7 Years

This website has seen some ups and downs, some good and bad, but all in all, the past 7 years of You Are Remarkable have helped me realize how remarkable each and every one of us is. Thanks for making this a great place and we hope to be around for another 7 years.

xo

Hello! Hello! We’re Here!

Hello, hello! It’s Stacey here. We’re so sorry to have kept you guys in the dark for the past few months. Life catches up sometimes and its hard to juggle everything especially the good things like this website. We want you to know that we didn’t forget about you and we certainly hope you didn’t forget about us.

You Are Remarkable will always be here for you, just not as frequent as we would like. Kelly, the mother of YAR, doesn’t want the feel good revolution to die, so with my help and hopefully yours, we can keep things going! Working multiple jobs and running a website is not an easy feat, so stay tuned for YAR in the future. We are going to do our best to update you with good feelings, positive declarations and all around wonder. We just need to plan a better way to still stay strong at the end of every day for you guys because when things get tough, YAR will be there to pick you up and make you see how remarkable you truly are!

Currently Kelly is traveling back from a glorious retreat in Jamaica among other things. She is working hard teaching young kids to appreciate literature, learning and setting up the process of keeping bees, exploring and traveling (soon to Portugal!), writing and planning to publish, disconnecting from the matrix to connect with the real people around her, and of course, always learning to love herself more. To follow along on her adventures, follow her on Instagram.

As for myself, I’m not living the dream like Kelly while traveling around (I wish!). I’m staying close to home to work my butt off. I’m currently working two jobs as an English professor and a tutor for young students. Struggling with the day to day pressure of trying to encourage people to appreciate learning is both beautiful and disheartening. This is why I think the world needs You Are Remarkable now more than ever! I’m also currently working on photography, art, and writing again. To see some of my work, you can visit my website Pale Beans.

Once again, we’re so very sorry to have disappeared. Kelly and I, along with the help of our other contributors, and of course, any new ones who want to join our team, will do our best to make the feel good revolution alive again. If you have any ideas or thoughts, please send them our way. You may comment below or email us at youareremarkablerevolution@gmail.com.

We love you and miss you and hope to hear from you soon!

Nobility

What is in a word, in this word, in any word for that matter? We speak and think and consume these words, this endless being of expression, but they always seem to fail us. We can’t even trust the dictionary. It gives us conflicting ideologies of “Well… the word means this, yet it also means this, depending on the context, of course.” One is truth, honor, goodness even, while the other leads us to negativity, to falsity, to that dark place we are all trying to escape with too much medicine.

So I am proposing a new idea: no longer shall we express ourselves and the world around us with words. Let’s sit in silence and speak with colors, with music, with weather and seasons. Let’s finally take advantage of the commodities around us and eliminate the noise. No longer should we accept the archaic acts of words when there is so much more out there to utilize our emotions.

Cry in color, write in harmonies, speak with the sun.

Stacey Renberg

It’s Happening Again

It’s happening again. It’s happening again. IT IS HAPPENING AGAIN.

I am twenty-seven years old and after retracing old steps today, I realized that I have not progressed, matured, or moved on from anything that has ever happened to me.

I am five years old and alone in my neighbor’s backyard. I am surrounded by green trees and tangerines. I speak to the coy fish and my imagination leads me to the fear of Santa Claus, spiders, and sunny days.

I am still twelve, crying and alone in the school bathroom, upset that no one asked me to be in their picture. I have no friends and I spend gloomy June afternoons waiting for school to be over so I can daydream while the summer burns alive outside.

I am still fourteen, crying and surrounded by over-sexualized philistines who see me as weak, as the enemy. I run off only making things worse and wishing I were dead.

I am still seventeen, crying and sick on the phone with the boy who broke my heart. He’s trying to convince me he made the right decision, trying to convince himself he isn’t what he really is, trying to—bringing me over burritos and memories that were already dead.

I am still twenty-one, crying and screaming at my mother, threatening to jump out of the window. Words are flying out of my mouth, but they aren’t making any sense. I am pacing down the street, looking for a familiar vehicle, looking for sanity, looking for a reason not to end it all like Ben did.

I am still twenty-five, crying and mentally alone while a body sits inches from me, sitting silently and making the pain last far longer than it ever should have. The ideas run deeper this time: oven, pills, razors, overpass. I cannot stop.

I am twenty-seven, lethargic and alone, surrounded by sunny walls and cloudy thoughts. I keep returning to the same dark place. Different people pass through one door, two doors, but then you enter. You stay quiet to allow my jittery fingers to release their fears. You give me a kiss and ask if I’m all right. You tell me I’m beautiful. I take a deep breath and even though tense lips and the black wave returns, at least I was able to float on the surface for a moment.

Stacey Renberg

Beach Bums

Let’s go to the Maldives. We can get a hut. It’ll be one of those huts surrounded by water on three sides with a long bamboo dock to lead us back to land when we’re ready. We can relax. You’ll finally be able to breathe and sleep. I will be tan, thin, and happy. You’ll sing me lullabies and we’ll eat fresh mangoes as the sun sets and the ocean waves us into slumber.

Stacey Renberg

Meditation Monday

This plastic ring of mine is an endless circle of strength.
It knows no boundaries other than the one it makes on its own.
I know no boundaries.
This ring of beauty, grace, intelligence, and wonder.
It swallows me into a vortex of joy that never leaves,
Even when I must.
This never ending smile of mine relentlessly calls me.
Play, grow, amaze, and allow my fears to become just a thought
That disintegrates with every fumble.
This hula hoop of mine is my weapon of choice
In a battle against a sedentary, negative, unfulfilled existence.
My love to share.
-MA