Here is a stick of butter shaped like a bunny! It is a sculpture!
We could be friends, the butter and I. Hug so closely our beings merge into something greater!

blake kathryn

No title available

PR's Tumblrdome
noise dept.
đȘŒ
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

romaâ

Janaina Medeiros
taylor price

Product Placement
Cosmic Funnies
AnasAbdin
Game of Thrones Daily
Cosimo Galluzzi
KIROKAZE
dirt enthusiast
Three Goblin Art
h

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ

Love Begins
seen from United States

seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from North Macedonia

seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from North Macedonia

seen from Indonesia

seen from Singapore
seen from United States
@palatablepain
Here is a stick of butter shaped like a bunny! It is a sculpture!
We could be friends, the butter and I. Hug so closely our beings merge into something greater!
I think you might like to see this. It's a mold for making butter sticks shaped like strawberries!
It gets the Toast seal of approval! A way to elevate the already wonderful experience of hot toast!
printing this on a tshirt and wearing it to see my family to see if they get the hint
my echo chamber is so awesome they get me like no one else does
your echo chamber is so awesome they get you like no one else does
some days are really hard and it can be difficult to understand why. but usually its probably because my blood is haunted
â Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (via lunamonchtuna)
Losing my mind over this article
I actually feel like many parents are trying to relive their childhoods and that's why they impose heavy control on their kids.
Why? Because that's the way it was for brief amounts of time when I was sheltered as a kid in the 1950s or 1980s, that's why!
worst part of being an adult is how often youre forced to nag. you Have to be annoying or youre never getting anything done. which is unfortunate considering how common it is to teach kids to never nag and be annoying ever
a professional i am paying money doesnt show up w zero communication and IM the one who has to feel guilty for having to call him and ask whats going on. because when i was a little kid i would get yelled at for nagging. joke world
talked to ppl about it irl now which is good. but still just reckoning with the feeling that im living an echo of the trail of tears. forced to move for my own safety after govt policy changes and now ive lost my connection to the land and my community. stranger in a strange land. disconnected from my own selfhood by my disconnection from the land. and i dont want to suck it up and build a new relationship with the new land im on, i dont want to discard my nativeness and assimilate like my ancestors did, the family i care about is my husband whos in the uk, so i dont know what the answer is. ive named it and now the pain has doubled and looms over me, and is exacerbates my feelings of disconnection from the native community and from my people and from my nativeness and in a way my feeling of my right to call myself native. but on the flip side it reinforces my nativeness because my being native is why this hurts so bad. and dont rly have anyone in my life who could empathize and understand inside what this means. and i feel very goofy and cringe describing it
âI go on loving you like water but / there is a terrible breath in the way all of thisâ
â John Ashbery, in âThe Tennis Court Oathâ from The Tennis Court Oath
âWe believe that the most terrifying and destructive feeling that a person can experience is psychological isolation. This is not the same as being alone. It is a feeling that one is locked out of the possibility of human connection and of being powerless to change the situation. In the extreme, psychological isolation can lead to a sense of hopelessness and desperation. People will do almost anything to escape this combination of condemned isolation and powerlessness.â
â Jean Baker Miller and Irene Stiver, The Healing Connection
âThe child entrapped in this kind of horror develops the belief that she is somehow responsible for the crimes of her abusers. Simply by virtue of her existence on earth, she believes that she has driven the most powerful people in her world to do terrible things. Surely, then, her nature must be thoroughly evil. The language of self becomes a language of abomination. Survivors routinely describe themselves as outside the compact of ordinary human relations, as supernatural creatures or nonhuman life forms. They think of themselves as witches, vampires, whores, dogs, rats, or snakes. Some use the imagery of excrement or filth to describe their inner sense of self. In the words on an incest survivor: â I am filled with black slime. If I open my mouth it will pour out. I think of myself as the sewer silt that a snake would breed upon.â By developing a contaminated, stigmatised identity, the child victim takes the evil of the abuser into herself and thereby preserves her primary attachments to her parents. Because the inner sense of badness preserves a relationship, it is not readily given up even after the abuse has stopped; rather, it becomes a stable part of the childâs personality structure. Protective workers who intervene in discovered cases of abuse routinely assure child victims that they are not at fault. Just as routinely, the children refuse to be absolved of blame. Similarly, adult survivors who have escaped from the abusive situation continue to view themselves with contempt and to take upon themselves the shame and guilt of their abusers. The profound sense of inner badness becomes the core around which the abused childâs identity is formed, and it persists into adult life. The malignant sense of inner badness is often camouflaged by the abused childâs persistent attempts to be good. In an effort to placate her abusers, the child victim often becomes a superb performer. She attempts to do whatever is required of her. She may become an empathic caretaker for her parents, an efficient housekeeper, an academic achiever, a model of social conformity. She brings to all these tasks a perfectionist zeal, driven by a desperate need to find favor in her parentsâ eyes. In adult life, this prematurely forced competence may lead to considerable occupational success. None of her achievements in the world redound to her credit, however, for she usually perceives her performing self as inauthentic and false. Rather, the appreciation of others simply confirms her conviction that no one can truly know her and that, if her secret and true self were recognised, she would be shunned and reviled. [âŠ.] Survivors of chronic childhood trauma face the task of grieving not only for what was lost but also for what was never theirs to lose. The childhood that was stolen from them is irreplaceable. They must mourn the loss of the foundation of basic trust, the belief in a good parent. As they come to recognise that they were not responsible for their fate, they confront the existential despair that they could not face in childhood. Leonard Shengold poses the central question at this stage in mourning: âWithout the inner picture of caring parents, how can one survive?âŠEvery soul-murder victim will be wracked by the question âIs there life without father and mother?ââ The confrontation with despair brings with it, at least transiently, an increased risk of suicide. In contrast to the impulsive self-destructiveness of the first stage of recovery, the patientâs suicidality during the second stage may evolve from a calm, flat, apparently rational decision to reject a world where such horrors are possible. Patients may engage in sterile philosophical discussions about their right to choose suicide. It is imperative to get beyond this intellectual defense and to engage the feelings and fantasies that fuel the patientâs despair. Commonly the patient has the fantasy that she is already among the dead, because her capacity for love has been destroyed. What sustains the patient through this descent into despair is the smallest evidence of an ability to form loving connections. Clues to the undestroyed capacity for love can often be found through the evocation of soothing imagery. Almost invariably it is possible to find some image of attachment that has been salvaged from the wreckage. One positive memory of a caring, comforting person may be a lifeline during the descent into mourning. The patientâs own capacity to feel compassion for animals or children, even at a distance, may be the fragile beginning of compassion for herself. The reward of mourning is realised as the survivor sheds her evil, stigmatised identity and dares to hope for new relationships in which she no longer has anything to hide.â
â Judith Herman, Trauma and Recovery
âBeing abandoned by those who have the power to help produces a loneliness more profound than simple isolation.â
â Jill Stauffer, Ethical Loneliness: The Injustice of Not Being Heard
âNow surfaces a curious paradox: a popular notion has it, as I indicated above, that hearing voices means a person is crazy. A common comment goes like this: âwell, I talk to myself, but Iâm not really crazy unless I start answering.â To the contrary, I suggest that we all hear voices, and that the way to evolve is to hear them better, not to stop them. Hearing them better means listening with ever expanding awareness that then becomes available to the part of us that is a choice maker. Craziness is not having the equipment to listen to ourselves; evolving sanity is having the equipment, plus the courage. Sanity expands as we learn to facilitate the speaking of the voices, the listening, and the replying through an aware ego.â
â William Taegel, The Many Colored Buffalo: Transformation Through the Council of Voices
âIn the final analysis, power is the right to have your definition of reality prevail over all other peopleâs definition of reality.â
â Dorothy Rowe
âEmotions, too, are relational. As children, we learn about sorrow, fear, and other emotions only when they are recognised, named, and responded to empathically. Emotional energy flows between and among us. It doesnât stop at the boundary of the body or the imagined âboundaryâ of the ego. These âboundariesâ do not prevent the unconscious emotions of the older generation from turning up in the dreams and unconscious of the younger. We feel one anotherâs feelingsâthough, as with our own feelings, not necessarily consciously. Transpersonal feeling-with-others is built into our cells-an intuitive and powerful way of knowing if harnessed, a potentially destructive process if unconscious. [âŠ] Emotional energy is transpersonal. Itâs not âinsideâ any more than it is âoutside.â It flows through us and is transmitted intersubjectively. Grief, fear, and despair in the human family carry information that remains private and disempowered so long as we see it as âmineâ alone. [âŠ] In search of healing, the victim of violence and other kinds of trauma must have the courage not only to enter her woundedness, but also to reach out and find connection to others, to some larger community of meaning. What helps her is not just an interior journey but a wider view of her problemâa sense that others have experienced this pain and that she is not alone in it. The single greatest barrier to her healing and transformation is not really the traumatising events in themselves but her isolation. This isolation, to my way of thinking, is not so much a failure of the individual to find connection as it is a failure of the human community to offer connection to the individual. Feeling and healing are transpersonal events. The redemptive power of the dark emotions cannot find its full flowering until we can match the deepening of our awarenessâa going-in, getting-deeper processâwith the expansion of our awarenessâa going-out, getting-wider process. We are more than our atomised autobiographies. We are all connected, for better and for worse. In this interconnectedness lies the only hope for global healing and redemption. The pain of the world is carried in our bodies and hearts. Locked away, the pain can harm usâemotionally, physically, and spiritually. Consciously liberated in community, it moves us to a deeper sense of connection and compassion, helping us heal not only ourselves but our environment. Look into the pain of the world and you find your own private pain writ large. Look into your heart and you find the broken heart of the world.â
â Miriam Greenspan, Healing through the dark emotions: the wisdom of grief, fear, and despair
âIn my own community, with many severely handicapped men and women, the greatest source of suffering is not the handicap itself, but the accompayning feelings of being useless, worthless, unappreciated and unloved. It is much easier to accept the inability to speak, walk or feed onself than it is to accept the inability to be of special value to another person. We human beings can suffer immense deprivations with great steadfastness, but when we sense that we no longer have anything to offer to anyone, we quickly lose our grip on our life. Instinctively we know that the joy of life comes from the ways in which we live together and that the pain of life comes from the many ways we fail to do that.â
â
Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved
(thanks, Will Hall)