#Perspective shift quotes

[borngeniusworld]

Mindfulness: Awareness for a Fulfilling Life

Mindfulness Quotes Positive Thinking 1. “Positive thinking will let you do everything better than negative thinking will.” – Zig Ziglar 2. “Change your thoughts and you change your world.” – Norman Vincent Peale 3. “Every thought we think is creating our future.” – Louise Hay 4. “Your mind is a powerful thing. When you fill it with positive thoughts, your life will start to change.” 5. “The…

[dreamsister81]

Paris: September 22, 1994

Melody Maker, May, 27, 1995

From a Q and A with Mary done during his lifetime

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"I just wish I'd been more of a friend," she says, softly. "His career was everything to him, and I wish I had been more understanding – happy with a different kind of relationship. I missed out on something there, and it was my fault."-The Guardian, November 26, 2009

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It is claimed that Fraser spoke about her relationship with Buckley on Cocteau Twins 1995 EP Twinlights. In a 1996 interview with Alternative Press, she teased this notion and revealed that when she went on tour with Cocteau Twins in 1994, in support of their album Four-Calendar Café, she fell in love with a man. She wouldn’t name him, and this had led fans to believe him to be Buckley. She admitted: “My love addiction was worse than ever. I was maniacal.”

“The EP is about that man,” she said of Twinlights. “My last goodbye, as it were. I was too needy, and he was too much of an avoidance person. Naturally.”

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Fraser said that although "there was a great deal of intimacy, other times I'd feel like I just wasn't penetrating this Jeff Buckley boy at all. Sometimes I felt like a groupie."-from the documentary "Everybody Here Wants You" via A Pure Drop

Jeff's responses on if he was dating Elizabeth Frazer of the Cocteau Twins as rumored

[dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour]

12 Days of Poetrymas, Day 7

Sorry for day 6 being late, I’ve been in a funk and I couldn’t get anything down until I sat down this morning. So two in one day!

This is an original by me, DEIG, I hope you enjoy

Signs and Signals in Boxes

“Beautiful things come to those who wait”

“Patience is a virtue”

These are the signs and signals we are taught from our youth

But then again, aren’t we also taught to fight the systems that keep us captive?

“Fight against the patriarchy”

“Eat the rich”

We live in contradictions

I grew up in a society that expected too many things

Yet told me that I deserved nothing and everything

Who was I to listen to?

I owed everyone everything

Yet I was owed nothing at all

So I grew up in a mess of thoughts

Vines choking the airways

Neurons tangled in chains

Trapped by the box I never knew was around me

But here’s the kicker

You ready?

I owe nothing to anyone

The only box I have?

The one I willingly embrace

Here’s the other thing they don’t tell you

Any label, any designation, regardless of self-identification or through the placement of others?

It’s all just a box.

Congratulations.

You fell into the trap.

They won.

We lost.

[healingviawords]

People love you. They want to be around you because they're inspired by your love and light. People notice your beauty and are attracted to it, inspired by it. People want to be your friend, want to be close to you, want you in their life. Even if no one has told you lately, trust that you're so loved. People love you.

[snehaunveils]

[itseasierthanithought]

4 stages of emotional maturity by Roger K. Allen:

Survival - fear based living

Security - duty based living

Success - ego based living

Serenity - love, trust, peace based living

[johnhustlefordoe]

My father died, and my life has been disintegrating piece by piece, day by day, and all I've found is chaos. While searching for peace.

[lisamarieblair]

“The world is movement, and you cannot be stationary in your attitude towards something that is moving.”

— Henri Cartier-Bresson

[anarchist-caravan]

Hito Steyerl - In Free Fall: A Thought Experiment On Vertical Perspective

[noegrets]

...but on the other hand, english is a battle-royale-free-for-all kind of language: if you want to write it like lightswitch or waterbottle, who exactly is going to stop you? it's still perfectly communicative, the result is perfectly understandable. you can make YOUR words frot on purpose :)

On a slightly more serious note: I write a lot in english, which is a language I learned later in life. My wife beta-reads for me, english being her mother tongue. We find lots of words where she informs me that this word is not usually hyphenated like this, or compound like that: so we look up the way I wrote it vs. all the other variations (google n-gram viewer used to be good for this) and, almost always, we learn that the way I wrote it has plenty recorded uses overall, but is currently uncommon. And so I say - sure, why can't I use the uncommon one if I like it that way? It's still perfectly understandable, and language is made by those who use it.

We won't have any prescriptivism in this house: my words may fuck as they please.

one thing i hate about english is your open compound words. what do you mean it's a light switch and not a lightswitch or a water bottle instead of a waterbottle. get real

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 53

Chapter Highlights (though kinda more like low cause ow)

Someone had set fire to her thigh. Not Aelin, because Aelin was gone, sealed in an iron sarcophagus and taken across the sea.

"Easy," a deep voice rumbled.

She knew that voice. Knew the scent—like a clear brook and new grass. Aedion. She dragged her eyes, heavy and burning, toward the sound.

His shining hair hung limp, matted with blood. And those turquoise eyes were smudged with purple beneath—and utterly bleak. Empty.

A rough tent stood around them, the sole light provided by a lantern swinging in the bitter wind that crept in through the flaps. She'd been piled high with blankets, though he sat on an overturned bucket, still in his armor, with nothing to warm him.

The last she remembered, she'd been facing those ilken, never so aware of the limitations of a mortal body, of how even Aelin, who seemed so tall as she swaggered through the world, was dwarted by the creatures. Then those claws had ripped into her leg. And she'd managed to make a perfect swing. To take one of them down.

"You rallied our army," he said. "We lost the battle, but they didn't run in shame." Lysandra managed to pull a hand from beneath the blankets, and strained for the jug of water set beside the bed. Aedion was instantly in motion, filling a cup.

"They all know?" A solemn nod.

"What did you tell them—about Aelin?"

"That she has been off on a vital quest with Rowan and the others. And that it is so secret we do not dare speak of it."

"Are the soldiers—"

"Don't worry about it," he repeated. But she could see it in his face. The strain.

They had rallied to their queen, only to realize it had been an illusion. That the might of the Fire-Bringer was not with them. Would not shield them against the army at their heels.

"I'm sorry," she breathed.

Aedion took the empty cup of water before he gripped her hand, squeezing gently. "I am sorry, Lysandra. For all of it." His throat bobbed again. "When I saw the ilken, when I saw you against them…"

Useless. Lying bitch. The words he'd thrown at her, raged at her, dragged her further from the haze of pain. Sharpened her focus.

"You did this," he said, voice lowering, "for Terrasen. For Aelin. You were willing to die for it, gods above."

"I was." Her words came out cold as steel.

Aedion blinked as she withdrew her hand from his. Her leg ached and throbbed, but she managed to sit up. To meet his stare. "I have been degraded and humiliated in so many ways, for so many years," she said, voice shaking. Not from fear, but from the tidal wave that swept up everything inside her, burning alongside the wound in her leg. "But I have never felt as humiliated as I did when you threw me into the snow. When you called me a lying bitch in front of our friends and allies. Never." She hated the angry tears that stung her eyes. "I was once forced to crawl before men. And gods above, I nearly crawled for you these months. And yet it takes me nearly dying for you to realize that you've been an ass? It takes me nearly dying for you to see me as human again?"

He didn't hide the regret in his eyes. She had spent years reading men and knew that every agonized emotion in his face was genuine. But it didn't erase what had been said, and done.

Lysandra put a hand on her chest, right over her own shredded heart. "I wanted it to be you," she said. "After Wesley, after all of it, I wanted it to be you. What Aelin asked me to do had no bearing on that. What she asked me to do never felt like a burden, because I wanted it to be you in the end anyway." She didn't wipe away the tears that slipped down her cheeks. "And you threw me into the snow."

Aedion slid to his knees. Reached for her hand. "I will never stop regretting it. Lysandra, I will never forget a second of it, never stop hating myself for it. And I am so—"

"Don't." She snatched back her hand.

"Don't kneel. Don't bother." She pointed to the tent flaps. "There's nothing I have left to say to you. Or you to me."

Agony again rippled across his face, but she shut out what it did to her. What it did to her to see Aedion rise to his feet, groaning softly at some unspecified ache in his powerful body.

For a few breaths, he just stared down at her.

Then he said, "I meant every promise I made to you on that beach in Skull's Bay."

And then he was gone.

Aedion had spent a good portion of his life hating himself for the various things he'd done.

But seeing the tears on Lysandra's face because of him ... He'd never felt like more of a bastard.

He barely heard the soldiers around him, tense and skittish in the snow that blew between their quickly erected tents. How many more wounded would die tonight?

He'd already pulled rank to get Lysandra care from the best healers they had left. And still it was not good enough, the healers not gifted magically. And despite Lysandra's quicker healing abilities, they'd still had to stitch up her leg. And now changed the bandages every few hours. The wound had sealed, mercifully, likely fast enough to avoid infection. Many of the injured amongst them could not say the same.

Aedion aimed for his own tent, set just outside the healers' ring of tents where Lysandra lay. Giving her a private tent had been another privilege he'd used his rank to acquire.

He'd almost reached the small tent —no use in building his full war tent when they'd be running again in a few hours-when he spotted the figures huddled by the fire outside. He slowed his steps to a stalking gait.

Ren rose to his feet, his face tight beneath his heavy hood. Yet it was the man beside Ren who made Aedion's temper hone itself into a dangerous thing.

"Darrow," he said. "I would have thought you'd be in Orynth by now."

The lord bundled in furs did not smile. "I came to deliver the message myself. Since my most trusted courier seems inclined to select another allegiance."

The old bastard knew, then. About Lysandra's masquerading as Aelin. And Nox Owen's role in moving their army out of his grasp.

"Let's get it over with, then," Aedion said Ren tensed, but said nothing.

Darrow's thin lips curved in a cruel smile.

"For your acts of reckless rebellion, for your failure to heed our command and take your troops where they were ordered, for your utter defeat at the border and the loss of Perranth, you are stripped of your rank."

Aedion barely heard the words.

"Consider yourself now a soldier in the Bane, if they'll have you. And as for the imposter you've paraded around..." A sneer toward the healers' tents.

Aedion snarled.

Darrow's eyes narrowed. "If she is again caught pretending to be Princess Aelin" —Aedion almost ripped out his throat at that word, Princess— "then we will have little choice but to sign her execution order."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'd like to see you stop us."

Aedion smirked. "Oh, it's not me who you'd be dealing with. Good luck to any man who tries to harm a shifter that powerful."

Darrow ignored the promise and held out a hand. "The Sword of Orynth, if you will."

Ren started. "You're out of your mind, Darrow."

Aedion just stared. The ancient lord said, "That sword belongs to a true general of Terrasen, to its prince-commander. As you are no longer the bearer of that title, the sword shall return to Orynth. Until a new, appropriate bearer can be determined."

Ren growled, "That sword is in our possession, Darrow, because of Aedion. Had he not won it back, it would still be rusting in Adarlan's trove."

"He will always have our gratitude for it. If only in that regard, at least."

A dull roar filled Aedion's head. Darrow's hand remained extended.

He deserved this, he supposed. For his failure on these battlefields, his failure to defend the land he'd promised Aelin he'd save. For what he'd done to the shifter who had held his heart from the moment she'd shredded into those Valg soldiers in the sewers of Rifthold.

Aedion unbuckled the ancient sword from his belt. Ren let out a sound of protest. But he ignored the lord and tossed the Sword of Orynth to Darrow.

The lightness where that sword had been threw off his balance.

The old man stared at the sword in his hands. Even went so far as to run a finger over the bone pommel, the hateful bastard unable to contain his awe.

Aedion just said, "The Sword of Orynth is only a piece of metal and bone. It always has been. It's what the sword inspires in the bearer that matters. The true heart of Terrasen."

"Poetic of you, Aedion," was Darrow's reply before he turned on his heel, aiming for wherever his escort waited beyond the camp's edge. "Your commander, Kyllian, is now general of the Bane. Report to him for orders." The swirling snows devoured the old lord within a few steps.

Ren snarled, "Like hell you aren't general."

"The Lords of Terrasen decree it, and so it shall be."

"Why aren't you fighting this?" Ren's eyes blazed. "You just handed over that sword—"

"I don't give a shit." Aedion didn't bother to keep his exhaustion, his disappointment and anger, from his voice. "Let him have the sword, and the army. I don't give a shit."

Ren didn't stop him as Aedion ducked into his tent and didn't emerge until dawn.

The Lords of Terrasen had stripped General Ashryver of his sword.

The word spread from campfire to campfire, rippling through the ranks.

The soldier was new to the Bane, had been accepted into their ranks only this summer. An honor, even with war upon them. An honor, though the soldier's family had wept to see him depart.

To fight for Prince Aedion, to fight for Terrasen—it had been worth it, the weight of leaving his farmstead home behind. Leaving behind that sweet-faced farmer's daughter whom he'd never gotten the chance to so much as kiss.

It had been worth it then. But not now.

The friends he'd made in the months of training and fighting were dead.

Huddled around the too-small campfire, the soldier was the last of them, the fresh-faced recruits who'd been so eager to test themselves against the Valg at the start of summer.

In the dead heart of winter, he now called himself a fool. If he bothered to speak at all Words had become unnecessary, foreign. As foreign as his half-frozen body, which never warmed, though he slept as close to the fire as he dared. If sleep found him, with the screaming of the wounded and dying. The knowledge of what hunted them northward.

There was no one left to help them. Save them. The queen they'd thought amongst them had been a lie. A shape-shifter's deception.

Where Aelin Galathynius now fought, what she had deemed more important than them, he didn't know.

The frigid night pressed in, threatening to devour the small fire before him. The soldier inched closer to the flame, shuddering beneath his worn cloak, every ache and scrape from the day throbbing.

He wouldn't abandon this army, though.

Not as some of the others were murmuring.

Even with Prince Aedion stripped of his title, even with their queen gone, he wouldn't abandon this army.

He had sworn an oath to protect Terrasen.

To protect his family. He'd hold to it.

Even if he now knew he'd never see them again.

[light-prevails]

[arandomeroacher]

people calling Wuthering Heights a romance has me tweaking, genuinely.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt how much I love oni's writing again... In particular, "a seed is planted" continues to be one of if not my favorite logs because despite the troubling details and implications that come with it, it's the one thing in the entirety of the decaying corpse of gravitas that genuinely leaves us with a grain of hope (a seed if you will) and makes oni as a whole a lot more bitter sweet as while earth may not have survived, the dupes did, and after their horrible origins and the shit that many of them went through, in due time they'll finally get to just live, they're free now, and even if Olivia's sleep is end of a tragedy, the world will keep moving forward with or without those who've been lost

[1introvertedsage]

If I can make just one person, think a little deeper each day. That's progress

[nimixo]

From why to what

Instead of why is this happening? Try...what is this teaching me. - Karen Salmansohn

#lifelessons #perspectiveshift #personaldevelopment #resilience #adversity #mindfulnessmoment #empowerment #growth #wisdom #challenges #perspectiveshift #mindfulliving #growthmindset #empoweryourself #LearnAndGrow#Nimixo #motivational #motivationalquote #motivationblowbyblow