"And then my soul saw you and it kind of went, ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you."
Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
My grandfather was a painter. He died at age 88. He illustrated Robert Frost’s first two books of poetry. And he was looking at me and he said, “Harry, there’s two kinds of tired. There’s good tiredand there’s bad tired.”
He said, “Ironically enough, bad tired can be a day that you won. But you won other people’s battles, you lived other people’s days, other people’s agendas, other people’s dreams, and when it’s all over there was very little you in there. And when you hit the hay at night, somehow you toss and turn, you don’t settle easy.”
He said, “Good tired, ironically enough, can be a day that you lost. But you won’t even have to tell yourself, because you knew you fought your battles, you chased your dreams, you lived your days. And when you hit the hay at night, you settle easy, you sleep the sleep of the just, and you can say, “Take me away.”
He said, “Harry, all my life I’ve wanted to be a painter and I’ve painted. God, I would have loved to have been more successful, but I’ve painted, and I’ve painted, and I am good tired, and they can take me away.”
Now if there is a process in your and my lives in the insecurity that we have about a prior life or an afterlife, and God (I hope there is a god – if he does exist, he’s got a rather weird sense of humour however)…
But if there is a process that will allow us to live our days, that will allow us that degree of equanimity towards the end, looking at that black implacable wall of death to allow us that degree of peace, that degree of non-fear, I want in.
"I don’t see how you can carry around as much love as I have given you."
Zelda to Scott, 1919
"What if our religion was each other,
If our practice was our life,
if prayer our words?
What if the temple was the Earth,
if forests were our church,
if holy waters—the rivers, lakes, and oceans.
What if meditation was our relationships,
if the teacher was life,
if wisdom was self-knowledge,
if love was the center of our being."
Ganga White (via shaktilover)
Is this racist ?
Yes, this is racist; the campaign features almost (just in case I’m missing one or two ads) exclusively minority children. The website for the ad campaign features 4-5 interviews with exclusively minority subjects. It’s not just one ad that makes it racist, it’s the entire mentality behind it.
It is also a prime example of “public shaming” or “slut shaming.” It’s trying to prevent teen pregnancy by shaming teen mothers, not examining the multiplicity of factors that lead to teen pregnancy (socio-economic status, mental heath, family status, personal beliefs, religious beliefs, etc, etc). If the NYC government adopts shaming and bullying as appropriate tactics, what message does that send to the same exact children it is addressing about the ways to resolve conflict?
Furthermore, it’s also an amazing example of heteronormativity and the nuclear family. By this, I mean that the ad assumes that not only the norm but also the ideal for all intimate relations is a family consisting of a married man and woman and 2-3 children that are their biological offspring. If you look into the ad, it stresses the issues of marriage, neglecting that many people actually don’t want to get married but are still able to support each other.
Another contradiction: the ad stresses the financial difficulties of having a child as a teen, instead of developing better programs to financially support teen mothers. This only leads to a vicious cycle of further and further socio-economic oppression.
If you want to read more, here is one (out of many) good articles on the subject.
"You are a powerful person. No one ever knows what they’re capable of until something happens that forces them to rise to the occasion. And then a natural high starts to wash over their body and they realize that they haven’t been living up to their full potential. They can achieve so much more if they just tap into their inner Sasha Fierce.
It’s easy to go through this life letting bad things happen to us. It’s easy to lay in bed all day, feeling vaguely depressed, picking at the wounds. (You never stop picking scabs. This habit always stays with you.) By giving other people power though, we’re taking it away from ourselves. We’re letting someone come in and twist us violently around their finger. Then we act surprised when, after the closeness fades and the body turns cold, we get upset. We feel empty. We let someone in to fill us up, only to deplete us later. How, how how?
There are so many things in this life that we cannot control. Cancer, assault, someone waking up one day and deciding they don’t love us anymore. We go outside every day knowing that we’re leaving a portion of it up to the fates. “Be kind to me, sweetie!” you say to the sky as you’re leaving your apartment. “Fair warning, I’m not up for any bullshit today.” We complain when our lives become unexpectedly difficult, when curveballs are thrown and we have to act immediately. But what we fail to give attention to are the bad things that are actually in our power to change. What about that? What about avoiding the things we know will hurt us? What about letting ourselves have the nice life we deserve instead of one full of self-inflicted anxiety and pain?
It may seem like a lot of this stuff is not in your control, that you don’t have the power to change it, but you’re often wrong. You do. It would just involve a little bit more work and responsibility, which a lot of people just aren’t ready for. They say they want to change, they say they want to make things better but the reality is that the bad things still feel good to them. They don’t want to stop the bad habits. A lot of their identity is invested in them and they don’t know who they’d be without it.
This is fine, by the way. Shirking responsibility is something everybody does and if you’re not ready to be accountable, you can’t be forced into it. Just know this though: you do have the ability to change the way your life looks. You are strong. You aren’t helpless. The things you’re able to really do with your life would shock you. You just have to access it. You have to bite the bullet and take control of your life."
My parents always tell me
to never fall in love with someone else
who has baggage.
The problem with that is it disproves this fact:
you have been places and you
are going places, separately from and with me.
I want to lie down in bed with you
and have you lay out all of your suitcases.
I want you to show me the dress you
wore when you were seven and that neighborhood
girl, Sara, kissed you on the nose.
I want you to show me the pair of shoes
you wore when we first met, with your
shoe laces so dirty from walking
around this city and finding pieces
of yourself in the alleyways.
Please lay out that gown you wore
those three days when you were in the hospital
with scars on your skin because
it was easier to hate yourself than to love.
Please let me hold that bracelet
you threw into the Ocean from the first
boy that broke your heart and ended up
kissing another girl that same night
and taking her home, fucking her
so hard that the Milky Way wasn’t
a good enough metaphor
to articulate how he felt coming
I will dress you up in my
eighteen year old skin where B.
and I sat instead of dancing during
prom, crying over certain things
that we could not keep inside for
much longer. I will let you wear
that sweater I wore the first night
I kissed you underneath a street lamp,
as the snow was falling into the light,
I was falling into you, wholeheartedly.
I will let you wear that shirt you slipped
over your self after that first night we spent
together, in bed, learning how to love someone
properly, in a more physical sense than ever before.
And then I want to pack all of these bags
and stuff them back into our lungs,
so that our histories will always leak out of
breath in every moment, so we will not forget
how heavy we felt once and how light we feel now,
in comparison. I want to know your history, simply,
even the darkest corners, so maybe me being there
will make them lighter and make both of us
appreciate the dim light of the Moon
because it was there, even if we did not always
Andrew M., Going / Growing (via deliciates)