Old Soul. New Perspective

This moment, with its strangeness and sense of loss, is my unfailing and perfect teacher.

[babyjapril]

[werenotreallystrangers]

The self abandonment hurts more than the heartbreak

[sahlesummerhill]

[unfxded]

⠀

[salemwitchtrials-deactivated202]

Coming to Writing, Hélène Cixous

[panatmansam]

[panatmansam]

[weltenwellen]

Wait Galway Kinnell

[oldsoulnewperspective]

[oldsoulnewperspective]

And so, I believe that in this lifetime this was the most expedient way for me to learn self love.

[weltenwellen]

Taking Care  Callista Buchen

[weltenwellen]

Taking Care  Callista Buchen

[oldsoulnewperspective]

[oldsoulnewperspective]

i no longer confused the symptoms of distress with passion, chemistry or desirability.

"You maintain the thrilling possibility of love without ever having to test whether you are actually lovable under ordinary conditions." This is the thing that feels underwhelming to the wound and revolutionary to the self.What tends to happen, when it happens at all, is considerably less photogenic. You notice the pattern mid-pattern. You feel the familiar pull toward someone who is not quite there, and you recognise it, not as love, but as habit. You feel the loss of the story you were already writing around them, because that story was good, you are a gifted author of it and giving it up feels less like growth and rather more like bereavement. But the nervous system can relearn. Not quickly. Not without grief for the intensity it is releasing. The absence of anxious longing can come, eventually, to feel not like flatness but like ground. Solid, unremarkable, deeply liveable ground that you can actually build something on, as opposed to the cliff-edge drama which was always, somewhere beneath the romance of it, about the fall.

[weltenwellen]

Joy Sullivan, from “Culpable”, Instructions for Traveling West

[kisxmesoft]

[werenotreallystrangers]

Your body usually knows first

[oldsoulnewperspective]

Maybe everything that was about us, was really about me

Butterflies. Something between a dream and a miracle. Nothing makes sense and everything makes sense. My love is conditional. You feel like home.