I'm not stunning, I am ethereal. Yes, hard to understand at times, ambiguous for sure, maybe overwhelming or even contradictory. But I told you all this way back at the beginning. Rather sheepishly, even, because I knew then what you now have realized: I am hard to comprehend. And you, my love, loved me for it then.
The redemptive potential of boredom exists in the possibility that the discomfort will drive us to devote honest attention to our souls’ true need: its thirst for meaning, not distraction. What does my experience of emptiness reveal about my fears and my needs?
The storm knows
that I still need to ask questions,
even though I've had hints
that there are other ways
of reaching truths.
She knows I still have so many,
and they arise often,
so I tell them to the howling wind,
Last time I was depressed, one of my closest friends told me something I’ll never forget. She said: "I don't know why you can't just pull yourself together." That moment highlighted for me the reality that people who are not depressive will never understand what it's like.
I feel disheartened by the plethora of judgmental, disrespectful, ignorant, and even downright hateful comments swirling around the internet regarding the suicide of Robin Williams. It's made me consider deleting all my social media accounts.
What we think has a profound impact on the way we feel, and the way we feel influences how we behave; conversely, the actions we take, whether conscious or unconscious, have the power to shift the way we feel, thus provoking certain thoughts -- or any which way you want to look at it.
If you're staying in a relationship that doesn't fulfill you, challenge you or resonate with you because you feel obligated to a deal or a contract you made with another human being, you are depriving both of you of opportunities for happiness and growth.
You get your heart broken, you open it up and try again. You fail an exam, you study harder and become more familiar with the material. You become more and more thankful to just be alive, and you press on.
During this growth of the business and the continual improvements and expansions, I felt a crack begin to form in my heart. The day-to-day tasks and financial pressures of the business had dulled my passion.
I have learned what I need to do is sing them a lullaby once in a while. Invite them over for dinner. Or even make love to them. Give them a peace offering to keep them sedated enough so that I can go on with my life unperturbed instead of lying awake all night thinking of one hundred and one ways to kill them.
By Paula Swenson
I’m so far from perfect, I can’t even see it from here.
And that’s a good thing.
Perfection, at least the way our human brains try to define it, is an illusion.
On the other hand, everything is perfect exactly as it occurs.
This paradox is at the heart of our human story.
I’m a recovering perfectionist, raised by perfectionist parents. A child born to love weeds, wildflowers, broken shells and fragmented souls, asked to strive for perfection.
I tried, hard. Or a part of me did.
Yet, somehow, the child who sat for hours watching speckled bugs climb the tall grasses and tiny fish schooling in the shallows making random patterns of sun and shadow, the little girl who picked wildflowers, weeds and garden flowers together into messy bouquets, was never far beneath the surface.
My most precious treasures are still bits of sea glass and...
Perhaps that’s why we are so leery of showing people who we are. Why bare our souls to a world ready to cut us out of the picture if we stumble or take one misstep that reveals our human imperfections rather than the shiny, happy version of ourselves that we so skillfully project?
It's time to heed the call of Your Wild, and discover yourself anew (again). Thankfully, we have the literary delicacies of those who travailed before us, to offer treats to put into our traveling packs.
There is life after abuse. There is also marriage afterwards, even if that marriage is to and with oneself. You are not alone. You deserve respect. You deserve love. You deserve a safe place to sleep at night. You deserve kind words to be said to you, not just sometimes, but every day. You deserve to shine your light rather than to hide it. You deserve to flourish, to live your dreams. You deserve community. You are not alone.
By Tahnee Lazarus
I remember one morning, whilst taking my usual route to work, something started to feel amiss; even the energy around felt different.
I suddenly began to feel a slight melancholy. I was gently alerted to memories of old, which seemed to unsettle me because this time it made me take a second, maybe more, and it caused me to begin to think.
I remembered my late granny, and I felt this huge weight of loss settle. I was bombarded with special memories of her sitting on our couch, in her very specific corner where the sun shone every day. It streamed onto her and warmed her already warm soul.
I would go sit with her and she would tickle my palm, and hand out special pearls of wisdom to me. I sat and listened, but I would always notice how different our hands were. Hers were speckled with sun spots and wrinkles. There was a story etched into these...
Families who don't deal, feel the tension of unresolved issues, even down through the next generation. Young people will instinctively know not to speak to Aunt Jane or Uncle Bob, but they won't know why. They'll simply follow the unwritten rules set down by the ones that came before.
My generation is one which has recognized its own extinction, and is trying to decide how to deal with it -- Baby Boomers who heralded from a period of idealism call this 'fatalism'. I call it 'dignity'.
By Paula Muran
Karma is about energy and action — how energy flows towards and away from us.
It is the belief of the Hindu and Buddhist traditions that karma is the result of our own past actions and present doings. We ourselves are responsible for our own happiness and misery. We are the architects of our own fate.
Accordingly, everything begins and ends with the self. I believe that the ebb and flow of karmic principles are not truly understood, for if they were, we would never say a bad thing about another person again.
Let me explain how karma works.
Imagine around yourself a grid-like structure — like a web, multilayered, buoyant and active — extending all around you. This is your field of energy and every thought that emerges from this field is energy.
Every action creates a reaction.
It’s like bowling.
We grab the ball; we think a...
Our big brains consume 25% of our body's resources, and so they take short-cuts whenever possible. Therefore, the construction of the world and the self are filled with assumptions. We see what we expect to see. We construct our self-stories to confirm the stories from our past.
"Voodoo is the religion of adaptation," he said. And it was like something stopping me in my tracks. This. Oh yes, this. The way of survival, a capacity to not resist movement, but shapeshift and adapt to change. This.
By Alise Versella
We were sitting at the corner of miserable, the streetlight flickering on and off like a soon to be dying firefly
We sat cross-legged — Indian style, meditating on our raucous thoughts twisting like television chords
The old black-and-white kind with alien-tinfoil antennas
The picture in our minds was crackly-fuzzy, then turning Technicolor rainbow blocks
When you know the programming has been interrupted for a very important message
But it was just cars whizzing by with their horns blaring rude and demanding to turn down the street first
Like just by honking louder you could get there that much faster
And once you’ve gotten to said destination, what awaits you?
What did you nearly run over to rush over to?
In such a rush to get nowhere, just to another corner of another street
But perhaps the streetlights aren’t fading on that...
I wait until all the guests have left and the hosts have given themselves over to sleep. Emerging from my hiding place, stomach rounded, I'm pregnant with stories. Waddling away, shadowed hands holding my ankles, it's hard to leave my under-the-table place of seduction.
That morning I walked away knowing only two things for certain: something was very wrong in my marriage, and that something inside me was trying to get out, to be seen, and to be heard. Both of these sent a chill of fear through my soul.
When adversity hits us, we start to ask questions. The harder it hits us, the deeper our questions become. Sometimes, those questions end up being unexpected gifts that take us where we need to go next -- where our souls demand we go.
These are the ones whose ribcage is a tangle of blackberry vines and whose spine is a bottomless mountain ravine, rushing clear water, icy as snowmelt. The ones with rubies in their teeth and turquoise in their chests, with fingertips that grow into dandelions, and eyelashes into blue jay wings.
I remain passionate and loving, still in the pursuit of all things personally meaningful to me, conscious enough to know not to give up, conscious enough to know that even when I doubt the things I know, I also know enough to go ahead and get started.
I do this so my body can make its first attempts at untangling some of the tightly knotted tensions, memories, revelations that are relentlessly becoming more twisted and tethered and bound as it plays to my mind and heart the knowledge and memory and emotion that it has been gripping and weaving and forming into a solid, unbreakable mass that now needs to be cracked open, explored and set free.
That's why it's so exciting to connect with another person on the level of the soul. It's why people say, Love is blind -- there are no judgments, just being. That feeling is usually triggered by sexual love, which has the power to quell the ego's voice and transport us into a state of communal oneness.
I see the popular hashtag #yogaeverydamnday that always accompanies a twenty-year-old stick insect doing some amazing Crow/Cobra hybrid on a beach somewhere. Yoga every damn day? If I get Yoga one damn time between trainings the last few months, I'm doing great.
So for those of us who don't spend every minute of every day welcoming and hugging strangers as a calling and vocation, we do however hold Amma's essence. We too hold our very own set of Golden Keys to value, nourish and water. Smaller on scale, but still as vitally important for humanity's growth.
And suddenly it's so toxic, you can't breathe anymore or your friendship seems to be splitting you into separate directions. You're stuck, no longer moving forward and perhaps moving backwards. You can't seem to talk to them anymore; every minute feels like a chore, you can't step outside of your mind when you are with them. The connection has done a complete 180.
How many now will seize not just the day (which Carpe Diem signifies) but every moment, second, hour, in every way, beyond how all our drudgeful habits make things seem? How many will take our lives out to a place we do not know, will just be crazy for the hell of it and to the wind all caution throw, then watch our earthquake epicenters grow?
How often do we truly dig deep and touch the real yearning protected by fear within us? The too-hot-to-touch places that hold the precious things we say we want; the bigger than life dreams and Holy Fuck visions that we keep under wraps, for fear of judgement...
It tells me to let go. To allow myself to feel whatever I need to feel. To allow the Universe to lead me in whatever way I need to go. To allow my body to break and change and heal as it needs to. To allow myself to feel joy when it presents itself and to feel grief when it floods my soul.