Rumi (via nezua)
(Source: fuckyeahyoga, via guerrillamamamedicine)
Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.
What is the fear inside language? No accident of the body can make it stop burning.
Anne Carson, “Kinds of Water” in Plainwater (adapted from everythingwillburn)
(via guerrillamamamedicine)
Because of all this want, we sometimes are afraid we feel too much. Some of us try to go numb; we turn on the television and zone out on political debates, or reality people showing their other selves—their nasty bad acting selves—or read news about serial killers or car bombers or we drink too much or eat too much or run too much. We make our lives numb so we can take care of ourselves and be separate from a collective anguish of powerlessness.
But in that last hour we are into feeling. We are into intimacy. My beloved says the single most poignant thing I have ever heard. She says, “I love to go to bed and I love to wake up.”
Ate 26 ounces of nutella in two days. FML.
And I became brave. I became brave because everything that distracts me from the most honest intention no longer has voice and I can only listen to one thing: my heart. It’s like time travel. The grandest, most beautiful and unexpected phenomenon.
