A Pep Talk For The Ballers, The Shakers, The Movers, and The Dancers.

11/3/14

(don’t act like you ain’t part of that list.)

So maybe we’ve never met. Maybe we’ve never sat down over coffee and laughed boisterously over books and boys and dreams that keep you awake at night and what the future holds. Maybe we’ve never driven around your hometown at 4 a.m. screaming Taylor Swift and crying over lost loves and giggling at the people who we find ourselves hidden in. Maybe we won’t get to. Maybe we will. I’ve learned to never put trust in our own planning because ultimately there is a God who writes a bigger book, has bigger plans, and has bigger dreams for us.

And you better hold on tight to those dreams. Hold on tight to the childhood fantasies you thought were too big, the ones people told you couldn’t happen. Because you know what, babycakes? Those dreams will haunt you at night when you’re stuck working a job that you don’t have any passion about. They will crawl under the covers next to you and sing sickly sweet lullabies to you so that you can’t sleep. Those dreams will follow you around. They will plaster themselves to your shadow and stay perched in the iris of your eye. Let me tell you what to do on the nights when the singing becomes too much and the shadows start playing tricks on you. When that happens: hold out your hands. Look at them. And I mean really look. Memorize the creases and folds. Those are the hands of someone who could shake the world if they just believed that they had the heart for it.

The world needs people like you. The world is aching for people to come along and stand in its path and shake it up. Grab this globe with your little fingers and just shake it. Shake it until you see the pain & hurt & loneliness fall from its blue and green hues. Shake it until you can’t stand to shake it anymore. Then, live. Live freely. Live relentlessly. Live boldly. Live bravely. Live in all shades of Red. And White. And Blue. Be a song that you would listen to on repeat and repeat and repeat. This world is full of pied pipers that will try to summon you with a tune that they created but darling, be your own melody. Don’t settle to being a harmony to someone else. Be the lead role in this crazy play called life… or make it a musical. Make it a musical where you sing and dance in the rain & sun & snow & wind & clouds.

Really, that the best advice I can give you: just dance. Make time your partner and show the world one heck of a tango. Make people who scorned dancing get up and move. Make them shake and boogie and bust a pose. That’s the real goal in life. Not to move mountains, or change as many people’s lives, or help as many people as you can, or to become famous and rich. None of that matters. Of course, it’s perfectly good to do all those things… but our real goal in life is to love people. The rest will come after that. Just love people, sweet child. Love people with a jealous frenzy that lights up your heart as much as theirs. That’s all this world really needs: love & a dash of hope & a sprinkle of faith.

There are people that will tell you that you can’t. That you won’t. That you shouldn’t. Avoid the n’t verbs. They will hang up your dreams on this clothesline known as life faster than you can say that you were halfway there. Because if you believe in a dream babes, you are already halfway there. So do not quit. (That is the only time you listen to an n’t verb. When it’s pushing you forward… because it only goes forward and up and outta this world from here.)

So dream bigger than anyone could fathom. Take life head on like a baller. Dance through it like the most gracious of ballerinas.  Shake this world so that it is never the same. That’s the word for the rest of 2014 you guys: Change.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

That post was going to end there. But I thought that you should have a love letter too. The world is dying for more of them.

Dear you,

This time of year things go cold. I know. It’s the inevitable sweater weather and snow and couples falling together during the first chilly blow of air. And you? You might be alone at night when the temperature drops. You might have a good book & a cup of tea & your favorite baggy sweater. I promise that is all you need. Don’t let the season get to you. The cold will seep in through the cracks in your building and bleed into your bones. It will lie dormant during the day, but honey the loneliness strikes. It strikes with steel & flint & iron & spit.  Don’t give in. Don’t give up. You can make it through the cold. I believe in you.

You may not see it right now. The loneliness might have leaked into your heart and is pumping through your body. But that word darling, Change, it’s so powerful… it’s so powerful because it’s a choice. We choose to change. We choose to go. We choose to stay. We choose to morph. We choose to mend. You have to choose it. And I want you to want that. I want to reach through this screen and hold you while you cry and laugh and just let you know I would hold your hand through this messy thing called life if there was a way for me to be there for you. Because you matter. You’ve always mattered.

It may seem like you have the entire world on those shoulders of yours. Your back probably is weary and cramped and tired. The world isn’t yours to carry. It was never yours to carry. So place it down gently, say a bittersweet goodbye, and walk away. Free yourself of the things that are weighing you down.

You. Are. Worth. So. Much. More. Than. The. Lies.

You. Whisper. To. Yourself.

Did you get that? I promise you that you are. I pinky promise and swear on my lucky rock and “cross my heart and hope to die.” You are worth so much more. More than anything.

Things may be a bit lonely right now, you my be bogged down with things… push on. Please. Push on. And in the spring, we’ll have a dance party. And celebrate the fact that you made it. Because you, living your life how you want to & actively choosing to be happy and content, that is worth celebrating.

I’ll be keeping you tucked in my pocket, babycakes. You rock!

–      Court.

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