evolve

[primulaceas]

Mary Oliver, “Dogfish.” Dream Work

[timbllr]

via weheartit

[excorpiano]

[firstfullmoon]

“‘Having a coke with you is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne,’ declared poet Frank O’Hara. He knew that what we eat together is worth a thousand big epiphanies or Michelin-starred solo meals or grand voyages. Here are some other things that are magical: picking the last of the season’s fat, only blackberries with you; eating toast in bed with you and arguing about the crumbs; reaching into the Minstrels packet at the same time as you and our hands grazing; unwrapping a cheeseburger with you; crying into cut onions with you; flipping pancakes with you and giving you the ones that aren’t crumpled; walking home with a pocketful of Maltesers with you; cracking open the lid of the pan with you, and having the steam and the scent of dinner hit us both in the face; sharing my spoon with you; you.”

— Ruby Tandoh, from Eat Up: Food, Appetite and Eating What You Want

[amouthfulloflove]

“I have left Earth in search of an audible God. I do not trust the sound of yours. You would not recognise my grandmother’s Hallelujah if she had to sign it, you would have made her sit on her hands and put a ruler in her mouth as if measuring her distance from holy. Take your God back, though his songs are beautiful, they are not loud enough.”

— Dear Hearing World, Raymond Antrobus

[neckkiss]

St. Elmo’s Fire

[oddfilmstills]

[amouthfulloflove]

“i would love to be ruined if it means i am sacred enough to be kept close.”

— Lazarus, L. Munir

[amouthfulloflove]

“what loss I am constructed of is knives that pivot on their hells (…)”

— HOIST THE LARGER GRIEF ALONG, Aditi Nagrath

[tamsoj]

Ted Hughes, from Birthday Letters, “Child’s Park”

[adrasteiax]

Mary Oliver, from Hum, Hum in “A Thousand Mornings”

[lissar-deactivated20220127]

AUGUST-DECEMBER 2021 MANIFESTO FOR MY LIFE

it’s time, now, for something different. it’s time for orange-pink tulips, embracing curls and waves in your hair, fey mischievous laughter echoing in your mind long after the joke is done with, cartoonish margin-drawings of chubby tinsel-foil stars hanging radiant over the dome of the world, soft jazz barely heard over the murmur of evening voices, keeping a diary written in heart-blood in black-inked words, listening to the melody and rapture of chaos till it becomes harmless and loses its edge, flinching at what terrifies yet still moving forward and doing what is necessary, keeping pain private and keeping joy occasionally expressed, surprising good friends with warm gifts, tolerating emptiness without losing sight of what matters by remembering what fullness is when you have it, working every day at the right things without downplaying how much of a struggle they are, no longer martyring yourself for the betterment of the world but making yourself an immovable part of it much like the stones and trees, fondly referring to god as a distant loved one you still dream of every now and then, picking up the pieces, resuming the task you have set yourself—to live right, live nobly—once more, and letting love back into your life.

[sexondary]

[ripe]

turn off your phone, throw it in a lake, become unreachable

[imagination]

[beguines]

God represents terror without an object, without threat or danger; God is instead a force that overwhelms mind and the body, a being we will never comprehend, that touches all aspects of the universe. G-d is the name we're not allowed to say, the omitted vowel, the face we can't see, and the sublime terror that stands comfortingly between us and all the horrors and evils of this world, commanding our attention. Or perhaps, like art, God is terrifying because he exists apart from how we define him for ourselves.

Natalie Vestin, "The Nightmare God: Art and Sublime Terror"

[minuty]

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.”

—