You know all that garbage you see in movies about meeting your one true love and living happily ever after creating little packages of equally contributed chromosomes with one another? Don’t put too much weight in that, sweety. I know it looks wonderful and pretty and it makes your heart all juicy and gives you that ache in the back of your throat but honestly, there’s this other thing you should be focusing on–you. Continue reading
In my last in-depth post I discussed love. This will be a continuation of that post for what I am planning to be a three-part series of posts focusing on love, honesty and instinct.
Honesty. In the grand scheme of life and relationships, honesty has extremely high value. Honesty allows us to learn about one another and ourselves through sharing, support one another, and get some of that hidden information into the ‘arena’ (see Johari Window ) to allow us to build relationships. Honesty is that shiny little charm that gets lost in the pocket rubbish that makes up the ‘games’ we often find ourselves playing in relationships–the pocket being the relationship (where did this metaphor come from?). I’m in my early thirties now and over the last handful of years I’ve tired of these games. What’s the point of them anyway? It all goes back to protecting ourselves by not giving away too much. But really, in the end it’s all a waste of time and energy–whatever will be, will be [que sera]; and sometimes whatever would have been you’ve ruined because of your stupid pocket-rubbish games. Continue reading
A beautiful feed for the need to anthropomorphize; please click the source link below to read.
Of the many things I was scared of when I was little, ‘the dark’ was the most terrifying. As a child it scared me because I felt like a lack of light permitted terrible and ill-willed beings license to be wherever light wasn’t–and if I was in the dark, so were those beings. As I got older, I slowly realized that this was simply a case of my overactive imagination having free reign over the possibilities of darkness, and a small part of it was my mind taking the ‘what happens if I do this’ stance.
My mind always pushes the envelope when I allow it. Continue reading
Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.
– Mary Oliver, Landscape
Love for another is a funny thing, in that it’s usually not funny at all. It shows up in places we don’t always expect and latches itself to others we don’t particularly choose. It’s stimulating, delicious, ethereal when it’s returned to us; bruising, heavy, viscous when it isn’t returned; and it’s deep, branding, and beautiful in both cases. We’ve likely all had our share of both and carry around the markings left behind by them.
Love of family is one thing–generally lifelong and solid, but often messy because we must learn to love one another the right way while already loving. However, if you’re lucky enough to experience such familial love, you also know that it is never enough and each of us continue to look outside of ourselves and our family to make a connection to someone else. An outsider, a stranger who will grow a love for you that is as close to unconditional as the feeling allows; to become your adoptive family, to care for, appreciate, and understand you in ways family never could. This is the love I continuously ponder. This is the love I search for in others near and far. This is the love I’m unsure that I trust.
where you can start saying things like ‘B T Dubs’ sarcastically in general conversation but then it becomes habit so now everyone thinks you’re dumb.