Many people have trouble expressing how they feel. I have the opposite problem; I have trouble keeping what I feel inside. If you get to know this blog, you will know me better than people who see me everyday. I don't post as much as many, but everything I post really means something to me, a little sliver of who I am. I'm a passive conversationalist; I listen more than I talk. But I put all of myself into what I write. Oh, and, for what it's worth, I'm so much INFP it's like the description was written specifically for me. Please ask anything you like.
Sometimes it takes more courage not to let yourself see. Sometimes knowledge is damaging - not enlightenment but enleadenment. If one recognizes the difference and prepares oneself - it is extraordinarily brave. Because when it comes to certain human miseries, the only witnesses should be the pavement and maybe the trees.
The way the animals live, everybody envies them, because look, a cat, when it walks—did you ever see a cat making an aesthetic mistake. Did you ever see a badly formed cloud? Were the stars ever misarranged? When you watch the foam breaking on the seashore, did it ever make a bad pattern? Never. And yet we think in what we do, we make mistakes.
"Nothing is stronger than the bond between mother and child. This certainly rings true at the Leroux household in Ontario, Canada. Their daughter loves one of her mom’s songs so much, it sends her into a flood of tears every time she hears it. Mom, Amanda Leroux, told Storyful: "No one can explain why, not even I. I can sing any other song and do not get the same reaction from her. It’s too adorable to keep all to ourselves."
Rarely post stuff like this, but this is too cool, that the baby only reacts this way to this song, “My Heart Can’t Tell You No.” My favorite version is Rod Stewart’s, but Mom can sing. Can’t watch again; hard to watch the baby cry, working hard to hold back the tears. Talk about an old soul.
This song helped me get through a really tough time when my best friend died in ‘07. Thanks, Lou.
There are things we say we wish we knew and in fact we never do But I wish I’d known that you were going to die Then I wouldn’t feel so stupid, such a fool that I didn’t call And I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye
No there’s no logic to this - who’s picked to stay or go If you think too hard it only makes you mad But your optimism made me think you really had it beat So I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye
I don’t care about your religion.
I don’t care whether you have no money or you’re affluent.
I don’t care whether you are popular or not.
I care that you wake up every morning and smile at the person you see in the mirror,
even when grief tells you not to.
I care that you speak to yourself kindly,
and do your best to give yourself hope when it feels like there’s no hope left—especially when grief tells you to keep busy.
I care that you spend time with yourself,
imagining a new life,
dreaming of what could be.
Regardless of how much you’ve lost or how many of your dreams were shattered,
please remember to keep dreaming.
Above all else,
I care that your heart keeps beating with life despite your loss— no matter your circumstances,
net worth, or list of accomplishments.
Your heart doesn’t care about the mistakes,
the losses, the language you speak,
or who your family is.
All your heart wants to know is whether it can count on the next beat,
the next pump of blood,
the next breath.