Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you will find yourself. And that, and only that, can be the Happiest or the bitterest hour of your life.

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Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you will find yourself. And that, and only that, can be the Happiest or the bitterest hour of your life.
How To Poop Butterflies?🦋
Ik many of you are struggling soo much with this. You've been trying sooo damn hard to poop butterflies that now you feel so desperate and exhausted coz guess what you couldn't achieve it!
Tell me one thing if the seemingly person and seemingly butterflies is YOU.....is there anything to achieve? When it was only YOU all along. Would you be desperate to get something that's already YOU huh?
NO right? Then why tf it's always about getting something?
"How to get desired appearance?"
"How to be rich?"
"How to be like that?....How to be like this?
First things first y'all really really really need to to stop taking Non-Dualism as a method to get something. You all are soo lost in this dream that whatever you see with these illusionary senses...you take that to be the absolute Reality.
Get this in your head ....YOU ARE EVERYTHING.
You don't create anything. You are not the creator of the Reality.
YOU ARE THE REALITY ITSELF!!
And noo i am not saying you have to drop the desires...not at all.
But calling your experiences as desires is wrong. Desires arise from lack. You are LITERALLY FREE RIGHT NOW to experience whatever you want to.
You don't have to be a saint if YOU don't want to. You don't have to read hundreds of books if YOU don't want to. You don't have to experience this dream if YOU don't want to!!
There's literally NOTHING that can go against your will.....that can go against God's will.....even using God is limiting coz YOU ARE THAT....that can never be explained by any word.
TRANSCEND THE DUALITY.
I am gonna say it again.... the only thing that's holding you back is your identification with this mind/body. Leave it alone.
Why to created more of problems....when you can literally get rid of them right now.
Ego is always concerned with keeping the past alive, because without it- Who are you?
@i-amyou @eternallyilluminated @lotusmi @iamthat-iam @illusionaurie @cassandra-xx
(hope y'all enjoying pooping butterflies😆)
Some part of me healed when I understood:
People should stop trying to change themselves and stop chasing the outlooks of others, Or comparing themselves to others because this world already got them
not YOU... So be yourself...
(by changing themselves I mean trying hard to look like the people they want to be. Because Good changes are always welcome in our life😭😅)
~Vyana🌷
Centre YOURSELF
It's your one life. Your female ancestors couldn't have dreamt of days like these don't waste it on teaching little jacky how to compliment you without making you feel like a sex object. Your life is worth more than that.
Just a little advice : "If the situation is too suffocating and it's mentally exhausting you to fight back, make yourself the bad person and walk out of the story."
Love. I wanted it for a very long time but never received it. Now, I don't want it anymore. The universe or the so-called phony gods can suck it.
Woman’s hysteria as the voice of the Self, Truth & Magic
Disillusionment is bound to come, if not sooner at least by midlife we must have begun to see through the veils of illusion & promises of the world.
Novaturient is the word that describes the urgent desire for change.
It may be the desire for a change of scenery & travel, but our quest may also be spiritual, with the urgent desire to become ourselves fully & authentically.
Right now we may desire social change & justice.
We are in a liminal moment, neither here nor there, not fully yet knowing what this is that is pushing us towards changes & taking steps.
These steps may feel like the urge to just wander & meander freely & aimlessly & to have conversations with the trees & birds & whoever may come our way.
The Pythia spoke her oracles in a tongue of gibberish.
We’ve had enough of doing things right. We’ve done things for approval, validation, to fit in, to be liked & admired.
Perfectionism has worn us out. We are tired of being perceived, the opinions of others of how we ought to be. We wish to be free of all the demands on us to just live & to be on our own terms, in our own skin, lived & occupied from within.
To finally take out our notebooks & pens or our canvas & paints or to rant & to sing; about the things we know to be true.
They will say, she’s lost it, she’s mad, she’s crazy, she’s bad— be careful of her / don’t go near— that creature.
Men called this condition
of a woman coming into her own,
how she vocalises when she,
comes into herself,
comes into individuation,
gives birth to herself,
in labour of agony & pleasure—
A Magdalene hysteria,
& screeching Banshee,
the wailing/lamenting woman—
the creature, the Lilith,
the ancient goes,
the primeval sorceress.
It is in-between anguish & ecstasy that we notice what catches our attention, what wants to come through, what pulses in us as the will of the divine that is the dharma for our incarnation.
Now we are subject to our Self.
This is how we slowly build the new version of ourselves, the winged creature that is freed of the constraints of the life lived in pretence.
We follow the little sparks of delight,
the whispers & glimmers of light
that allure us into the magical.
I do not like the things I produce, but should it have come from another persons mind; i’d have thought better of the product.
just something I’ve come to realise as of recent— probably a little late, considering I’ve just turned 17 as of January and something like that seems so obvious. Between the 24 (and counting) drafts I have on here and the unfinished musings littering my journal— to the countless illusions of human form I draw these days that remain faceless— I have come to realise how my own self perception and insecurity in who I am simply as a person (beyond the creations I bare) has horribly and grotesquely limited me. I suppose I’ve always had the shadow of the idea lingering in the back of my head— like a brand to a window on a stormy night in my hyperbolic childhood bedroom, it scared me and I didn’t want to face it because I was unsure of what it truly was. But recently, I decided to address the whisper of contempt lingering every time I create. As I write this, I am rather dizzy with fatigue as I am coming off of having been ill— and the contemptuous voice is as loud as ever. It questions the validity of what I say, the verbosity, the lack of structure I seem to convince myself my writings have. Whenever I’ve spoken of my ‘perfectionism’ in the past, the bitter words that linger like a bad smell were truly what I meant. I overexplain and I overthink, I criticise myself to the point of the extreme and I feel as if I severely lack the capacity to be kind and appreciate what I write on here. Whenever I get compliments, I do appreciate them and they do soothe the feeling of inadequacy my mind loves to pump into me. But sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe them. I’ve been told that I’m well spoken and that I am intelligent— I’ve been told I’m emotionally mature and that I’ve got a brain ‘beyond my years’. All of that shit feels stupid to me. Don’t get me wrong— I find people who take the time out of their day to compliment me on the way I express myself or speak to be very lovely and I will always be grateful for the praise I’ve received as I’m sure there’s someone on the same level— If not levels above— me who doesn’t get half of the praise I do. But that’s the problem. I, in laymen’s terms and without over saturating a small feeling I have, feel undeserving of the praise I receive. Not because it’s objectively poor— but because I did it. But because it was me that those words were placed so carefully next to eachother like bricks to construct a house of personally-formulated-esotericism-laden ideology. I feel embarrassed that it took me so long, but I’m glad I did. I guess I can look at my work differently now— even if I struggle with that. But when I sit there and think about some of my favourite literature and think ‘and what if it had been me to say that?’ in reference to some of my favourite lines in literature— and I realise ‘it wouldn’t be as good in my eyes because it would have been me to spew the words’, it puts into perspective for me, just how little respect I have for my own intelligence and work. Which, yeah, is lowkey pathetic that I have a lacking repertoire with myself— but at least now I’ve acknowledged it. This kinda ties back into my post about acceptance— I just have to accept this part of me, and then I can improve on the things I’ve been neglecting because of my entire ‘why bother, it’s my work’ attitude, you know?
forgive me if this post seems a little bit loose-ended. I’m sick at the moment and as of writing this, a little dizzy. But I had this epiphany recently in my fever-struck 2am delusion all the while I struggled to breathe because of my blocked nose 😛😛 I literally wrote it down in the dark on a piece of paper on the nightstand by my bed lol I just wanted to talk a little into the void about it. Thank you for reading.