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Truth slap

I can’t wait for the day when life finally makes sense, when we find the silver lining in every tragedy, when we learn the lesson from each mistake and when we understand why our hearts needed to get broken a few times to let love in.

I can’t wait for the day that we understand why we met the right people at the wrong time or the wrong people at the right time and why our lives didn’t align to bring us together.

I wonder if it’s because they’re the wrong ones for us or because we still have a lot of growing up to do and we’re meant to be with someone who understand who we’re becoming not who we were.

I can’t wait for the day that we understand the lesson behind every struggle. Why we struggled to be successful, why we struggled to find love, why we struggled to reach our dreams and why we lost people who meant the world to us. I wonder if we needed these lessons to learn how to appreciate life and feel the pain of others or we just needed to learn that there is no living without suffering.

I can’t wait for the day that we understand why we had to hate ourselves to love ourselves, why we had to destroy ourselves to build ourselves up again and why we had to start over just before we got to the finish line. I wonder who saved us or who inspired us to save ourselves.

I wonder if we are meant to be reborn a few times so we can learn how to truly live. I want to know what triggered us to change and how we can no longer recognize who we used to be.

I can’t wait for the day that we understand why we keep falling for the wrong ones over and over again, why we can’t forget those who hurt us and why we sometimes can still forgive them and take them back. I want to understand how our hearts operate, how they function, how they move us to do things we would never do and lead us to places that we know we shouldn’t go to.

I’m curious to know why we listen to it, why we follow it blindly like it never got us lost before, why we trust it even though it left us broken and why do we always go back to it for questions when it keeps giving us the wrong answers. I wonder if there will come a day when we stop listening to it and if we’ll ever be truly alive without it.

They say everything happens for a reason and I truly believe that, but I also want to know what this reason is and why it chose us. Why some reasons keep recurring and why some reasons leave us even more perplexed. I want to understand why we go through certain things, what’s the message behind it and what if we never respond to this message, what if we just ignore it and keep living, what will happen then? Will our lives get lost in translation?

I can’t wait for the day that life makes sense – some days I understand why certain things happened and others I’m not so sure, but all I know is that somehow we’ll connect the dots and someday we’ll complete the puzzle, until then, we have to learn how to live our lives without trying to understand it and we have to learn how to be comfortable with the irony and uncertainty of life; otherwise we’ll lose our common sense trying to make sense of the life we’re living.

~ via facebook

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To The Beautiful Woman Who Is Striving To Be Skinny

I see you everywhere.

You’re on my Facebook, posting selfies of your latest workout as sweat drips from your brow, words like dying, puking, exhausting are hash-tagged underneath.

Punishment.

My Instagram is filled with pictures of you, sporting your Lorna Jane as you burn away the calories of the cake you shouldn’t have eaten, but were too weak to resist.

Penance.

You sit opposite me, order your salad, no dressing, and berate yourself for being a kilogram heavier this week.

Self-loathing.

You are fraught with comparison, with how short you fall next to the mothers at the playground you’ll never be as fit as, the group of women at the gym you’ll never be as strong as, the bodies in the magazines you’ll never be as sexy as. You beat yourself up. Promise that tomorrow you’ll eat less and work out more. No excuses, no matter what. Push yourself, purge yourself, pressure yourself.

I was once like you. I obsessed over the number on the scale, lived by punishment or reward, survived on protein shakes, and applauded myself for staying under 1,000 calories a day. I worked out, no matter what. No matter how tired my body was, no matter how run down, exhausted, or unwell. I worked out until I almost threw up, head over my knees, rebuking myself with slogans. Go hard or go home. Unless you puke, faint or die, keep going. Excuses are for people who don’t want it bad enough. I pushed past the pain and worked out when my muscles were fatigued, when my body screamed for me to stop, when I injured my knee, my shoulder, until I eventually tore a disc in my back.

And that changed everything.

In an instant, I could no longer work out. My world ended. There was no worse fate that could have happened to me. I laid on my stomach for a month, unable to do anything. I cried with frustration, beat myself up with failure, drowned in self-hatred. I feared. I feared getting left behind, losing all the work I had put into my body. I feared people thinking I was lazy or weak. But mostly, I feared getting fat. Because in my eyes, that was the ultimate failure.

And so before my body was healed, I started to work out again. Each time would see me back where I’d started, in pain, on the floor, unable to walk. I did this for months until I just no longer could. Until I had to listen to my body, to surrender to what it needed. Rest. Recovery time. Gentle walks. Stretching. Yoga.

No more sweat-pouring, fat-burning, muscle-aching workouts.

At first it killed me, this surrendering. It yelled defeat, poked and prodded into my deepest places of insecurity and challenged my self-worth to the core; I was more bound in my body image than I realised. It’s subtle, the infiltration of what we are programmed to believe is beauty—we don’t realise the way it creeps into us, the way we yield to society’s standards even when we think we are immune to them.

Eventually, it became easier to surrender, easier to let go of the demands I had placed on myself to look a certain way. I stopped seeking my value in the number on the scale and found it instead in my mind, my heart, my character, and my contribution to the world. I shed lies, so many lies, of what I had come to believe beauty should be. I realised I had nothing to prove to anyone. Every day, I practiced kindness and spoke to myself the way I would speak to any other woman.

Beautiful woman, who you are, right now in this moment, is perfect.

I know you don’t believe me. I know you fill your head with your prerequisites of beauty. A flatter tummy. Toned arms. Size 10. Lose another five kilograms.

But I understand now.

Beauty isn’t measured in centimetres, my dear.

And the moment you understand will be the moment you find freedom.

You’ll begin to exercise because you love your body, not because you hate it. You’ll eat food that brings you life and health because your body craves nourishment, not deprivation. You’ll run in the sunshine because it brings you joy, not because you’ve earned punishment. You’ll let go of striving, of negativity, of guilt and frustration and failure.

But mostly, you’ll come to realise how beautiful you really are. How strong, how brave, how kind, how intelligent, how clever, how funny, how generous, how thoughtful. How much you love. Not how much you weigh.

Beautiful woman, stop.

Stop striving to be skinny, as if that’s the only measure of your worth.

Instead, strive to change the perception of beauty, the lies we have been told.

Strive to empower women, our daughters, through the truth of their worth.

Strive to see how beautiful you really are, right now, exactly in this moment.

And then watch the world become more beautiful, because of you.

Author: Kathy Parker

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Create

That’s my personal fix_ creating something. I am addicted to it – better even- I was born with it in my blood. If you ask me where did I get or inherit the fix, I would say I don’t know. I don’t remember my parents creating something aside from us. They were not even able to provide a proper home for us or a proper upbringing. What the heck they didn’t even managed to have a decent relationship with each other. It could be also that my memories are clouded with emotional and physical traumas brought by regimented fostering I cannot remember things correctly. 

Not that they don’t have the talents for it. My mother could draw anything beautifully and her aquarelles were legendary, or could be if she has dared to do something with it but as far as I can recall, I only saw her once doing it. She kept a sketchbook in her chest of clothes though full of inspiring images she I suspected created from imagination because they didn’t look like anything I’ve seen around or perhaps she might have seen them before there were us. Anyway, aside from that one occasion when she had drawn me a cow for a school project, I never witness her doing it again.  Maybe real life was difficult to combine with her art (that I can understand) maybe she had enough work with the six of us. Maybe that’s why she hated us (except one) Maybe I am exaggerating again. I don’t know. My father… my father could build a shack, on his own, using whatever available materials he could find. And he once turned a bog into a proper garden. Yes, the two of them had talents to create, if only they set their minds to it instead of… too many and too painful to mention.

Back to me.

A day without creating something beautiful and preferably tangible is a day wasted for me. I love to see things materialize before my eyes by the power of creation. I enjoy the process of designing anything that will produce beautiful results. That’s why I love gardening and why I got into design business. Mind you, I can draw and paint as well. Even better than my mother. She could not draw portraits, I can. All of us can draw but only me can do portraits. Why I didn’t do something with it? Nerves. Nerves and self-confidence. Don’t ask me. It is a long and complicated story and I hate long and complicated stories that’s why I dislike myself. I think.

Anyway, creating sits deep in my soul and has me on its grip from the cradle on. I remember finding a broken truck front light when I was young and bringing it home turning the glass upside down and made the thing into an aquarium complete with fish and water plants. My father scolded me for it saying the fish belonged in the pan not in my far-fetched vision. It didn’t stop there. I created playhouses wherever possible and decorated them with the things I could find lying around. I filled big shells with water and floated colorful flowers on the surface, collected bottles of shampoos, powder, lotions, anything I fancy that have washed up on shore and I could use to beautify my private place. I made handbags from scraps of fabrics nobody wanted and filled them with paper money I fashioned from old newspaper and pretended I was shopping or going to the bank. The pink piggy bank I bought from my Christmas money was doubled as a vase for the wild flowers I gathered from the side of the road. I see beauty in everything and believe in endless possibilities of re purposing materials. Nothing is impossible. If I can think it, then it must be doable or otherwise how can I come up with the thoughts in the first place? 

Once I was so despaired about our crumbling little shack I tried to elevate the place by planting colorful wild plants in empty milk cans I gathered from the neighborhood and put them on the front of our house at eye level so they were more pleasing to the eye. I also planted creeping ground cover in shades of purple and green placing them just under the eaves so I didn’t have to water them much for water where we lived that time was a precious commodity. Even then without proper training, I instinctively know what goes together. When it comes to design I have only one motto: If it looks good, then it’s good. I don’t care much about the process, what’s important for me is the result. Rules can go to hell, as long as the end product achieve what it needs to achieve then breaking design rules means nothing to me.   

I would like to say more about the topic but duty calls. First thing first. I will come back and edit this piece if necessary and perhaps add a sentence (or a paragraph) or two to complete the thoughts. But for now I have to go. I really, really have to. At least even with this incomplete monologue you got ideas already what create (or creating) means to me.

BRB

(first time I wrote this abbreviation and it sounds like the things those pretty girls who are working on cam will write on a piece of paper and prop against the back of a chair to let their viewers know they don’t disappear forever only indefinitely. Maybe I will tell you sometime how I come to know this. Signing off for now)  

EarthDay

I’m Back

Been a while since I write my own thoughts. I’ve been away for almost four weeks basking in the  sun soaking the atmosphere enjoying the weather admiring the views immersing myself in different culture and generally doing nothing but what I love to do in that moment. I crisscrossed the island on foot, drove around, swam in lagoons and tasted the food. I’ve been in a hospital also. Costed me a fortune but my health insurance will pay me back only  I don’t know when. They say it may take a while since it is a large amount of money but I see it as a savings; money I don’t have in my hand so therefore I can’t spend.

I’m home now with tons of laundry and lots to do in the garden. At least the slugs and snails didn’t devour my entire population of plants like I expected them to do. My chocolate mints died. D. said he upended small bottles of water in the pots but he said it was not enough to lasts for the entire time we were gone but I suspected he had forgotten to do it because I didn’t see any indentation on the soil next to the plants. So, today I drove to the garden center to get new ones but like always I purchased more than I needed. Believe you me I will have second thoughts buying anything for myself but will not hesitate acquiring something for the garden or for the house. I’m crazy that way. It gives me so much joy to shop for both and see them transform a space. The plants which are damaged by late frost are struggling to survive. They are still there but most of them become sort of bonsai, little miniature examples of their former selves. I hope they will totally revive next year. 

I reckon it will take me a week to go back to normal. I will return to writing after everything settled. But first I have to attend two big parties. One is the silver jubilee of a company and another is a retirement event of my father -in-law. The first one calls for a dress code. ‘Future’ is the theme we have to abide. Lots of shining garments dominated by silver and white in casual attire. I don’t know yet if I’m going to attend since parties are not my thing but let’s see when it’s time to go. Maybe I will and then again maybe not.

I wrote this piece without pause and without edit so if you spy some mistakes, look the other way. Till next time and enjoy the warm weather.  

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Today’s Feelings

I feel like people get lost when they think of happiness as a destination. We’re always thinking that someday we’ll be happy. You know, we’ll get that car or that job or that person in our lives that fixes everything. But happiness is a mood and a condition, it’s not a destination. It’s like being tired or hungry, it’s not permanent, it comes and goes, and that’s okay. And I feel like if people thought of it that way, they’d find happiness a lot more often.

– One Tree Hill

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Potatoes, Eggs and Coffee Beans

In life, things happen around us, and things happen to us. The only thing that truly matters is your choice of how you react to it and what you make of it. Learn, adapt and choose to make the best of each experience.

Once upon a time a daughter complained to her father that her life was miserable and that she didn’t know how she was going to make it. She was tired of fighting and struggling all the time. It seemed just as one problem was solved, another one soon followed.

Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen. He filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Once the three pots began to boil, he placed potatoes in one pot, eggs in the second pot, and ground coffee beans in the third pot.

He then let them sit and boil, without saying a word to his daughter. The daughter, moaned and impatiently waited, wondering what he was doing.

After twenty minutes he turned off the burners. He took the potatoes out of the pot and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.

He then ladled the coffee out and placed it in a cup. Turning to her he asked. “Daughter, what do you see?”

“Potatoes, eggs, and coffee,” she hastily replied.

“Look closer,” he said, “and touch the potatoes.” She did and noted that they were soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee. Its rich aroma brought a smile to her face.

“Father, what does this mean?” she asked.

He then explained that the potatoes, the eggs and coffee beans had each faced the same adversity– the boiling water.

However, each one reacted differently.

The potato went in strong, hard, and unrelenting, but in boiling water, it became soft and weak.

The egg was fragile, with the thin outer shell protecting its liquid interior until it was put in the boiling water. Then the inside of the egg became hard.

However, the ground coffee beans were unique. After they were exposed to the boiling water, they changed the water and created something new.

“Which are you,” he asked his daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a potato, an egg, or a coffee bean? “

Moral:In life, things happen around us, things happen to us, but the only thing that truly matters is what happens within us.

Which one are you?

~via Facebook

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Note To Self

When I get lonely these days, I think, So be lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.

– Elizabeth Gilbert

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Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy

When I started this blog I thought I will never run out of something to say. Not believing in writer’s block every time I read someone is struggling to come up with ideas to post I thought: How could that be? Just put your thoughts (any thoughts) on paper and that’s it, easy peasy lemon squeezy. How naive I must had been. I have a lot to say still. The well hasn’t run out dry just yet but I run out of time to say them. No, that isn’t right. I seem cannot find the time to put my thoughts on paper. These days I am face to face with another thing I thought I will never encounter: A life that is getting in the way of my writing.

In the beginning (of my blogging escapades) I never thought it is possible. If you could spare a couple of minutes, you can post your ideas online. It had worked for me till… now. Before I had no trouble writing, following courses after courses here, posting my entries at two in the morning while juggling with work, social and family life plus hobbies and vacations. Even with my condition I could still managed to do a decent job of blogging, posting once a day, no problem; till early this year. (I am still posting once a day, there is no change there. But I am posting other people’s article. They are good. Better than mine in fact or otherwise I will not put them in my space. They are articles that either mean something to me personally or have moved me in some ways. But they are not mine and that’s the problem. I want to write again. Writing is my life. I am lost without it.)

Suddenly life gets in the way. Things I could do with ease before like gardening for five hours after work till the sun goes down, staying late, watching TV while putting thoughts on paper and cooking dinner at the same time, writing while ironing… that is all things of the past now. One chore and I end up exhausted. I still have trouble sleeping. In fact, I don’t have a decent sleep yet since January, but while before my sleepless nights had proven to be my most creative and productive hours, now they are what they actually are- just sleepless nights; spent watching TV, fidgeting, suffering from lack of concentration and wrestling with pain. Before I could function with no or just a couple of hours sleep, now I can’t simply function. Those sleepless nights see to it that I am bone tired from doing nothing all the time, I can’t focus and the pain make me so grumpy and desperate. I am beginning to seriously dislike myself.

In four days time I will leave for my annual three weeks holiday in the sun and hopefully when I come back I am my normal self again- crazy, weird, out there but a writer. A writer with no problem writing and putting thoughts on paper. Just like before. Till then, please bear with me. Don’t go away. We can weather this together.  I am grateful for your support.

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Lifestyle

We live in a state of constant flux, yet we suffer with dreams of permanence.

We are like flowers who don’t know we are okay, so constantly search for external colour and reach for unreachable dreams. We are like blossoms that never see our own blossoming.

We are too busy looking outside of ourselves. We never contemplate in silence our true nature.

What is the nature of beauty? Is it veneer—or a quality of depth far beyond any surface level?

If you look closely at a flower, you will experience a deep love, a deep peace, and a deep acceptance of its essence. This is our nature as human beings. Flowers of the living breath, flowers of God, flowers of everlasting love. Inherently, we are goodness experiencing itself—it is only our experiences and environments that withdraw us from our true nature.

What is the nature of suffering—does it belong to the nature of the thing made to suffer?

The nature of our life is influenced by a myriad of factors from the environment in which we live, our experiences, to the intrinsic nature of an individual. The concept of moksha—or liberation—is the salvation from the maya (illusion) into self-actualization and self-realization.

Liberty is always within reach, corresponding to the limitlessness of human experience. The warmth of being alive, of being an emotional being undergoing a variety of experiences, is essential to our unfolding. Moksha is not a cold experience, it is a living experience.

First, we must face and surrender our fears, and then we will grow beyond the “limited self.” Self-love is a perpetual quality that develops our self-worth and understanding. If we are not compassionate towards ourselves, then we do not understand compassion. If we are not loving towards ourselves, then we do not understand love.

Awakening from the trance of unworthiness is the gateway to living freely and achieving our life-purpose.

Growing up in South Africa, I felt like a stranger in a strange land. All around me people were going about their lives, and I was perpetually wondering where I belonged in the world. It was to be one of the themes of my life, understanding constructive freedom, questioning, and reflecting on the nature of life.

I was also caught up in the maelstrom of history. Events around us seemed so real and important. From racial disharmony and apartheid, to the struggle against apartheid, and ultimately, its removal as official government policy—I went through many changes.

As the myriad of external shifts unfolded, it was more notable to feel the shifts—or lack thereof—in people’s hearts. As a child, how is one to identify or misidentify with collective racism and racist policies? Growing up in an elitist culture, is one able to feel the suffering of the underprivileged? As an empath, how does one self-protect when around us there is discord?

As the country went through its trauma, and started to rebuild, it became clear that the problems were far more deep-seated than mere policy. In most cases, the elitism of the past is ongoing, and has continued to arrest the country’s advancement.

Sadly, unworthiness is so deep-rooted in the culture of the majority, it continues to cause a crippling pain. What surprised me more, was to realise that unworthiness is at the root of the privileged class, who economically tower above their brethren. Why else would they hold on to their wealth with such terror in their souls, and inflict suffering on the whole society by hoarding wealth?

The country is not suffering just because the poor suffer. It is suffering also because the rich suffer. Carl Jung brings this sharply into focus if one applies this idea to the collective, “The unfaced and unfelt parts of our psyche are the source of all neurosis and suffering.”

The rejected parts of a society cause a collective suffering in the ethos or matrix of the community.

Rumi encourages us to face this closeted wound, humanity’s shadow as individuals, “Don’t turn away. Keep your eyes on the bandaged place. That’s where the light enters you.”

At the deepest level, we are Source energy experiencing and becoming conscious of itself. However, as human beings, our greatest obstacle to inner peace is self-doubt and a lack of self-love. I speak to many people who believe themselves small, and sometimes wish to disappear. That is not what we are here to be and to do. We are light warriors as well as luminous beings.

It is the abandoned and rejected parts of ourselves that prevent us from feeling complete. They are in essence illusory, yet our belief in them animates them. It is our story that keeps them alive.

The first step to our liberation is to have right perception of whom and what we are, and then to accept ourselves.

“The curious paradox is when I can accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” ~ Carl Rogers

The shadows are alive within, because we do not wish to, or are not ready to face them. When we face them, we can slay the dragon. The dragon just asks for our love, and in our love, it melts. God, as the essence of love, is alive within us. The divine is not separate and never was separate.

When we love unconditionally from the heart, we see all the misperceptions, and realise that love is alive within us, and that means we are beautiful as we are. It does not mean that we cannot improve; yet when we come from a whole and accepting space, it is the wellspring for future possibilities.

Embracing metta (loving-kindness) for all beings, begins with ourselves.

Loving and accepting all that we are, we liberate ourselves from the torment of not believing in or valuing ourselves.

That is our freedom calling, and our invitation to experience more than we have allowed ourselves to before.

~Author: David Zenon Starlyte

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We All Have A Life We Aren’t Living

“Don’t be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live.” ~ Tuck Everlasting

Inside each of us lives a secret—the life not taken.

There are moments in which we truly live and centuries in which we die—all the while we hope that somehow we can just get by.

We hold onto the faith that we will end up exactly where we need to be, and that in the end it will turn out to match where we wanted to be, too. We make decisions based on money and narrow our options based on sensibility, yet we always wonder what would happen if we drifted outside of the margins we have grown so accustomed to.

We each have a path that lives unlived inside each of us. The life we deemed too risky to try, the one that made sense to our hearts but not our minds.

But we chose our reality. Maybe the choices were made for us, or maybe through the choices we were made—but ultimately we neglected this life, this almost-what-if.

Yet this life doesn’t die. Instead it lingers on the edges of our memory, sometimes so close it seems as if we could reach out and touch it. Sometimes, it seems this life is still an option.

There are decisions that exist for all of us that can change the entire course of our lives when it comes down to it. We just have to be aware that some choices create walls that confine us, while others plant gardens and open up paths that we never knew existed.

This life business isn’t easy. We don’t receive a rulebook for it nor do we always know how each choice will pan out—yet all of us simply try to do our best. However, I suppose the question is, are we doing our best for the right reasons? What is the right reason for making the choices we do in our lives?

We are each here for a specific purpose in this lifetime, one that our souls signed up for before coming to earth. Some of us are here to balance out our karmic debt, others are here to learn by struggling, some are gifted with ease and abundance, and still there are those whose only purpose in this life is to love.

But, regardless of which purpose our souls were assigned in this life, we can still make the choice to choose happiness.

Oftentimes, it seems something as simple as happiness is a foreign currency that rarely seems to have value against the more materialistic and tangible measures of success. But we often neglect the reality that all of the things in the world we could own—including the life we believe we should be living—can never take the place of true, authentic happiness.

Finding out what makes us happy is scary. It almost seems as if at times, the pursuit of it is a threat to the status quo if we define our happiness differently than the rest of society. That perhaps if we found out what truly made us happy, we would then abandon everything that didn’t support that individual pursuit. We can fool ourselves of many things—our righteousness, our direction, our meaning, perhaps even our satisfaction—yet we cannot fool ourselves into happiness.

Because no matter how we try to fake it, we know deep down when it is not genuine.

Life is as simple as love; it’s we who complicate matters. It’s we who create problems where none exist.

The life that sits below our surface, bubbling with possibility and the allure of authenticity, is there for a reason. It reminds us of our authentic selves. It is quite possibly the life we were born to live.

We can say that everything happens as it’s meant to, and perhaps that is true to some degree, yet that doesn’t mean that sometimes we don’t let fear ruin the beauty that could be. It’s our job in this life to never back down from what speaks in and to our hearts. It’s our mission to never become derailed by the belief that anything else matters more than this.

It’s our purpose to see that our greatest happiness is in our hands.

There isn’t magic in shelving this un-lived life away for greater conveniences or for supposed responsibilities. On the contrary, it’s our greatest tragedy to walk away from everything

But guess what?

The really amazing and beautiful thing is that it’s never too late.

It’s never too late to make the choice to live our previously unlived life.

It’s never too late to be happy.

Our lives are solely in our own hands. While we can elevate others to places of great importance in our lives, ultimately if we are not happy, no one else in our lives will be either. Just as we can’t expect another to be responsible for our happiness, we also can’t take someone else’s upon our shoulders. For that is a weight that eventually will not only crush us, but our dreams as well.

In order to take that un-lived life and reopen it up for exploration, we have to give up fear of leaving our comfort zones and of having others disapprove of our choices. We have to decide to be brave enough to explore whatever avenue our souls feel pulled to.

We simply have to realize that this life is meant to be lived—not just endured. Explored, caressed, loved, and enjoyed until the very last minute on this beautiful planet.

And if we get to the end, and our hearts are full and our bodies weak, then perhaps we succeeded in this life. Just maybe we were not only alive, but also living.

Just maybe we will find that in the end, regardless of our purpose, it’s only happiness and love that truly matter.

Author: Kate Rose

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Thought Of The Day

Single people want relationships, settled people wonder if they’re missing out on something, traveling types miss stability, stable ones are restless, old friends want new friends, new friends miss old friends, and basically almost everyone my age has some dangling worry trailing around after them everywhere that they’re somehow not doing everything, that what they’re doing is not altogether the right thing, that they are missing out. Do not be ashamed. The doubt is natural, and everyone you know yes, even that person carries it sometimes too.

Allow yourself to be peaceful. Allow yourself satisfaction in what you have. If you really don’t like it, allow yourself permission to make changes.

– Lillian Schneider

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What To Expect When You fall For A girl Who Is Used To Not Needing Anyone

This one is going to be different. I can promise you that. But I can also promise that you won’t ever be uninspired or bored – this is the girl who will change you, she won’t ever take your shit, and you’ll be a better man because of it.

She comes across as a paradoxical mix of outgoing but introverted, very social but seldom out. When you’re so used to not needing anyone, you know exactly who you are, and she’ll never fake anything because of it. This makes maintaining relationships a constant struggle for her. She’ll connect with many, and they’ll quickly feel comfortable with her, but it takes her a while to feel fully comfortable, so she can only take being around others incrementally.

This might frustrate you. There seem to be so many walls to break down. Just when you start to feel like you’re figuring her out – you find another piece to the puzzle that throws everything off. Be patient. She’s this tough because she had to be. Something happened that taught her to never need anyone. Someone she needed left before she was done needing them. But none of this will spill out easily. She’s extremely uncomfortable with other people seeing her vulnerable or in pain. Her emotions and pain are hers, and this is what she’s used to.

She’ll tell herself she doesn’t need you. She’ll make situations worse by trying to suppress her feelings about them. When you fall for the girl who’s used to not needing anyone, believe that she has more feelings and layers than she knows what to do with. Her instinct will be to try to compose herself. When she does open up to you, it’s everything. Being emotionally naked with someone is how she expresses her love.

She’ll know exactly who she is and what she wants. When you’re used to not needing anyone, you do what you want, when you want, and without asking permission or informing anyone. She loves this part of her identity, but she secretly wants you to confront her. She’s hoping that sometimes, you’ll put your foot down, and challenge her stubborn ways.

She’s strong, maybe even too strong for you at first. Don’t let this fool you. This is her outer shell. Her armor. She is so used to taking care of herself that it’s going to be hard for her to let someone else in. It took a lot of work to get to where she is: Independent, taking no shit and being happy on her own. She’s afraid to let you in because she’s afraid of what will happen if you might leave.

I can promise you it won’t be easy, she’ll hang on to her walls for as long as she can. She will be enigmatic. She will always want things her way, and she’ll fight you when she doesn’t get it.

She’ll even try to push you away. This is how she protects herself.

But when you really get to know her, she’ll be the girl who will change your life. Don’t always give in to her, but be patient with her. She’s strong, but she’s also scared – scared of love, scared of needing someone, and definitely scared of you.

Because even if she says she doesn’t need you, at her core she is just a girl who has more love than she knows what to do with.

Words by: Anna Bashedly

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