unconventional

the way I move through the world

an artist’s approach

“Marisha, wake up. Something terrible has happened”, mom says to me with what is now a calmer, yet distraught tone.

“Your dad has had a terrible accident on his motorcycle and an ambulance has taken him to the emergency room. I think he may be in critical condition.”

At first it felt like I was dreaming. Once I had a few seconds to come to awareness I started weeping uncontrollably.

“I am about to leave the house and go up to the hospital to see him, there’s no need to come with me right now. You go back to sleep and later today I will come pick you up and we can go see him together.”

“What are you talking about!? What happened mom? Are we going to lose dad!?!?”

“I don’t know all of the details yet, but from the information I was told, he went on a late night bike ride like you know he does sometimes. He was coming home the back way, through the crop fields, and his motorcycle missed that dangerously abrupt curve on the ranch road…he flew into the field. The owner of the house that sits on the land heard his dogs barking non-stop and went outside to see what all the fuss was about. He found your dad lying in the field with the motorcycle on top of his body and called 911.”

My heart sunk into the depths of my stomach. I could hardly breathe. I couldn’t lose my dad, he was my anchor, I was daddy’s little girl. I couldn’t imagine living a life alone with only my mom, our relationship had started to negatively shift as I transformed into a maturing adolescent. Life would no longer feel safe without my dad’s understanding approach, fierce protection and bear hugs. I needed to pray about this and hand over the worry, trust that everything would be ok: for dad, for me, for our family. I went back to bed as my mom instructed. At first it was an issue trying to drift back to sleep for the few hours I had left, yet eventually sobbed myself into a slumber.

…

Later in the day mom scooped me up in the truck and we drove towards the hospital. During the dreadful thirty minute drive into town (which felt like eternity on this day particularly) she filled me in on dad’s status. He had broken a few ribs and a shoulder with other minor injuries, but for his bodily state dad was in good spirits and stable. As soon as we arrived at his hospital room I ran over and gave him a big, gentle hug and told him how scared I was thinking that I may lose him. He reassured me I wasn’t going to lose him and talked about how lucky he was to get out with the injuries he did. We were so glad to hear from the doctor that a full recovery was likely.

My dad started filling us in on the missing details of the occurrence. There had been another car coming down the wrong lane on the country backroad, straight towards dad. He assumed the car would move back over into its appropriate lane, however it never did as it inched closer with each passing second. My dad had to make a critical decision in the blink of an eye, choosing to run off the road and into the field, barely dodging the car. That car never stopped to check on him. Being as late as it was, if the farmer hadn’t heard his dogs and come out to check on the situation, my dad may not have made it out alive. After hearing the full story, I was so thankful my dad was here with us, but still felt a sting of apprehension on whether he would be able to recover well enough, after all he was well into midlife. The only way I knew how to bring some peace of mind, I prayed for the fifth time that day.

“Dear God, I’m desperate to ask for your help. Please be with my dad helping him to a full recovery and bring him home soon. Heal his body with your loving hands. In Jesus name, AMEN.”

My parents were not able to provide much input, after all I was the first generation to have the drive and privilege to attend university. My parents came from next to nothing, always wanting what was best for me and helped me apply for financial aid to offset some of the hefty expenses that come with attending college in the US, but they had different thoughts about what my future should look like. My mother was very supportive, heading the research in finding grants and scholarships I could apply to win, making sure I knew that she was there, supporting my decision to find something I truly would enjoy doing for “the rest of my life”. My dad, however, thought the best option was to avoid imposing the family with more debt and instead find a stable, consistent job that would pay the bills and offer PTO - a luxury he hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing. While burdened with two contrasting beliefs, societal pressure, and the conflict of wanting to please my parents versus following my heart, I felt very lost, perhaps similar to those who experienced Hurricane Katrina in August of 2005. In fact, looking back, my internal experience and what was happening in the world felt oddly similar. Like so many of the Louisianians, I knew I was resilient and eventually found hope.

In the middle of devastation you saw my potential, my capabilities and strengths and celebrated them publicly by awarding me the chance to run the entire operation as Senior Yearbook Editor. I don’t recall ever voicing just how much that meant to me - being awarded something I desperately wanted in life. That minute decision helped shape my future and has now brought me full circle, back to my truest self.

Finishing up I rummage through my petit closet and put on the chosen outfit for the day - something comfortable that can support my afternoon workout, and start heading towards the living room. I stop at the bedroom entrance to greet my yawning white floof of a dog with cuddles and belly rubs as he stretches and bats his beady eyes open. I coax him away from bed and convince him to put on his turquoise harness, clip the leash, then off we go out the door to take our routine morning walk in the waking world. It is a lovely feeling to remain present during our walk, noting his slower steps, the feeling of the gentle sun setting on my skin, the sound of bird song echoing in the tall green trees, and cool slight breeze passing through the air.

My favorite time of day.

It was an extremely warm and sunny day, smack middle of summer, so I chose the cutest top I could find in my suitcase along with some jean shorts and black strappy sandals to keep cool. The unending rows of tea bush ingrained in the farmland was mesmerizing, I had never experienced land so green and luscious in my lifetime. As soon as our tour guide led us up, up, up the terrain with a short hike, we were exposed to these incredible views. The sounds out in the middle of the fields were almost non-existent, you could hear every step in the brown soil and the delicate air as it passed by under the blazing rays. The only movement in eyesight was our small group of six.

I couldn’t wait for an offer for help, I was so elated I had to take my photos right this minute! My lovely husband, just behind me wearing his remarkable patience with his shorts, t-shirt and Birkenstock sandals, was left out of the first round of photos. Shortly after we all started sweating, cheeks turning pink, wishing we had more iced green tea to cool down. We came, we saw, we touched, tasted and smelled and then we made our way back down the rolling hills, tea leaves in pockets, to find food and shade.

My dad started teaching me in front of our old white house on Emerick Street, pushing me along down the pavement as he held onto the back of the robin egg blue seat with his sun-tanned and tatted arms, jogging alongside me in his jeans, Harley t-shirt and long dark beard as the bike strolled onward, just in case. Once I got the hang of it after many practice attempts with safety always beside me offering generous queues, it was time for him to give me a push and let me try rolling solo.

Dad gave me a gentle yet strong shove; this is the point where I became intensely aware of my environment, feeling the weight of the bike underneath my grip of restrain, feeling the tiny rocks of gravel move and their sounds as my white tires stormed through their path. After I found the sweet spot of control, comfort set in and concern that was displayed on my face turned into joy. My first feeling of flying recognized as the wind kissed my cheeks and loose long blonde strands trailed right behind.

How exhilarating it felt!

Coming to a stop was a little worrisome, but with caution and great balance I managed to hit the landing without much trouble at the end of our block. I turned my head back, a black-toothed grin shining at my dad.

I was already a daddy’s girl, but having my hero helping me learn how to be independent sky rocketed our relationship further. This gift was the best thing a kid my age could ask for - freedom to roam, play, and explore.

have never felt this

relationships can be tough

an odd loneliness

when you deviate

you discover who truly cares

shining light on truth

Firstly, I hope you’ve been enjoying the weekly poems and biweekly book reviews. I’ve been working on some bigger projects behind the scenes (which I am very excited to share later down the road) and starting to wean off from sending haikus every week. The space will be slightly shifting and instead it will be a mix of occasional dinner party reflections on how we can create small meaningful moments to connect, poems, or personal essay while keeping the novel review bi-weekly (as long as it is sustainable).

Secondly, Considered Journey has gotten a little facelift and I have also turned on paid subscriptions! If you are a free subscriber and want to remain one, do not fret! The free subscriber option is still well and alive.

I decided to create a paid tier for those that are interested in showing up and truly utilizing this space for what it’s growing into. The difference between the two is that my most vulnerable written works will now be under a paywall, as well as a community experience. If you appreciate this space for where it’s going or simply would like to support my work please consider upgrading, you can do so by clicking button below.

Subscribe now

My goal is to build a larger community and make this a space where people can be their most vulnerable self, feeling seen and heard without judgement. Growing up that was something I always yearned to have but didn’t feel like I found it until becoming an adult - becoming more self aware and reading a lot of self help books and articles. I want this to be our little online corner of support and kindness because frankly, we need it more than ever.

In other news and to kick off this subtle shift, I was presented a really fun opportunity to collaborate with a fellow writer friend recently, writing about some of the life changing leaps of faith we have both taken to get to where we are currently. I invite you in to read it using the link below!

Read the Article Here!

I would love if you took my two polls below, tell me what you are enjoying and when I might be able to better deliver!

If you’ve made it this far thank you for being here, always! I am so excited for what is in store.
Marisha x

you, my sacred space

vulnerability at best

please do not break me

you hold the power

to write your unique story

you are the only.

ever visited a realm

that wholly redirected you

back to your truest self?

how to find inner peace?

take responsibility

heal old trauma wounds

cotton candy skies

pink, orange, yellow, green and blue

peaceful pastel hour

self reinvention

a messy middle transformation

this no one tells you

another coffee stain - white shirt

anger and self destruction

old habits die hard

fresh weather, new chance

optimism hanging there

happy new year!

undefined by one

culture pressures to conform

feel misunderstood

world’s up in flames

comprehension feels foreign

heartbroken and frozen

eye wake at sunrise

outside a floral sea sways

will dreams come true?