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weltenwellen

Ellen Bass, “The Thing Is”, Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems

stuckinapril

annabelle--cane

one of The Many problems with how the general public conceptualizes addiction and recovery is that "rock bottom" makes a really good narrative beat, it's a nice and dramatic second act low point in your classic three act structure to give a character something to make them reevaluate and get their life in order, and the human brain sure likes holding on to Fun Narratives, so even well-intentioned people who don't consider themselves to believe in punitive measures get it stuck into their heads that thee way that people get sober is by experiencing some kind of reckoning of harsh consequences (losing a job or home, overdosing, being rejected by loved ones, getting desperate and feeling driven to do something really awful to keep using, etc). when, if you think about it for like two seconds, basically no one in the world is going to juuust about survive their own personal worst case scenario and think "wow, now would be a really great time to give up my only coping mechanism and voluntarily induce a medical emergency for the next several weeks," that kind of thing is far more likely to just immediately make everything Much worse.

probuccalfat

it’s fucking wild because one day you’re like i guess i’m not dying tragically young and you go to the store and you buy dental floss, ingredients for soup, and a bath mat

probuccalfat

it’s this sentiment in practice, in day to day.

letsbelonelytogetherr

—Andrea Gibson, "Good Light," Lord of the Butterflies

bakwaaas

your vaguely awkward and socially inept vibe has captivated me

firstfullmoon

If you persevere, in time you will have an entirely different problem – not that life is meaningless, but rather that life has almost too much meaning. As the scales fall from your eyes the world rushes into focus, presenting itself with a kind of vibrational eloquence that can, at first, be almost overwhelming. Everything shimmers, everything clarifies, everything wrestles for your attention. Trees feel super-real, their roots plunged into the earth, their branches stretching to the sky, birds are flesh and blood souls, fragile with life, the sky unfolds and rolls, the ocean crashes, people fascinate, books are beautiful, children are whirling dynamos of chaos, dogs bark and cats meow, flowers shout, your neighbour glows, and God runs like a helix through all things. The world awaits you, humming with meaning. You are alive with potential. You are not dead.

— Nick Cave on getting clean, Red Hand Files #258

firstfullmoon

Everything is so superb and breathtaking. I am creeping forward on my belly like they do in war movies.

— Diane Arbus, as quoted in Susan Sontag’s On Photography

iamwizzzzz

it took a million deaths to be this free

mrsterlingeverything

Im gonna get what i want

museiums

artist: ana leovy

holyfoal-moved-deactivated20230

that other (2020, joyce carol oates)

heartshop

Margaret Atwood, from Power Politics

hqtoussaint

Alone Not Lonely (2024) By Bisola Michal, Nigerian artist

weltenwellen

Victoria Chang, Obit

mintakablue

[ID: I used to think that a dead person's words die with them. Now I know that they scatter, looking for meaning to attach to like a scent. My mother used to collect orange blossoms in a small shallow bowl. I pass the tree each spring. I always knew that grief was something I could smell. But I didn't know that it's not actually a noun but a verb. That it moves. /end ID.]