Remind yourself daily, that every time you start the day, you're starting anew...
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
My memory loves you; it asks about you all the time…
Jonathan Carroll (via browndresswithwhitedots)
(Source: facebook.com)
I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. Tell me—knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school. If you were walking by a chemical plant, where smoke stacks were filling the sky with dark, black clouds, would you holler, “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would whisper, “That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy”? Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me? See, I wanna know if you believe in any god, or if you believe in many gods. Or better yet, what gods believe in you. And for all the times you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true? And if they didn’t did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]? I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment, will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? Would you think less of me if I told you I have lived my entire life a little off key and I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry I just plagiarized the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence. Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence? And if you do I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds. And if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon that if you wanted to you could pop—but you never would because you’d never want it to stop. If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it, if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness? And lastly, let me ask you this: if you and I went for a walk, and the entire walk we didn’t talk, do you think eventually we’d kiss? No way. That’s askin’ too much—after all, this is only our first date.
Andrea Gibson
I’m tired of only ever seeing the shortened version of this. The whole thing is amazing and it deserves to be read in its entirety.
(via miss—information)
I am Cogsworth.
acoustic songs by people with voices that aren’t anything special but with emotions and lyrics and chords that are honest and pure and you listen to them when you are alone in your bedroom and you start to touch yourself inappropriately but innocently and you know that there is someone out there getting tangled up in the same song and if they are not alone in their bedroom but they are on a bus rather and they lick their lips and hold tight to the book that you let them borrow that they are reading and they sigh and pull their legs into themselves and look around and notice beautiful people but they don’t give a shit because they have a connection to someone who is the most beautiful thing in the world. it feels like roller coasters and those voices that make your whole body tingle so you don’t pay attention to the words and they take you away. but this person, you care about every single word that they have to say. when you sift away, you ask them to repeat themselves. they get upset cos they think that you weren’t listening. you try to explain the situation. they silence you with a kiss and give you your book back with pressed flowers and a cute handwritten note in it.
If you don’t own your flaws, your flaws will own you.
Some guy, on the necessity of embracing the whole self (via hudlionunshod)
maleficents: wine-loving-vagabond:
Forever Love by Tom Ford
“I am tired of the cult of youth. The cultural rejection of old age, the stigmatization of wrinkles, grey hair, of bodies furrowed by the years. I am fascinated by Diana Vreeland, Georgia O’Keeffe and Louise Bourgeois, women who have let time embrace them without ever cheating. Society today condemns this, me, I celebrate it. For this session of fine jewelry, I imagined a man and a woman who had been together for a long time, faithful to each other and always incandescent with desire.”
![kateoplis:
Alexander Graham Bell and Mabel kissing within a tetrahedral kite, October 1903. [natgeofound]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/aa74b3a695e460a170902c49945bac8c/tumblr_mj9sf69LvV1s7f3fyo1_500.jpg)
Alexander Graham Bell and Mabel kissing within a tetrahedral kite, October 1903. [natgeofound]
(via bigmsaxon)
quick someone fall in love with me so i can say that we found love
in a
popeless
place.
(Source: saintdoriangraymusic)
Believing you have a choice…
It’s a choice to let yourself be loved
not to love, the choice there is then
to pretend you never did
make everyone call you.
But they never do,
and it never works
because you never stop.