Fields of sunflowers

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I love flowers. And I really love tall, golden-crowned flowers. And though I don’t love getting stung by bees or (justifiably) smirky glances from passerby, I will always brave the possibility of both in order to take photos in a field of giant sunflowers.

On a *similar* note – I’ve decided I really want to have a living space full of plants and flowers. When I was living in Virginia during Christian’s basic officer leadership course (BOLC), I worked in a shared office space in Richmond with a woman who always chatted to me about her house plants. She talked about them as though they were real people whose individual lives and growth depended on the energy of the people they came into contact with – and how she might judge a person’s character by whether he or she were toxic to her house plants. (She’d had visitors and friends, apparently, who’d caused her plants to wilt or become infected).

And I mean, that all sounded a little bit witchy to me – but like, I definitely wasn’t completely unconvinced. (She believed it with her whole being, you could tell.)

Anyway, this woman talked passionately about how she could nurse a withering plant back to vibrant health just by having an exceptionally green thumb and some daily conversation with the listless, leafy fellow; while someone with a negative energy could kill a perfectly healthy plant just with a poisonous presence of being.

I’m giggling as I relay this, but if I do unwittingly kill my future plants, I’m not going to lie, I’ll probably believe I’m either a very toxic person or that I don’t have what it takes to be a plant witch.

Which, incidentally, would hurt acutely in an already tender spot, as I never did receive my Hogwarts letter.

So, any tips for plant ownership? I think I’ll start by watering them.

And maybe a conversation or two.

In other news – one of my favorite blogs, Manrepeller, has been doing themed articles for what they’re calling ‘Honesty Month.’ They’re taking submissions for a piece about “lies we’ve believed about ourselves” at the end of October, so I may be posting my submission here on my blog soon. Ifffff I get around to writing it, that is. (Not begging for your encouragement but also not, not begging for it).

Here’s my little random piece of truth for today: I’ve realized I often sabotage myself during the early, early stages of an undertaking.

As in, I fight to not even think about a particular goal or dream if I sense it might be too big.

In case I might be embarrassed, I don’t try to go out and take certain photos that could turn out really cool; I sometimes avoid a social situation that might be amazing because there’s a chance it might not be; I avoid the possibility that I could try a certain project or submit a piece of writing in case it turns out I can’t see it through to fruition (or that it might not be chosen!).

Sometimes I feel like if I have a glimmer of an idea that I could do something really, really amazing (albeit quite difficult), I’ll shut my eyes tight and blink it away to darkness before it even has a chance to see daylight.

Tragic, right?

But, the cool thing about realizing and speaking your truth, is that that’s the first step toward creating a new truth. So I’m really going to work on my self-sabotage.

Would you share something random and honest with me? I very much dislike the above confession about myself, so your comments might just make my whole night.

(Guilting you – yes.)

Thank you, as always, for reading,

Kayla ❤


  1. My biggest truth:
    When I need people, I hide.
    When my heart is so shattered and the pain seeps so deep into my bones like blood into cotton fabric, I run.
    Jump into a box, put that box into a bigger box and add lock upon lock upon lock.
    They say to practice what you preach, and here I am priding myself on being an individual people tend to open up to, yet here I am wearing a mask.
    Ironically enough the pressure I feel to heal the humans I surround myself with is what keeps my emotions buried miles below the earth.
    I don’t lie.
    I speak freely about the scars life has left me.
    I simply lack the ability to let the true raw emotions overflow from me.
    They fester like lava, my exterior the mighty volcano.
    Growth is a process.
    The changing of the seasons, the adventures I embark on, human connections I make, pain I endure, joy i feel.
    They are little water droplets and rays of sunshine that make my emotions sprout through the dirt.
    One day I’ll become a tree.
    Roots so deep.
    Branches so wide.
    A pillar of strength.

    -Truth from a growing girl. Xoxo


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