“And if you cannot hear the sound of the genuine in you, you will all your life spend your days on the ends of strings, that somebody else pulls. The sound of the genuine is flowing through you. Don’t be deceived or thrown off by all the noises that are apart, even of your dreams, your ambitions, so that you don’t hear the sound of the genuine in you. Because that is the only true guide that you will ever have. And if you don’t have that, you don’t have a thing.“ -Howard Thurman.
@kasakaiswimwear thank you so much for the most beautiful swimsuit, it is the loveliest 🦋
Sweet springtime is my time is your time is our time for springtime is love time and viva sweet love. -e.e. Cummings 🌷🌝 (This is me letting my friend take photos of me, then not take photos of me, then take more photos of me. Thank god for friends🐙🦑).
today’s been weird. full of worries and moments of anxiety. times like this I stop to remind myself that I’m here, I’m happy, I’m a thinking, breathing creature, and this is all part of life. everybody has bad days, and tomorrow will be better because there is always something to look forward to. 💭👁🙏🏼
sometimes I’m like.. is that really my man? and then I’m like.. yeah it is. 😭🤠 So here we are, nearly three years with you. 💡thank you for keeping my heart full the entire time 🦎🐢 #turtlenese#2years10months
“Get a beautiful red rose and hold it in front of you. Inhale the fragrance and say to yourself, “Without me, this flower would have no fragrance.” Take in the glowing crimson color and say to yourself, “Without me, this flower would have no color.” Stroke the velvety petals and say to yourself, “Without me, this flower would have no texture.” Realize that if you subtract yourself from any sensation-sight, sound, touch, taste, smell- the rose would be nothing but atoms vibrating in a void.” Page 30 of Deepak Chopra’s The Book Of Secrets. I picked this book up when I was 18 and only started reading it now, mainly because I just wasn’t ready to comprehend the complexity and most importantly, the truth of his words. I now feel humble in knowing that I am a part of the beauty and the magic in this world, because I am able to stand in awe, in recognition of it. There are feelings that Chopra describes that I’ve never been able to put into words myself. A feeling that something lies beyond the sky or behind the mirror, and that my actions are part of a plan I can barely glimpse, but I know it must exist.
Not going to give away too much, but this book is pure warmth and wonder put into words. Feeling at peace today, and I hope you are too. 🌳👁
everyday worries, vol. 2. “the big oops”
My eyes are burning. Water and mucus cloud them, accumulating into a glassy film that I can’t wipe away, because if I do, it’ll only get worse. I’m dancing anyway, dabbing at my stinging eyes with the end of my sleeve, sniffling and swaying with the samba dripping from the kitchen stereo. The super outdated one that we refuse to upgrade. That’s the one. You come in, and I swear it’s like this every time. You walk in shaking your hips a little, that big grin on your face that I love so much, a mass of curly hair on your head because it’s the morning and you haven’t showered yet. I tell you that you’re lucky because I’m making us home fries, that’s what we need the onions for. The air smells like garlic and you tell me that sharper knives are safer to cut with, but I don’t want a sharper knife. You slide it out of the holder anyway, swirling it around yourself, dropping it a few inches before catching it with that exaggerated uh oh! face that you find so funny. I try not to look at you, a beautiful man in a laughing embrace with what could quickly ruin you, ruin us. Stop, I say aloud, but you laugh and laugh and laugh without stopping because it is indeed, a joke. A joke, a joke, a joke. Relax, I repeat in my mind, a joke. But all I can think is that I cannot look at you, because this is exactly the time and place, a moment full of unsuspecting joy, that something tragic will happen. You will drop the knife and slice off a finger, puncture a kidney, or stab yourself in the neck and I cannot look at you in case that happens. In my head over and over, my body hot and tense, replaying what would be the end of it, a joke. I worry of how many veins, tendons, and arteries you have in your body, I worry of how soft you are. I worry of how quickly things can change, of how innocent mistakes can lead to the darkest ends. I am worry of how few moments it takes for a life to be flipped upside down. But mostly, I worry of how no one is ever really prepared for anything.
Hope you guys enjoyed reading my new piece. If you liked anything in particular let me know, I love hearing back from you 🧸🔪
Do you ever worry that your cabinet is going to collapse? All the china bowls shattering over your counter, the loudest spine-shaking crash you never expected. A small tower gone down as you innocently piled bowls on bowls on bowls, more bowls than a large family could need to eat your cereal, slurp your soup, twirl your spaghetti, whatever it is you need a bowl to eat. It is always blazing in my mind. Me, standing there with scratched feet having chosen not to wear socks this morning, brows raised so high they’ve gone aerial. Like a gunshot, or a tire popping in a pothole in the street outside the window above the sink, to the left side of the cabinet in question. So ridiculously loud that it could have been a prank. In the kitchen at lunchtime or dinner, a fat pile of shattered plates, jagged wood poking out of the dust ballooning right beneath your nose. Unlucky enough to be standing right there when it happened. What’s the worst, is you’d lose the cabinet and the bowls. Of course, not the whole cabinet, just the first tier. Right above where the coffee machine sits, steaming, steaming, slowly weakening the wood of the cabinet under the weight of the cereal, soup, and spaghetti bowls. There is sinkhole forming as we speak. In fact, you knew this would happen all along, making your coffee each morning and watching the underside of the cabinet absorb, absorb, absorb the vapor from the machine. You tried to move the thing, but its plug is too short so you put it back. A sensible person could deduce, over time, the weakening of the wood and a smarter person, someone more proactive than you would spray a protective coating of something, or reinforce the wood with a sheet of steel or titanium just in case. But not you. You just continue to watch, waiting for your bowls to come crashing down.
-from something quite different that I’m working on called ‘everyday worries,’ which is all about the weird things I worry about everyday. you’ll see🗯🔇📝