the language of our souls

All human actions are motivated at their deepest level by two emotions–fear or love. In truth there are only two emotions–only two words in the language of the soul…. Fear wraps our bodies in clothing, love allows us to stand naked. Fear clings to and clutches all that we have, love gives all that we have away. Fear holds close, love holds dear. Fear grasps, love lets go. Fear rankles, love soothes. Fear attacks, love amends.
—  Neale Donald Walsch

“Ecce Homo” by José de Ribera, 1620

Prayers by St. Thérèse of Lisieux to the Holy Face of Jesus

To the Holy Face
O Jesus, who in Thy cruel Passion didst become the “Reproach of men and the Man of Sorrows,” I worship Thy Divine Face. Once it shone with the beauty and sweetness of the Divinity: now for my sake it has become as the face of a “leper.” Yet in that disfigured countenance I recognize Thy infinite love, and I am consumed with the desire of loving Thee and of making Thee loved by all mankind. The tears that streamed in such abundance from Thine eyes are to me as precious pearls which I delight to gather, that with their infinite worth I may ransom the souls of poor sinners.
O Jesus, whose Face is the sole beauty that ravishes my heart, I may not behold here upon earth the sweetness of Thy glance, nor feel the ineffable tenderness of Thy kiss. Thereto, I consent, but I pray Thee to imprint in me Thy Divine Likeness, and I implore Thee to so inflame me with Thy love, that it may quickly consume me, and soon I may reach the vision of Thy glorious Face in heaven! Amen.

Prayer for Sinners
Eternal Father, since Thou hast given me for my inheritance the Adorable Face of Thy Divine Son, I offer that Face to Thee, and I beg Thee, in exchange for this coin of infinite value, to forget the ingratitude of souls dedicated to Thee, and to pardon all poor sinners.

Act of Consecration to the Holy Face (for her novices)
O Adorable Face of Jesus! since Thou hast deigned to make special choice of our souls, in order to give Thyself to them, we come to consecrate these souls to Thee. We seem, O Jesus, to hear Thee say: “Open to me, my Sisters, my Spouses, for My Face is wet with the dew, and My Locks with the drops of the night.”
Our souls understand Thy language of love; we desire to wipe Thy sweet Face, and to console Thee for the contempt of the wicked. In their eyes Thou art still “as it were hidden…they esteem Thee an object of reproach.”
O Blessed Face, more lovely than the lilies and the roses of spring, Thou art not hidden from us. The tears which dim Thine Eyes are as precious pearls which we delight to gather, and through their infinite value, to purchase the souls of our brethren.
From Thy Adorable Lips we have heard Thy loving plaint: “I thirst.” Since we know that this thirst which consumes Thee is a thirst for love, to quench it we would wish to posses an infinite love. Dear Spouse of our souls, if we could love with the love of all hearts, that love would be Thine!… Give us, O Lord, this love! Then come to thy Spouses and satisfy Thy Thirst. And give to us souls, dear Lord!… We thirst for souls… above all for the souls of apostles and martyrs…that through them we may inflame all poor sinners with love of Thee.
O Adorable Face, we shall succeed in winning this grace from Thee! Unmindful of our exile, “by the rivers of Babylon” we sing in Thine Ears the sweetest of melodies. Since Thou art the true and only Home of our souls, our songs shall not be sung in a strange land.
O Beloved Face of Jesus, while we await the Eternal Day when we shall gaze upon Thy Infinite Glory, our only desire is to delight Thy Divine Eyes by keeping our faces hidden too, so that no one on earth may recognize us… Dear Jesus, Heaven for us is Thy Hidden Face.

the earth’s just full of death
and hearts horrified
even by the slightest stroke of the wind
we write our tragedy, 
battling through a few more thousand blinks
by taking evil head-on first
in fact,
even murder can now be tempted
by the spit from our languages
and leave bitter, awful scratches to our souls
—  a.
we walk away
not say a word
yet our souls
have indulged
collaborating
using a language
that is unknown
as i distant myself
i ache
—  amy kaur, unspoken

An Act of Consecration to the Holy Face by St. Thérèse

O Adorable Face of Jesus, since Thou hast deigned to make special choice of our souls, in order to give Thyself to them, we come to consecrate these souls to Thee. We seem, O Jesus, to hear Thee say: “Open to Me, My Sisters, My Spouses, for My Face is wet with the dew, and My Locks with the drops of the night.”  Our souls understand Thy language of love; we desire to wipe Thy sweet Face, and to console Thee for the contempt of the wicked. In their eyes Thou art still “as it were hidden … they esteem Thee an object of reproach." 

O Blessed Face, more lovely than the lilies and the roses of the spring, Thou art not hidden from us. The tears which dim Thine Eyes are as precious pearls which we delight to gather, and, through their infinite value, to purchase the souls of our brethren.

From Thy Adorable Lips we have heard Thy loving plaint: "I thirst.” Since we know that this thirst which consumes Thee is a thirst for love, to quench it we would wish to possess an infinite love. Dear Spouse of our souls, if we could love with the love of all hearts, that love would be Thine… . Give us, O Lord, this love! Then come to thy Spouses and satisfy Thy Thirst. And give to us souls, dear Lord … We thirst for souls! – Above all for the souls of Apostles and Martyrs … that through them we may inflame all poor sinners with love of Thee.

O Adorable Face, we shall succeed in winning this grace from Thee! Unmindful of our exile, “by the rivers of Babylon,” we will sing in Thine Ears the sweetest of melodies. Since Thou art the true and only Home of our souls, our songs shall not be sung in a strange land.  O Beloved Face of Jesus, while we await the Eternal Day when we shall gaze upon Thine Infinite Glory, our only desire is to delight Thy Divine Eyes by keeping our faces hidden too, so that no one on earth may recognize us … Dear Jesus, Heaven for us is Thy Hidden Face!

4

Dean: Y'know what else is considerably less adorable? Me when your flakey ass craps out on the furnace again, Elf. You had one job. 
Sami: The furnace works fine Dean! Which part of my being made of smokeless fire wasn’t understood?!
Roman: What’s got you all distracted, Gingersnaps? 
Sami: Guests! Curious ones see? 
Alexa: Ohmigosh! Are there children? 
Cesaro: ….Are they to be trusted? 
Roman: Awww Claudio c'mon. Ain’t like everyone droppin’ by for a visit is a slobberin’ hellbeast sent forth by a malevolent entity that predates written language yeah? 
Dean: You forgot ‘Hell-bent on cocksucking our souls dry’. Real important shit right there. 
Alexa: Oh hush y'all, I think they’re just fine! The birds would have warned us if there was trouble!
Cesaro: Well then, welcome aboard my friends! How can our humble company be of service today? 

anonymous asked:

Hi I'm a young teenage white female. I was hoping you could help me understand the difference between cultural appropriation and appreciation. I want to make sure that I can be as educated on the topic as much as possible so in my future I don't offend anyone. There are certain cultures that I have been trying to learn more about. If I were to dress as one of those cultures as a way of showing respect vs. a costume for Halloween is that appropriation or appreciation? Thank you!

♕  Note: This is going to be my last post on the subject of white people and natural hair and cultural appropriation. At least for awhile. I wrote this one real quick. I hope it all makes sense and meshes well for those that are enjoying the discourse.

To Anon:

Awesome question. Awesome attitude. 

First things first. There’s absolutely no correlation between dressing like a particular people and appreciating those people. Appreciation is rooted in values, empathy and action. Dressing doesn’t denote or guarantee any of these things. But, how do we know?

For simplicity’s sake, I’m just going to speak relative to Black people or people of African Descent. We heavily influenced, and in some cases downright created every form of modern music: blues, jazz, country, rock’n’roll, techno, house, trance, gospel, ragtime, swing, bee-bop/doo-wop, disco and pop. African influence on American food is undeniable. In fact, everything you call “comfort food” is influenced by the unfortunate necessity for enslaved Africans to adapt to America. Every major fashion designer has incorporated concepts from color and symmetry to cut and shape from African and urban African-Americans clothing. Throughout America, Europe and Latin America there are many words, as well as popular vernacular that were contributed by African or African-American/African-Euro/Afro-Latin. The adoption of our words, terms and casual lingo is so pervasive that when we figure about half or more White people are using our words/phrases we create new ones! Even the church in America would be different without Black people. From the songs you sing to your recognition of the Holy Ghost to how you perform baptisms, etc. 

Now, I could go on and on, but I think we’ve got enough examples to make my point. How did this mass transfer of identity and culture impact Black and White people? We were enslaved for 200+ years. We suffered through Jim Crow. Our men and boys were lynched. Our women and girls were raped. There are extensive studies on the torture that was performed on us. Everything done to a farm animal sent to slaughter has been performed on a Black person - by White people. This wasn’t done with the approval of a few. Not a lot. But by most. By and large, the majority of White people agreed, participated or at minimum benefited from it. Now, how can it be that our women were allowed to serve as nannies, raising white children during and well after slavery, our music filling your ears, our dress, language and culinary skills filling your souls up and still you chose to whip, murder, discriminate and violate us at every turn? Why do these things still continue to happen? Did not culture serve as a gateway of appreciation? No, Black culture has served as a commodity. Something to acquire, control, monetize, marginalize, ridicule. In a lot of ways our culture has served as a kind of “Disneyland”. While you may enjoy everything about going there, you probably wouldn’t use the words “respect” or “valuable” to describe your relationship with it. 

White people’s desire to acquire our culture stems from a deep vacuum. The absence of something in themselves and their own culture. I’m not White, so I don’t know what that is. But you must seek that out. Or create it, without borrowing. I love seeing Native (Americans) in traditional clothes. I love seeing Japanese women in Kimono. I love seeing Arabic women in  bedlah when they belly dance. But, I’ve never had a deep desire to see what Black people look like in their traditional garb. And keep in mind, unlike a lot of people who claim it, I really do have some distant Native roots! lol Never once. In fact, the idea seems idiotic. I’m not against seeing our culture subtly incorporated into fashion, music or whatever. It’s great. But, I don’t need to see a White person trying to “mimic me” anymore than I need to see a Black man dressed like what he thinks Buddha would have looked like. 

What I do when I want to show appreciation for another person’s culture is I buy a book. I watch a documentary. I find new sources that report from their perspective and I try to understand what their dreams, challenges and accomplishments are. I buy tickets to their plays, art exhibitions, festivals, etc. I go, I ask questions, I smile, I marvel, I observe their customs during these events out of respect, and then I go home. I don’t mimic any of it on my own time. If I decide to buy something, I may display it in my home, rock a simple shirt or clothing item, but all-out garb, and only after I have carefully researched it. And you’ll never see a Black person with a house full of non-African artifacts. But, there are a lot of White people that do this. If you’re Irish, why not go to Ireland and buy up all the 300 yr old Irish art? Put that in your home. 

I’ve met White people who go to Africa and want to be led into shrine rooms/temples that some people born in these countries have never seen. “I will build you a library or small clinic if you will take me into your most sacred worship space” they say! That’s crazy. Its insane. They say they ask out of “appreciation” and “deep respect” but if that’s the case, why don’t they help Black people demand the return of all African religious “art” to Africa? Nearly African artifact in every museum in the world that is over 50 years old was stolen! Most of it during the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade! During War! That means some traditional African priest or elder or young warrior died to protect those items, and now we take leisurely weekend trips to view them behind glass in White-ran museums. Now here is a good test. Having learned this interesting fact, if you don’t (1) tell every other White person you know (2) do everything you can to draw attention to this massive injustice - then you don’t really appreciate us. You want to own the “Disneyland” parts of us, like most other White people. 

This bring us back to my first point. Do your values force you to reevaluate how you perceive a people? Can you develop empathy for others and what they go through? Do your values and understanding of others compel you to work against institutional racism? If the answer is yes, you’ve joined the ranks of a very small group of White people. If the answer is no, whatever the reason, trust no one including yourself who says that is okay. It’s not. It never will be. 

I know my answer makes for a duller Halloween for White kids every year, but it makes the other 364 days out of the year much better for people of color. You don’t need to own a piece of me. You need to get to know me. And all you need is a book and event calendar to make that happen. If you really want to make a difference you need to look at the global impact of racism and white supremacy and do your part to reverse it. And you need to remember that one day you’ll be an adult and you’ll have a million excuses for why its better to go to work and mind your business. At that moment, you will become a part of the problem and inadvertently become an instrument of that system that hurts, steals and disenfranchises Black, Native and Asian people. Don’t be one of those people. We’d appreciate that.

Before I end this post I want to give a Super shout-out to my interracial folks. I know these conversations are especially difficult for you. Here’s where I stand: If one of your parents is a person of color, you’re a person of color. I can’t take that away from you. No one can. And why would we? I know many of you know the truth better than us. Which can make things especially uncomfortable. I know some of you didn’t get exposed to both sides of yourself and are hearing some of this for the first time. I believe 100% of what I’m saying. But, I also love you 100%. No contradiction. No issue. Submit ‘ya pics! lol

i hope namjoon never stops updating #RMusic and sharing his playlist with us.

not only does it show that he’s committed to growing and developing as a musician by constantly expanding his library, it really is a personal way for him to share a part of his life when he doesn’t have to.. and a huge part of his life at that, because music actually is his life.

also it speaks volumes to me that he’s able to support and love so many different artists from all over the world and respect their art, while traversing genre, language, and time barriers. music truly speaks to our souls when words and actions fail. so thank you namjoon for speaking to us. stay inspired we love you

Okay

A soulmate WolfStar fic (Sorry I just realized I missed the Soul Mate quote I was working from) 

“Our hearts speak the same language but more importantly our souls share the same voice.”

― Nikki Rowe

 Soul Mate: Someone who is aligned with your soul and is sent to challenge, awaken and stir different parts of you in order for your soul to transcend to a higher level of consciousness and awareness. Once the lesson has been learnt, physical separation usually occurs.

Sirius saw it first.

Knew what it meant. Knew that it would never last. 

But Sirius… Sirius didn’t care.

It wasn’t like he had meant to walk in on Remus in a towel. But they all shared a bathroom and showers and how could he miss Remus standing there only wrapped in a towel? The mark was low on his hip, just above Remus’ bum. Sirius only noticed because Remus had his back to him. Just as quickly, Sirius backed out again.

He knew.

He pulled up his shirt and looked at his own mark just below his belly button. It looked like someone had burned the small star into his skin. When he was younger, Sirius thought his crazy mother had done just that. It wasn’t until he had read another one of the tedious books his tutors assigned that he found the truth. It was hidden in the musty pages the tale, the legend, of soulmates.

They were rare, so rare the author even doubted their existence. Sirius had too. But now….

-0-0-0-

Sirius asked his brother to send the book. He was still at home and the only family member Sirius could still trust. Then he carefully -so carefully- arranged for the book to be open somewhere where Remus could see it.

This would work. It had too.

-0-0-0-

Sirius waited for him. Remus never brought up the book, though Sirius had seen him reading it, and in turn Sirius let Remus see him reading it. Remus’ eyes had widened, but at 11, he said nothing.

It had been years. They were 16 now. Almost 17. Sirius had let Remus catch sight of his own mark over and over and over. Still, he said nothing.

Sirius bedded other girls, hoping to spark Remus’ ire.

Nothing.

He slept with other boys. Still nothing.

When he saw Remus kiss Marlene, he broke.

It didn’t take much to get Remus in one of the back corners of the Library. A small lie about homework help and Remus followed him willingly. A well placed silencing charm and he was ready. He had his back to Remus, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Remus spoke first.

“Sirius…”

“Soulmates.”

“Sirius, don’t say-”

Sirius whirled to face him. “Why not? That’s what we are. You ARE my soulmate. And I’m yours.”

“Sirius… That’s…” Remus took a deep breath. “Quit being ridiculous. Soulmates… they’re a myth. A story told to give hopeless romantics something to sigh about.”

“You know it’s true Remus. You’ve seen my mark. I’ve seen yours. Just please accept it.” Sirius was close to tears now. “Please Remus. I’m begging you. Accept me.” He pulled in a shuddering breath and turned away. He couldn’t bear to see the rejection in Remus’ eyes.

“I-“ He heard Remus swallow. “But Sirius, if we are, that means…” Remus trailed off.

“I know… I- I know.”

He waited. He waited so long he thought Remus was giving him a chance to walk away. He took another deep breath in. And out. He took a step.

“Okay.”

Sirius turned around. “Okay?”

Remus’ smile was small and sad. “Okay.”

-0-0-0-

The first time Remus saw the small crescent moon on Tonks’ wrist, Remus panicked. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not ever. He wasn’t ready. He had JUST gotten Sirius back.

So Remus hid his own crescent. He wore a thick watch, long sleeves, Sirius’ leather bracelet. Anything to hide the inevitable.

Sirius knew though. He always knew.

“It’s okay Remus.”

“She isn’t you!”

“I know that. No one can really be me.” Sirius chuckled darkly. “It’s okay though. You think I haven’t known for a while? That I didn’t realize what a missing life mate mark might mean?” He breathed in deeply, then spoke again in a level voice, “I give you my blessing.”

“Your blessing?” Remus snarled. “I don’t want your fucking blessing Sirius Black. I want YOU!” the last word tore from his throat and left behind a fiery trail. He was broken and raw and this wasn’t even the worst of it.

Remus crumpled.

Sirius didn’t say anything. Just came and sat on the floor next to Remus. With soft hands and softer words, he coaxed Remus into his lap.

Remus let Sirius hold him long into the night.

-0-0-0-

Remus knew this was coming.

He had known.

Maybe not that it would be this. Or that it would be this soon, but he knew.

It still hurt. It hurt more than he thought possible. As he watched his best friend -his lover, the other half of his soul- fall though the Veil, Remus wondered how anyone could survive making a horcrux. He was ready to willingly follow his soulmate through the Veil if it meant being whole again. But… Harry was there and Harry was important and Harry needed to be saved. Remus grabbed on to the young man and held tight -hating him. Hating that Harry was stopping him from following Sirius. Hating them all for taking Sirius from him in the first place.

He loosened his grip. A moment of weakness. I could follow… But it was too late. Dumbledore was there and Tonks had fallen and it was too late.

He screamed his pain to the heavens. A wordless plea for them to take him too.

-0-0-0-

She was there again. Remus had slipped and she had seen his mark. Now she was always there. Hovering. Trying to get him to move on. He sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.

“It’s okay Remus. I know… I know it’s not the same. That it will never be the same. I’m not your soulmate. I get that, I know what it means for…  for later. I’m okay with that.

“It’s not fair to you Tonks.” Remus said with a tired sigh. He was always tired now. “I can’t feel the same way for you.”

Tonks scowled at him with her hands on her hips. “You listen here Remus Lupin. I may not be your soulmate, and I may not have my own soulmate. But I am your LIFE partner. WE are meant to be together for life.” Her scowl faded and she leaned in closer to kiss him on the forehead, “Just give me a chance. Accept this. Accept me. Please.”

Remus wasn’t sure if it was hearing the echo of Sirius words from so long ago, or if it was the faint- almost scent of Sirius he caught on her skin, but Remus heard himself say, “Okay.”

Tonks turned, her mousy brown hair suddenly bright pink. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

-0-0-0-

Remus never saw it coming.

His thoughts were on Teddy and his wife. A bond he never thought to have. A bright flash of green light and he was falling, falling, falling…. Until a strong and familiar pair of arms caught him. Remus opened eyes he hadn’t realized were closed. The sight above him made his heart leap. Shaggy black hair, bright grey eyes and a crooked grin…

Remus found his feet quickly and launched himself at Sirius.

Their kiss was everything and more. A reunion, a meeting of souls, a coming together. Sirius pulled away first.

“I missed you.” He said and rubbed his nose against Remus’.

“I’ve missed you too.” Remus sighed as he felt his soul become whole again. “I’ve missed you too.”


@chiseplushie, @rileyhawthorn, @moonnott, @worthfull1 @sableunstable @protectnevillelongbottom @indiebluecrown @m1sc1efmanaged @henriasownbinder @petrichoravellichor @faerieflightz @thewerewolfandthepunkrocker @siriuslyorionwicked


I think that’s everyone? So sorry if I forgot to tag you! 

We talk about how we never met by chance.

We believe that something larger, a cosmic pull, dragged us from different parts of the country so we could face one another –

So we could see that our souls could speak the same language, even if our mouths couldn’t.

We’ve struggled.

2000 miles apart has never been anyone’s ideal and the world is happening faster and slower at the same time because while its 12AM at the bar you’re lonely at its 2AM in the bed that feels too empty.

And we go back and forth non-stop, up and down, left and right, yes and no, right and wrong, inside and out and only when my arms are around your waist and your hands are in my hair does any of it feel manageable.

The fluidity of our commitment feels more like confinement because no matter how we define our boundaries and expectations I still can’t escape from the safety of “what could be.”

I know I love you because there is so little that I would do to make this work. Never at the cost of my career, education, family or friends, but always at the cost of myself.

My sanity and self-preservation is always shelved for those I love because I always believe I can’t thrive unless they all do first. You always came first.

I know I loved you because I wanted to be wrapped up in you all the time. If you tried to hold me I always let you and I never let go first.

There have always been a million things I wanted to tell you, but as I am always transfixed by my heart that beats too fast when you dance with me in the kitchen, or my heart that lives in the depths of my stomach when you tell me you just can’t give me what I want, I forget all that I wanted to share. So I’ll share them now:

I love waking up next you in the morning, because your warm chest keeps me calm in cold Midwestern air.

I love when you laugh at your own jokes – not because they’re funny, because believe me, sometimes they’re the farthest thing from funny – but because your energy is captivating.

I love that you hold my hand softly, but with a pulse that reminds me at least for while our fingers are intertwined, I am safe next to you.

I love that you wink at me from across the room, because I know you are waiting to tell me at the end of the night how much you love my body, despite the fact I struggle with how I see it all the time.  

I want to always be on the other end of the phone, reminding you of another dentist appointment to fix your teeth, while begging you to keep your smile the way it is.

I want to tell you that you desperately need a haircut, but to please leave it alone, because I like who you are in your most naked and vulnerable form.

I want to tell you that you smell from working out, but I just want to lay on you just a little bit longer because your flesh is hot under my flushed cheek.

I want to run my fingers across your back as we talk with your parents about how proud they are of you, because I’m always so proud of you too.

I love who I am when we’re cooking dinner and all of our songs play back to back through speakers that drown out the white noise of everything else that isn’t us, and you kiss my forehead because I know you love me back and you know no other way to tell me so.

I want to tell you that you can’t miss your eye appointment once again because you really need glasses, but how can that be true when you see me the way I want to be seen?

You give me stage to stand on my convictions and you challenge me to think about them out loud and you make me want to learn more and be better than I am, even when you are the most god awfully frustrating human being I have ever been cosmically forced to know.

But regardless of what I love

Regardless of what I want

Regardless of what you give me

Regardless of what we can’t make work

The truth of it all boils down to something so simple, it reduces the complexities of a relationship to this:

I still never let go first.

DAY 2874

Jalsa, Mumbai                  Feb  13/14,  2016                   Sat/Sun  2:04 am



Birthday - EF - Saikarun Balivada

Sunday, February 14, 2016

May the days and nights from now till the morning of eternity and the night of everlasting fraternity be with you on your birthday .. the Ef wishes so and so do I among the many ..


Namaskar .. namaskar .. namaskar …

Folded hands and folded thoughts of folded benevolence to all the Ef and the world .. you are deserving and worthy, meritorious and commendable, praiseworthy and laudable, exemplary and creditable .. for your tolerance for all these DAYs of the Blog has been incredible and incredulous all along ..

I may be in any circumstance and any consequence, the word of the social media, my attention to personal acknowledgement and your connection with this medium is quite extraordinary .. they that meet and greet me never shy away from mentioning this to me and I feel a sense of elation and pride in our fraternity that thrives on our reason to connect and motivate the other in all situations ..

There is a movement to ‘make in India’ and Maharashtra does not wish to remain behind .. it celebrates its week of such and has designed a cultural event on the historic Chowpaty of Girgaum for its presentation .. a poem to music has been composed and has been rendered by me .. so I shall be on stage tomorrow among the important dignitaries of the State speaking on the greatness of the State of Maharashtra, its people its culture and its vision of propelled longevity towards a prosperous future  …

I am honoured that they choose me .. I am honoured that I am made a part of this important event .. and I am honoured to be an integral part of the Marathas and the Marathi tongue on this prestigious occasion …

The nature of our work, the metropolitan conditioning of the city of Mumbai, and the limited exposure therefore to its language and culture, Maharashtra has been home to me now for the maximum period of my life .. 14 years from birth in Allahabad, 3 years of schooling education in the hills of Kumaon in Nainital, 8-9 years of Capital living and University education in New Delhi, 7-8 years of independent living and job in Kolkata …. and 47 years .. yes 47 years of profession and living in Mumbai … of my 74 years 47 in Mumbai .. 74/47 .. straight and opposite .. it has meaning .. for it then, my rendition of its important existence, is vital and necessary … 

Languages are so important … they are the soul of our lives … they say and express all .. the Mother tongue is literally the tongue born in, brought up in, indoctrinated in, surrounded in, comfortable in, loyal in and in deserving ..

Is it because the Mother speaks so that it is Mother tongue .. or what ? the tongue of our Mother Land .. there are not many nations that refer to their nation in the female gender .. most are male .. Fatherland .. no discrepancies here .. that is how it was indoctrinated .. but we are Mother oriented .. and are Mother powerful .. 


The bill boards proclaim the Indian of the Year and its winners :

Delighted and with a sense of honour and great pride in being an Indian  … and then to be acknowledged as one .. thank you India, my Bharat ..


Amitabh Bachchan

All human actions are motivated at their deepest level by two emotions–fear or love. In truth there are only two emotions–only two words in the language of the soul…. Fear wraps our bodies in clothing, love allows us to stand naked. Fear clings to and clutches all that we have, love gives all that we have away. Fear holds close, love holds dear. Fear grasps, love lets go. Fear rankles, love soothes. Fear attacks, love amends.
—  Neale Donald Walsch

Carolina Girl Panorama 01 – Shrimp Boats on Battery Creek, Port Royal, SC, December 5, 2014

We come into the world connected to God at the level of the soul.

The connection remains in place throughout our life.

It can be enhanced and deepened through compassionate, mindful, attention.

It can be diminished to the point of disappearing through callous, uncaring disregard.

We create a vibrant, vital, connection with God by establishing a vibrant, vital connection with our soul–

Learning the language of soul (symbol, image and metaphor),

And the avenues by which soul communicates (instinct, intuition, hunches, bodily sensations, dreams and visions, serendipitous events, synchronicity, flights of fantasy, inspiration…the list is long ),

And honing our ability to apprehend and interpret soul’s drift and leanings,

And apply them appropriately in the world of normal, apparent, reality by the way we live.

The primal peoples always understood the spiritual world to be the foundation of the physical world,

And knew the physical to be an extension of the spiritual world,

Upheld and supported, guided and directed, by invisible means and influence.

William James, in The Varieties of Religious Experience, said it only takes believing in the validity of the spiritual world to know it is so (or words to that effect).

Well? What exactly do you have to lose, in living as though the invisible world is real?

anonymous asked:

Do u really think your true love is dead or believe in that thing? I spend a lot of time thinking about it

I think, mi true lived during the 17th century in Greece, died by falling off a cliff, buried at sea and their remnants are inside me, and I will meet them in the afterlife but our souls will not speak the same language and since there’s no Rosetta Stone in heaven we spend eternity staring at each other, understanding. Imo