Finding Home within

This is so relatable.

Happy Pride. 

“I turned fifty a couple weeks ago. I’ve lived in the same neighborhood for most of my life, which makes it more challenging because everything around me has changed so dramatically. My best friend and I got our first apartment here when we were twenty years old. We used to play this game where we’d race each other through the streets. We’d take off our shirts and run to the Hudson. First one to get there was King Of The World. There was a vibrancy back then. People would see us running but they’d be OK with it. Because we were young. We were allowed to take up space. You think you’ll act young forever but the rules change. Your audience won’t allow it. We’re programmed to see older people a certain way. You can almost chart it on a graph. You disappear as you age and the world notices you less and less. And it makes you realize how much energy you got from being noticed.“

Is it well with your soul? Are you free and made whole?

“I was not a tough kid growing up. I was timid. I was very sensitive to pain in other kids. I never wanted to do anything that made people feel worse than they already did. And God forbid I ever hurt somebody. That would just destroy me. I’m having to learn to dial that back as an adult. There’s such a thing as being too compassionate. If you’re too scared of causing pain, you can easily be manipulated. Your fear becomes a button to be pushed. In my last relationship, I was made to feel hurtful or aggressive whenever I stood up for myself. So I always backed down. I’ve got to learn the line between being compassionate and being a doormat.”

Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are. ― Mason Cooley

Settle down, Kyle. Was that you almost died of alcohol poisoning and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes to yourself Friday night? Yeah let’s take health advice from you.

Friend who never knitted in their life, can’t genuinely see the mistake and has no idea of what I’m talking about: are you ok???

Exercise is a celebration of what your body can do, not a punishment for what you ate. 💖💕

Little is known about the origins of this practice, although there is some unfounded speculation that it is loosely derived from or perhaps inspired by ancient Aegean notions about bees’ ability to bridge the natural world with the afterlife.

Quiet ones; secret ones; great riots of tangly growth; in which bees lurk and buzz but do not come out; in which there are footprints on the lawn in the morning dew; artful, austere knots; of poisons, medicines and blameless herbs; set with slabs that snails lurk under; art nouveau reveries, existing only in ink and dreams; that are unquiet with the whispering of slender trees; from which garlic may be stripped with a flourish; muddy patches; that are giddy with mangoes; ant-parties; in which we have buried a poet beneath the laburnum and will ever after have yellow words upon our heads; containing follies and extravagances within their stone walls; bitter fenced-in wiltings; those that are splinted tight with bamboo; having at their mazy centre an obelisk with a green and leering face; those whose trees would eat you without a thought; traffic-island thickets; beloved parks; butterfly playgrounds.

“Five years ago I had a bout with breast cancer. I didn’t catch it very early. I had to get chemo, radiation, and a mastectomy. I’d never felt so tired in my entire life, but it didn’t just throw me off physically. It made me really, really sad. I lost all my enthusiasm. I lost my positivity. Before it happened, I had so many dreams. I had been thinking of starting a business. Or maybe writing stories again. It seemed like I could accomplish anything if only I did the things that I was supposed to do. But all that disappeared after the cancer. I got much more self-conscious. I started thinking: ‘If bad things can happen at any time, why even bother?’ So I’ve been in a bit of a rut these last few years. I’ve been floating along as an office manager. But I recently lost that job, and I’m thinking this might be my chance to go after my dreams again. I’d love to work with young folks. I’d love to write books and stories for children. And I know it sounds crazy, but I really want to open a bookshop.”

not for long dude

some thoughts on self objectification