Archive for October 16th, 2009

words: by Paulo Coelho

from “Veronika Decides to Die”:

Then, once more, a deep peace flooded through her and Veronika again looked out at the starry sky and at the new moon, her favorite, filling the room she was in with gentle light.  The impression returned of Infinity and Eternity walking hand in hand; you only had to look for one of them– for example, the limitless universe– to feel the presence of the other, Time that never ends, that never passes, that remains in the Present, where all of life’s secrets lie.  As she had been walking from the ward to that room, she had felt such pure hatred that now she had no more rancor left in her heart.  She had finally allowed her negative feelings to surface, feelings that had been repressed for years in her soul.  She had actually felt them, and they were no longer necessary, they could leave.

**

She sat on in silence, enjoying the present moment, letting love fill up the empty space left behind by hatred.  When she felt the moment had come, she turned to the moon and played a sonata in homage to it, knowing that the moon was listening and would feel proud, and that this would provoke jealousy of the stars.  Then she played music for the stars, the garden, for the mountains that she could not see in the darkness but which she knew were there.

 

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words: by Janet Fitch

from “White Oleander”:

How could I forget.  I was her ghost daughter, sitting at empty tables with crayons and pens while she worked on a poem, a girl malleable as white clay.  Someone to shape, instruct in the ways of being her.  She was always shaping me.  She showed me an orange, a cluster of pine needles, a faceted quartz, and made me describe them to her.  I couldn’t have been more than three or four.  My words, that’s what she wanted.  “What’s this?” she kept asking.  “What’s this?”  But how could I tell her?  She’d taken all the words.

The smell of tuberoses saturated the night air, and the wind clicked through the palms like thoughts through my sleepless mind.  Who am I?  I am a girl you don’t know, mother.  The silent girl in the back row of the classroom, drawing in notebooks.  Remember how they didn’t know if I even spoke English when we came back to the country?  They tested me to find out if I was retarded or deaf.  But you never asked why.  You never thought, maybe I should have left Astrid some words.

I thought of Yvonne in our room, asleep, thumb in mouth, wrapped around her baby like a top.  “I can see her,” you said.  You could never see her, Mother.  Not if you stood in that room all night.  You could only see her plucked eyebrows, her bad teeth, the books that she read with the fainting women on the covers.  You could never recognize the kindness in that girl, the depth of her needs, how desperately she wanted to belong, that’s why she was pregnant again.  You could judge her as you judged everything else, inferior, but you could never see her.  Things weren’t real to you.  They were just raw material for you to reshape to tell a story you liked better.  You could never just listen to a boy playing guitar, you’d have to turn it into a poem, make it all about you.  

**

Astrid

words: by onemoreoption

I’m probably not someone you’ll want around . . .

if you are inconsiderate of the people around you

if you don’t plan to make time for the people close to you

if you think sexuality is a base, negative, or secondary concern of life

if you hypocritically portray yourself as one thing to the world and live as something opposite in your personal life

if you don’t take reasonable steps to safeguard the people around you

if you are addicted to unnecessary and harmful drugs and don’t make it a priority to attempt to ween yourself off of them

if you are mostly idle when you could be helping others

if you don’t take on the problems facing yourself and those around you because you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings

if you consistently don’t do what you say you are going to do

if you don’t intend to use better means to do more good

if you take without giving back in like kind

if you don’t believe in or try to better your world

if you belittle or discourage the good work and intentions of others

then I’m probably not someone you’ll want around.


 

song: make love

]

opening words….

Hello!  This blog is going to be  a collection of all the images and texts I find inspirational or beautiful.  I’m not going to reach for meaning here, or try to avoid contradictions…  whatever goes on here stays and that’s that.

The guidelines for what I’m going to post are loose and may change…. but for now we’ll say that whatever I post must be:

1.  Something I personally find beautiful.

2. Something I would personally incorporate into my life, or thoughts, or appearance.

ok?

ok.

Let’s go then!  🙂

R


Creepers

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