“We want to honor the courage it takes to live a fully human life and to support a world where everyone is seen in their uniquely incandescent light.” — Enrealment Press, Humanifesto Birthed out of a need to expand a conscious perspective and a desire to invite humanity closer together, author and viral blogger, Jeff Brown responded to the calling of sacred purpose and created a space for inclusive, heartfelt authenticity. This place for harvesting grounded and inspirational creative work is called Enrealment Press. And after discovering that one of Rebelle’s very own authors, and one of my personal favorites, Victoria Erickson, is set to be published via EP in the near creative future, I could not help but to reach out to Jeff with the hopes that he’d welcome my request to creep around the workings of his delectable insight for the duration of a...

And yet I had the photos to prove it; squirrels and ducks could indeed be tamed. Therefore, to be Socratic about things, so could my own wild habits. It was simply a matter of feeding them with good ones.

I'd like to tell you a story of how I stumbled upon enlightenment in the most unexpected of places and how shortly after I went on to find a powerful symbol of my newly opened state of heart.

Do something that scares the shit out of you. Lose yourself in something but not in another. Get out there and try stuff so your passion can find you. Do things that make your soul sing. Know when to walk away. Regrets are good. It means you are learning.

This helpful infographic provides tips for maintenance, usage and parts for a more eco-friendly vehicle.

This is my emancipation I shall not Shall not Shall fucking not Concede to societal ideologies that tell me Who and what I am is wrong Wrong Wrong For knowing my heart Not my pocketbook Holds all my values that I need to navigate The seas of All my life

During the 12-year span from 1958 to 1970, there were four World Cup championships. Brazil won three of them.

Have you been yearning for a sister circle as much as I have? Then start one. That is what I am doing for 2015. If you happen to be in the Philadelphia area, my circle is forming now, so hop on board.

Yoga and meditation have been a huge part of my long-term sobriety. However, I believe this is applicable to anyone who wants to begin a Yoga practice. We all have difficulties in life. The practice of mindfulness is beneficial to everybody.

You can remember this by touching hands, by feeling textures, by tasting golden hour, and the way that people try to casually make conversation at romantic dinners when really they're just trying to find ways to say that they want to swallow each other whole.

He knew if I chose to fly he couldn't keep up, his wings were clipped for now, out of practice, waiting for the day when he could roam again, waiting for the time to come when he could follow the currents of the sky by my side.

Be smart. Don’t ignore your shadow as signs of being a bad or mean person. If you listen to her, she will calm down, and you'll hear clearly what to attend to for your own well-being.

She walks through the myths of time. Forwards and backwards in her timeless space. Effortless and without skin and bones. She is being pulled by the past whilst being pushed by envy of the future she.

If my stomach had a personality, it would be verbally abused, black and blue, torn apart, and beat down. It would have absolutely no self-confidence because it was always told it wasn't good enough. For the past eight years, we have been in an abusive relationship.

You may look good on paper with your photoshopped partner, but that kind of perfection, the kind where you weed out every flaw, nip and tuck every time you feel a twang of pain and create a 2D image, is the kind of perfection within which breath and life simply cannot exist.

It would be easier to think that angels are something outside of us, something separate or something entirely made up.

We are literally a perpetual prayer. We're continually sending requests, in all sorts of directions, consciously, unconsciously, through verbal expressions, energies and vibrations. We ask. We receive. And in receiving, we see who we believe ourselves to be.

I wish you enough loneliness to learn that hanging out with yourself isn't such a bad thing, and enough companionship to give a daily reminder that you are never really alone.

Despite the startling clarity of hindsight, I possess not one ounce of regret, because for the first time in a long time, I listened to the quiet, strong voice of instinct and allowed myself to be taken for the ride.

We were all only human, of course, and that guidance and skill led us through the warmth and revitalization of each breath, and the expiration of all things superfluous to existence.

Think of others, more than you think of yourself. And don't just think about them, take action to show them you're thinking of them. Call them up and say 'I love you' and then tell them why. Send people cards on their birthdays and when the big things happen. Death, weddings, births. Show up when they are sick. Bring soup. Be humble. Always. Be grateful. Always. Stay curious about everyday and everyone. Believe in people, they really are genuinely good. Believe in miracles. Give to the poor. Let the world break your heart. And then do something about it. Remember, you'll be a speck of dust sooner than you can blink. Be of service. Be a sensible person. Use your words, and don't be nervous.

We are the daughters of Hera, we inspire and we terrify. We are the sisters of Aphrodite and Athena, the entire cycle of life lies within us. We are the descendants of Shakti, the divine force manifesting to destroy demonic forces and restore balance. We inherited the treasures of Isis and Ishtar, we are touched by the divine; you can't destroy us with your flairs for possessiveness and humiliation.

There will always be more, because every page brings new experiences and I am constantly changing.

The young ones born within his slumber The loss, the perfect nirvana The closeness and unbridled bliss The result nothing but some perfect harmony.

No more, I say. I do not want to live my life clinging to what is already gone and left behind. I do not want to live my life wanting to have any body other than my own. I do not want to live my life judging and hating my own skin, my curves, my lines, and yes, my white hair.

I'm sure most of us have been betrayed by someone we trusted and thought loved us. The immediate effects of this on us are obvious, the longer lasting -- the haunting ones, not so much.

We can choose to heal ourselves and those shadows we have disowned. Remember that we have all emotions, ways and moods, there is no separation. We are all a diverse whole. Every time I judge another, look down from up on high, all I really see down there is a part of me I left behind.

I am cracked but not broken. I am bruised and just now allowing my bruises to be seen. As one heals, I witness another forming. The colors are reminiscent of a sunset -- yellows, pinks and purples. They are beautiful, a sunset on my soul. The peace, the irony.

I realize the magnitude of what I have just experienced, and I start to cry. I wrap my arms around her and she lays her head on my shoulder.

I left with no money, except a few dollars to fuel the car to the place of respite. I left without any meaningful goodbyes with the one who had been my true love.

I don’t want to stay young forever. I want this human life -- all of it. I want to experience the profound gift of a whole human lifespan, grey hairs and all.

How can mankind feel so entitled? Shouldn't something so beautiful have control over its own being? I can feel the crumpled petals brush past my skin as I watch him slowly suck at my youth. I can feel him invading my territory as his rough hands sweep past my long hair.

They see a journey, an adventure, an experience in learning. They also see the other paths in the distance, leading off in all directions, as others work hard to build their path towards the sun; a shining beacon, lighting a way filled with wondrous possibilities.

Our pain speaks a coded language. When we coil inward and emulate a golden ratio, we unlock the keys to answers within our own questions. We can become consciously aware of an unconscious code streaming in through the waves of our day and night visions.

My hero is Chris DeRose, founder of Last Chance for Animals, who in a true stealth rescue operation, broke into a university laboratory and saved the dogs, cats who had been cut open, loosely stitched back together, keeping their organs from slipping out of their bodies while the grateful creatures -- in one case, a beagle -- licked his face.

I laughed as tears slid in between my lips. But I always remembered what he said. Love wasn't meant to be chicken-scratched at.

For us, at that time, in that place, that was the decision to make. Was it the wrong one? No. Because going through that, losing that love, moving forward alone -- all of that pain, really -- forged us into who we are now. And who we are now is perfect. It's so much closer to the whole self that is waiting down the road.

Improvement by addition is focused on doing more of what does work: producing a faster car, creating a more powerful speaker, building a stronger table. Improvement by subtraction is focused on doing less of what doesn't work: eliminating mistakes, reducing complexity, and stripping away the inessential.

Yes, words have power. And we should treat them responsibly. And a word only has the power you give to it. If a word (or a brush stroke) can so easily shatter the foundations of your belief system, it is not the word that is the problem. It's your fear of losing your belief system, your fear of a crack in the wall, that's the problem. It is not even your flawed belief system that is the problem, it is your overdependence on your belief system's infallibility.

Once she gained your trust with such surface-level stories, she would carry on to describe the time she graced my skin and held me tight when my voice quivered as I gave my father's memorial speech at the funeral home -- the way my heart broke with every word I muttered, but her stitching never faltered.

I will stumble along the way, relinquish and revamp, but not without the commitment to face that which fears and pains me the most. I welcome the looming gargoyle that is thirty. I embrace it, and forgive the twenties for lurking, often paralyzed and intimidated, in its impending shadow.

What story will I tell? What will I do with all the other things that I consider unforgivable... my fear is screaming at me, my ego is demanding I stop this nonsense and go buy some shoes, go eat, go self-medicate somehow but stop these feelings. I know I cannot do that, and I know I am not yet brave or strong enough to start this work, but what I am is willing.

Sometimes we have a chance to encounter angelic demons that play around with heartbeats. They exist within and without us, and bring a state of peaceful confusion that leaves you when acknowledging its presence with your unworthy fascinations.

The gift of painting a world with words is one I never take for granted. It creates a beautiful place for me to abide, to comprehend circumstances, to grow in wisdom. It powers my spine to speak the Truth as I see it without distraction. If you read my words, you have to hear my voice, and you have to see (at least a little bit) my heart.

What most people don’t know is that there's also a lot of good news about climate change.

We are all interconnected in a divine matrix known as a space of potentiality.

It's not like I thought any of this would be simple, but honestly, who knew just how hard it could be at times? Hey, I'm an artist, man! Just say No to real jobs! The truth is, I didn't know what to expect in my role as a mother because I simply wasn't looking.

According to Louise Hay, the breasts represent mothering, nurturing and nourishment. Imagine how we miss the boat if we're mad at our breasts for not looking a certain way, or if we lose them by or to dis-ease.

In a moment, you can see colors sparked with dynamism like a 3-D image and wander into an alluring and beautiful reality of living.

So I pause. I breathe. Feeling a bit like a relay runner in a race that never ends, and my only break comes when I reach the next point, hand off the baton, slow to a stop and look behind me at the distance I have come. I appreciate the work, the determination. I feel pride.

To me, at least, this bird was beautiful in death. Inky black and shimmering blue, proud stature, powerful beak. Perfect and unscathed for its last transition. An emissary of another time and a different way, where all belong in their skin as perfect and complete inside and out.

"Oh, you kids. You think you have your whole lives to live. That's a lie. What does the Buddha say? He says, 'your problem is you think you have time.' Here's what you need to be terrified of. Not living. Not falling in love. Not speaking up. Not taking chances. Not going for something that makes your heart feel like a Christmas bonfire. You need to spend your whole life, the time you got left, following that fire. None of the other crap, none of the fear, none of the past, none of the distractions. Just the fire. Just the desire. What you truly desire, that's your destiny. That's your destiny, and that's your true destination."

We were outward bound on inward glory... always thinking about love hoping on plans that'll get us laid by a girl who wears daisies in her hair.

This is not an easy belief to hold, for at the moment they tell you your loved one's earthly vessel is failing the soul it's been entrusted to hold, you cannot help but respond with "Well, fix it, do the surgery, that operation to transplant the organs, the stem cells. Do the radiation and the chemo; give the pills and medications and homeopathic remedies. Keep them here for me because I am not ready to let them go."

But all planes land eventually. And some on those planes will be met, and some will not. And for all of those people, there are beginnings and endings and middles and sunsets and wide open moons that fill the cabs of red pickup trucks with a light that just happens to be the color of hope.

Tanya Lee, go get my belt! The very first man I remember to be in my life was not my biological father. I use the word biological here because he, in fact, never took on the dad role with me. He provided an intricate piece for my existence and virtually nothing else. From just an infant, his visits were sporadic, very short and often limited to annual occurrences. What I remember most is that they were full of rage, tension, loud shouting, furniture being pushed over — and spanking. Despite his lack of presence in my life, he did manage to — abandon, reject, whoop, spank, berate, ignore and once kidnap me. He was all too cold, irrational, unpredictable and silent. He’d often just show up red-faced, steaming and swinging. Take it like a man or take it like a mouse. How many times do I have to tell you?! He was so young when he had me. He was wild, but not in a way...

I fell head over heels for words, and how they changed me. I let myself sink into stories, and how they spun meaning and method carefully -- each word laying the groundwork for the next.

I continue on, forging a path that no one has taken, nor would have thought possible considering my obstacles. Yet I am indebted to the hardship, which has challenged me to see the possibilities rather than the walls.

Sparks shoot out as I clench my teeth. Fire spills from my freshly ripped flesh, catching onto trees, clinging to the veins of their leaves.

Yoga teachers play an essential role in the machinery of life and without them, the world would most definitely not function as well.

Excessive openness and trusting easily has been my modus operandi, and it has cost me dearly on more than one occasion. In my self-proclaimed naiveté, I tend to see what's redeeming about others and to emphasize that while glossing over the other not-so-appealing red flags that I see.

Take a big deep breath, as the first month of this year is heralding in more liberation than just a single person's decision to rescue a dog. But, if I can do my part and help save a life somewhere, then who's to say that we all can't pitch in and uplift and give to another person or animal in some capacity?

Mother Nature and the Universe sneaked in some words to help map and bleed our neural plasma, and we started whispering things like, "Reach out and touch her." Now we are programmed to reach out and reach back, ramble and spit all the mess our misfiring experiment comes up with.

The hollow places inside of you that you've been trying to cram with the impermanent things of this world are magnified. Turned into chasms, a deep well you are terrified to peek into for fear of what you may find in the darkness.

The winter will come and you will wake up one day and tell yourself that you are not in love anymore. You will slow it down, scale it, fight with every fiber of your being to not be the one left alone. To not be the one who stays when it's time to leave and you are determined to not love him anymore.

Is it okay to just be a fucking bitch sometimes? Can I sleep in, eat a whole pepperoni pizza with a bottle of wine while cheering on the prison fights in Orange is the New Black? Let's throw a Kit Kat bar in there too. Because they're fucking awesome. Can I just walk around and really try to own every single part of me? The good, the bad and the ugly? Am I allowed to express and just really truly feel the power of what it is to be a woman and a human being without judgement from myself or others? I say Yes, dammit!

I am very much a beginner in the forgiveness faculty and it's one of the areas where my dear ego pulls out all the stops, sweeping herself up in her feather boa and flouncing around in full flourish.

The fear will thank you because if it was not for you it would have never been born. You will thank the fear because if it wasn't for it you would have not survived on several occasions.

By Lakshmi Raman Ever since I could remember, I’ve been obsessed with love, with the idea of being loved and cherished. I knocked on many doors, some open, some half-open and some closed shut. None of these doors gave me the love I desired. My heart was broken, walked over, punched and shattered. I was done and wanted to close my heart. Love isn’t for me, I thought. A profound healing begins when you sit on the floor, hands together, and begin to pray. You just surrender, to something bigger and greater than you. I silently prayed for a love that would fill me up, for a relationship that would nourish and nurture me. My job: to listen to the inner voice that spoke with so much love. I began journaling and talking to this higher power. I began tapping into that inner goddess within me. I slowly began to heal. I was feeling more connected with everyone...

I wonder where we'd be without the judgment of others. I wonder what we would look like. Who would we be?