Escaping Stars @escapingstars - Tumblr Blog

flowerytale

Patti Smith, from the introduction of Devotion

artandchocolate

Emily Brontë - Wuthering Heights

byzbi

thesleepyblueocean-deactivated2

neckkiss

“Before you speak, ask yourself: is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve on the silence?”

— Sai Baba (via perrfectly)

volcanicpoetry

Rummaging for BPD © han hyland

ysvyri

’Hidden Things’ by Kim Myatt New painting for the Month of Fear challenge “Secrets”. Things kept hidden can drown us, and our loved ones, in a mire of our own making. Ysvyri.tumblr.com

nameless-shrine

honor the healer. sit with your grief, process your feelings, and move forward. check in on others, and listen with compassion to help them grow. support street medics and mutual aid collectives. self-quarantine if you have been in a large crowd.

honor the poet. boost the voices of those most affected by police brutality and antiblackness. speak up when you hear racist lies. use the creative arts to bless and curse, to make a point and take a stand, and inspire those dreaming of a better world.

honor the smith. build a stronger community, and resolve not to call the cops. fight to reduce their presence in everyday life. help rebuild what’s been lost, but don’t dismiss the reasons for destruction. find out what you can do locally to enact lasting change.

fighting for justice is an act of love. keep tending brigid’s flame in whatever ways you can.

nameless-shrine

manannán mac lir, son of the sea

who walks between sunlight and shadow,

who knows the names of the dead,

i call to you! years have i spent

adrift with my monsters, not certain

of where i am going.

freeflowing manannán, i praise you

in your multitudes. for i have reached the shore,

feet golden in the sand.

laughing manannán, manannán voyager,

a great journey is before me.

lend me your wisdom, its guiding star.

nameless-shrine

give me more modern gaelic polytheism

brigid, the slam poet, working woman, and community medic. the firebrand who does it all.

the morrígan, watching, waiting. striking down corrupt rulers where they stand. rallying protestors in the streets.

manannán mac lir, wanderer who blesses those kind enough to spare a dollar. who blesses the fringes of society. who keeps us afloat in dark times.

the dagda, ladling soup from a cauldron that never runs dry- giving out water bottles in sweltering summer heat, and warm blankets to fend off winter’s chill.

aengus óg, blessing lovers’ bonds the world over. in brightly lit pride parades and midnight alleyways alike.

the tuatha dé danann have always been hard to grasp: we see them not always in the epics but in the turn of the earth. in land, sea, and sky.

they might not be all-present, but they have always been here.