"Do you remember when we met in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless, and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing you, when we were young, and blushed with youth like bruised fruit. Did we care then what our neighbors did in the dark? When our first daughter was born on the River Jordan, when our second cracked her pink head from my body like a promise, did we worry what our friends might be doing with their tongues? What new crevices they found to lick love into or strange flesh to push pleasure from, when we called them Sodomites then, all we meant by it was neighbor. When the angels told us to run from the city, I went with you, but even the angels knew that women always look back. Let me describe for you, Lot, what your city looked like burning since you never turned around to see it. Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form of loving this indecent? Cover your eyes tight, husband, until you see stars, convince yourself you are looking at Heaven. Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god. I would say these things to you now, Lot, but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue. So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan. I will stand here and I will watch you run."

Life, Narrated: What Lot’s Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn’t A Pillar of Salt) / Karen Finneyfrock  (via conflictingheart)

(via conflictingheart)

contempler:

I am trying.

so are we all.

Tags: feelings.

i am the tip of a ballpoint pen
the size of a needle
but i speak like an oil spill.

you better watch out;
my accidents drown. you can read printed
press on it. the unthinking sludge so dark its

the black inside
of a mouth sewn shut. when it runs out
know that i’m swimming underneath

so hard friction lights me in flame
universal sign language for:
i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.

at home, waiting to cheer me up. this is why I love my Lauren. @twolls12  (Taken with Instagram)

at home, waiting to cheer me up. this is why I love my Lauren. @twolls12 (Taken with Instagram)

#brunch #leftcoastkitchen well.deserved. w/ @twolls12  (Taken with Instagram)

#brunch #leftcoastkitchen well.deserved. w/ @twolls12 (Taken with Instagram)

fuckyeahhardfemme:

shmemson:

Love this movie

idk what movie this is from but those are some magnificent eyebrows.

soul. sister. serving caterpillar eyebrow realness.

(Source: jacknicholson)

OK.

done marinating in self doubt.

let’s get up off the floor.

what a weight to get off my shoulders. MY GOODNESS. i’ve been sitting around feeling sorry for myself and oh brother i am over it dot com. done.

been feeling so bad about the road i’m on right now, because i’ve been guilting myself into feeling beholden to all the people who have given me opportunities. like i owed them something: loyalty. just because you gave me something doesn’t mean it didn’t benefit you just as much. and i’m glad we could spend this part of this life walking on the same road but its time for me to go. and when i leave i’m doin it my way. so no, i do not owe you anything; you never owed me either.

once in my life i thought trust and loyalty was automatically a reciprocal thing between two people, like an invisible string that tied your cares to mine. i was so attached to proving that i was “that person”, the girl who never sells out her friends, who never goes back on her word, who was true-blue. who never wants to be a quitter? this guy.

what is friendship if it doesn’t run both ways? what is loyalty if the person you are loyal to is just an idea of something you wanted to believe in?

yoga speak this. tell me how i am wrong. tell me im attached. tell me im not spritually developed enough. tell me im not authentic. please, let it all out. because in the end, the most we can all do is make our lives holy. the most we can do is surround ourselves with truthful people. with people who really care. with communion. with love. with people who really want to do good things. i thought i was in that holy community. but i can admit: i was wrong.

sometimes you have to throw up the white flag, and take a breather to suck out all the poison that seeps in. and spit it out.

katiearms:


Letter from Anais Nin to Henry Miller.

katiearms:

Letter from Anais Nin to Henry Miller.

(via kathleenjoy)

"By stepping aside, they’ve done you a favor. Because what you’ve got left after the fools have departed are the old souls and the true hearts. Those are the uber-cool sparkle rocket mind-blowers we’re after. Those are the people worthy of your love."

Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar, “Beauty and the Beast”

(via avay)

i mean… i’d take the easy way too. but, ya know.

i mean… i’d take the easy way too. but, ya know.

(Source: thresca)

amydentata:

ljarvz:

bemusedlybespectacled:

(CNN) — My daughter occasionally goes on a hugging and kissing strike.

She’s 4. Her parents could get a hug or a kiss, but many people who know her cannot, at least right now. And I won’t make her.

“I would like you to hug Grandma, but I won’t make you do it,” I told her recently.

“I don’t have to?” she asked, cuddling up to me at bedtime, confirming the facts to be sure.

No, she doesn’t have to. And just to be clear, there is no passive-aggressive, conditional, manipulative nonsense behind my statement. I mean what I say. She doesn’t have to hug or kiss anyone just because I say so, not even me. I will not override my own child’s currently strong instincts to back off from touching someone who she chooses not to touch.

I figure her body is actually hers, not mine.

It doesn’t belong to her parents, preschool teacher, dance teacher or soccer coach. While she must treat people with respect, she doesn’t have to offer physical affection to please them. And the earlier she learns ownership of herself and responsibility for her body, the better for her.

(More at the source.)

Filing this under “things to teach my children.”

This is pretty cool parenting.

Teaching your kids they have to do what you say, “just because”, teaches them to blindly listen to authority, which sets them up to be taken advantage of. Let your kids say no, and let them question your decisions (especially as they get older).

here here. none of us own anyone else; not their body nor their mind. I hope I never forget that as a mom.

(via theoceanwithin)

popularity, why yoga is like high school, and Dylan.

yogarebels:

i was listening to wFUV the other morning on my drive to go teach. on this particular morning the DJ was talking about “Artists Who Had Strayed From Their Sweet Spots”. these were alternative folk and rock singers who had gone a little too far left of center…. experimented a little too far into somewhere their audience couldn’t follow. as an example, she played a track from Bob Dylan’s last record: a Christmas Album. I personally believe that once an artist produces a Christmas album they are officially bone dry on inspiration, but to each his own. after 30 seconds the dj stopped playing the track “for fear of pissing us all off” but mentioned another track from Bob Dylan that was once considered out of Dylan’s “Sweet Spot”, which had pissed a lot of people off when it was released, but that had changed the course of musical history: Like a Rolling Stone.

dylan wasn’t very well liked for changing direction and trying to get people to come along with him. he initially wasn’t very popular. and he sure as shit pissed a whole truck load of people off, and often. but dylan had something to say, and he didn’t really care if people didn’t quite see eye-to-eye with his truth. he wasn’t interested in being a beloved house-hold name, in fact he outright rejected becoming like everyone else. he was interested in speaking his truth. sometimes when we exist in that sweet spot we effortlessly channel our craft, we flow with our voices, we create something to give back to the world, and everything is in sync. sometimes our truth leads us to step out of that sweet spot to create something… sometimes we need to take a risk to use our words and actions honestly.

back in high school, i’ll willingly admit i was not the most popular girl at school. by “i was not the most popular”, i mean i was the nerdiest, most rebellious, completely below the radar, punk-rock loving, dog-chain wearing, gender bending closeted freak you can imagine. whether its because i organically never fit in or whether its a result of my not fitting in that i rejected it, the world may never know. i specifically remember a catalytic moment in 3rd grade, when, befriended by the most popular girl in school, Ashley M*, i realized she was taking my unicorn pencils without my asking. she was having a pool party and wasn’t inviting my other friends because they were “smelly”. to top it all off, i told her a secret and she had directly went and told everyone in class. i walked up to ashley marino, and in a rare moment of asserting myself and breaking out of my shyness that i would rediscover until middle school, i told Ashley Marino to shove it, and to give me my unicorn pencils back. actually, what i think i said was: “I don’t want to be your friend anymore!”, but to me it felt like the former.

it was in that moment i realized that there was a structure to the kids around me, mostly revolving around privilege, money, looks, and meanness. and once i realized that i also realized i had no desire to participate in what i would later learned was essentially Being Popular.

this rejection of the social norm continued for most of my life. hear and there, there were attempt to homogenize myself, to neglect my own truth and try to become part of the popular crowd; these attempts would mostly end in failure when the group realized something was up: i was traitor in their midst. i always had something dissenting to say, or wore the wrong thing, or wanted to do something that seemed below them. eventually i gave up trying; i just didn’t dig perpetuating the same cycle of fake friendliness, cruelty, pretending to be ways i wasn’t…

now, i understand that this is my “story”. at some junctures in my life it made me feel bad about myself. the unhappiness of trying to be well-liked, beloved, to always look good and the fear of losing that made me do some wretched things. Most of all, it made me rot inside. Like a pretty candy apple with worms in the middle. Glossy and bereft of nutrition. But I also understand that we create meaning in our lives in whatever way we choose: and I chose this story, so I’m living it out.

part of living that story was learning how to speak truth, even if that did make me really unpopular. things that aren’t pretty make people uncomfy, and the truth isn’t usually very pretty. i’ve gotten pretty well versed on that kind of truth: on calling myself out on my bullshit, and calling other people out too. i realize sometimes that’s going to make people angry. i realize sometimes its going to initially hurt people’s feelings. but i also see that the greater good comes from living truthfully, from walking truthfully, from speaking truthfully. i know that whoever receives it, will eventually be better for it. although it all depends on how you receive it.

so let me take the first step, and offer some unpopular opinions right here and right now: how have so many of us gotten so far from OUR sweet spot, but without using that exploration as a vehicle for truth? walking around, doing our thing, ignoring the the things that bother us or that we don’t want to deal with and without contributing anything useful to the world? how have we so lost focus on creating change, on speaking truth, on being radical, just for the sake of being well-liked a popular? lately, i see yoga becoming a lot more a more like being back in high school.

Instead of creating change, instead of making ourselves and our students more aware so that we can shift the greater consciousness of the world, we’ve become a homogenized group of flexible cheerleaders for “detoxing”, “creating good vibes”, and doing perfect handstands. Is it because we want to all be well liked without rocking the boat? Is it because we’d rather have things be pretty, than be honest? Where is the dissenting voice promoting the use of our power, strength, awareness, compassion and consciousness for petitioning the U.N., for creating equal and fair legislation for all of our citizens, for spending our bucks on fair trade small businesses instead of hundred dollar yoga pants made with petroleum? Where are the teachers teaching real world lessons, creating mobilized empowered students, instead of preaching about tenets of yoga while they pay lip service to actually working towards substantial change of creating a better world? I know pointing this stuff out is going to piss people off; that can happen when you speak your truth.

I’m also not saying that there AREN’T any teachers and students doing these things… those who are do amazing and beneficial work. But wow, are they are far and few between. All of this yoga “stuff” we do: it’s not just for a hot bod. It’s not to feel holy and then just sit in our holiness. Its not to teach classes geared towards making everything look pretty. We practice to create awareness, to kill unconciousness, to create change. And not just within ourselves, on our mats, in our cute outfits and awesome facebook pictures.

So I’m ready to make people angry, if its to tell a greater truth and to live that with my actions. I’ll move out of my sweet spot. I’m here to be unpopular.

julialeeyoga:

This morning I was scheduled to sub a class for a fellow instructor who’s currently away on vacation. This instructor is popular and well-liked around the studio, and her classes are known for being both challenging and balanced. During my class prep, I was considering a sequence with lots of…

i, too am not a rockstar teacher. but i have learned more from that than all the popularity in the world could teach me. and im grateful for that.

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