someone said to me recently:

“i love your feed, it’s so curated!”

i nearly threw up on myself, in honesty. then i cringed, then i melted down. i reflected. am i being real? well kind of. but not fully. this online space, social media: it’s weird.

we get so roped in to these tiny squares (occasionally unavoidable if you run any form of income based business from here) that we forget that behind these accounts are very real humans, living very real, imperfect, blurry and hectic lives. i forgot. fuck, some days i AM poetry, i am ethereal waterfall images embodied - floating around in nature, by the beach, in the waves when my mind and body call for it.

i am sometimes early nights and guided meditations, candles and crystals, daily rituals and consistent practice. but good god i am running around on anxious energy, to-do lists stacking up in my head more often than i’d like to admit. presence is a challenge on these days. replying to messages is out of the question (screen overwhelm is very real and we need to talk about it more).

i love what i do but i look at myself in the mirror with tired eyes a lot. i have just parted ways with someone i care about, deeply - my heart is a little heavier than usual right now. i am wildly happy and energetic one moment and melancholy and pensive the next: this is why i write about celebrating our polarities - it is what i need to hear, repeatedly. in fact most things i write are what i need to hear, in that moment.

if you have stopped to read this, please remember that we are all human, perfection is an illusion.

for this reason, my intention with #tobefrank is to get more honest about my life.
you are most welcome to join me, to come along for the ride. this is my invitation to you to embrace the parts of yourself that are perhaps a little more red hot mess than the small squares of social media can handle


franks martin