Standing

I woke up to cool air rushing through the windows, the comforter creeping up around my neck, with the chill touching my nose. Today will be day of processing, thinking, writing, and exploring. The walk for a bagel, and morning coffee included deep contrasts of life, and decisions I will be making in the coming months. I packed my bag for the day with a good book, computer, and some homework. My iPod preloaded for reflection, and motivation. A comfy spot at a local coffee shop had my name all over it; so let the reflections begin.

A year ago I took the biggest leap of stupidity and faith; I boarded a plane to New York City, in hopes of finding where my life had gone, and what I was doing so incredibly wrong in living. A mess is what I found the moment I boarded that plane, a mess of life lived for others, questions answered just because someone says it’s a certain way, and restrictions followed with no through explanation or understanding, or reason.

The rebellion of everything I’ve known and everything I’ve ever believed began just a few months after the questions of deeper contrast started to poor. Like a toddler, I’ve arisen to stand on my own feet instead of sitting on the shoulders of others. I’ve entered counseling, I’ve blurted out questions many people are afraid of asking, and I found answers that reshaped how I look at the world, how I look at God, how I look at myself, and how I look at life.

Today, I stand a man of understanding that the world isn’t as “by the book” as many want to convince. The illusion that our problems are so quickly solvable, that life is a game of living up to a certain societies standards and expectations, - two of the largest lies I have ever consciously and subconsciously believed.

I have found a place of exhaustion, exhaustion with perceptions, analytics, arguments, and swaying. I raise my hands in the air with a shout “ life is and always will be more gray, than black and white.”

In the past year I’ve learned what it means to live. I’ve learned the freedom of questions. I’ve felt the pain of being wrong, and I’ve known the freedom in being right. Amongst it all, I’ve found a place of promise, joy, love, and balance. Pain comes, but joy all the more. Love hurts, but it’s totally worth the risk. Questions come with the chance of being wrong, but what’s life without the risk?

Today I’ve found someone I love. Today I have answered questions, and a million more unanswered questions. I have people who love me now, not when I live to their standard. Today I know that I’ve come to a deep understanding of who I am, and how good it feels to be here.

It’s these days, when I can put my hands on the broken parts of my soul, and think thankful thoughts for my imperfections, just as I imagine God doing the same. It’s days like these that I comprehend how blessed I am. It’s days like this when perfection is the enemy and I see the beauty, in the broken. It’s days like these that I see grace flowing like a waterfall.

To experience true joy, you must be willing to experience true pain.
To be right, you must be willing to be wrong.
To find answers, you must be willing to ask the questions.

Let me introduce myself to you, this IS who I am, no more, no less.

The Sun is Rising.

The Art of Being

The pace is always fast, the future always coming, the breathing forever increasing. It all blows past me like a train moving at high speeds inches from my face, tragedy always feeling like it could be inches away, when in reality it’s about as close as the ocean from Chicago.

A friend sat before me just a few days ago, looked past my eyes, into my soul, and fed me these words “ you have NO idea how to just BE." I've been so preoccupied, engulfed, petrified, of my future that I haven’t given myself two hot seconds to even enjoy just being; to sit and take in the moments, the phrases, the conversations, the people, the details of my days. I rush to think about the unknown, the next big thing, my career, my education, my.. my.. my.... WHAT A FREAKING MESS!

We’re taught to think consistently about everything that we have minimal control over, our future is controlled by us to some degree, but it’s still the future, and you’ll never predict it all. You’re dreams may all fall apart within minutes, you’re plans may all come crashing down, and your life could end in just a few moments. So I give you a challenge, a challenge that I’ve taken on myself; it’s time, it’s time to breathe easy, to take in today, to take in these moments as we live them, to push the future back to where it belongs, and live today.



Today, I’m breathing.
Today, I’m joyful.
Today, I have reason to live, and I will not allow my own insecurities about the future to impact the amazing potential within today.

This… this is the art of being, and it is absolutely beautiful.

Take in the truths of today, and spit out the insectaries of tomorrow.

The Sun is Rising

Vulnerable

Vulnerable. The word makes me shiver. It reminds me of walking down a dark alley with that stranger coming up behind you; it’s that possibility of being crushed, the possibility of being brutally backstabbed. Vulnerable is something we protect our selves from, with our personal walls and masks. Vulnerable is my story, is the reason I don’t share my story enough, but tonight that ends. I will not let my own insecurities of how others view me determine what I share in my story. This is my invitation to you, to your neighbor, to the world: I have a broken, beautiful, bittersweet story to tell of God’s love, about God’s glory, grace, and redemption; and if you want to hear it, you let me know.

The Sun is Rising.

People

“I’ve failed” my broken self tells me. “I shouldn’t be calling anyone, I should suffer in silence.” My hands frantically reach for my phone, browse to the name. Call. The soft waking voice of a close friend resounds in my ear. The tears begin to roll as I ask if we can talk, apologizing profusely through my blubbering and saying I shouldn’t have called. The reassurance that I’ve done the right thing, that yes we can absolutely talk, that it’s important to be here for each other. Within a few minutes I break into a run into the arms of someone who represents a friend, but family. We sit, the words spill, the tears flow, the brokenness pours, and the healing begins.

It’s important to make those phone calls when the world seems to be crashing in on you. It’s important to reach out for help when you know it’s only inches away. Suffering alone never solved anything for anyone.

It’s also important to pick up the phone, to pull yourself out of bed, to be there. It’s important to be inconvenienced. You may very well be the only person in the world someone talks to, it’s important to take that call, to listen, to be that person’s person, because we all need people. We need to cry together, laugh together, live together, and heal together. We all need our people, the ones that love us through it all, even when we’ve made the wrong decisions.

So when your world crashes, when your heart feels seconds away from stopping, when you find yourself in the place of thinking you have too much, reach for the phone, reach for your people, and when those people reach for you, reach back.

Meaningful Memories

The flashlights that quickly turned off as you heard the steps coming toward the bedroom door. The giggles as Mom said in that loving, serious, but yet silly tone “go to sleep!” and how you never did. Those mornings waking up with limbs hanging out of sleeping bags and blankets, with little persons’ strewn about the room. The bags of candy, bottles of pop, popcorn kernels, and other articles of junk food scattered about the room.

Today, I miss the times of listening to music on my new boom box, having half the neighborhood over for a sleep over, and doing those crazy third grade science projects in the late afternoons. I miss those chilly nights camping in the backyard. I miss the sun setting, talking with my childhood friends about where we might be when we get to that big mysterious place called college, how we would always be friends know matter what happened.

Those moments of tasteful delights, friendships that seemed endless, and times that will always be remembered, have touched my heart today. All I can comprehend is how simple life was 11 years ago, and how complicated it’s becoming today. Those hot Nebraska afternoons spent throwing water balloons, and playing slip n’ slide in the neighbors backyard have turned into papers, a bustling city, lesson plans, and being responsible for 20 sum children's' homework.

But for now, in this moment, I take back my memories and let them play like a movie, feeling every detail of cool water splashing, drippy ice cream cones, and silly talks of what was to come. Just as my retreat into mind has begun, an ambulance outside my window rushes by to remind me that my reality is now so different, but I’m thankful for the show.

It’s important to remember the good times, it’s important to hang on to those details of utter bliss, because we’ve all had a few. For me, those memories have brought a new energy to my soul, a smile firmly planted on my face enlightens my day, all from those simple moments of a Nebraska summer that was so long ago, but yet still so sweet.

What Do I Know of Holy?

My knees have hit the floor once more as the tears of my mistakes are poured out from my eyes. My heart cries, “Here I am Lord, the worst of all sinners. I have broken relationships, neglected your word, and given my love for you back to the world.” The prayers have begun to fall out of my lips as I mumble through how unspeakably sorry I am for not living up to the standards laid out in His beautiful word. I’m reminded of how little I know of what it means to be truly Holy, and how absolutely lost I am, that I’m only capable of laying in a hospital bed, every bone in my body broken, with the capability to only press the call button for Jesus to come tender to my broken, aching soul.

I’ve had several friends ask me why I’m a Christian, and after much reflection I think I’ve given inaccurate answers. The reason doesn’t start with a cookie cutter family, it doesn’t start with roses, and a little house on the prairie, the real reason I’m a Christian is because I found myself on the floor in a mess of pills pleading for my life after thinking it wasn’t worth living, finding a bible not to far from where I laid. It’s because through nights of yelling and fighting through my teens the only source of comfort was the name of Jesus Christ. The reason I’m a Christian is because I’ve watched the lives of my friends transform at Christ’s name. The reason is because Christ found me one lonely night when I was young, and he took me into his arms, held my soul close, and said he would never let go. To this day, I know this is true.

Though my tears hit the floor in front of me, as I realize what I have done; though I continue to fail with every opportunity to succeed; I’m given grace and mercy that I don’t deserve. I’m lavished with love and blessings that I can’t even fathom, and I’m brought to silence as I remember that I’m created in the image of an ever loving God, who gave up his son, so that I may someday believe in him, and have ever lasting life with my creator.

That is why I’m a Christian.

That is what I know of Holy.

Christ did everything that needed to be done, he is forever worthy of my praise. He is the only person ever capable of bringing me happiness. I live my life for him. I breathe because of him. I lay my life down for him. I will one day be with him.

Romans 11:33-36

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
“Who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been his counselor?”
“Who has ever given to God,
that God should repay them?”
For from him and through him and for him are all things.
To him be the glory forever! Amen.

LET'S FIGHT!

It’s those moments, when a friend says something that’s jaw dropingly hurtful, a family member picks a sore spot disagreement, or someone points out that nasty little secret of yours that you don’t want to admit needs change. The yelling and finger pointing flies, and the damage is done before there was even time to analyze the true problem.

The words that come out of our mouths within the first few moments of a fight will determine how the entirety of the deep disagreement is handled. We loose track of the love we have for one another, our anger takes over, and years of memories, loving moments, and deep care are ripped away in a few hot seconds of carless emotion.

If only we could remember the reason we fight with our loved ones is usually out of love for them. That we are telling them of a flaw that they must not see, that we truly want the best for them, and that what we are telling them is hurting the bottom line, our love for one another.

As flawed humans, we will never get everything right; we will fail inevitably. Relationships, friendships, and families will never be flawless, but if we keep in mind that we are piles of baggage, full of flaws, and past hurts and pains, that coming into relationship with someone means putting that baggage together, opening up the garbage bag, pulling out the pieces that sometimes hurt us, that sometimes cut us, and sorting it out together; we remember that we are just as flawed as the other person, that we need just as much help as they do. It brings us back to the love we have for each other; it makes us humble, and keeps our focus that we are coming to them out of love.

Apologies when it’s not your fault, love when it hurts, be gracious when you feel like you have no grace left to give, because one day, it may just be you who needs it.

The Sun is Rising

I promised myself. I’d never tell a soul, not even if they put a gun to my head. I promised myself that I would never tell the stories that lay underneath the daily smile and sarcasm that make up who Steven Pokorski is. I swore that I’d hide the forbidden truths of self that lay in my past. I always thought that the dark of my inner self was the best place for the secrets that always registered as situations just waiting other people’s judgments and finger pointing.

That’s the biggest lie I ever let myself believe, and still fall into frequently: the thought that my story isn’t worthy to be shared because it’s no one else’s business, the thought that the persecution that could follow from telling such a story might have a large impact on my future. The thought that it could possibly jeopardize my own friendships, change the way that people look at me, and re-define how people view me. So bring it on, look down on me, frown upon me, talk about me, or ignore me altogether, but I do reach my hand out to you, join with me, fight with me, cry with me, in hopes to bring change, beauty, and transparency, to bring a greater meaning to the words “bare each others burdens.”

It’s time. It’s time to throw off the cover that has been sealed with years of chains and darkness. It’s beyond time to let the sun in, let people see the struggles, pains, joys, and breakthroughs that have formed this person that I’ve become today. It’s time, because this story could possibly help someone, it could show someone that they aren’t alone, that I have been where they are, and though I don’t understand their situation fully or know how they feel, but what I can do is sympathize with them. I can give advice for the people who struggle in the areas that I’ve struggled, I can cry with them, I can share their pain, and I can speak for them when they are not strong enough to speak alone.

This is my story, a story of brokenness, of pain, secrets, and struggle, but this is also a story of redemption, of restoration, joy and hope. I own this story, and no one can tell it but me. My name is Steven Pokorski, and this is my story.

Coming 2013, to a bookstore near you (hopefully)

A Story Untold

You don’t write, you don’t dance, you don’t believe, you don’t dream, you’re scared to want, scared to change, scared to take that leap of faith because of the risk. The world is so full of people who waste the talents given them by being too scared to share their gifts. I understand the risk involved with sharing talent because sharing talent is sharing a piece of your deepest self. If you share your talent, your letting the world peer into the deepest parts of who you are, but what most of us don’t realize is the fact that most of the time, those things: hidden in desks, saved files, video cameras, back rooms, unfinished books, and journals, are jaw dropping, uplifting, inspiring, world-changing, talents that could change a generation.

We are a world of 6,890,999,448 people and you know what we all have in common? The ability to change the world through our talents and life stories. Cliché? I don’t think so. Those words are just as true today as they ever were before. You, YOU have a story, a novel, a textbook of life. Your story is about your experiences, conversations, friendships, pains, lesson learned, lessons not learned, wrongs, rights, unspeakable happiness’s, and no one can take your story from you. It’s yours, the one thing that you own indefinitely.

I have confidence that your story could give goose bumps, that your talents could bring people to tears of joy, that you, as a creation, are what the world needs to see and hear. If you think people need to be more honest, share their talents, speak their pain, be more open, maybe you should start with you. What if your part of that problem? What if the world needs to see you? The raw exposed you: pain, brokenness, joyousness, and redemption for the world to see?

This is what I’ve come to learn; nothing is more tangible, or life-changing, as someone else’s experiences and talents.

I plead with you, beg of you, and encourage you. Share your story. Share it in dance, in song, in theatre, in book pages, blogs, and facebook-notes, share it in ways that make the world look upon you in awe. Share your story with confidence, vigor, without expectations, or preparation, share it in ways that speak to the lives of the people your sharing your gifts with. It is within all our means to make a difference through the stories that are continually being written called our lives.