The Grokking Fig @thegrokkingfig - Tumblr Blog

“Ten years from now, make sure you can say that you chose your life, you didn’t settle for it.”

—

Mandy Hale

(via purplebuddhaquotes)

ultimately i think kindness is the most radical thing you can do with your pain and your anger. it’s like, you take everything awful that’s ever been done to you, and you throw it back in the world’s teeth, and you say no, fuck you, i’m not going to take this. you say this is unacceptable. you say that shit stops with me.

humans are fucking terrible and this awful world we live in will fucking kill you but if you are kind, if you are brave and clever and try really hard, you can defy it. you can impose on this bleak and monstrous structure something beautiful. even if it’s temporary. even if it doesn’t heal anything inside you that’s been hurt.

i’m gonna sleep and i’m gonna wake up and i swear by everything in this deadly horrible universe i’m gonna make someone happy.

roachpatrol

i’ve seen a number of comments and tags where people feel that they must swallow or repress their anger in order to engage in kindness. that is not at all what i am recommending here. radical kindness is an expression of anger. it is not passive. it is not repressive. it does not require you, in any way, to forgive those that have fucked you up. it does not require you to be quiet.

it just requires that you be kind. viciously. vengefully. you fight back. you plant flowers. give to charity. play games. pet someone’s dog. scream into the dark. paint and write and dance, tell jokes, sing songs, bake cookies. you have been hurt and you don’t have to deny that hurt. you just have to recognize it in other people, and take their hand, and say: no more. enough. fuck this. no more.

have a cookie.

i will say this again: we are all going to die. the universe is enormous and almost entirely empty. to be kind to each other is the most incredible act of defiance against the dark that i can imagine.

naamahdarling

i will say this again: we are all going to die. the universe is enormous and almost entirely empty. to be kind to each other is the most incredible act of defiance against the dark that i can imagine.

feminesque

1. The universe is indifferent. We ought not be.

2. A good quote: There are two kinds of people. Those who think, “I don’t want anyone to suffer like I did.” And those who think, “I suffered; why shouldn’t they?”

3. Two good quotes by Kurt Vonnegut: “Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you’ve got a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies-“God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”

And: “Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.”

ariaste

#hopepunk

thesuninperigee

“Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency. Hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from the annihilation of the earth’s treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal… To hope is to give yourself to the future - and that commitment to the future is what makes the present inhabitable.”

-Rebecca Solnit; Hope in the Dark

darkersolstice

@eirana-know-more

fuckingconversations

This is also called ‘Absurdism’ The meeting of Nihilism’s “The universe doesn’t care” and “But I will, despite that.”

onlinecounsellingcollege

“When it’s over, leave. Don’t continue watering a dead flower.”

— Unknown

poemswords

collectively-lost

”I used to assume I was subtle shades of blue-

Simple hues,

Unprepared for complexity.

But oh god,

I turn red when you look at me

And I catch your eyes lingering longer than you’d like to admit.

As if you’re a wanderlust traveller discovering borderlines

I turn red

When your finger tips

start to imitate this ocean of sheets;

curling around me and pulling me underneath

I turn red

When your lips trail embers onto my skin

And light me up like I’m the burning end

Of all your cigarettes

But do you inhale me the same way?

Darling, do I live in your lungs longer than a few seconds

Or do you just like seeing the color red?”

-Nicole Torres

onlinecounsellingcollege

“You learn more about someone at the end of a relationship than at the beginning.”

— Unknown

thesoundofmusic1965-deactivated

veryfunnymemes

violentwavesofemotion-deactivat

“I love the evanescent, fragile sounds and colors, everything that trembles, undulates, quivers, and shimmers, hair and eyes, water, leaves, silk, and the spiritual quality of indefinite forms;”

— Albert Samain, from “Spiritual Love,” written c. September 1881

nemophilies-deactivated20190428

“Here, in my solitude, I have the feeling that I contain too much humanity.”

— Ingmar Bergman, Images: My Life in Film

englishgradinrepair

“As members of human society, perhaps the most difficult task we face daily is that of touching one another—whether the touch is physical, moral, emotional or imaginary. Contact is crisis. As the anthropologists say, “Every touch is a modified blow.””

— Anne Carson, from Men in the Off Hours; “Dirt and Desire: Essay on the Phenomenology of Female Pollution in Antiquity” (via luthienne)

justhopeanddreams

“Don’t spend any more time on unrequited love. Pouring energy into someone who doesn’t pour it into you only drains you. There is a person who will appreciate your love-one who doesn’t want to drain you, one who wants to give back. Find that soul”

-Sylvester McNutt III, Care Package: A Path to Deep Healing

purplebuddhaquotes

“Ancient lovers believed a kiss would literally unite their souls, because the spirit was said to be carried in one’s breath.”

— Eve Glicksman

violentwavesofemotion-deactivat

“Words were my shelter, words my one escape, words were my weapons against everything.”

— Louis Untermeyer, from “Monologue from a Mattress,” wr. c. 1942

writing-prompt-s

You find out that your touch can heal people of all kinds of ailments from wounds, to sickness, to allergies, to poisons and the like. So you spend years helping those that come to you, from the paupers to the kings, and you always succeed. But then one day a woman from a far away village comes to you with her child. They have traveled for months to see you on a mere whisper of a rumor of you because you’re her last hope to heal her child. You do as you always do and reach out to the child to touch them on their arm. Your hand burns like it’s suddenly touching hot metal.

hotpocketpyro

This is the child of death, and the burning sensation is your bodies reaction to death trying to take you. The woman, being the child’s birth mother is obviously in deep concern, thinking her young child is sick with some disease as they look pale and malnourished with sunken eyes like that of a man who hasn’t slept for days.

She insists that he is well cared for and is confused as too why he never has changed from looking so sickly and weak despite her best efforts.

You are not sure at all how to approach this situation having not the slightest idea as to what is happening. In your best efforts you try again only to find the burning is just as painful as the last time if not worse.

portvstheinternet

And then it hits you like a snowball in mid June, you can’t heal this child, not without dying.

This is what Death sent after you, for taking so many people away from them. You knew that Death wasn’t pleased by your actions, but you didn’t think he’d go that far.

You know that this ‘disease’ is not a disease, it’s a trap, made just for you. So that you will finally stop healing people who are supposed to die.

“Can you- Can you help him?”, the mother asks.

You look at the boy, who seems to already be half dead. “Do you want to live?”, you ask, knowing very well, that he knows that he’s drawn to death.

“I don’t want you to die”, he whispers, because he’s too weak to talk normally.

“That was not the question.”

The little boy looks up to his mother and nods.

“Okay”, you say, reaching out to him and taking his hand.

Your hand burns like you’re touching hot lava and you feel how your body gets weaker and weaker.

This will be the last one you can save. You can hear how Death is already walking towards you, as your sight goes black. They’re singing a cute melody, similiar to a song you sing to kids to make them fall asleep.

Your body is now completely numb, you can’t even feel the ground under your feet.

“Welcome home”, Death says, but they couldn’t be talking to the boy, you healed him. He is definitely alive and healthy. “I’ve missed you.”

writing-prompt-s

This is beautiful.