mujeristaxicana:

fire-go-on-and-fire:

La Gran Rigoberta Menchu, Valencia St. San Francisco

this is from the Maestra Peace Mural on the Women’s Building

mujeristaxicana:

fire-go-on-and-fire:

La Gran Rigoberta Menchu, Valencia St. San Francisco

this is from the Maestra Peace Mural on the Women’s Building

miguelmarquezoutside:

Temporary wet weather signage recently placed in various Sydney locations.

(Source: moosekleenex)

livertaker:

make yourself strong

On making your bed

dearcoquette:

Is it strange that your advice to start by making your bed brought tears to my eyes? Being suicidal is basically the most difficult thing I’ve had to live with (pun slightly intended) and the simplicity of that first step… it just hit home. Thank you.


It may seem simple, but making your bed is quietly one of the most important daily rituals a person can have. I promise, it will change your life. I know that sounds like hyperbole, but it’s not. Those of you who already do it know exactly what I mean.

First and foremost, making your bed forces you to get out of it. That’s not necessarily a small feat, especially if you’re suffering from depression. Not only are you out of bed, but you can’t get back in. It’s a line of demarcation that officially starts your day.

More than that, though, it’s a ceremonial act of respect for oneself. It’s a deliberate measure of control that you can always take, even when the rest of your life is complete and utter chaos.

Do it. Every damn morning. It only takes a minute, but it will have a cascading effect that subtly improves everything else about the rest of your day, right up to the moment when you get to crawl back in to a well made bed at night.

When I think of all the truly successful people I’ve known in my life, the ones who really have their shit together, all of them — every last one — routinely make their beds every single morning. This is not a coincidence.

visioignotus:

Medieval astrologer calculating the influence of Jupiter.

visioignotus:

Medieval astrologer calculating the influence of Jupiter.

Why press so near each other when the touch
Is barred by graves?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “L.E.L.’s Last Question”

She wouldn’t say what we both knew. “The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it? But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the day when you knew it is true. Why won’t you say it, even to yourself?”

William Faulkner, from As I Lay Dying  (via violentwavesofemotion)

(Source: faulknerandfieldnotes)

I’m sinking and sinking and sink.

(Source: thistrulyisgodscountry)

I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via observando)

Not much, and yet too much

Of whom and of what indeed can I say: "I know that!" This heart within me I can feel, and I judge that it exists. This world I can touch, and I likewise judge that it exists. There ends all my knowledge, and the rest is construction. For if I try to seize this self of which I feel sure, if I try to define and to summarize it, it is nothing but water slipping through my fingers. I can sketch one by one all the aspects it is able to assume, all those likewise that have been attributed to it, this upbringing, this origin, this ardor or these silences, this nobility or this vileness. But aspects cannot be added up. This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me. Between the certainty I have of my existence and the content I try to give to that assurance, the gap will never be filled. Forever I shall be a stranger to myself.

solarsisterss:

When u retreat into yourself as a coping mechanism but u go 2 far and turn into ur shadow

solarsisterss:

When u retreat into yourself as a coping mechanism but u go 2 far and turn into ur shadow