One of these days I’m going to empty my bank account and leave. Just go. I’ll walk up Machu Picchu and swim in the Great Barrier Reef and walk the Great Wall of China and sleep under the Northern Lights and see the Taj Mahal and walk the streets of Athens. But more importantly I’ll talk to people who have nothing. Hear from the people we read about who don’t have any money but overflow with happiness. I’ll hear spiritual teachings from Buddhist monks and talk to Indian gurus and Catholic priests in Italy. I’ll find peace and search for nirvana and eat more food than I know what to do with and sleep under the stars on a boat in the Mediterranean sea and take in the Grand canyon and meet people who are just as confused as I am, but hopefully a lot happier and laugh a lot more. Because I need to learn from people who know how to be confused, lost and scared for the future but can still enjoy life. Because I don’t. And I’m scared I never will. One of these days I’m gonna do it. Just go.
"When I was about 20 years old, I met an old pastor’s wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn’t believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day, when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking–the first in his life. She told him that he would have to go outside himself and find a switch for her to hit him with.
The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, “Mama, I couldn’t find a switch, but here’s a rock that you can throw at me.”
All of a sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child’s point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, then it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone.
And the mother took the boy into her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. And that is something I think everyone should keep in mind. Because if violence begins in the nursery one can raise children into violence.”
“Every mouth you’ve ever kissed was just practice. All the bodies you’ve ever undressed and ploughed in to were preparing you for me. I don’t mind tasting them in the memory of your mouth.
Was it a long journey? Did it take you long to find me?
You’re here now, welcome home.”—Warsan Shire (via degreeschelsius)
“When sex becomes a production or performance that is when it loses its value. Be mutual. Be loud. Be clumsy. Make noises, be quiet, and make a mess. Bite, scratch, push, pull, hold, thrust. Remove pressure from the moment. Love the moment. Embrace it. Enjoy your body; enjoy your partners’ body. Produce sweat, be natural, entice your senses, give into pleasure. Bump heads, miss when you kiss, laugh when it happens. Speak words, speak with your body, speak to their soul. Touch their skin, kiss their goose bumps, and play with their hair. Scream, beg, whimper, sigh, let your toes curl, lose yourself. Chase your breath; keep the lights on, watch their eyes when they explode. Forget worrying about extra skin, sizes of parts and things that are meaningless. Save the expectations, take each second as it comes. Smear your make up, mess up your hair, rid your masculinity, and lose your ego. Detonate together, collapse together, and melt into each other.”—(via iamhelterskelter)