#Reflective writing

[m00wd]

Life Becomes Ironic When Your Only Positive Thought Is Remembering Death.

[julescarstairs]

Nothing makes you realise the intensity of your own feelings until you put them down on paper

[chintana]

This picture reminds me of the changing nature of life, how events, objects, thoughts, feelings and people come and go while I stay here, put, experiencing; probably suffering, but there inevitably comes a moment when whatever was being experienced ends; then go on to have other experiences with their accompanying feelings and thoughts, and so on.

(The ideas of change in this reflection are definitely inspired by yogic teachings.)

[saintavangeline]

November’s Stolen Gold

Saint Avangeline

I remember when I loved November.

When I would hear its name spoken, all I’d see was gold

Everything was golden back then. My mother’s long and fiery hair. Freshly buttered pie crust and kindred laughter. The naïve and thinly intact self-assuredness of an 11 year old girl. The autumn leaves, once vibrant red, fading to bronze and saying their final goodbyes before the wind came to take them away.

The most golden of all: the sun. As if in defiance of the frigid beginnings of the approaching winter cold; its radiance would permeate throughout November. It would shower me in that gold. I could feel it within me; it spoke in a wordless language I could only experience to understand. The air was so crisp, so clear. I’d take a deep breath and I could breathe in and understand all of the forest.

By and by, the fullness and warmth of November wilted and browned as the leaves did. The once welcoming and radiant sunlight began to chill me to the bone. Suddenly, the brisk clarity of a November morning was useless amidst the ever growing fog in my mind. Nowadays, I often find myself in a place unfamiliar to me. The laughter is gone. The trees don’t whisper as they once did. The leaves don’t bid farewell. The glittering gold I once understood is only scarcely found, lost in translation, in a distant memory or a hazy dream I awaken from exceedingly abruptly.

I long to know what the sun said to me on those November afternoons. I’ve asked in my slumber on many occasions, but only the moon ever answers. Perhaps the sun only speaks to those who know themselves. Perhaps it’s a precious secret that It, and the child lost within me, will forever keep.

[imagineurwrld]

Welcome

My name is Jaylin and I am a writer.

By that, I mean I turn immediately to books, to a Google Document, and to a paper in one of hundreds of journals I have opened and closed over the course of the past ten years to express unspoken turmoil and delight. The majority of my work remains unpublished, save from the lenghty fanfications that I started at fifteen years old and failed to conclude four years later. Despite so, I harbor a profound fascination of literature, like many who download and scroll through this very app. I seek pieces that will capture me, words that will move me and transport me to realities far from my own.

Like many, for me, writing is an escape. It is a breath of life into words that have the power to construct whatever the sheltered mind desires. Writing is the source of control for those lacking so in their realities. Writing is a place to explore, to form bridges between the real and the fantastical, it is a subconscious connection between foreign voices who share a common passion for art and communication. For me, writing is a beacon of hope, a spark of light in the dark, and an invisible string that ties broken hearts together.

I intend to mold this blog into an encapsulation of my mind's secrets through fiction and reflection, romance and horror, triumph and trial, through words on a page that you may happen to come across. I want to finally share with the world the thoughts that cross my mind consistently, and how they have metamorphosized into the blurbs that I intend to write here.

I hope to create a safe space for all those who fail to find words when the time calls for them. I hope to create a space where people can connect with my foreign world and link themselves to brief sections about heartbreak, happiness, action, fear, adventure, and raw rumination.

To be a writer is to be human, as we all are.

Welcome to my blog "A Literary World of Your Imagination." I hope you stay a while.

-j.s.

[knowlimitations]

Mysteries of Language: Sacred Texts and the Collective Unconscious

Recently, I followed an intuitive nudge to read the sacred text of Islam, the Quran. Naturally it has been on my mind with the conflict occurring in the Middle East and I have been studying it in English as well as Arabic, its original language.

I was pondering the Jungian philosophy of genetic memory and the collective unconscious, and how (according to his research) human beings have the capability of tapping into this genetic pool of information which includes ancient languages that an individual may not consciously know, such as Arabic, Hebrew or Greek.

What intrigues me is the ineffable nostalgia or energy surge that the body feels while observing foreign written languages or mundane symbolism, yet is unfamiliar to the brain. Articulating the “energy” into words is incredibly difficult, so it often gets discarded or overlooked. It’s similar to our dreams—upon awakening, we often struggle to recall all the intricate details because they exist in an abstract realm that doesn't neatly fit into our physical reality. However, what does remain is the lingering emotion, essentially encapsulating the essence of the dream. This emotional residue is what we vividly recall throughout the day. We underestimate the genuine value of awareness to recall such significant unconscious events, as it allows us to put them into words that can be expressed with others or “breathe life” into new and expansive ideas. This concept reminds me of the phrase, 'In the beginning, there was the Word,' underscoring the profound role of language in spirituality.

Within the powerful dimension of language, I believe we discover the key to creation. When we wield words as instruments of expression, we unlock the potential to craft something truly significant, transcending the confines of mere linguistic symbols.

[teenbasher]

fuck, y’all will never understand how badly I miss the twins. Like I know Alex doesn’t exist in canon & Seb doesn’t have a twin & if he does, people usually make Severin his twin. Who doesn’t actually exist either in canon, but feels way more real because of all of the thousands of people who head canoned him. & don’t get me wrong I LOVE Severin. But in my head obvs he is the responsible, respectable older brother who despite how much of a mess Sebastian may be, he doesn’t give up on his little brother & I love that for him.

Severin is Sebastian’s rock when he is at rock bottom & I like to think that it is because of Severin that Sebastian gets his act together (at least partially lol) & gets into the army after he gets cleaned from the drugs & eventually ends up to live into adulthood & meet Jim.

But the whole story of Alex & Seb being the bestest of friends and inseparable as twins tend to be. Having Alex be Seb’s first ever source of love, companionship, care & encouragement during the twins formative years & equally losing him in such a traumatic & heart breaking way, still during those formative years, to not only go on to be eaten up by guilt from his own, under developed child minded perspective & blame himself, but also be blamed & hated by his father for it the rest of childhood & see first hand how his mother fell apart because of it. is particularly poetically tragic that it makes me long for the sweet, fleeing moments of innocent childhood happiness the two had for the short years Alex was alive. & sometimes I like to imagine how nice it would have been for seb if his brother had grown up with him & maybe softened the harsh environment Sebastian grew up in, practically alone & abandoned since Severin was sent off to school shortly after the accident, having him being much older than the twins in my head canon.

dang. I meant to write this as a reflective pice about the twins relationship because I miss Alex but now I just made myself sad 🥲

[wetravellight]

📝Reflection📝

Today I read something about Allah's name البديع (the Originator), and the writer gave several examples of how we can experience this name around us.

Something that really stuck with me is when he said to think about color. Think about things around you that you love to see; flowers, trees, food, paintings, anything. And think about how dull your experience of these things would be if they had no color.

I can't imagine living a life in which all flowers were just another shade of grey, or if I couldn't tell how blue or pink or orange the sky was, or how bright and cheerful a bowl of fruit looked. Allah has put so much beauty into everything he created, and color is just one facet of that.

سبحان الله

[josephkravis]

Echoes in Solitude: A Journey of Reflection

The eve is quiet, the world at bay, In solitude, alone I lay. Familiar specters, they come to play, A past remembered, in disarray. #kravis

Echoes in Solitude: A Journey of Reflection As I sit here alone, cocooned in the silence that accompanies solitude, I am left to my thoughts, those silent interlopers that insinuate themselves into every quiet corner. The edges of my solitude are gnawed by memories, both cherished and regretted, as they ebb and flow like a relentless tide on the shore of my consciousness. In the stillness, the…

[m00wd]

And When No One Wakes You Up In The Morning, And When No One Waits For You At Night, And When You Can Do Whatever You Want. What Is It Called? Freedom Or Loneliness?

[lexstellaris]

Daily draw - 7/5/23 - Sacred Rebels Oracle (Alana Fairchild)

41 - Bring It Into Form

I swear I'm not TRYING to pull the same cards lol. XD But I do feel this kind of energy a lot rn. The need to make things, but without the drive to actually create them. Lots of percolating ideas, bc sometimes creativity is like that. You sit and let ideas sit for a while until they decide they want to be written, or drawn, or created in whatever way they want to be manifest in.

It is interesting to have this thread of energy coming through the cards, though. There's all this creative energy flowing around and through me, and my head is buzzing with ideas. I just haven't had the time/energy/inspiration to make them come to life yet.

It's not writer's block, though. Just a pause as ideas take a moment to ferment and figure themselves out, while I sit here waiting to do the thing.

I know there's stuff to come. I know there's things to make and write and draw but the time isn't quite right for them yet. It will be soon, but not yet. The annoying thing is the waiting ngl. Having all this creative energy that's just waiting, rather than pushing me forwards. Soon, though. Just gotta let things settle. Let the ideas finish forming. Then they'll be done. Then they'll be able to be shared.

[bookwyrminspiration]

sometimes a theme recurs in your work without your permission. and sometimes it reaches a threshold where you're like. well now i think this is saying something about me against my will. don't know what though

[reply2001]

2024 Recap

Actually, I am still figuring it out The year began with textbooks and deadlines—fourth semester, masters. The New Year came and went, but it didn’t feel like anything new, only heavier. Exams loomed, and I rushed through January like it was something to escape. My birthday arrived in February, and for the first time, I cried. Loudly. Not the happy tears people hope for but the kind that comes…

[by-anana]

Rays in Daydreams

There's a ray between us in daydreams, a bond that feels real when I let myself believe. But reality hits, the ray is nothing more than a moment that will never be more than a thought. The ray is just another daydream, fading before it begins.

[purefilly-connection]

A Call to Action: A Reflection on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has come and gone, leaving behind the warmth of family gatherings, shared meals, and moments of gratitude. As I sit with the quiet after the celebration, I find myself reflecting on not just the day itself but the deeper lessons it brought to light. Thanksgiving isn’t just a day on the calendar; it’s a lens through which we can view our lives—our choices, relationships, and…

[jonaantara]

Hate The Good In Me

I hate that I trust so quickly

And stumble so easily

I hate that I have warm hands

That cold ones gripped so tightly

I hate that I smile so bright

They think I’d fall without a fight

I hate all the good in me

For it brought me all the bad

--

Just writing for all the good characters whose kindness was exploited.