God had a special young girl for him to meet soon. When he asked God who it might be, God pointed Kari out to him and he said, ‘You’re crazy.’ He had been saving himself for a young virgin. God was pointing at a twenty-seven year old single mother with three unruly boys. He told Brian, I want you to marry her. I want you to be a father to those boys. They needed a father.

Q: Tell me about meeting Brian.

Kari: We were in home group together for awhile, but the first time I really talked with him at length was on Valentine’s Day when Justin was 7, Joel was 9 and Tobiah was 3. We were on our way to our home group leader’s house for his birthday. It was a nice day so we decided to walk. As we left our driveway, Brian drove by, stopped, and wanted to know if we wanted a ride so we all piled in. He offered to drive us home afterwards, and I said sure. Then I thought I should invite him in for a cup of tea just to be polite. It was the kids’ bedtimes, so I said I would get them to bed and then we could have some tea. Well, he followed me into their rooms while I tucked them in and prayed with us. I thought it was a little strange at first, but it wasn’t uncomfortable as he chatted with them, and prayed together with us.

Kari had also been praying about marriage again. She had asked God, ‘How will I know when it’s the right man?’ Shortly after this a friend told her God had a message for her: ‘You will know him because he will come to your door and he will tell you he is the one.’ The friend had no idea what Kari had prayed.

Meanwhile God was telling Brain to do something crazy. ‘Go tell Kari you think you are supposed to get married.’  He thought he would completely freak her out. But the feeling would not leave him. He went to her door and she opened it. He said, ‘You may think this sounds crazy, but I think God is telling me that we are supposed to get married.’ Kari stood wide-eyed in the doorway.

Q: Tell me about what it was like when he came to your door and told you that.

Kari: All I could say over and over was ‘I’m overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed.’

Though many friends were thrilled with the union, many others in the church were in an uproar, trying to abort the wedding. It was shocking, this young virgin marrying this single mother of three who was six years older than he was. But the two could not be swayed. They knew it was an arranged marriage. God had made himself very clear.

They were married in his parent’s backyard four months later.

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While on their honeymoon, the three boys practiced calling Brian ‘dad.’ It was accepted from the start, he was their new father. She was pregnant with her fourth son, Jesse, one month after that. Then they had a fifth son, Timothy. Brian adopted the other three boys.

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They have been married now for thirty-one years. They recently returned to Minneapolis, Minnesota after a seven-year missions stint in Israel.

The day Sunny died was a day she would have probably undone if she had been given the option back then. She would have probably chosen to keep him. Who wouldn’t? But if Sunny hadn’t died, many lives would be very different. And others wouldn’t even exist. If Sunny hadn’t died she never would have met the man she has been married to for the past three decades. She never would have had her younger three sons. And this matters a great deal, especially to me. Because I am married to one of them.

me and jesse

family dinner

dad and boys

IMG_8719

 

 

 

January 10, 2015
by thebohemianjournalist
2 Comments

the truth about fasting.

fasting

Several years ago I knew God was telling me he wanted me to fast for a week. It started on a Monday and was going to end the following Sunday. I was in the period of my life when I was going through a lot of healing in my soul, healing from past wounds that haunted me and changed the way I saw and did everything. But the type of fast he was telling me to do seemed like it wasn’t going to do the trick… I believed at the time that the more breakthrough you needed/wanted the more cutthroat the fast had to be. In other words, I thought I had to suffer more in order to get greater results.

So the fast went like this: I was already a couple years into not eating sugar or gluten and a whole host of other foods, for physical healing, and so this was just my lifestyle at that point. And God was starting to show me that as my body healed, my soul was beginning to heal as a result. I knew that’s what this fast was about. About healing something else in there that was a mess, something I could’t see, but that was altering my entire life, from a trauma in my past.

I knew I was supposed to cut out TV and then drink only liquids during the day and eat dinner as usual at night, but no dessert. I was obedient against my inner voice that was demanding I suffer quite a bit more for the big results I desired. This fast was so easy in fact, that I didn’t even feel like I was really fasting. The fasts I had done in the past always involved very little or no food to the point where I got all dramatic and thought I was going to die by dinnertime on the first day.

Anyway the legalistic voice in my head was driving me crazy… You aren’t really fasting, you aren’t suffering nearly enough. You think this is going to do anything?

It was torturing me.

But every time I had these thoughts, God would say, Don’t listen to that. Don’t quit. I have you exactly where I want you. Just do what I asked and I will do the rest.   

Every day I heard these two voices and I chose to believe God’s. I had to tell myself over and over again that I believed God was willing to heal me and he didn’t need me to suffer for it. That I was doing exactly what he wanted me to, no more, no less.

This went on for five days. I still felt like I wasn’t really stretching myself that much. But on day six, Saturday, it happened. I had the biggest healing breakthrough in my soul that I had ever had up to that point. I spent all day in and out of these… all I can say is they were like spiritual/emotional labor pains that came and went, came and went, like I was literally birthing something. It felt amazing. I knew stuff was majorly being moved around inside of me. This went on the following day as well.

When it was over I felt like a brand new person. Something, though I do not know exactly what, was completely rearranged in me. Things had healed. Places in me felt like a dirty room that just got a deep clean. Or a dark room that had just had the curtains opened up. The world seemed like a better place. I was renewed.

I learned firsthand that God values obedience more than sacrifice. Sometimes we try to sacrifice more than he is asking us to, we try to suffer more than he is asking us to. We stop listening to him and start listening to that voice of legalism that tries to convince us that the things we need from God must be earned somehow. That for some reason he doesn’t actually want us to have them, but will reluctantly hand them over if the payment we fork out is high enough.

This does not mean we will never suffer, but it’s this twisted belief that suffering is a kind of currency that God accepts as payment for gifts… this can make or break our entire viewpoint of God, and therefore our entire way of approaching God with our needs. It’s so hard not to let this belief bleed into fasting because it does stretch us and we do suffer in it sometimes.

I believe God wants us to first learn how to view things the right way by taking little steps into it with the right mindset and building understanding. And then allowing illumination and maturity and time to lead us deeper into it in a healthy way. In other words, I think it is far more beneficial to fast small and build faith and understanding and break off legalistic thinking, and from there to slowly raise the bar and go deeper. And then it’s not going deeper with the wrong mindset and a damaging experience, (This will only make things worse) but with a renewed mind to the truth of what God really expects of us and why… what he really wants to give us and why.

Fasting is not about us paying a debt by suffering. It isn’t about our striving to impress God into moving on our behalf, or to convince him we deserve a break through. It is not about proving holiness through self-denial. It is a beautiful dance where we push aside another partner and God is there, waiting for this moment, and we take his ever-outstretched hand and we have a special encounter. Like a date with a lover where your attention is fixed in a new way and the resulting intimacy is heightened.

It is about pushing aside something that stands between our awareness and God. It is about stripping away something that distracts us or numbs us from the reality of God that is always there. And then once those things are moved aside, a curtain is parted between our weak humanness and God’s supremacy. And we feel it and see it in a new way and it moves in our lives with less obstruction than before.

This is fasting.

So the number one thing to do is to strip away every thought or belief from our minds that is rooted in some sort of performance anxiety. Any idea that makes us feel like if we don’t dance the right steps then we aren’t going to get touched by God.

I am posting this right now because I (as well as thousands of others that are a part of Substance Church in Minneapolis) am on day six of a 21 day fast. If you are fasting right now, perhaps repeat after me:

“I will not feel like I am striving or trying to carry a burden on my own. I will not feel like I can compromise my healing or fail to receive a gift from God by doing the wrong thing. I will simply, gladly, with a light heart and a joyful spirit, move into a fast like a dance with God. And let him lead. As he smiles down on me and teams up with me to lift a heavy thing, knowing that in the end he will be the one to move it…

And he wants to.”

 

 

 

 

December 16, 2013
by thebohemianjournalist
0 comments

an uncluttered life

In my twenties, I found myself in a scary place. I was buried beneath something very heavy. I was just heavy all over. Weighed down completely.

Suddenly, one day, it simply made sense to me that this was a cause and effect situation. I was literally buried beneath things. And if this was true, then there had to be a way to wiggle out and get free.

We all have a tendency to hoard, somewhere, to some degree. Something physical, emotional, or spiritual that is dragging us down in some way, a little or a lot.

It is arguable that only Americans believe they cannot live with any fewer than 3,000 square feet and fourteen closets in their homes. All I need to do is watch a few episodes of House Hunters and I find myself temped to lunge for the screen to choke the person that won’t stop saying, “it’s too small… there isn’t enough storage space… I can’t share a bathroom sink with my husband…

It all seems to revolve around stuff.

How much stuff we have.

What kind of stuff we have.

What kind of stuff we need.

What kind of stuff we want.

How we will get stuff.

How we will get rid of stuff.

How we can afford stuff.

Where we should put our stuff.

Where we can fit our stuff.

Finding lost stuff.

It seems to me that if I have certain stuff, I will believe certain things about my life. For instance:

I must have a ________ square foot house.

I must work _______ hours a week.

I do not have enough _______.

Being _________ in debt is necessary… normal… unavoidable… unchangeable.

I have no time for __________.

I can’t afford ________.

What if, by stripping away the excess we really would change everything about our lives? What if much of what we believe we can, cannot, should, and should not do would change? And in that, entirely different perspectives, goals, desires, and beliefs would emerge? A whole new identity?

There’s clutter and unnecessary excess everywhere I look in my life. Clutter that makes my life less enjoyable, less efficient, less clear, less focused, less orderly, less peaceful.

Clutter in what I own.

What I say.

What I think.

What I believe.

What I eat.

What I watch and listen to.

In my time schedule.

In my emotions.

If you’ve ever seen the sitcom Friends, you know that Monica is a compulsive neat freak. In one episode there is this locked mystery door in the back of her apartment that everyone is suddenly questioning what is behind. She won’t talk about it and claims there is no key. Finally, at the end, her friends break in and expose her dirty secret: everything she has no place or category for has been tossed in willy nilly. It is a complete hoarded disaster.

I have found that this is exactly how I tend to be. I may keep my house minimally furnished, uncluttered, neat and tidy and yet there are always areas (closets, drawers, or even entire rooms at times) where I toss anything that does not fit into this image until I can deal with it. And there it stays until I figure out how and if I want to rid myself of it. Since I do this in my house, I know that I also do it in other parts of my life. Bad habits are scarcely ever contained in just one area. They seep out and leak from hearts and minds and beliefs and then touch us in many places.

What it comes down to is that certain stuff distracts us from other stuff. Some stuff less important takes our time away from some stuff more important. Some stuff literally makes us feel less energetic, less motivated, less driven to succeed at certain tasks and achievements. Some stuff causes us depression, fatigue, and body pain. Some stuff makes us believe negative things about our value and abilities. Some stuff makes us crazy.

It was this very frustration, the feeling I was suffocating, that led me to begin stripping things away. I decided I wanted to be an essentialist, but not just physically, with what I owned. I didn’t want extra weight anywhere in my life. I wanted to move about as light and unburdened as possible. I wanted to only be tied to truly valuable and important things, not just things.

If we knew exactly what kinds of stuff, tangible and intangible, that dragged us down in some way, and exactly what kinds of stuff that propelled us to succeed, would we not have the precise formula we need to prosper everywhere?

I asked myself this: if I shed just one thing every day, from some category, somewhere in my heavy stash, how much lighter would I be in one week, year, decade? What would be the long-term effect on my life? What would I accomplish? Who would I become? What mysteries of the universe would I discover? What buried secrets would I uncover? How would my beliefs change? How would my identity change?

I knew, innately, that my desire to be good and free and pure relied solely on getting this mastered. I was going to find out exactly what was good and essential in my life, and get rid of all the rest.

So I started experimenting by stripping things away from all sorts of different places, finding all sorts of different methods to do this when the things were intangible, somewhere in my heart and mind and spirit.

When I started stripping away the excess, I was stunned at the surprises that lay beneath it all.

December 10, 2013
by thebohemianjournalist
0 comments

exposed. part ii.

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In my search for what it truly meant to be attractive I knew I must strip all my beautifying rituals away and see what lay hidden beneath them. All the fears, the beliefs, the habits involved in my beauty schema, exposed. It wasn’t necessarily that I was a huge beautifier. I never wore much make-up and I always did prefer a more natural, relaxed look. But this was about getting a completely fresh perspective. This meant it all had to go. And all at once… Which was a bit of a shock.

I stopped wearing any sort of make-up. I stopped dying my hair and had the dye stripped out. I took the polish off my nails. I stopped dressing to impress others. I even stopped shaving. So I basically just showered, dressed in something that was comfortable and walked out the door.

I’ll admit, at first it was a bit terrifying. At the time I was prone to acne and I have very wild wavy hair, defiant and offensive when not expressly forced into submission with all manner of plugged in devices, sprays and creams. I found my natural medium brown hair color mousy and bland. Years of my favorite hot pink nail polish had left my exposed nails stained a sickly yellow.

A few days of embarrassment faded into a couple weeks of mild discomfort, which eventually morphed into my feeling over time more beautiful and comfortable than ever before in my own skin. It was in part the fact that people did not stop mid-stride on the street or in the grocery store, mouth agape and eyes wide with horror at my repulsive appearance. It was in part that I felt empowered by my freedom from a long-dwelt-in hiding place. And it was in large part, waiting for my newly exposed features to get over their shock and blink their way back into the light.

Now, ten years after my first tentative steps into the open, I think I look silly with make-up, freakish with alien-colored nails, fake with dyed hair, and fashion trends don’t interest me. I don’t look at others this way normally. My own unfiltered view of myself has simply become hyper-aware of its raw state being its favorite state. I know many attractive people who have painted nails, dyed hair, wear make-up, and dress fashionably. I also do not attribute much, if any, of their attractiveness to these things.

I’ve embraced my wild hair and found it actually fits my personality better than when it was straightened and tamed. It also relaxed and smoothed out quite a bit once I stopped attacking it on a daily basis with all manner of assaulting ceremonies. I have grown to love my natural hair color and over the years the sun has given it beautiful reddish-gold highlights. (Update: in  2013 I discovered dreadlocks–oh the glorious sense of true identity this gave me)

My skin cleared up and my tone evened out once I stopped wearing make-up. Also a very clean diet and a long process of cleansing and rebalancing made me glow with inner health and perfectly clear radiant skin.

All it took was time and my natural beauty emerged before my eyes.

I found I still love my signature red toenail polish. (I buy Mineral Fusion brand from natural Grocer’s or Whole Foods.)

I found I enjoy having natural underarms, which for me means a tiny little bit of blondish hair. And I decided I did NOT like unshaven legs. A few laser treatments at Ideal Image and I have smooth legs and bikini line FOREVER. So worth the cost and minimal exposure to radiation.

Overall I discovered I was a true bohemian, hence the name of this blog: the Accidental Bohemian. Because I did not know that was what I was, or that was even a thing until my late twenties.

The point is this: I found what I personally needed to strip away in order to not feel crippled anymore by the need to perform certain rituals before presenting myself to the world. I now do not believe those things have much of anything to do with my attractiveness.

Once I stripped away my protective layers, I became almost solely focused, when desiring to enhance my beauty, not on what I could put on my skin, my body, or my face, but on restoring my soul to a state of wholeness. Which in effect would cause me to gain the ability to draw others toward me, the ability to truly be attractive. This was where I wanted to focus my energy. If I spent my time chasing outer perfection I would waste my life chasing the wind, never achieving true attractiveness. Only growing emptiness, as the darkness in my soul fouled everything.

I believe every one of us is meant to be greatly attractive, to be able to draw others to us on many levels. But I think that we each must strip away things that hinder, whatever these may be, and let God move on our cluttered inner storage rooms often.

Regardless of what I look like, it’s when I am exposing the most beautiful parts of my soul that people are most drawn to me. This is when I truly feel beautiful.

Thank you for reading my story. I hope there was something beautiful in it for you.

Update: I wrote this post when I was around 31 years old. I am now approaching my forty-second birthday. I achieved my goal, little by little along the way. I restored my soul and body to a state of such clarified wholeness, so healed and open and free that for at least the past several years, everywhere I go people are drawn to me. I did it. I found the inner beauty I was looking for. That glows outward so potently that everywhere I go, people say to me, there is just something about you.

To be good. To be pure. To be whole. This was all I ever wanted. And I fought for it, sought after it with all my will and strength.

I did it by stripping away all the trauma, all the wounds, and purifying my heart and soul and body every day. Asking the Lord every day, if there is anything in me that does not line up with him or the way he made me, to expose it, to help me root it out.

As it turned out, all that foulness I could sense, it was all trauma. It all needed to be rooted out.

And I am finally ready to write a book about every detail of this long journey. The incredible secrets and tricks to healing and restoring oneself to absolute wholeness. Stay tuned.

 

 

December 8, 2013
by thebohemianjournalist
0 comments

exposed. part i.

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For my very first blog post ever, I want to tell you an extremely personal story. It seems appropriate to begin this way, for it is my aim to expose many things here. Many secrets and many stories that have been long buried and concealed.

And it’s only fair that I warn you I tend to be a bit of an extremist. My desired method of problem-solving and information-hunting is to strip everything away from an area and search for the truths hidden beneath it all, get a whole new perspective.

This means I am often making huge radical changes to various parts of my life just to cleanse my mind and see what happens, as friends and family members stand by looking frightened and concerned and hosting the occasional intervention.

That being said, this is the first story I’d like to tell…

The draw toward beauty is stitched into our humanness. We want to be what we perceive as beautiful. We want to be near what we find beautiful. We want to soak our version of beauty in through our senses.

This is where I bare my soul. I may have physical features that our culture finds beautiful in a skin-deep textbook sort of way.

But inside I am angry

Insecure

Bitter

Afraid

Prideful

Selfish

Dark

Obsessive

Wounded

Cold

Empty

Argumentative

Apathetic

Often depressed and anxious

And not just a little.

A lot.

And the truth is, people see these things when they look at me and they may not even know it. These things permeate from inner places and create an aura of their own. They can easily pollute any pleasant outer attributes I may have, like a bad odor in a beautifully decorated room.

Why am I like this, you may ask? There are many reasons. In summary, we are simply a product of our parents, our environment, our culture, our experiences, our beliefs, our choices. There are no excuses. Only cause, effect, and consequence.

But the point is this: I know many people. Some have beauty by cultural standards and yet they are not necessarily attractive. Some are plain or have features our culture does not prize, and yet they exude a great amount of attractiveness.

Years ago I decided I really wanted to analyze the nature of attraction. In doing this I realized the immediate obvious, that attractiveness is simply one’s ability to draw others toward oneself, to attract. This is not a pinpoint-able list of features of course, but a nature that radiates from an individual, causing a magnetic effect on those around them, causing people to want to come closer, be near, know them, enjoy them on some level. I’m sure we have all known someone, that may have even perplexed us, that we were strongly attracted or drawn toward in some way and had no real explanation as to why. I certainly have.

Then there are people who actually repel others from their presence because of what radiates from them. I’m sure you have also known someone who outwardly had the prized features, but just repelled you. I certainly have.

And although I may have a certain level of textbook beauty, I have never been much of an attractor and have actually spent most of my life repelling. So much so that I strongly believed until high school that I was very ugly. I was even called ugly on several occasions growing up. In high school I began to realize I did have physical beauty. But attractiveness is what I wanted and what I could innately sense I did not have.

I did have other attractive qualities however. I was wild and free. I was fearless and self-assured. I was unique and creative and carefree. I was adventurous. These things would draw people in initially, only to lose them shortly afterward as they were repelled from me as some kind of foul character flaw emerged.

I needed to build on my foundation and enhance the ability to secrete the sort of aura that makes people want to come toward you, be near you, be with you. I then spent many years studying people everywhere I went. And what I found were varying degrees of physical beauty and attractiveness paired in each person. Some had a great deal of both. Some had a great deal of one and little or none of the other. Some lacked both.

I also noticed that equal levels of attractiveness draw couples together more often than equal levels of physical beauty. Have you ever known a couple that looks like an odd couple until you get to know them? Where one has notably more physical beauty than the other? You may ask, what does he see in her or she in him? Yet as you get to know them and you perceive their level of attractiveness, they begin to look to you as more equally paired? This is also true for people who, upon meeting someone, are not immediately attracted, but as time passes they become drawn in, begin to desire this person. Or the opposite: drawn in by looks, then quickly repelled by character.

My very simple initial conclusion was of course, that physical beauty and attractiveness are very different things altogether. You need not have one to have the other. You may be thinking, yeah, this is old news.

This may be a tired cliché but it changed me when I experienced it on a deeper level. For it then became my goal to eliminate my long list of dark attributes that were being secreted from my pretty skin, making me less attractive and even at times repellant. It became my goal to one day be old and grey and far more attractive than I ever was in my twenties, to emit the kind of character that people want to draw near to. To glow with it, as an old woman.

Once my perspective was turned toward this truth, the trivial surface things began to fade from my desires. I became more fixated with gaining attractiveness than beauty, character over looks. The things I used to rely on as part of my everyday beauty enhancement began to look to me like silly masks and costumes, sucking my time, energy, and money away. I cared less and less about putting my energy into these as I sought to now find character that would radiate from me, transcending anything I could put on.

While there is certainly nothing wrong with enhancing one’s appearance, when there is true attractiveness involved, these things are a pleasure, an honor to others, not a security shield or an illusion of beauty. When they are used in the wrong way, it is obvious. It looks terrible. When we realize that the darkness in our character seeps out of even the most carefully placed layers of outer beauty enhancement, we find ourselves looking more like actors and actresses in costume, oftentimes obvious to an audience as scripted and fake.

And true to my nature, I decided to run an experiment several years ago. To strip it all away, all the things I tried to do to make myself feel beautiful, and expose my raw, natural, flawed shell to see what would happen. The results changed everything about who I thought I was.