Blooming… @stel-osophy - Tumblr Blog

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𝖠𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗋

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Anna Loginova aka Anna Vindront - Sit Down and Think (2025)

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John Riley Wilmer

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goddessdiary

let the sun energize you, inspire you, ignite something within you.

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🍃 .• ꒰ 🪾 ꒱ — i don’t know, maybe being rich means drinking dew from water lilies, sleeping on a bed of moss, wearing a necklace of resin drops and a crown of wildflowers, and using leaves instead of money 𖦹 ₊˚

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— william wordsworth (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

𝙰 𝙱𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙼𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢…

This morning, something happened that I honestly can’t stop thinking about.

I was getting out of a taxi, already feeling like shit—mentally, emotionally, hormonally. You name it. PMS was dragging me through the mud, my anxiety had been chewing at me for days and I’d kind of hit that point where you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. Just…tired. Of. Everything.

And then, in the middle of this chaotic street—the kind of place that smells like literal human faeces and is usually covered in bits of garbage and rotten fruit—I felt something land on me.

At first, I thought it was trash. No joke. I actually looked down expecting to flick off some random piece of paper. But it wasn’t. It was a butterfly.

A green butterfly. Which I’m still not sure was actually green because it was just so beautiful.

And It just sat there. Calm. Still. So…gentle. And for someone who’s usually afraid of bugs (I flinch at flies, let’s be honest), I wasn’t scared. Not even a little bit. I felt still too. And that’s rare for me. Especially as of lately.

It was such a small thing. Just a butterfly. But it felt like the universe tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey. I see you. I know you’re struggling. But look—there’s still softness. There’s still beauty. You’re not broken.”

I don’t know. I feel ridiculous even typing this out. But it meant something. It shifted something in me. I’ve been so deep in my head this week—so full of self-hate and overwhelm and wanting to disappear and then this little green butterfly just lands on me like I’m not disgusting. Like I’m part of the magic too.

And that’s why I choose to believe that there’s still magic around us. Even on garbage-filled streets. Even in the middle of a bad week. Even when you hate yourself and nothing fits and you want to cry in the bathroom at work.

Magic shows up. Quietly. Softly. And sometimes it lands right on you.