Loosely translated, “namaste” means “the spirit in me recognizes spirit in you.” It is, beyond its use as a greeting, an acknowledgement of oneness. It says, “I see you for all you are beneath the flesh, and I welcome your presence.” It isn’t necessary to start greeting all of our peers with “namaste,” but maybe we could all use a little more of this attitude in our lives.
(Source: notasongbird, via nepenthe--pareidolia)
(Source: spell-it-out, via breathemystardust)
untitled by Salva López on Flickr.
As soon as you honor the present moment, all unhappiness and struggle dissolve, and life begins to flow with joy and ease. When you act out the present-moment awareness, whatever you do becomes imbued with a sense of quality, care, and love - even the most simple action.
Running back into the dark branches of the woods, back through the tangled pine limbs that reach to grab my skin. I am back at the manor, tiptoeing across the coarse wooden floor of the servants’ quarters. For a moment, a thought of Lottie drifts from the darkness. I banish it, turning from her room toward the door impetuous desires find. Footsteps across the threshold, dragging with hesitation. My eyes brush against the room’s shadows, and I find him there, curled on his bed with a sketchpad in his hand and the metallic scent of ink lurking at his fingertips.
Whether I move or not, the next moment I am in his arms, clinging to him as he clings to me. I let go of the thought of Gray, and lose myself in the contrast of Mica’s ember skin against my frozen body. For a teasing instant we hang there, a dying star in an empty void being born again. Then, I remember why I was running, and my tears join my body to melt against him. His arms guide me closer, and soon his own tears fall upon my skin.
“What can give you?” His voice is warm chocolate flowing through the air in restrained tendrils. I want to taste it. But I have tried that before; have reached for his face to find a dark expanse no desire could bridge.
My hand drops in hesitation, and his own smooth palm is there taking mine. Something in my stomach tightens, and I can feel my thawing heart beating against the steady rhythm of his own. I look into the rich loam of his forested eyes, and wonder what has changed.
“You,” he breathes into my ear, the soft sound of the wind through the trees answering my unspoken question, and I know he is right.
I ask him how, but there is no answer that I did not know. In the void I have learned to be alone. In being alone I have learned to love myself. Now he is ready to teach me the language that came before us.
Now he is ready to learn the language that is us.
Part of the patriarchal culture currently found in Western societies is the supposed duality of male nature: there are bad boys, and there are nice guys. But, what many people find is that most of these “nice guys”, though they may act differently than bad boys, are acting out of the same motivation and desires: to reduce their partners to objects, or ideals, or possessions. They appear to be acting out of your best interests, but their motivation is really selfish. This is the profile of the Nice Guy™. They use being nice to disguise their own selfishness. As both a former Nice Guy™, and someone who has witnessed people in relationships with Nice Guys™, I thought I would make a little list on how to tell the difference between a Nice Guy™ and a genuinely nice person.
The first thing to remember is that both types of people are just that: people. Their looks and mannerisms very. They aren’t going to fit perfectly into a stereotype. For the most part, their actions are quite similar. The difference between a Nice Guy™ and a genuinely nice person are their motivations. The trick is understanding their motivations through their actions.
Nice Guy™
Nice Person
That’s all I can think of for now, but I’m sure there are more. Feel free to reblog and add your own!
Stop caring so much about the way we sound! Sound is the medium of music, but not the purpose. Music is an expression, a feeling. It is not a noun to love, but a verb through which love is expressed. So when you spend our class time grueling over every last detail of our sound, while suppressing our interactions with each other, and any display of feeling whatsoever, you are destroying the very purpose of music. No wonder we always get marked down in competition for being so stiff. You’re taught us how to sound, but are neglecting to create an environment in which we can feel.
(Iambic pentameter and all that jazz)
My strange eyes walk an endless plane of night,
Beleaguered with the grey’s unfriendly kiss,
When chocolate eyes and golden smile steal sight
And stolen sight begs not second glance miss.
Such lissome ingénue should not be found
So captivating to one so inured,
But ears taken captive by dulcet sounds
Pray not for wretched morals to be cured.
Should eyes be cynosures unto my own
Could not my efflorescent cor(e) be matched?
But this Insouciant will not be known
While these two moieties stay unattached.
And by the other’s side we may not walk
While ephemeral sight refrains to talk.