mountaintop view

🥀🌊"You can’t really begin to appreciate life until it has knocked you down a few times. You can’t really begin to appreciate love until your heart has been broken. And you can’t really begin to appreciate happiness until you’ve known sadness. Once you’ve walked through the valley, the view from the mountaintop is breathtaking.“🌄💕✨

The Path to the Mountaintop

by Saṃsāran  

Pain, fear, sorrow, and loss are going to come to each of us. Sure we meditate and we seek delivery from “suffering” but is this attainable? I mean can regular people with jobs, kids, school, and other responsibilities do this? What does it mean to be “free of suffering” anyway? I think a great many people think that if they read enough, learn enough, meditate enough and live a moral life that they will reach a sort of breakthrough where a switch is turned on and, voilà, there is no more pain. 

I don’t think this is what the Buddha meant. We must ask ourselves is an existence in a perpetual state of bliss desirable? Sure, when we are hurting inside it sounds like just the thing, but, is it really? Is life without fear, pain, and sorrow really life? One could compare this to an addict with a steady supply of morphine. Living in a state of perpetual bliss like the lotus eaters of Greek mythology. Living in a constant state of joy which left them devoid of the internal fire of creation. 

So, one may very well ask “what is all this Buddhism stuff all about if it doesn’t give me an escape from my troubles?” The answer is simple. It gives us the ability to deal with whatever sorrows come our way. We attain a peaceful power, the power of the immovable stone in the river. The sorrow comes and it flows around us and over us but does not move us.

This is what happens when we commit to a practice. Oh, I feel compelled to point out that I do not say that Buddhism is the only way. It is just the way I have chosen.

“There are many paths to the mountaintop, but the view is always the same.”

– Zen Proverb

“Well, I haven’t been practicing what I preach.
Well, I haven’t been practicing much of anything anymore.
I tried to live a clean life, lean towards health and making you proud,
But I became too focused on another lingering rain cloud.
I forgot what sunlight felt like,
I almost grabbed for the dirt I kicked away.
I wanted to throw it in my own eyes
Until I forgot the sight of how our bodies used to lay.

You only you can change yourself,
But lord knows you were a big fucking help.

It’s hard to find yourself when you’re more drunk than you’re sober
When every thought you’ve ever thought is gone before the night is over.

You made me a liar in my joyful youth.
You sparked a fire seen from a mountaintop view,
I’m on the ground, I’m still burning for you.
And I’m still learning from you only you.”

- Only You by Dads

you know when you hear a song and think it must have been written about your life

Meme time!

I was tagged by @mythicaltomatosoup (thanksies ^^)

Rules: tag nine users you want to get to know better

How old are you?: 32 (turning 33 in two weeks)

Current job: Financial analyst

Dream job: There are so many things I would like to do, I cannot choose one dream job, I’d love to play in an orchestra, be a veterinarian, a scientist, a surgeon

What are you talented at?: Learning languages (I speak Georgian, Russian, English, Japanese and am learning Norwegian now, I understand Italian quite well, some German, would love to learn Icelandic, French and Portuguese <3) and giving presents <3

What is a big goal you are working towards, or have already achieved?: I’ve never head a goal in my life :\ I’ve kind of been going with the flow for the past 15 years.

What is your aesthetic?: Sounds of nature, views from mountaintops

Do you collect anything?: Nope

What is a topic you’re always up to talk about?: Literature, languages

What’s a pet peeve of yours?: At the office: when someone uses all the hot water and leaves the kettle empty

Good advice to give?: “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Recommend three songs?: I’m on an Icelandic wave atm so <3 “Going Home” by Ásgeir, "Save Yourself” by Kaleo“Isobel” by Björk  

I’m new at this so, spare me :D :blushes:

Luke Imagine: Panic Over Your Pregnancy

Author: Rhine


He wasn’t ready.

Not when he had a world tour, not when he had another album on the way, not when he was supposed to be recorded and interviewed; stages and bright lights and tour buses and airplanes.

He wasn’t ready to be a father, not when he was at the very peak of his life.

And he knows it.

He knows, this is the mountaintop view; the fans cheering for him, screaming his name and his lyrics, the lights of flashing cameras and the touchdown of airplane runways every single day.

The interviews, the red carpets, the celebrities, the awards, the after parties; the sold-out arenas and the lineup for blocks, his face plastered over merchandise, his name written on billboards and theatres with his friends across the world.

This is his high – the whole world at his fingertips before he’s even in his twenties – this is his high and Luke isn’t ready to fall, not just yet.

Not when it’s just begun.

But this is what it feels like, that’s what is was when you told him those words he wasn’t ready to hear, not for another decade – I’m pregnant.

And he automatically wishes he could clear the words from his head, rewind time so he could run before he had to face the truth, the facts that were splayed out before him.

You were pregnant – with his child – and just like that, everything comes crashing down.

He isn’t ready.

He’s just an eighteen year old boy on the cusp of being a legend for everything he’s accomplished – more than what most will have in a life, on top of the world – and with those simple words, it all crumbles down on him.

No, no, no – Luke isn’t ready to give up the late night parties and alcoholic high, he’s not ready to give up the reckless behaviour of a teen, of a star – he’s still just a boy, for Pete’s sake – and he’s not ready, not mentally, not emotionally, not at all to be a father.

He can’t settle just when everything’s picking up.

Because he’s still young, he’s still foolish, he’s still stupid – and that’s exactly what it was – a foolish, stupid, one-night mistake from a young boy who couldn’t calculate the consequences.

And it’s all too much; the replacement of his whimsical fun for fatherhood responsibility, the flashing lights of cameras on red carpets to loud wails of a child as he dragged himself down the hallway at night.

It’s too much for him to handle.

Just thinking about it leaves a sick feeling in Luke’s stomach, and it’s bad enough that he’s just barely an adult and suddenly forced with the responsibility to be a father, but he’s a teen icon and the very thing that he used to cherish – his face on posters, his name on records, his appearances on TV, his songs on the radio – those very things will turn on him the moment this goes public.

And suddenly it won’t be Luke Hemmings, charming lead singer of rising band – it’ll be nothing but Luke Hemmings, no more summer fun, Luke Hemmings, baby of the band now father to a baby – tabloids and gossip and rumours and oh god, he can barely even imagine the nasty response he’ll get for this.

For his stupid moment of intoxicated lust, for his clumsy ignorance, for his mistake that halted what could’ve been a long career now cut short with fatherhood responsibilities, with a tainted name as that band member who got a girl pregnant at eighteen.

He can see it crashing before his very eyes, everything he’s worked so hard for, everything he’s ever dreamed of.


No, it’ll be worse – it’ll be worse because not only will it be gone, but it’ll be publicized, so he’ll never forget.

So he could never escape, so he’ll always remember what could’ve been if he could’ve been less stupid.

And he’s staring at you with your red-tinted eyes – did he once ever think about you? – and he stutters out the words that are shaken by his fear of the meaning that came with what you told him.

I’m sorry. I – I can’t. I… I’m not ready.

It’s his way of saying he’s out, that you’re on your own.

And you want to scream at him, you want to physically claw at his arms because to hell, you weren’t ready either, and who is he to back out of this mess when he had just as much of a role as you in creating it?

But he walks away and you watch.

And in doing so, Luke saves his career from falling, but he can’t stop the tears that stream down your cheeks.

He had to let something crash, and he chose you.


You didn’t need him anyway.

You were scared and you were alone and god, were you hurt that he chose to blanket his reputation instead of your pain, but you made it, you made it through without him.

It was long and it was painstakingly slow; months upon months with a growing stomach, a growing reminder of what you had living inside of you, of the responsibilities that came with it.

And it reminded you of the person who helped cause this – no, create this – the person who was supposed to be there to give you foot rubs, to ask if you were okay, to hold doors open for you – and it reminded you of how he was gone.

You wake up and your stomach grows and so does your hurt and so does your fear because it’s been nearly six months since you told Luke and you realize you’re still not ready either.

But unlike him, you couldn’t walk away – and you wouldn’t abandon something that was yours, you wouldn’t flee from your responsibilities – no, not like him.

And so you spent your months on this rollercoaster of the happiness in this little life you would call yours and the sadness of thinking of the life you wished you could give.

No matter – you’ll do your best, and that life for your child will be the only life they needed.

You didn’t need him, your child didn’t need him.

You try hard to tell yourself that maybe it was better that Luke walked away.

You accepted the crash that he set you up for, but you can’t stop the tears that keep on falling every night as you lie alone.


You avoided him, but he came back to you.

You turned the radio off when you heard the first chords of their stupid songs – talking about love like he knew what it meant – ha! You think it funny, how Luke writes songs that makes thousands of girls swoon, but oh, if only they knew, if only they knew how fast he’d leave this so-called love for his more tangible fame – you can’t stop laughing.

Your eyes automatically reverted away from all signs of him; band posters and concert announcements and merchandise in stores, out of sight as an attempt for out of mind.

But then a few months after your child is born – a baby is a handful with all the things you had to sacrifice to keep this little bundle of life happy and growing, but there’s nothing you’d change, there’s nothing else you need – and then Luke shows up at your doorstep.

And by this point, you’ve taken this tiny human life and grown to love the little gurgled laugh and messy smiles, you loved and you cared for the moment you first held the small bundle in your arms as you lie propped on the hospital bed, tired and worn but so in love with someone new.

Someone who taught you that sacrifices and pain and hurt and hardship would all be worth it in the end.

And even though the blue eyes that sparkle back up at you always sting, the baby was yours entirely, grown from your hardship and nurtured in your love.

But then he comes along, he comes back into your life with a  knock to your door just before midnight – and you find yourself staring into the blue orbs that were almost identical to your child’s, closed and sleeping in the other room.

“I’m sorry.”

“Go to hell, Luke.”

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but the sudden acid in your voice, the sudden knives in your eyes throws him off.

You look a little more worn out than when he saw you last; circles underneath your eyes a little more predominant, hair a little messier, hips a little wider – and you’ve changed, you’ve changed.

You’re no longer the girl who silently begged him to stay; you’re the woman who sternly told him to get out.

“I want to see my child.”

Your child? Luke, you don’t have a child. You made sure of that when you chose to walk away.”

“I have a child and I had a part in making that life – and to hell that you’d say I don’t have a part in her that life now.”

Fuck off, Luke. You had a part? You didn’t have a part in those nine months of carrying that child. You didn’t have a part in making sure nothing happened before the due date, you didn’t have a part in the checkups and the ultrasounds and the specialists. You didn’t have a part in the eight-hour hospital birth, you didn’t have a part in choosing the name or going home again. You didn’t have a part in buying things or learning how to be a parent, you didn’t have a part in the crying and the feeding and the diaper changing. You didn’t have a part in jackshit, Luke.”

“I – “

“You’re fucking sorry. But does that make up for nine months of absence? Does that make up for the complete abandonment you put me through for the sake of your oh-so-important and fragile career? Does that make up for the fact that you ran away from your responsibilities and probably screwed ten other girls in the process? Yeah, you’re sorry and that’s all fine and peachy for you to come in and say that when you suffered nothing, but in case you can’t tell, I don’t give a shit about you anymore. Just like how you didn’t give a shit about me.”

He’s silent.

But the words are spilling like lava from your lips, heated anger from all the lonely nights and isolation and judgement; all the things he put you through when he walked away just because he didn’t want to shoulder some responsibility.

“And how dare you barge into my life and claim you have a part in it after you willingly decided that you didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby? How dare you have the nerve to come crawling back, demanding to see a child that you completely abandoned? After everything you’ve done, Luke – after all the shit you put me through – you decide to show up like everything’s fine and dandy, like I’ll run back to you and we’ll be a happy little family after you left me when I needed you to most? You’re absolutely adorable, Luke Robert Hemmings. Precious.

You spit out the words, watching in satisfaction as the guilt seeps into his blue eyes, spreading to his drooped shoulders and shameful posture.

You didn’t want him, you didn’t need him, and this time there was no more pretending, no more trying to convince yourself – you know it for certain now.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Luke. And don’t you ever come back.”

He’s numb from the knives of your words that left wounds in him, and you practically push the broad-shouldered boy out the doorway.

“I hope your success was worth it.”

Your words are almost lost to the wind, but the bitterness it carries goes straight to his heart.

You close the door with a final click of the lock behind you, leaving the tall blonde alone in the silent street.

And for the second time, he leaves.


more imagines here!

If you are working hard but feel you are not improving at all it’s simply not true. You’re just doing the work necessary for your next break through, the next ‘ah, ha!’ moment where all that effort clicks into place functionally and easily. The longer you’ve been doing something the longer these 'plateaus’ can seem to last. It’s simply a learning curve declining in its steepness now and then. It is not YOU declining.
The point is: don’t stop learning. Don’t quit because you feel you’re not advancing well or fast enough. Stop because you’re utterly uninterested anymore and receive no benefits from it not because of a perceived stagnation or wall. There are always more mountaintops with beautiful views of accomplishment just over the wall.
—  Something My Jiu jitsu Instructor Said

anonymous asked:

Why should I stay alive

For me. For your family. For your friends. For all of the people that you’ve lent pencils in class who know your name and remember that you were nice to them, but nothing else about you. The people that hardly know you, but would be fucking devastated to know that such a nice person left the world so early. Live for music, live for breezy spring days. Live for blowing bubbles and decorating and seeing your friends crack a smile. Live for the tears, because pain, like everything else is only temporary. Live for the moon peeking out from behind the clouds on a grey night. Live for concerts, live for beaches, live for morning news and bowls of cereal. Live for mountaintop views and the promise of better days to come. Live for yourself, because even if you were to be the only person you’ve got, you’re the best fucking thing you could ever have.