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(Source: lordlisick, via rainydaysandblankets)
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MayBusyness can sometimes be spiritual laziness. - p.nickNts. -
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1. There will be several days that you daydream about stepping in front of a city bus. Don’t. It will not be beautiful. It will not be brave. It will be selfish. It will be broken. Your mother will cry.
2. Don’t write for him. Write for you. Write for others like you. Write so the girl that thinks about stepping in front of public transportation doesn’t. Don’t be selfish.
3. When you will yourself to sleep and it doesn’t come- get up. It doesn’t matter that it’s 3 am. There will be other 3 am’s. Take a shower. Take two. Wash him out of your hair. Write a poem. Read the same book you’ve read 202 times again. The 203rd time might tell you something different. Don’t stay in bed- you will think about the bus again.
4. Don’t kiss him because he’s broken. Don’t kiss him because his laughter never reaches his eyes. Don’t try and fix him. Fix yourself first. Be selfish. He can’t save you.
5. Date yourself. Take yourself out to eat. Don’t share your popcorn at the movies with anyone. Stroll around an art museum alone. Fall in love with canvases. Fall in love with yourself.
6. Dress up and wear red lipstick and get drunk with your friends. They’re the ones that will pick you up. Don’t kiss him. Or him. Don’t fall asleep on strange couches with strange boys. When his hand slides up your dress walk away. Hit him. Don’t kiss him. He can’t save you.
7. Get another tattoo. Get five more. Get another hole in your ear. Don’t listen to your dad. You will still be able to get a job. Did you really want to be employed by someone like your father? Haven’t you had enough of judgmental old white men anyway? Get fuck you tattooed in tiny letters on your hip.
8. When you feel the yearning for a new city- start over. Take 200 bucks and a three suitcases. Work anywhere that will have you. Meet strange people and forget your name. Call yourself Ruby. No one will know the difference. Remember to call your mother. Don’t be selfish. Come home when you find yourself in the strangers and the small one bedroom apartment.
9. Don’t whisper evil things into your own ear. Other people are going to shout them at you. Be your own hero. Keep a sword on your key ring.
10. Don’t step in front of a city bus. It will not be beautiful. Live. Stay up all night with a boy that promises you everything and means it. Live. See shitty local bands with a friend. Wear a different band’s t-shirt. No one will care. Live. Have a baby girl with tiny fingers and tiny toes someday. Pour love into her until it’s overflowing. Live. Wake up. Staying in bed all day is not poetic.
Live. Live.
Live.
Do you hear that? It’s me. It’s your life. Wake up.
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May"We have to consciously study how to be tender with each other until it becomes a habit."
- Audre Lorde (via rainydaysandblankets)(Source: ryanbhilliard, via gracehy)
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MayThe best thing about acting is I get to lose myself in another character and actually get paid for it… It’s a great outlet. I’m not really sure who I am - it seems I change every day.
GIVE HIM AN AWARD ALREADY
(via jesscalinpark)
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(via rainydaysandblankets)
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May“I saw something beautiful one day while walking down Breckenridge Lane. In a front yard not far from my home, a young mother was removing a layer of leftover leaves from the fall in preparation for planting spring flowers—an ordinary activity in the middle of an ordinary day.
What was extraordinary about this scene was what I saw beside this young woman.
A tow-haired boy, perhaps three or four years old, was attempting to assist her. His rake was man-sized, his movements were far from efficient, and he was leaving more leaves than he moved. Yet, as I passed this mother and child, I heard no criticisms. Instead, I heard a constant stream of encouragement: “Daddy will be so proud of your hard work! Can you try to get those leaves over there? You know, honey, it might work better if you turned the rake over.”
If this woman’s sole goal for the afternoon was leaf removal, her best bet would have been to plop her preschooler in front of a television to watch professionally-produced children’s programs that pretend to equip children with skills for life while leaching away their capacity for meaningful relationships. If this mother had chosen this option, she could have pursued the goal of planting spring flowers far more efficiently.
But this woman had a goal that was far bigger than any flower-bed.
This woman understood that her deeper purpose on this day was not to improve a yard but to shape a soul. She was teaching her child the value of work and partnership and family structures, in addition to the quite crucial skill of knowing which side of a rake is supposed to face the ground. She was an amateur, in the best and oldest sense of the word “amateur”: a person who engages in a particular activity because of love. She most likely possessed no transcripted credential in the fields of motherhood or leaf removal. But that was all for the best anyway because no credential could develop in a child what this mother was engraving in her son’s soul that afternoon.”* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“In my childhood, one of the most significant habits that shaped my soul was a single, simple pattern that required no special skills. Each night, my mother came into my room, sat on the side of my bed, and listened to me pray. What was significant about this wasn’t so much the praying, which was pretty much the same every night. It was the conversations about life that arose in the context of prayer—coupled with the fact that I had to face my mother every evening, regardless of what I might have done during the day.
At some point in early adolescence, I informed my mother that I could handle praying on my own from that point forward. I regretted my request even then, and I regret it even more now. In some inexplicable way, knowing that I would have to pray with my mother each night placed a limit on what I was willing to say and to do during the day.
Today, this pattern from my childhood marks the end of each day in the lives of each of my own children. A few months ago, when my teenager suggested that she might not need me to pray with her each night, my response ran something like this: “You know, I think you are totally able to pray on your own, and I want you to pray on your own as well. But, even though you don’t need my help to pray, I need the reminder every night that God gave you to me and that I’m responsible to guide you toward him. So, every night, I’ll still be here to pray with you, no matter what.” Since that moment, my daughter and I have had dozens of important night-time conversations that I might otherwise have missed. Is it always efficient or easy? No—but it is a right and good response to God’s work in our family.”
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nine months
In a recent article, Gwyneth Paltrow admitted when asked about marriage, “It’s hard...
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“We have to consciously study how to be tender with each other until it becomes a habit.”
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