Darling, just be...
Home    Info    Ask    Submit
About: 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 sours as I embark on a voyage of self discovery.

This is my journey to discover what is already there. To notice the extraordinary in the ordinary.

You must not be owned by your perpetrator. He does not deserve you.

The torment of his spirit is so great that it spilled into you, and the goodness of your soul is so profound that you held his agony in the chalice of your body.

So great was his outpouring of suffering that you could not contain it in the space you had, so you opened great canyons within yourself for his pain to pour into, lest you drown in the dark rushing waters racing over you from his open floodgate with the faulty latch.

That is how powerful you are. That is how perfect your love is.

—Alison Nappi
lalasdreambox:jahjoma:
andromeda, oil on canvas, 50x50cm, 2013
🙇

lalasdreambox:jahjoma:

andromeda, oil on canvas, 50x50cm, 2013

🙇

(via danuh-morrison)

(Source: sin-rostro-sin-miedos, via rosettaa-stoned)

(via spacifics)

(via, karolinadariaflora)

(via, karolinadariaflora)

Tending to a cold with my Yankee Candles, Earl Grey tea & Audrey Hepburn. #breakfastattiffanys #spicedorange #vanillachai #remedy #cures #audreyhepburn #tea

Tending to a cold with my Yankee Candles, Earl Grey tea & Audrey Hepburn. #breakfastattiffanys #spicedorange #vanillachai #remedy #cures #audreyhepburn #tea

“Promise to stay wild with me. We’ll seek and return and stay and find beauty and the extraordinary in all the spaces we can claim. We’ll know how to live. How to breathe magic into the mundane.” —Victoria Erickson

When you bring forth your knowing from the ancient living library in your womb on dusty skin-thin scrolls made from animal flesh, you must honor it. Even you may not read from the soul-scroll until you can hold the truth in your body without burning alive.

Knowledge is power, they say, but it is worthless to those who cannot wield it: medicine spilt, rolling down the drain in a world where people are dying to themselves before they have even learned to drive a car.

If you wish to give this ancient miracle medicine to another, you must convert it into a form that can be administered in unsanitary conditions. You must know where to apply the balm. You cannot put ointment on a bullet wound and expect it to heal.

You must apply it at the source of the wound. This is messy business: Can you dig your fingernails into the flesh of a wailing soldier and remove the bullet? Can you cut into another human being—swiftly and efficiently, with clinical precision— and insert the medicine into the heart of the poison leaching through the muscles and the veins? Do you have the stomach for it? Can you bear the screaming, the wailing, the terror of the stranger to whom you are charged with bringing mercy, in the most merciless of ways?

This is what is asked of you, here at the turning of the tide. You cannot save them all, but you will change the curse/course of the future for those who have the courage to accept your aid.

Compassion is not always comforting. Sometimes it is a scalpel. Sometimes it’s gauze. Even your darkness, even the animal inside you knows when it is time to die, and sometimes you will be a bringer of death: death to the old way, death to the bear trap lie, death to the insanity of pretending to be small, to be helpless, to be enslaved.

Yes.

So don’t feel bad, when the all the blood and gore seeps into your happy places. You are great enough to contain all opposites. You are the sword of unpopular truth, the violence of a super-storm that levels the cities of pain, you are the mother holding her weeping children close, and the mermaid-love that greets those who drown in sorrow.

BE all of it: chaos and pixie songs. You need every single facet of who you are to do the job in front of you. You were born for this.

By Alison Nappi

"Spin Madly On" theme by Margarette Bacani. Powered by Tumblr.