Forwarded from TR HQ (TruthRascal)
A healed person is not a “perfect”person.
A healed person just loves and accepts what IS without judgement. A healed person has looked at all the wounds, scars and blemishes and kissed them. Not to make them go away, but to tell them that it’s ok to stay. And in doing so, they lose all their power. They become cherished and beautiful in their own right.
Perfection is an illusion, not because it’s unattainable, but because you are already perfect…despite all the things you think are wrong with you.
There is nothing wrong with you.
You are not broken.
You are not bad.
You are Human.
And Creation does not make mistakes.
@TruthRascalHQ ✨💕✨
A healed person just loves and accepts what IS without judgement. A healed person has looked at all the wounds, scars and blemishes and kissed them. Not to make them go away, but to tell them that it’s ok to stay. And in doing so, they lose all their power. They become cherished and beautiful in their own right.
Perfection is an illusion, not because it’s unattainable, but because you are already perfect…despite all the things you think are wrong with you.
There is nothing wrong with you.
You are not broken.
You are not bad.
You are Human.
And Creation does not make mistakes.
@TruthRascalHQ ✨💕✨
🔥18
Forwarded from Tee🐦🤍
Pink Moon – The Pond by Mary Oliver
You think it will never happen again.
Then, one night in April,
the tribes wake trilling.
You walk down to the shore.
Your coming stills them,
but little by little the silence lifts
until song is everywhere
and your soul rises from your bones
and strides out over the water.
It is a crazy thing to do –
for no one can live like that,
floating around in the darkness
over the gauzy water.
Left on the shore your bones
keep shouting come back!
But your soul won’t listen;
in the distance it is sparkling
like hot wires. So,
like a good friend,
you decide to follow.
You step off the shore
and plummet to your knees –
you slog forward to your thighs
and sink to your cheekbones –
and now you are caught
by the cold chains of the water –
you are vanishing while around you
the frogs continue to sing, driving
their music upward through your own throat,
not even noticing
you are someone else.
And that’s when it happens –
you see everything
through their eyes,
their joy, their necessity;
you wear their webbed fingers;
your throat swells.
And that’s when you know
you will live whether you will or not,
one way or another,
because everything is everything else,
one long muscle.
It’s no more mysterious than that.
So you relax, you don’t fight it anymore,
the darkness coming down
called water,
called spring,
called the green leaf, called
a woman’s body
as it turns into mud and leaves,
as it betas in its cage of water,
as it turns like a lonely spindle
in the moonlight, as it says
yes.
"Pink Moon-The Pond". Copyright © 1979. Back Bay Books
You think it will never happen again.
Then, one night in April,
the tribes wake trilling.
You walk down to the shore.
Your coming stills them,
but little by little the silence lifts
until song is everywhere
and your soul rises from your bones
and strides out over the water.
It is a crazy thing to do –
for no one can live like that,
floating around in the darkness
over the gauzy water.
Left on the shore your bones
keep shouting come back!
But your soul won’t listen;
in the distance it is sparkling
like hot wires. So,
like a good friend,
you decide to follow.
You step off the shore
and plummet to your knees –
you slog forward to your thighs
and sink to your cheekbones –
and now you are caught
by the cold chains of the water –
you are vanishing while around you
the frogs continue to sing, driving
their music upward through your own throat,
not even noticing
you are someone else.
And that’s when it happens –
you see everything
through their eyes,
their joy, their necessity;
you wear their webbed fingers;
your throat swells.
And that’s when you know
you will live whether you will or not,
one way or another,
because everything is everything else,
one long muscle.
It’s no more mysterious than that.
So you relax, you don’t fight it anymore,
the darkness coming down
called water,
called spring,
called the green leaf, called
a woman’s body
as it turns into mud and leaves,
as it betas in its cage of water,
as it turns like a lonely spindle
in the moonlight, as it says
yes.
"Pink Moon-The Pond". Copyright © 1979. Back Bay Books
❤12👍3
Forwarded from Ash
Spotify
Free (feat. Emeli Sandé)
Rudimental, Emeli Sandé · Song · 2013
Forwarded from Karen Edgin
Pink moon in Idaho. Crystals are out and a cup with moonstone for moon water.
❤9
Forwarded from 🔥Embers from Ash🌻 (Ash)
A few pics my friend caught of last night's moon. We had complete cloud coverage so the last pic is one I took the night before last.
❤17
Forwarded from 🔥Embers from Ash🌻 (Ash)
“Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.”
~ Brené Brown
Image credit: Lisa Gran Jensen
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/4LDSqHSkbVDe1AYQ/?mibextid=xfxF2i
~ Brené Brown
Image credit: Lisa Gran Jensen
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/4LDSqHSkbVDe1AYQ/?mibextid=xfxF2i
❤18