“the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year i learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it. the year of hugging people i don’t know, because i want to know them. the year i made peace and love, right here.”—Warsan Shire (via wethinkwedream)
“One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.”—Mary Oliver (via rainydaysandblankets)
when you turn thirteen and want to paint your nails black
I’ll rummage through an old drawer and give you my own polish.
when you look at me and say, “momma, I’m lost.”
I’ll turn you towards the mirror
and say, “run darlin’, don’t ever let them find you.”
when the first day of high school comes
and you hurry to get out of the car with nerves in hand I’ll tell you,
“don’t run, walk slow. you’ll make it through.”
when you go on your first date I’ll remember my first date.
I’ll remember the look on my own mother’s face
when he didn’t open my car door
and baby, if he doesn’t open the car door remember your momma saying, “he doesn’t get to open anything else either.”
one day that boy will break your heart
and when you lock yourself in your room
I’ll buy you a journal, a brand new pen, a 2 liter of strawberry soda
and a potted violet with a note saying something like,
“white oleanders are poisonous and so is heartache.
violets symbolize something that I’ve since forgotten
and strawberry soda drowns the salt in your tears.”
one day you’ll pack your things,
I’ll write you letters and send you candles in the mail.
you’ll marry young or maybe old.
you’ll have a daughter of your own and watch the sun rise in her eyes.
just remember to never look up what violets symbolize
and when she looks at you with tears in her eyes
saying, “momma, I’m lost.”
turn her towards the mirror
and say, “run darlin’, don’t ever let them find you.”
”—and when they say you’re too much soul for one person, remember the white oleanders.-dah (via whisperingbones)
“People come to Buddhism looking for answers, but Buddhism is not about giving you some easy formula. It’s all about you needing to question yourself. When you think you’ve got it, that’s when you especially need to question it—and if you don’t question it right away, you’ll run into situations that will make you question it, if you’re fortunate. Life is always throwing monkey wrenches into the machinery of your calculating mind.”—Reverend Patti Nakai, “Get Real” (via tricycle-tumbles)
My body is amazing. It may not look like the girls in the magazines, but that doesn't matter to me anymore. My legs let me travel and explore the world I live in. My core keeps me stable and steady in this roller coaster of a world. My arms lead my hands to touch, feel, and experience my life. I can run. I can dance. I can do yoga. I can lift. I can swim. I can smile. I can live. This body let's me experience my world. I could never hate it again.
“Isn’t it strange? There are so many people out there who secretly love someone. And there are so many people out there who have no idea that someone secretly loves them.”—Letters to Crushes #513739 (via vouth)
“One of my philosophy professors lectured wildly about love once, yelling: “When you’re in love with someone, that person is the lighthouse of your universe.” (I scrawled it inside Science and Poetry in pencil—lighthouse of your universe—as if I would ever forget that phrase.) He was a delightful caricature of his position. I could swear he literally tore his hair out while howling at us. He went on, “Nothing means as much without that person.” One of the men in the class repeated, incredulous, half-laughing, “So you’re saying you can’t enjoy, like, a vacation, without someone if you’re really in love with them?” “Of course not.” the professor replied. “Not completely. You recognize beauty, but beauty means less if they don’t witness it with you. Beauty is less. You see something sublime and your first thought is that they should be there with you. It’s not as good without them. They illuminate. They make everything more.”—Unknown (via perfect)
“The point for me is to create relationships based on deeper and more real notions of trust. So that love becomes defined not by sexual exclusivity, but by actual respect, concern, commitment to act with kind intentions, accountability for our actions, and a desire for mutual growth.”—Dean Spade (via meditationsinwonderland)
“You don’t owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don’t owe it to your mother, you don’t owe it to your children, you don’t owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked “female”.”—Erin McKean, from “You Don’t Have to be Pretty" (via coffeeqveen)