person.

death is not forever says the wind and maybe life is silver not gold-- maybe the grasses on the hillside know their name but not their faces and maybe time is old a place for words--some mine, some not--and for collecting pictures--almost never mine--of things that are beautiful because beauty makes me feel ok and for saying things I feel like saying just because they need saying sometimes and for anything else that makes me feel something worth feeling.

[wordsmostlymadeofdust]

Here, this is the beginning, again. This is where the beginning begins. I will be alive. Alive, alive, alive.

[observando]

by franck bohbot

[books-n-quotes]

Don’t take life too seriously. Punch it in the face when it needs a good hit. Laugh at it.

Colleen Hoover, Slammed

(via books-n-quotes)

[observando]

[aseaofquotes]

Djuna Barnes, Nightwood

[wordsmostlymadeofdust]

Disappointment stings at first, you’re like ‘man, I was really hoping for x, y, z’ but in giving yourself the right to that initial sting without diluting it or shaming yourself for caring and investing in something emotionally, the sting actually works itself out pretty naturally and after that you get a blank slate again, a kind of thrilling adventure that says, ‘Alright, let’s see what else there is!’ And there’s always something and I’ve found that most of the time, loss is followed by something even better and unexpected coming along. And it’s always ok to care. And it’s always ok to grieve. Just keep deciding to open up again anyway, and keep going somewhere.

[wordsmostlymadeofdust]

This little light of mine

Can you love her?

You. Only you--can you love her if no one comes? If no one comes to save you, if no on is coming to help you feel able, ready, ok; if no one is going to tell you why, if no one is ever going to be able to explain for you all the questions in your mind, no one is going to be able to fix the thing inside telling you why you can’t and why you shouldn’t--maybe people can see the outside; they can love you but never get to that dark place deep at the center where you always feel sure you will die if you get close. What if no one is coming, what if no one can get there? They wish they could, but I think they can’t, no one can save her like you can, no one can find her and bring her out of that place but you--it’s only yours. It is your dark place and you are her only light. Can you love her? Can you love the person you are where no one sees, where no one can touch, the part that was abandoned for so many reasons not your fault and some that are--you’ve thrown your stones down the empty side of you insides some days too, you know it like I do. Can you love the abandoned pieces--take the rickety stairway that no one else would know to find, down into the depths, into the pitch and the night as far as it goes to the place where she’s been lost, alone with all your broken bones: can you love her?

(This little light of mine, let us go home.

let us go home

This little light of mine, let us go home

let us go home

This little light of mine let us go home

let us all, all go home)

[brigettebloom]

summer in the neighborhood downtown, Vegas

[wordsmostlymadeofdust]

Remain

You’ve been thinking about the love, the touch of it. Its shape, its cadence; you’ve been holding it in your palm, turning it over in your fingers and in your mind. You’ve been asking it to sing to you and it has been answering. You’ve been on your knees. You have heaved beneath oceans.

Good God, what is your name? 

Remain. Remain in me.

And I will. And I will. And I will.

[observando]

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

Mary Oliver (via observando)

[wordsmostlymadeofdust]

New Song By Manchester Orchestra From The Dallas Buyers Club Soundtrack. Track Owned BY Manchester Orchestra.

After the scripture, we started to pray. Holding our hands up, waiting for change. I hardly knew you, you knew me the same.

[wordsmostlymadeofdust]

Trying to remember

You are not bad. You are good, worthy of love. 

Trying to remember to be kind, to be gentle, to feel the love inside me, to feel the humanity inside me, to hold it with softness, without judgment but with intention, purpose, aware that I have a choice, I am real, I am allowed to be here, allowed to take up space.

You’re ok. Kindness. Gentle. You are real.

[jspark3000]

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (via jspark3000)

[hirxeth]

“Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) dir. Blake Edwards

[observando]

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large – I contain multitudes.

Walt Whitman (via observando)

[untrustyou]

Hannes Caspar

[wordsmostlymadeofdust]

Letter to Everyone:

Sorry I haven’t been around. Sorry I’ve been so chaotic and distant. I’ve been really lost lately, but I think I’m going to get better.

To anyone who’s been in the deep shit: it gets worse before it gets better. But go there anyway.

You are the only one who can save you, it starts at your center–but you have to go all the way (and that’s what will hurt. So, so badly it will hurt, and will leave you spinning and drowning and dark and lost, maybe for a long time). It starts at your center and with you owning what’s inside, the pain, the shadows, the deep, terrifying dark inside, and then opening yourself up (that’s where you need other people too, you’re the only one who can save you, but you can’t do it alone //lifeconundrums) and letting the light touch the wounds. Letting the stuff festering in there breathe and the poisons you’ve held, maybe put there by someone else, pour out and stop feeding death to your veins, and eventually, once the worst part is over, it will be safe enough for the new skin to grow and you’d be surprised what gaping wounds our bodies can heal from when we let them: what gaping holes you thought nothing could fill will suddenly be a memory, and how you’ll feel the weight and density of love (starting with your own) is even more unfathomable than your emptiness ever was. You’ll always carry the scars, but it’s ok. It’s even good: they’re part of our legacy. Humanity: we’re broken, but we’re built to heal. Our scars tell each other ‘me too’ and ‘you can make it, I did’. We need that as much anything.

It’s going to get better.

Close your eyes. Deep breath. Move in towards the pain.