I. Hate. That you made me choose.
Tag: self love
A favorite something
I think my favorite end to the day has become a walk in the park a little before sunset, followed by an orange & poetry in a weird little 5$ thrift bought chair that I contort my legs up and over, feeling just a little bit like… I don’t have an age.
A favorite something
I think my favorite end to the day has become a walk in the park a little before sunset, followed by an orange & poetry in a weird little 5$ thrift bought chair that I contort my legs up and over, feeling just a little bit like… I don’t have an age.
3.11.20
54321. Go. Go go go go go. Do. Doing is good. Sustainability in the physical sense. Achieved.
Doing. Action. A performance.
I wonder… if a person is always performing, where does authenticity have room to grow? How does one perform and be genuine? If a person is always on… doesn’t it become a string of acts? A performance?
Acts of slowness. Solitude. Vulnerability and feeling. Just a ||. Does a person need time to confront the self, the one that is always going? Enough moments of not performing, and perhaps, a person can have the space – the energy – to be with their self. Say hello. Maybe enough of these moments can bring this other self closer to our doing selves so that in as many moments as possible, we are not just acting with intention, but wholesomely. Spiritually. Softly.
My…
You saw it within me. Even admired it I think. But you didn’t how to hold it… and I didn’t know how to ask you to.
What reflection?
I’ve been so scared… because I had forgotten what it felt like to care. The numbness of not knowing, not remembering, though anemic, felt safer than to try and understand it again.
Ironically, this wasn’t as much for others… as it was for the person I hadn’t heard from in the longest. My self.
We claim to be conscious beings… then why are we so linear?
How is it human nature is so quick to want a hard line for things? To identify them as one, then place them into a box neatly, not to be touched, moved, re-colored, hit, or added to? I find myself spending so much time, by default, shoving things into a definition of what I have seen them mean to be… but then, I spend more time hearing this deeper voice that has spun up from tension in the act… it asks the question, why are we trying to say this is the ONLY truth? Can not more than one exist at the same time?
Collapso
We’ll never have just the right words.
So may we continue to cultivate a sensitive and open heart, because the true barometer is how we feel.
Lost & found musings.
Been sipping on dreams and walking on broken glass
Been building wooden houses in my head just to burn them
Jumping from planet to planet in my own solar system
I didn’t realize I was laying stones all across the river to get across when the option to swim was always there. For a moment I ask myself “swim to where though? Do we ever really know?” But then I sense it doesn’t matter does it? Not as long as I go. I must go.
Couple of Aubrie Musings and Heartstrings 