i am coyote

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dylan strome getting stitched up during pratice (feat. marner) 08.04.16

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ambrosiathewitch  asked:

Hiii :) I've recently realized Coyote has been trying to get my attention for quite awhile now. Do you have any tips on how to work with Coyote? Thanks! <3 Blessed be

Namaste! And I apologize for my late response. I am not sure if i can be of any real help as i am still learning from coyote myself, but speaking from my experience working with coyote I’ve learned that it can be very tricky and frustrating at times. You must be willing to be very patient, keep a watchful eye out and observe your surroundings, listen, be prepared and willing to adapt to quick changes. Expect the unexpected with coyote. Their songs and the way the move are clues. Coyote has so much to teach us, but we must allow them to guide us, meditation is always good, for me i walk in the path and see through coyote’s eyes.^^  

~Blessed be

It was our Destiny || steroline fanfic|| ch 1 (A/U)

Summary:

“Do you ever feel like there is no one in this world who loves you.” Her tears fell from the corner of her eyes making its ways through her cheeks. She lost the supposed love of her life so many times, and now she feared to fell for those green orbs with every single second.

A/N: This Fic was getting dusted sitting on my laptop, and so I just thought of posting it here. Although I did made some changes here and there taking some suggestions i was pointed out, its still not the best though. but anyways, you can read it :)



“Caroline, you are getting late.” Sarah’s voice was on high pitch piercing through Caroline’s ear.

“I know, why do you think I am running like a coyote here?” She was grabbing her notes and putting them into her bag as fast as possible.

Sarah looked at her, who was walking crazily from one corner to another n their dorm room.

“We have to shift to the apartments today you know that right?” questioned Sarah.

“Yeah, don’t remind me. I will come later, take all my bags and will head straight to the apartment. But right now I can’t be late for this class. As my first day, the first impression is so not gonna be the one of being a lazy student, and I don’t want to fail my elective class either. So, I will just, rush.” Said Caroline breathlessly.

“Who told you to take the literature class? It is so boring.”

“Yeah but it will be good for my major, you know. I will see you later.” Said Caroline while going out of her dorm.

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“I Am Coyote” 2013, acrylic on canvas.

This is done for the “I Am Coyote” art show in Heartland forest. The coyote is a versatile symbol for many cultures, but is particularly special to Native American beliefs. Although the Coyote is seen as a trickster, it is also seen as a hunter and a healer. Furthermore, the coyote is a faithful companion to it’s kin, being the only canine who will undoubtedly remain with one mate throughout the entirety of it’s life (while wolves are known for much the same, if prey and shelter are bountiful, the wolf will often take on more than one mate; the Coyote does not).

I am Coyote is a display of all these characteristics that bind myself, as a human being, to the ways of the coyote. I am a hunter, I am a trickster, I am a healer, I am faithful. I am Coyote.

I’m all set up at BLFC! Dealers Den, table 48! I am next to Urban Coyote Wares and the same row as Mary Mouse. I got new prints! I also have plenty of corgi plushes but they always sell out quickly so come by early! Secondly, Noemi is debuting her corgi resin figures at my table!

Stop by and say hi!

It’s mother’s day! And I am a mother. I am not a goddess. I am not a saint. I am not an angel. I am Wile E. Coyote and perfection is the Road Runner. There have been times in my life when I yearned to be a mother and couldn’t. There have been times when I was a mother and would have offered up the title to Mephistopheles in exchange for a few hours of sleep. At times I have wept with transcendental joy at the profound miracle of these precious tiny individuals, and hummed and sang and nearly burned up with the honor of being the one who got to care for them. At times I have wept with the crushing burden of being that one and allowed my gaze to flick to the road and contemplate, even for a second, on the possibility of just running away.

Most days fall somewhere between transcendental and crushing.

Mothers are not more blessed and sacred and noble than any other person. To claim so is unloading shovelfuls of weight on us that frankly makes it harder to do what we have to do. Also what we love to do, yearn to do, loathe to do. Choose to do. I am a mother. And I am flawed and messy and stumbling around making all this up as I go along. I don’t have the time or the balance to stand on a pedestal. I need to be down on my bare feet, down on my knees at times, in the muck of life. But by all means, give me some chocolate today and an extra hour to sleep in. And give me a day when I’m reminded to think about my own mother, mother-in-law, and leagues of women, with or without children, who don’t have the time or balance for a pedestal but are just their badass selves, down here with me, making this all up as we go along.