life is so subtle sometimes that you barely notice yourself walking through the doors you once prayed would open.
Shook me up
wallacepolsom

Product Placement
No title available
hello vonnie

Kiana Khansmith
Three Goblin Art

ellievsbear
taylor price
Cosimo Galluzzi
No title available
Mike Driver
i don't do bad sauce passes

titsay
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
d e v o n
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Misplaced Lens Cap
cherry valley forever

Origami Around

seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from South Korea

seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from Russia

seen from Sweden
seen from Finland

seen from Germany

seen from Argentina

seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from India

seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@taflakz
life is so subtle sometimes that you barely notice yourself walking through the doors you once prayed would open.
Shook me up
Blogging, Why Not?
A year past the quarter life mark I found myself in a new place, a new friend circle, with new hobbies and a new job. Things were looking up. I had everything we were taught to pursue in our lives. I had money, a nice house, good friends, good looks, and good health. On paper my life was perfect. Yet underneath it all I still found the same kind of unhappiness. An unhappiness that began before my earliest memories, way back when my self worth ceased to develop and the consequential anxiety found it’s home in my day to day livings.
Don’t fret, this isn’t a tale of my greyscale upbringing or the wars waged in ones mind. This is an uplifting story, one of grand realisation and triumph. “But who is the antagonist in this tale” you ask? Let me tell you, inquisitive reader! The evil here is conformity. Conformity coupled with my own ignorance.
In my young, confused and anxious state, I saw only one path to the happiness I saw in others. That path was other’s acceptance. I began to focus on moulding myself into what it seemed my peers saw as valuable. Everything from dimming my creative mind to literally changing my voice. This shape shifting answer to my self hatred continued and progressed on a ridiculous scale. As the values of those around me refocussed, so did my person. I was at one time or another a guitarist, a surfer, a fighter, a worker and the list goes on. Next University was the hot topic so I enrolled. From there I found love and camaraderie in the party scene. The alcohol numbed my anxiety and I opened up. I finally had confidence. In retrospect, it may have just been hateful disregard for everyone else present. Either way I could be obnoxiously myself, people loved me, and I was finally worth something. Then, drugs did the same, and University quickly fizzled into another passing phase. I was left with nothing but the monotony of a day to day job I didn’t belong in, and the far off prospect of starting a business in an industry I hated. But that is the goal is it not? To be successful and make money? Ah, but I’m sure you all know by now, and if you don’t listen up. Success and making money are two very, VERY different things. But hey, me being me, it would take another 5 or so years to dial that one in. Meanwhile, I took the term floating through life, warped it into some sort of habitual drug abusing monster and used it to drag down anyone stupid enough to come close. I was on a fast track to living the hopeless life of a deadbeat.
Skip to 2016, after moving to the Gold Coast of Australia I was sitting in a well paying job, had a business qualifying amount of money in my bank account, I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and I was surrounded by great friends. Things were looking up. In the brief moments that my ego was big enough to overshadow my self hatred I was under the impression I was actually happy. However I did feel a defining point in my life was fast approaching. I would either fill the emptiness in between my states of satisfaction with another triviality and find constant happiness, or the climb for success would cast me down once again, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it back this time. Well I’m here writing this, so we know how that all ended, right? Wrong. The twist here could have come straight from a George R.R. Martin novel. What I found was neither trivialities, nor a fast approaching pavement. What I found over a 3 month catharsis of some sorts, was an intelligent, interesting and valuable human. I found a purpose, and in turn direction. Although I was pissed there wasn’t a sense of humour in there, I’d found actual happiness. I found myself, and far more importantly, I found a way to love myself.
I’m not writing this to brag, or rub it in, if you haven’t found yours yet. And I certainly didn’t just miraculously stumble upon this understanding. The point of awakening in my instance was when one particular person told me that I need to love myself the way they love me, and the way I love others. All I’d needed was permission. From there I added an immense amount of hard work, and guided by those I hold closest, I managed to steer myself from the shallow reef of self destruction I’d been grating over for so long.
Many weeks of contemplation, writing and discussion later, I know what I really want. And it’s only a matter of time and a little perseverance before my aspirations are realised. The thing is though, this happiness I speak of, it doesn’t lie in the acquisition, it lies in knowing you’re on the right path. I no longer have dreams of who I want to be, or what I want to have. My dreams are of doing something I love every single day, and the best part about moulding your passions into a career is that my dream of doing what I love every single day, is already a reality.
As the great Big Sean once said, working on yourself is the most important work. These days I’ll be working on my true self, rather than the scapegoat I’ve spent so long hiding my value behind. Among countless other things, one decision Ive made is to start blogging. I mean, apparently I like to write, so why not?
Humanity always strove for greatness, but we fell short. Disease, war and famine are the apex predators now, and we’re still all just running for our lives.
- Scratchings for a novel
whatever is, is whatever
me
Choose Her Every Day (Or Leave Her)
I spent 5 years hurting a good woman by staying with her but never fully choosing her.
I did want to be with this one. I really wanted to choose her. She was an exquisite woman, brilliant and funny and sexy and sensual. She could make my whole body laugh with her quick, dark wit and short-circuit my brain with her exotic beauty. Waking up every morning with her snuggled in my arms was my happy place. I loved her wildly.
Unfortunately, as happens with many young couples, our ignorance of how to do love well quickly created stressful challenges in our relationship. Before long, once my early morning blissful reverie gave way to the strained, immature ways of our everyday life together, I would often wonder if there was another woman out there who was easier to love, and who could love me better.
As the months passed and that thought reverberated more and more through my head, I chose her less and less. Every day, for five years, I chose her a little less.
I stayed with her. I just stopped choosing her. We both suffered.
Choosing her would have meant focusing every day on the gifts she was bringing into my life that I could be grateful for: her laughter, beauty, sensuality, playfulness, companionship, and so … much … more. Sadly, I often found it nearly impossible to embrace – or even see – what was so wildly wonderful about her.
I was too focused on the anger, insecurities, demands, and other aspects of her strong personality that grated on me. The more I focused on her worst, the more I saw of it, and the more I mirrored it back to her by offering my own worst behaviour. Naturally, this only magnified the strain on our relationship … which still made me choose her even less. Thus did our nasty death spiral play itself out over five years. She fought hard to make me choose her. That’s a fool’s task. You can’t make someone choose you, even when they might love you. To be fair, she didn’t fully choose me, either. The rage-fueled invective she often hurled at me was evidence enough of that.
I realise now, however, that she was often angry because she didn’t feel safe with me. She felt me not choosing her every day, in my words and my actions, and she was afraid I would abandon her. Actually, I did abandon her. By not fully choosing her every day for five years, by focusing on what bothered me rather than what I adored about her, I deserted her.
Like a precious fragrant flower I brought proudly into my home but then failed to water, I left her alone in countless ways to wither in the dry hot heat of our intimate relationship.
I’ll never not choose another woman I love again. It’s torture for everyone.
If you’re in relationship, I invite you to ask yourself this question: “Why am I choosing my partner today?”
If you can’t find a satisfying answer, dig deeper and find one. It could be as simple as noticing that in your deepest heart’s truth, “I just do.” If you can’t find it today, ask yourself again tomorrow. We all have disconnected days. But if too many days go by and you just can’t connect with why you’re choosing your partner, and your relationship is rife with stress, let them go. Create the opening for another human being to show up and see them with fresh eyes and a yearning heart that will enthusiastically choose them every day.
Your loved one deserves to be enthusiastically chosen. Every day. You do, too. Choose wisely. ॐ
Brian Reeves
☁
100
a cluttered desk is a productive desk
Matt Albiani
books are so beautiful; each page tells a story, literally and figuratively. the bent corners and loose pages, the stains and waviness of pages once wet; they’re all indications as to what type of people have read the book. they tell us where the book has been and let us simply imagine what it was doing there. the words tell a story too obviously, but i often wonder how that’s the only story people pay attention to.