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having followed this saga for years from across tumblr I just have to say I am SO happy for you for how things are unfolding right now.

Thank you for this really nice affirmation in the midst of it!

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Or as I was saying to myself on my morning jog, endure the darkness and confusion of tangled places and let God lead you out instead of taking the simplest way forward available to your own understanding which would probably be like all these red efts crawling up the open gravel verge and onto the road.

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“I hope that real love and truth are stronger in the end than any evil or misfortune in the world.” ~ Charles Dickens

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Cloud pudding https://x.com/gunsnrosesgirl3/status/1916388197094863087

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sturgeon :)

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*stands mezmerized in the lowes lighting fixtures section*

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Sometimes, old American books about trees are all "This tree is unshapely, has ragged and irregular growth and has little economic value." but I was wrong to characterize them all as such, because for every capitalist-minded book about the USA's trees that is like "ough we gotta exploit every living thing" there's also a book like this:

The book is called Our Friends the Trees and it was written in the 1930's and this is the VERY FIRST PARAGRAPH, no introduction no nothing, just going all in taking no prisoners from the very first line and it CONTINUES like this for the WHOLE book there is ZERO chill throughout the whole length of the book

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“Beauvoir writes [that] a habit that is ‘thoroughly integrated’ into someone’s life ‘makes it richer, for habit has a kind of poetry.’ […] The poetry of habit is a kind of corporeal mindfulness. [Beauvoir] suggests that the habitual participation in certain rituals can allow for the repetition of a meaningful event whereby 'the present moment is the past brought to life again, the future anticipated, [both] experienced together.’ [For example], the habitual aspect of drinking tea each day at the same time, allows for a connection to the past [and] opens up a future that is not defined by projects and goals but simply by the continued possibility of a joy […].”

— Silvia Stoller, Simone de Beauvoir’s Philosophy of Age

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One of the coolest things that happened at the end of the EMDR session was that I had ALLLL this anger, like this big foaming black ball of anger in the pit of my stomach at things that happened in the past 2-3 years at church, and my 17-year-old exile — my 17-year-old self who had barely survived my parents’ divorce and being treated brutally by my mother afterwards — stepped up and was like, “Yeah, I’ll take care of that anger for you.” She was the first exiled part I’d gotten in touch with in my first round of IFS therapy and was always either very quiet and sulky or sleeping, and I always let her be sulky or sleeping knowing what she went through (she needed rest). Then boom yesterday she’s like, “You need help with anger? I got you, G.”

She wears cutoff overalls and this sleeveless multicolored-plaid flannel hoodie and a floppy hat from the Renaissance faire, long hair loose around her shoulders and carries a small club I made from a tree. This is a baby lesbian who never got to be a lesbian and had some of her best years stolen from her by her mother. And she just woke up and took a huge foaming black ball of anger into her hands with complete confidence in what she was doing, like she was about to go bowling with it. Like this is fun for her.

Absolutely gleeful and a little terrifying

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24 hours post-EMDR and I’m still in this very chill grounded space with a little bit of anger (at even more things) remaining but it feels like being older and heavier and more confident. Good stuff - would recommend.

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2020-02-21

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Saturday, May 10th 1788 - My Beloved and I went to walk in the fields by Pengwern. . . At our return met our Landlord in the Mill lane. Made him come back with us. Ordered him ale, and sent him round our Shrubbery and Gardens. . . The Venerable worthy man prayed fervently for our health and happiness. Heavenly evening.

May 13th - The meadows in more splendid Beauty than I ever remember them. Pengwern Wood hanging over them dark and gloomy. The Boughs rustling with the wind. Rooks cawing, Kites screaming. . . Moel Morfydd with its rich purple heather and golden yellow gorse. The Village smoke. Church steeple. . . with sheep goats cattle scattered about. When we had walked many times round these enchanting fields returned slowly towards our cottage. . . At the little gate met Lord Nugent who, with great politeness, said he came this Road on purpose to pay his compliments to us.

May 16th - High blustering wind. Splendid sunshine. Reading. Drawing. Compliments from Mr Pierce desiring to see the cottage and Shrubbery. He may see the Shrubbery but not the Cottage. We have no notion of being disturbed by Welsh parsons.

May 17th - Cut the hedge of the Bleach and Fowl yards. Lovely, delicious day. . . My sweet love went with the Pigotts to the bridge where the Phaeton waited for them. . . Mrs Otway's compliments. Beg'd leave to see the garden. Permitted. Staid in the potager till she, her little girl, and Dog were gone. Lovely evening. My Beloved and I went our accustomed walk and returned by moonlight—but such a night! The Moon hanging from the richest clouds and casting her silver light over the mountains. . .

May 23rd - Little Gillian kittened in the Cow's stable this morning.

May 31st - Letter from Mrs Keatinge desiring permission to introduce herself to our acquaintance. She is my relation, but I never saw her . . . We went and found [her] in the Great Parlour of the Hand, writing. A beautiful Tame Fox in one corner of the room. . . She ordered her servant to bring in her Dogs, [then] the cat was led in on a Collar. They all came from the stables where we went also to see her charming Merlins [Welsh ponies].

Thursday, May 7th, 1789 - Sweet evening... Spent some hours in the Garden. Sowed our Pink seeds, planted new Potatoes, Melon ground cleaning. . . Reading. Drawing. Saw the Swallows, the first this season, Swim over the Field. . . Walked in Shrubbery. The loveliest moon I ever beheld in its softest richest clouds then emerging in full splendour, the owls and reed sparrows hailing her approach. A day of sweet occupation and enjoyed retirement.

May 9th - Letter from Miss Louisa Shipley. . . a paragraph enclosed from The World—"Miss Ponsonby and Miss Butler, the Irish Ladies who have settled in so romantic a manner in Denbighshire have been very Conspicuous in their Rejoicings for the King and Queen." Delicious evening. A short thick ill looking fellow in black with a long whiteish riding coat. . . came to the House and desired to speak to one of us, saying he was a Portrait painter. . . He walked into the Kitchen, called for Beer, and seemed inclined to establish himself. My beloved and I grew alarmed. She walked down and ordered him to leave the House directly, which he did. I am sure he belongs to some gang, or has made his escape from jail. . .

May 10th - Very polite sentimental note from Mrs Scanlan with a present of the most beautiful Tree in Seaweed elegantly arranged. Storm very unpleasant. We set up the eolian harp in the Pantry window. Had a sublime and delightful effect.

May 23rd - Visited Margaret in her field opposite the workhouse. Found her in excellent grass accompanied by three calves and one lamb.

May 26th - Our dear cow having shown symptoms of calving she was brought home to her stable. . . Our poor landlady, lame as she is came with her apron full of barley straw - a present for [Margaret], because they say if she will eat anything it will be Barley. . . All the village came kindly to enquire about our dear cow—John Edward's wife, the old man of Bala, the joiner, John Jones the little butcher, David the Miller, our Landlady, Edward Evans, his wife—all about her stable at the moment.

May 27th - My better half and I went to Llantysilio church. In the village met Lady Bellamont. . . and found the three Lady Cootes. Spoke to Mrs Parry of that Person we suspect of having shot our Owls and Pigeons and Blackbirds. . . Ned of the Mill brought four little fish in a bowl. Put them in the dark deep Pool above the Dam. Walked on the Corwen Road. . . Mrs Parry came with a message from Mr Pearson about mystery in the Pengwern wood.

— Extracts from the journal of Lady Eleanor Butler, in A Year with the Ladies of Llangollen, ed. Elizabeth Mavor

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magic is real you fools it happens when you make other people laugh

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thought it was a one-off thing, but i've now seen multiple pictures and videos of red-bellied woodpeckers touching other birds with their tongue at bird feeders. why are they suck little freaks?

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You are either going to the bathroom with me or going to the bathroom against me

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Had my first EMDR session this morning and Holy Shit

Therapist was like “That was a good gentle start.”

And I’m like, that was “gentle”??? And a “start”????

Never experienced anything like it.