Darling, just be...

Transfixed by the beauty that surrounds me. Thank you for the breeze that ruffles my hair, the sun that kisses my spirit and warms my soul.. I‘ve got my feet planted firmly on the ground but my hearts soars as I embark on a voyage of self...

[venuschild]

u are absolutely amazing. I just want u to know how much this blog has inspired me for the past few years. sometimes u post things that are so in tune with my current state. Like u know exactly what I need to read or see right in the moment... from what u share, it seems that we have very synchronistic journeys. I turn to your blog when I'm in need of inspiration or guidance... or in need of a lift emotionally. I am a feeler and I feel mostly everything very deeply and it can be heavy. thank u.

It’s been years since I’ve been on Tumblr. A time where life was particularly hard and reading inspirational quotes and writing them down to drown out the onslaught of brutal thoughts/ideas about myself!Thank you for sharing and I’m glad it resonates!

[venuschild]

Kinda went a little crazy reblogging lol. You have such an amazing blog! ❤

haha no worries! All there for sharing! <3

[venuschild]

Wonderful blog you've got. Thank you for sharing so many touching quotes. I hope you're having a peaceful Sunday. Peace and much love from London.

Hey! Thanks for the appreciation! Wishing you a blessed week!

[venuschild]

best advice you’d give a girl?

My advice to anyone:Learn to belong to yourself, first and foremost :) You are Home.

[venuschild]

In our day and age, global society has been saturated with the wrong teaching of false positivity. The denial of darkness never equates the abundance of light. And the denial of your actual character never equates to the reality of your best character. People today are afraid to work on themselves and on their actual realities, they believe that outward appearances are enough. Outward appearances have become everything in our current day and age. People don't see what they are actually like, nor who they actually are, in reality. They live in a phantasmic version of reality. It has to stop. In the phantasmic version of reality, there is no chance to experience true love, true goodness, and true metamorphosis. The caterpillar does not become a butterfly by telling everybody it has wings. It actually buries itself in darkness and grows those wings.

C. JoyBell C. - Writer

[venuschild]

Depression is frozen feeling. The mystery begins with our history. Although the physical body travels forward chronologically, one’s emotional consciousness always lingers at any point of departure. Before we can fully surrender to the mystery, we have to go back and heal the wounds and memories that obstruct us. This is the ‘power of then.’ We’ve got to be there then, before we can be here now.

Jeff Brown

[venuschild]

You wake up. The sky is blue. The children laugh. You forget to clear the breakfast dishes and the honey dries into sticky lacquer on the cover of the library book. There are only hours separating you from the implosion. You do not yet know this. You may sense the approaching tempest, the remnant of some primitive instinct whispering losslossloss in the spaces just below the wind. But you do not predict that this is the day. You do not know to savor the aching sweetness of the final moments. We never do. Ignorance is not protection; this is the way of things. But with a sharp crystal shatter it is done. It’s a harsh slice, a vacuum of undoing. Reality settles cold in the vastness of newly empty spaces. There you stand, dead center, eye of storm. Face lifts to the heavens. Tender kneecaps find solid earth. The body bends in a supplication that is the exact opposite of prayer. Shrapnel of unwritten love letters spins the room round. Scattered shards catch light and glitter with the fierce tenacity of things that will never be. It’s all slow motion now. There is a reckless beauty in the breakdown; this is the way of things. You have stood here before. You will stand here again. In goodbye there is no first time or last time. There is only this time, and the wrenching ache of it. We are born with the knowing that this will come and come and come again. The muscle memory of heartache holds no comfort. Preparation is futile. Practice does not make perfect. It is still – it will always be – gasping breath and primal howl and bleeding out from the places we hold most sacred. The force of it will flatten, guaranteed. Heartbreak has its own agenda; this is the way of things. You pick up the pen, a desperate purge of words. You bleed letters now. You always do when it comes to this. It’s a bitter end scrawl on neat lined paper. You look down. Thick black ink seeps from pen, covering the soft pad of fingers, the raised veins, the curve of bone. Darkness spreads across the page. Your hand and just-written words are obliterated by stain. It is fitting that truth flow has left body marked and words concealed. It will eventually wash away. The visible stain and the slow fade to forgetting; this is the way of things. You stand later that night, on a street wet from rain. Arms wrap around frail body, a desperate attempt to hold yourself whole. Hazy streetlights glow, bone truth echoes in the damp night air. You look up into windows containing lives that could have been yours. But things fall apart. Lives continue their trajectories without you. The heart gains new fault lines with each loss. They slip against each other, and things fall down. When the ground stops moving we patch things together as best we can. We are all earthquakes waiting to happen. Parallel lives and the aftermath of disaster; this is the way of things. And it finally comes, as it must. That cry from your deep, ancient center. The gash of loss. The frantic exile from skin and want and home. The full moon calls forth your grief song now. Tear off your clothes, light fire to dreams. It’s just you and the wolves and the unseen wild things. The world spins on, – it always has and always will. But you belong right now to the exquisite otherness of loss. Give yourself over to it. It is the only choice. There is no place for you amongst the tame, pretty things. You must follow the spiral down. The inevitable descent into the underworld; this is the way of things. But dawn comes. Shadows lift. You are shivering. Naked. Alone. As alone as you have ever been. The sun rises. The earth's waking rhythms are a call to rebirth. From the ashes you emerge. There is a tender ferocity about you now. A solid core of strength at the center of grief's deep well. It is true, you think, that freedom is the only language our hearts know how to speak. It is true that there are things in life that can never be explained to those who have not lived them. It is true that loss is sometimes the only way to become more of yourself. It is true that survival sometimes only comes from inviting a million different deaths. It is true that the first notes of that song will always transport you to a state of breathless worship. It is true that you can be loved in a way that changes everything, and find that everything has remained exactly the same. Layers of truth are always hidden in the folds of great loss; this is the way of things. Your skin is a glorious road map of scars gifted by love and by devastation. Your heart is inked with the essence of unspoken words and stories yet to find life. Your breath will always remember what it was to love without translation. Your bones are the only things that know the whole truth. The horizon calls to you now, speaks your true name. The name you were given by the universe the day you were born and the name that is whispered by the wind with every rebirth. The name your spirit recognizes as belonging only to you. You walk forward as if compelled. You walk eternally, hopefully forward. This, always, is the way of things.

Jeanette LeBlanc

[venuschild]

Dancing the line between intensity and surrender is the way to move forward effortlessly. To listen to what element to tend to next - the burn of fire or trust of water.

Victoria Erickson

[venuschild]

We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us even in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts.

― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

[venuschild]

For women who are tied to the moon, love alone is not enough. We insist each day wrap it’s knuckles through our heart strings and pull. The lows. The joy. The poetry. We dance at the edge of a cliff, you have fallen off. So it goes. You will climb up again. You rare girl, once again, you have a body that belongs to no lover, to no father, belongs to no one but you. Wear your sorrow like the lines on your palm. Like a shawl to keep you warm at night. Don’t mourn the love that is lost to you now. It is a book of poems whose meters worked their way into your pulse. Even if it has slipped from your hands, it will stay in your body. You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god. He tried to sweeten you, to water you down. So you left. And now you have your heart all to yourself again. A heart like a stone cottage. Heart like a lover’s diary. Hope like an ocean.

Anais Nin letter to Clementine von Radics

[venuschild]

In the tantric tradition it is said that chaos is ‘extremely good news.’ When you are willing to enter into your neurosis, your confusion, and your hopelessness, you approach the threshold of the sacred world. No matter where you look, all you can see is path. All of your experience is utterly valid and a pure reflection of life as it moves through you – life longing to know itself, finally, to be met, held, and metabolized within the vastness of loving presence. You are starting to see that what appears is not a mistake, but a clear expression of a long-forgotten aspect of awareness, of an ancient vow you have taken to practice intimacy with all things. Each person, each holy feeling, each consecrated emotion a portal dropping into embodied presence. It is risky to let in the reality that nothing is missing, that you are not flawed, and are not in need of fixing – that you could fully step into the miracle of the unfolding here and now, without first demanding life conform to your old dreams. You need not ‘heal your past,’ become ‘enlightened,’ meet your soul mate, manifest a cool spiritual job, or arrange your life circumstances according to the dictates of your hopes and fears. The kingdom of presence is here now. There is no love coming in the future. There is no grace arriving around the corner. It is shining out of your very body, pouring out of somatic pathways, and emerging out of your holy nervous system… right here, right now. The risk of entering the gates of the mandala of wholeness is that, once inside, you will no longer be able to hide from your raging natural perfection. The dream of the unworthy one, the spell of the unlovable one, and the trance of the broken one will be dissolved in the crucible of aliveness. While a part of you will always yearn for this dissolution, you must ask to what degree this is what you truly want. For it is the disorienting end of one world and the glorious beginning of another. Yes, it may seem like yet another ordinary Monday and that you are in an ordinary situation. But things are rarely what they seem. Please do not postpone your participation and wild embodiment for another moment. Love is here now. And is longing for you to offer yourself as a holding vessel through which it may come fully alive here. Love cannot do this without you. For love is you.

Matt Licata (via venuschild)

[venuschild]

As adults, we try to develop the character traits that would have rescued our parents.

Alain de Botton (via venuschild)

[wordsnquotes]

There weren’t many people in this world who would let you be vulnerable and still believe you were strong.

Rob Thomas, The Thousand-Dollar Tan Line (via letsmeetinourdreams)

[venuschild]

Let the darkness find you if it must. Throw off the quick and tempting escapes, and seek help only from those who would teach you to grow, feed your soul, embrace your heart, but would not steal away your journey.

Jennifer DeLucy (via venuschild)

[venuschild]

Human beings are not born once and for all the day their mothers give birth to them. Life obliges them to over and over again to give birth to themselves.

Gabriel Garcia Marquz (via venuschild)

[venuschild]

Sensuality like to make love at the border where time and space changes places. When she is considering a potential lover, she takes him to the ocean and watches. Does he dance with the waves? Does he tell her about the time he slept on the beach when he was seventeen and woke up in the middle of the night to look at the moon? Does he laugh and cry and notice how big the sky is?

J, Ruth Gerald (via venuschild)

[venuschild]

Her underground cave is now her Sacred Temple, lit with faery lights, soft music and mystical fragrance. It’s her gateway, her place of solitude. She can be alone (All-One) here. This is where she honors herself. And then, her deep Wisdom comes to speak to her of stories long forgotten, or times yet to come. The veil between the real and imaginal is very thin here, and sometimes they change places. As if an old stone door turns, and suddenly she knows. Deep in her bones, in the pit of her stomach, in the depths of her womb - her knowing tugs at her. She sees connections and understands patterns. She’s allowing new knowledge to settle in her body. One day, she’ll discover the key to the entire underground matrix, and sit with her siblings who have done the same.

Sukhvinder Sircar (via venuschild)