urspiritualnurse

[urspiritualnurse]

To have something made special, one needs to forge out mundanity.

To believe a moment is special is a result of all that one has chosen out of life to be preferable and all that was left ignored out of distaste or ones unapproval.

Waiting in vain, for special occasions to do something, wear something, speak something.

Delaying life's freedom of expression.

Such is the curse of accentuated preferences.

Likes and dislikes.

For something to shine in your eyes, something else has to become dim.

For something to taste brilliant, something else has to become bland.

For something to feel special, something else has to become mundane.

Do you see how innocently we dissect life and everything in it?

[urspiritualnurse]

Do you know why you love your siblings so much? Why they are favored by your mind and heart in good regards? Why none of your friends or families even your parents couldn't take away your favoritism ?

It is yes, because they are your sibling.

And it is also because, nomatter how many hometown friend you had from the age of 6, 7, how many dirt you ate together with those little silly goofs.

Your sibling, maybe half your age, grew up under the same circumstances as yours, under the same cloud, under the same weather.

When one screamed loudly to another because of their internal dispute, thundering violence here and there, everywhere.

You and your sibling both shivered in that cold unfamiliarity, panicked at the same unpredictability, you both came from the same womb, got hit by the same fist, degraded by the same mouth, obliterated by the same judgements, shredded by the same knifed unacceptance, demands,you both were the two similar refugee sheltering in the nature's gentle finds.

When the humiliation of an unkempt home tortured your sleeps, the leaking roofs and it's disturbing wreckage of your peace unsettled you to insomnia, you would look just beside you, your little sibling fighting the same battle.

I know age plays a big role, if you are the eldest you try your best to filter out the rawness of the disruptive environment and do your part in giving them happiness.

But the skies above us were grand, out beyond our grasp.

Nomatter how hard we tried to outrun them, we could never.

Your sibling, your little gremlin that you adore, is beloved and dear to you, because they shared an immense part of you, that made you, you.

"You vigorously save money? Always dread the idea of treating yourself?

Guess who else marinated in that same cause?

You cannot ever believe happy marriages exist or a good human being for that matter?

Guess who else witnessed the same hellish drama you grew up watching?

In all examples I give, there will be something always missing.

Because my experience with my sibling is limited to parental affairs, lack, etc etc.

But there are more.

They are endearing because we know, we won't ever be shamed for experiencing what we experienced, if they ever did it would be comical,like the pot calling the kettle black.

That sense of safety, familiarity, that ease is what makes the bond immeasurably precious.

But our dear siblings only ever witnessed a fragment of our lives.

The connection ends the moment we leave the skies, the weather, the nest.

The commonality was our parents, upbringing, environment, etc.

But now we all know our life exceeds such little topics.

There is life beyond, far beyond it.

When our little resembling gremlin no longer is familiar when in matters to life outside of our commonality.

What are we gonna do?

Are we going to die of loneliness?

"Here i thought my sister/brother understood me......

Why didn't they agree to my thoughts and feelings? Why couldn't they feel what I feel? Why? I thought I had someone I could finally relate to......."

This will happen.....sadly it will.

Just like how you outgrew your 2 year old camisole,shoes, hat.

You and your siblings shared similarities will outgrow as your life grows bigger and bigger, exceeding your childhood, parents, upbringing etc.

When that happens, we will feel awful.

The bold confidence we held, "I don't need anyone" came from a subtle reassurance we had about our siblings existence,as long as they are here, I'll be no stranger to love, as long as they are here, I love and am loved......

This was where our boldness coming from.

We cannot forsake love, ever.

So in order not to run out of such precious thing, we hoard it into a hidden box.

Like a shrewd but fearful fox, who hides everything it loves in unfindable corners and caves.

Digging grounds to keep that rare gem hidden, so it never runs out of it.

There is always that one person, in our life we use as a source of something, support, love, understanding, comradery etc.

And once we secure that tie with them.

And we know we have them with us.

We walk out out door, head held high with scrutiny and immeasurable prudence, scoffing the term love, trust, companionship.

Like a person ridiculing the invention of parachute, after they secured one for themselves.

Truth be told, we all know the importance of affection, the nurturance it does to our soul.

Right now some of us have this safety net of a sibling or a grandparent , that makes us feel immense sense of security, giving us the courage to ridicule, disapprove, dismiss what we gather from those special people.

Someday,you will realize, you are an existence as wide as the sky.

And your special people, the clouds.

It never fully covers up the skies, it is splattered around unevenly all over.

Just when you think the blanket of clouds have covered your head, the feet is open and bare.

There is always one thing uncovered and bare, left all alone.

Your sibling can cover you only a part, your grandparents, friends, etc, are gonna reach only a part.

The part that isn't reached, will you let it wither and die all in neglect?

You are capable of adoring another being, your sibling is the living prove.

Now turn those lenses to yourself,

The very open sky, the first uttered word, the first scraped knee and the bleeding red and your untamed wild cries, the first humiliation you felt, the first insecurity you held, your first all.....

The first moments with your parents, the weather under them, the fights you had with your mates, the mean spirited comments you gathered from your peers, the inferiority of your birth,to the superiority of your self-making, the struggle of your climb, the ease of your height, the downfall of your humility, the evolution of your pride, the unbending rage, the inconsolable grief that you felt since your birth.......all of it.....you cover it all.

You reach all the beyonds your life grows into.

Take a look at yourself as a separate individual.

Everything we went through, they did it too.

When someone outside of us comes and tell us, "I understand you."

Although it flatters our solitude, there is also this inner disdain, ridicule, in us......"as if,.." we say it to ourself.

Because the one who says it, is from a different place, time, origin, they have their own experiences far apart from ours.

The bitterness eats us alive, when someone claims they understand us.

How can they? Were they there when we first got our heartbroken? When we first got slapped by failures? When aimlessness haunted our sense of direction? No......

Although it's pessimistic view, I do think someone can understand us but only up to where our similarities end, not to an extent our heart desires.

So, thinking of yourself as your one and only alibi, witness, testament, the person who not just stood there beside you in your struggles, behind you in your happiness, but who was, infact you.

Feeling every inch of what you felt.

Thinking every thought that you ever thought about.

All this says, clearly to all who can comprehend.

Who understands us the most.

A person burning inside a hungry fire, everyone around them panicking and worrying, someone will go rushing to bring bucket full of water, some go search hurriedly for inflammable cloth, anything they can do inorder to save that burning man.

And if you observe the scenario, you can see the surrounding people's concern, love , care.

But, although true affection and care is someone touching that fire, bare hands inorder to free you from your burn.

I wonder..........what about the affection that takes one to never abandon themselves, their body, their flesh, their senses, as they burn from the same fire, yelling out painful cries of agony........

"I am burning right now, my flesh is tearing apart, I'm in so much pain, but why can't I leave myself? If I'm the one who is being tortured why can't I just dismiss being me?

There is no answer, but only an eerie but promising vow echoing,

"Till death do us apart."

What do you call that if not love?

There is not a soul walking on this earth, that outshines your favor for self.

You mustn't for God sake, neglect you.

When all has failed, let you be the one who wins your trust.

Not one person here, is as intimately bonding with you as you are.

When someone comes and say, "I'll burn for you."

You must know and be aware, you have been burning with yourself this entire time.

In demonic movies where the spirit possessing a body is thrown in holy waters, their claim to have own that body, and their said ambition to conquer it, vanishes as they groan in pain, trying desperately to separate itself from the very body it fought to possess.

Any separate entity, whether a spirit or a person, who claim to envelope you in their embrace and make you one with them or be one with you.

Will struggle, they may very well keep their promise, but oh will they struggle......their hands and every Fibre of their being, when you are placed in fire, will try to escape you......

Try to separate their untargeted flesh out of your hold.....

But if alone, you are to be made fuel for the fires.

Not an inch of you will struggle to run out of you.

They will helplessly as if impossible, nonsensical theory.

Simply seize to resist.

They will burn with you.

Ofcourse yelling every pain driven curses, just like you.

You are not separate from yourself that is the boon of intimacy we all were gifted with.

One who cannot nurture the relationship they were born to have with themselves, can unfortunately never know true intimacy.

Vanity this, vanity that.

When you aren't going around, indulging in methods of encouragement that requires someone to play small, inferior, bad, moronic, you are good don't worry.

Those who cannot distinguish between self affection to vanity, will forever live timid and shallow.

I am beautiful.

Is encouragement.

Now, I'm beautiful than her, him.

Is unnecessary.

I'm capable, doesn't need to be, I'm capable than them.

It's all about you in a sense.

It's alright.

It's alright to think highly of yourself.

To smile at your own reflection.

Wish yourself good luck as you seize a new day.

It's alright to find yourself endearing.

If it were, another who had stayed with you through thick and thin of life's ups and down.

Everyone would urge you to treat them well.

What about you though?

Just because you are you and not a separate individual, does it make the same endurance since birth to this day you had together with yourself mean nothing?

People say this shaming accusations because they are themselves starved of their own affection.

Take care of yourself.

Because you deserve it.

I see it.

What a lovely companion you were to yourself, crying and laughing for the same reasons, dreaming and dreading the same things....

Make sure you treat them well.

A bond we all have with someone, whom we share a joke with.

A bond we all have with someone, whom we share the same political view with.

A bond we have with someone , whom we had shared the wombs and homes with.

A bond we have with someone, whom we share the same taste in things.

Everything are in small scattered places.

In different people.

And when they are all accumulated into one, it creates us.

That joke might be the only one they laugh at, they may find your other joke mildly offensive or triggering.

That political view that you both nod at, might end up being the cause of dispute because your sentiment regarding it doesn't match.

Etc etc.

There is always limit of intimacy with people, there is a boundary, a wall of limit, to how much we can connect to another.

Oh, but with myself.

I find everything I find hilarious, hilarious.

I have the same view with each similarly shared sentiment behind it.

All, all of it is boundless.

I connect with myself endlessly and I can keep going.

There is no end, no limit.

This is what I will live for.

I never knew ambition and will could be gentle, but here is mine.

[urspiritualnurse]

Living was hard.

Thinking was hard.

Feeling was hard.

Being.....was hard.

Well, when I first became a self, I think I started off in a rocky cliff.

The first encounter I had with life did not go well. The impressions life and I had of each other was not much of a help either.

The very start of being alive is like learning how to do something, like riding a bike.

I think my start was not well, although I was taught how to pedal, the way to do so was very discouraging.

My feet that only knew how to pedal backwards, lived a life of torture.

All around suggested forward movement, and every place I wanted to reach was ahead of me.

Oh, how frustrated i was, I wanted to reach somewhere, and the unethical clock kept ticking.....but my feet....my damn feet.....couldn't pedal forward....

I resented the very teaching, I frowned upon those who taught me wrong....

But even doing so, I felt no relief.

We are asked such intricate questions, "are you living your life?"

Ofcourse we all do, because it is an inescapable pocket we are stuffed in.

It is like being asked, "are you pedaling your ride?"

Ofcourse I did, I could never bring myself to stop.

Life felt like a sadistic tide that only got frozen into a land, if kept moving....pedaling.....the moment one stopped.....the bending land would turn into an unforgiving tide, swallowing whoever that dared to stop.

I knew I was doing what was needed of me, we all do.

Noone is ever truly dilly dallying around life......nomatter how much of a sloth they appear to be.

But the real needed question was...."How are you living?" "How are you pedaling?"

That's the thing of being alive, the torture was not life, it was how we functioned around being alive.

It was how our mind pedaled its way through thoughts.

It was how our heart pedaled it's way through emotions.

Our new and young mind who was in the very beginning taught, a method that inflicted tension and torture, didn't know how to function without inflicting the said sensation that it first learnt.

And thus, we grew apart from our mind.

We loathed it......we wished it would shut up.

My mind functioned......but the way it did was very hard to tolerate.

Each thought had weights of accusation, every curiosity had the pressure and panic behind it, pushing me to know. Know. And know.

No wonder, thinking was painful.

I got angry with my mind, "why do you torture your very blood and Kin? Aren't I you? Aren't you mine?"

But I realized, just like myself, my mind was taught only that way to be alive.

Back pedaling, torturous and tense interrogative dynamic.

Like a little baby, curled up inside my big skull, i shook it's cradle with violent outbursts.

It was not evil, it was not an enemy.

It was just taught wrong.

Now what else can I do besides become competent myself in spirits and teach it from the very scratch.....how to be.

It is like I was in spirits way ahead of my physical self, already past the finish line and from there I shouted and cried out my name, yelled out to my heart and mind and said eagerly, to come reach me.

But from that finish line all i could witness was my mind, heart, pedaling backwards........Doing everything they can to move but never ever closing our distance....I grew so frustrated and agitated......."Why can't you simply be swift? Are you doing this on purpose ?"

But once my fury grew some patience, I noticed their poor feets that knew no other way to pedal......

Now from here, I shout out new ways, they hear me, they do.

I teach them everyday, how to pedal in ways where their efforts are rewarded with results.

That is the thing.

Living becomes hard.....when the method of being alive is unconciously leading towards the very first sensation we picked up.

Tension, panic, forcefulness, exhaustion.

Our selves are blind, and the braille that we trace to see and perceive through is our senses.

So the mind and heart that first sensed pressure and panic learned that those sensation is the sign to keep going, a reassurance of some sort that tells them, "that's the right way".

So each time we sense pressure, it is reassuring our parts that we are indeed headed towards the right path.

We search for external torture in men to ever begin finding humane empathy.

But torture is more so an internal thing.

A man unscathed by life is deeply scarred nevertheless.

By his own mind and heart.

His mind that was left with untrimmed claws, and taught movements that scrapes his innocence away, bleeds every alive moment of his.

No need to look for parental history, the relationship he has ever had, the height he has reached and how much he still needs to climb to declare, that the man deserves, to be left alone in peace.

Thinking was hard, I can still remember vivid as today, how every thought that surfaced had axe in hand, chopping down my peace, each swing heavy and painful to bear.

I know well enough, the importance of good relationship with the mind and heart.

So I donot dare to speak dispute in someone.

Such lonely and pitiful beings we are, sensible yet depraved by survival instincts.

We long for goodness but are too timid to make the bold decision to claim, one infront of us.......is indeed good.

We have so severed self image, not an ounce of good impression we have of ourself that we search for it externally, we yearn deeply like a hungered prey, nearing predators, desperately fixated to the green crushed under the bloodied claws.

Yet, stubbornly standing our prideful grounds, declaring hostility towards connection, yet starving for an encounter where one finally meets someone......plausible enough to submit.....and tolerable enough to admit....to the good impression they made.

No wonder we are the most guided creatures in existence, where every inch of earth is decorated with signs on where to go.

Nomatter who was born under what weather, what roof.

I can forever find similarities in all whom I meet.

Because we all were taught.

And what we have learned is sometimes painful to execute.

To be alive is a great achievement in itself.

To live with your assigned mind and heart every day is courageous enough.

[urspiritualnurse]

I used to avoid every direction that resulted in someone repeating my place to me.

I knew very well, and the innate knowing in itself was shameful.

So I stood demure and obedient.

If you were the untamed forest that he lived tracing all his life, then I was the mere petal that landed on his palm.

He seized it at once, and after that, nothing of me was left to trail.

To know you mean nothing to someone is a humbling weather to be under.

And humble I have been, time and again.

The audacity that comes from being in an encouraging place, a highly cherished position, I had none of it.

What you demanded, I prayed for it in secrecy.

What you commanded, I hoped for it shamelessly.

We were never the same, not even a pinch close to similarity.

The bold scolding you gave him when he didn't meet your expectations, the blunt opinions you shared to him about himself whenever he strayed further away from civility.

I envied and admired.

If only I could do what you did, say what you said.

I thought, always.

But any and every feathers he ruffled, I dared not point them out.

I stayed quiet and buried my pride in submission.

I was not born submissive. Desperation and a ruthless need to be loved made me cut open my dignity and obliterate my able knees.

You met his untarnished self, and in it you wreaked havoc.

Now infront me, remains a tarnished man, enraged out of his wits and sensibility, punishing everyone that came after you.

And who comes after you, always? If not me.

To the one before me,

What have you done?

What on earth have you made of him?

Cold, unforgiving, cynical, anxious, and absent, cage.

I'm left with the aftermath of a cause foreign to me.

And what did you get?

Pure, naive, trusting, present, lenient, open sky.

What you destroyed, lives destroying others.

What on earth have you done?

Your wishful acts and I'm the one to pay the price.

Submissive I remained, all the while picturing you in my stead.

Your audacious tongue that roared out what I desperately wanted to say, I lived imagining that.

I wanted to borrow you, use you as a shield.

This is the agitation that comes alive when you become the other woman.

The second placed crumbs, the after thought, the latter option.

Useless you feel, used you feel.

And yet, the prideless self that accepted to be in the second place knows no audacity to ever bring yourself to walk away.

Like a house, first forsaken and then after revisited.

The owner might come around with pleasant and digestible excuses,

"I lost my way and ended up in the wrong house, but now I'm here, aren't I ?"

And then they might place their belongings on the bare ground of the once forsaken home.

The belongings that were meant to a house, objects so sacred and special.

Will feel vile and filthy.

"Where have you placed them before?"

"What grounds have they touched ?"

Filthy I feel, filthy he feels.

But a boneless child like me will never say it out loud.

Unless I'm prepared to be disowned.

Audacity will never bless me unless I'm prepared to be disowned.

[urspiritualnurse]

All of our lives, we have been told that give and take is a corrupt form of being.

And that it is benevolent to be the unstoppable force of unconditionality, that gives and gives and never expects a return.

But I think, give and take is a sacred dance between two potent hands.

It is a fair way of being.

There are many spiritually cleansed beings around that have within them found the infinite fountain of empathy, where they gather resources of pure, untarnished affection and distribute in all directions.

But such awakened progressors sometimes suffer lethal droughts.

People are sometimes so nonsensical, they wish within their bottomless heart, "I wish someone would accept me for who I am. Forgive me for all that I have ever been punished for all my life."

And God grants them the person.

But what do they do?

Ruin things.

It is pitiful almost, you get born and you are in 7 colors, but your mother can tolerate only 3 of it, and your father can tolerate only 1, the world can tolerate only 2 of it, and the remaining, remains there in a passive palette, waiting, praying, hoping, that someone will come and hold them in acceptance.

We believe none of our prayers are heard, to be ever answered.

But sometimes they are, subtly present infront of us, in the form of a friend, a stranger, a passerby, a visitor from foreign lands, lover, etc.

But we get possessed almost, by the parts of us that didn't get to live within us.

What was once rejected comes back with a vigorous force, a mischievous spirit, like a child unloved, tormenting his surounding out of spite, causing trouble out of spite......

And you behave with the one answered prayer, in ways despicable.

Almost, testing their limits.

"When I did this, my mother scolded me so roughly, with words that cut open my heart and worth. So the you who looks at me with such affection, even when I did the same thing, brings me such immense pleasure, I want to go beyond what I did before, if breaking a vase was what my mother berated me for, but you remain still accepting unlike her, then I want to break everything this time.....not just vase......so I can keep feeling your forgiving grace time and again."

This is a sorrowful cycle one blindly chases.

And hurts the one before them.

I was not always so graceful with my way of loving, was rarely forgiving and wise.

Accepting was a distant trait I hadn't discovered.

But things happened and one after another, I found myself becoming more and more open.

What I accepted of myself, I found it easy to accept on others.

And little by little, acceptance and grace became my ever present limbs.

But such is the tragedy, I had although become pure again in heart, my mind was still in shambles.

I picked people, who were not good for me.

It was not that I was a poor judge of character, my intuition never allowed me ignorance.

But, I simply found myself lingering around the same natured people, who loved testing my limits, who were terribly sad, miserable almost, who couldn't stand being within their own skin, hearing their own thoughts, feeling their own emotions.......and such people....sparked within me, a need to save and comfort.

They say the devoted, sees his god in every face.

Mine must have been my two birth parents.

Their intricate nature and patterns of being, as though were splattered all across the globe and had imprinted millions of strangers that I had yet to meet.

And one by one they visited according to the fate's design and each resembled my mother, my father.

And I found them precious.

As though, I who had interacted with my parents millions and millions of time, and still hadn't forged a truce between, felt hope when I met those new, familiar strangers.

I thought somewhere deep down, "with them, this is going to be my first interaction and I may have as a child ruined the first interaction with my parents, with them I will not, I will make sure I won't. I will do anything and everything and pretend that I'm meeting in them, my parents for the very first time so I can finally bend the long passed story the way I wanted."

And I would give them endlessly.

Accept their entirety, their hideous nature, to the most fragile innocence they kept hidden.

And each time I would gift them understanding, they would in return hand me more unacceptable things about them, and watch with eager, expecting eyes, "accept this too!" And I would wonder, where such mischief came from.

What we never had, we desperately seek.

Tirelessly pray and appease the above ruler.

Wish and hope.

And as we are granted what we once asked for.

We become such mischievous children.....

The dynamics I had with my mother and father was painful but each had their own shades.

My mother was unforgiving in most cases, one broken vase led to painful endings.

My father was apathetic and absent both in mind and body, even if more than 10 vases were broken, he would brush it off like it was nothing to shout about or punish.

So as a child, I remember doing things that was unacceptable to my mother, infront of my father but in more extreme ways.

It felt.......blissful almost.

The usual scolding and beating, cursing response nowhere to be experienced, just plain old calm, nonchalance.

It made me feel a sense of twisted joy.

And those uncountable times where I was met with punishment, wanted to almost rebel out of my flesh.

Do more than what I did before, and bask in the ambiance of nonchalance and calmed reactions.

There were people just like that little self of mine, mischievous and rebellious, and thrill seekers.

"I accept you." I would say, and they would do extreme things in return and whisper back with voice brimming with expectations,

"Even if I do this?"

And I would respond with a nod of assurance, yes.

And they would have this devilish sparkle in their sad eyes, and run around the field of life and torment everything that exists of me and my surrounding and ask with the eagerness of a little clean child,

"Even now???!!"

And with exhaustion cornering my sanity, the thread of patience and virtue slowly losing its grip, my resolve to be unconditional would shake......

I feared for my life, when I loved someone....I always feared for my life.

Because I know, I'm someone when in love sees nothing that is horrible of them, makes no part of them a fault.

And I feared those whom I loved because they knew that.

And took one hell of an advantage.

Taking and taking and taking, and I would wonder,

"Do they believe I was a soul privileged in acceptance? Do they think that I seek nothing? Pray for nothing? Do they think I'm invincible and endless, like a bird that lays golden eggs, endlessly without any rest. Just to fulfill the greed of someone needy."

They thought because I was kind, and loving that I was raised within those virtues surrounding my life.

And asked never, even out of formality, "what about you? Do you not want what you give?"

People, especially the ones in miserable mind state, can never treasure their answered prayers.

They only know how to ruin and test it, endlessly and chase thrills as it keeps on laying golden eggs of acceptance and love.

There are plenty of examples I can dig out of my life, if one ever asked, what is the unfairness I'm talking about in detail.

Years ago, I moved to a new state, leaving my old life behind.

And in that unfamiliar garden full of new beginnings and opportunities, I was truly happy and hopeful.

Everyday I would wake up excited, the sound of my alarm thrilled my open eyes.

But everything changed with an abrupt force.

I never was someone who trusted my intuition before but somehow in that new place, I could hear it loud and clear.

And from it I learned so many things that made me terrified of waking up and meeting life.

Things that I'm not ready to speak about, things that brings out a shudder from within, things that causes my sturdy voice to stutter like a child, things that I'm conscious of ever acknowledging infront of a crowd, things that I daydream of sharing out to listening ears and understanding crowds.

But one thing from the list of those miseries I am dying to spill about is the unfairness I faced in affection.

It is a universal thing isn't it? The traits and symptoms one faces when in love.

The backlash of one's past emotion that surfaces, fears and paranoia.

But you dare to go for it, and still pursue love.

I was very audacious and truthfully delusional.

My hopes were uphigh in the sky and I never once cried nomatter how many times I faced rejection.

Ofcourse it was extremely painful, I would pretend to be jolly and bright but deep down I felt miserable and envious and angry and sad.

When in love, you want to see the subject of your affection constantly.

Your head is crowded by their image and figures.

You want to hear their voice and meet their gaze, walk side to side, and have your hands the privilege of grasping theirs almost anytime you desired of holding.

But like I had mentioned before, I was terrible when it comes to choosing the soul that I would give my heart to.

Nomatter how wise my intuition was, I saw none of it as my concern and went for it anyway.

I was young and inexperienced, I was clumsy and naive, too hopeful and too blind.

I had the misfortune of falling in love with someone extremely selfish and absent.

Very much familiar although, the moment I had met him, I felt like I knew him from somewhere.

But it was the imprints of my parents I had seen in his soul.

Controlling, domineering, selfish, and petty when I didn't obeyed or responded the way he wanted, absent and ghostly, promiscuous and spiteful, sad, miserable, scared, paranoid, anxious.

And I had lost myself in that affection.

He was very devious in his methods, he would deprive me of him, his face, his voice, his entirety, even his name.

But he would snatch and hoard all of mine, without my consent, all the time.

And we both had one thing in common.

Affection and attraction for one another.

But we both acted in different ways.

He placed power dynamics in such affection, he feared equal heights, the place where I can see him clearly, he was scared of it.

So he would put himself in a tall place where my eyes can never find and watch me like a hawk.

Satisfying his hearts desire, feeding his needs, and leaving me dry and empty with nothing for me to take.

When in love, everyone has the same symptoms, the same needs.

But he was selfish and could think only of himself, he thought only of his stomach, only of his need.

He fed himself full and never once in return considered catering to another's hunger.

The kind of person who is so engulfed with their own emotions and thoughts, they forget that they are not the only one who goes through them.

If fear of rejection is universal, he was someone who would cowardly hide himself and his heart, in a safe confined place where rejection can never reach and then, demand out of me courage after courage.

While he hid, he demanded out of me, grand performance and poetries for all to hear and see, my heart.

As though I was not scared of rejection.

As though I didn't wanted to see, hear, feel.

As though I was invincible, made to provide endlessly.

Such was my previous subject of affection.

And I was tormented every single second,

I desired him like a bed ridden patient desires of death.

I longed and longed each day, my heart would try to grab anything....even a little grain of his existence, a tiny proof of him, but nothing was there to hold and I would die a little each time, I discovered that my hands and heart were empty.

Such torturous love I felt, I cannot put it into words.

This was a punishment, a slap from heaven to wake my asleep eyes.

A thunderous whip that shouts,"enough is enough!"

And there I was, in love, hopelessly in maddening intensity and utterly ruined from head to soul.

I pray not even my enemy would fall in such imbalanced facade of love.

It took me years to be sane and safe.

It took me years to finally let go.

Nomatter how much you adore someone, if they are a child with a need for extremes, you will be wrecked apart by their needs.

I am far from untrustable, I am far from promiscuous, I am far from such playful patterns.

Yet I humored his fears.

Fears of abandonment, fears of being stolen away by another, fears of betrayal, fears of this, fears of that.

I can't help but laugh out a little contempt.

If one ever traced their nose around his skin, he smells less like him and more like another.

Such promiscuous person, fearing my promiscuity.

It is laughable indeed.

I had never met such far gone individual, I thought it was my mother and my father that were hopeless.

I had a grave fault in being blind.

Forced ignorance leads to such consequences and I learned plenty.

Unfairness is this.

Whatever this is.

First, rejection.

"I do not like you. You are not my cup of tea."

Alright...although it stings, I cannot be mad.....it is your right.

"You are hideous, laughable, pathetic.

Make me grand, boast about me and paint me larger than life, for that is your only use."

Alright.....so I'm your personal encouragement, a mirror that says whatever you want to hear....although I feel used and overlooked, I will do it because I want to please you.

"I won't ever reciprocate your affection, but I can agree to collide our bodies.

I know that is a privilege you cannot refuse, what do you say? Although small and not in a position to refuse me ever."

Alright.. ...so I'm to you but a personal toy which you can perversely strip down, peek under, whenever you want, although it stabs a precious part of me, I can not refuse nor disagree, because I don't want to offend you.

"Even though we are nothing to each other, and I have not given an inch of me to you, I will hover around you and your life like I own you, corner your entirety till you have nowhere to hide. Why? Because you interest me and I find joy in the passing of times, watching you. Like a TV series, you are my personal entertainment. "

Alright.....I see.......I am someone that interests you, pathetic I am to feel joy in it.....but this feels wrong......what do I do? I like you so much I will not say anything and never hold you accountable.....

"I love you. And now you belong to me whether you want it or not.

If you dare look away from my existence and search for another, I don't know what measures I will use to bind your feet to mine. There is no you now, I will infiltrate all that you are, all that you were, all that you will ever be.

And ruthlessly suffocate you, why? Isn't it obvious? Because I love you."

.....and now here I am.

This me.

Nowhere near flattered, or content.

Hideous, selfish, cruel, and coward.

That's what I think, from the very beginning, he gave me nothing but pain and torture.

Mental and emotional abuse, with it many other cryptic tactics. Misuse of power, and many other unspeakable things.

Now I have realized, from the very beginning, I was always suffering, crying, uncomfortable, hurt, miserable, tortured, exhausted, suffocated, by him.

Never once was I ever happy.

Never once did I felt joy and supported.

Never.

And the funny thing is,

If one ever asked him, "this girl, who is she to you?"

In poetry he will respond, "everything I prayed for."

And if one ever asked me, "this person, who was he to you?"

In utter dread, I will respond, "My worst nightmare. "

This is the difference.

This is the unfairness.

And this is my contempt that i left unattended for years because I was too forgone in affection.

So, to all boundless givers, and devotees of unconditionality.

Expect a return, no. Demand it.

Because give and take is the sacred principle.

In this world, the infinite cycle is not just life and death, it is also the simultaneous give and take between two hands.

Never put yourself in such cruel positions, never let the one whom you fed starve you. If so, snatch away the grain they greedily chew on.

Because such parasites don't deserve to receive.

I won't mind if you frown upon the above experience I shared, yes, find it unacceptable, filthy and distasteful.

And grow discernment from that loathe.

May you never experience such people.

May you learn your lesson by means that are kind and gentle, not whatever this was.

Because learning doesn't need to be so harsh.

Life lessons if is necessary to gather, may you learn it through kind measures and stimuli.

[urspiritualnurse]

"One doesn't miss the sky, that hovers constantly above without the restraints of a roof in between.

When the sky and the eyes that beholds it are separated by a roof, timely like the habitual dawn that occurs always in a day.

Only then will one ever miss the sky."

There was once an invasive lover of mine, overbearing like an intoxicated father, suffocating like that of a sad mother.

Anywhere I went, his nose would crawl its way in.

Even in places I didn't wanted him to be, he would be there.

Even in places where the most unfortunate and pathetic beings in the world would deserve some moments for themselves.

I would be denied of it, my lungs felt heavy and nomatter how large the room.

I felt it shrinking and slowly eating me alive.

From this wall to that wall, I felt him there.

My mind, heart, and my entirety were tormented, to the point I couldn't help but hide.

I think part of me that stayed without ever finding it unforgivable was because when I was a child, I had overbearing and forceful people all around.

Do you know what is distrubted fairly to all good and the bad, poor and the rich by our creator?

That is privacy.

Everyone has the privilege to shut their door and get inside their sanctuary where finally they aren't constantly been seen, heard, perceived.

Everyone has the privilege of having things within their head, heart and their day, their future plans, their usual routes, their intricate pattern of moving through life, that is just for them to know and experience.

But when I was a kid, everyone would demand out of me the secrets that are just for me to know, the little intimate moments with me and my experiencing self that would constantly interact, would in beautiful or sad moments find something that we discovered together and want nothing but to share it in secrecy, it was a thrilling, and playful sensation to have with yourself, like you are keeping a secret together with yourself.

But around me was a force, blind and unaware about human boundaries, the line that is drawn among individuals, the difference between one another.

They would break down my walls, and I was so little I had no idea or wits to handle it with grace and self power.

A 7 year old if ever stood against a group of lost adults with fierce determination and courage.

What will the child ever be able to change?

Except his ownself.

Pessimistic it sounds, I'm aware not all are like the child I was, not all are like the adults I was surrounded by.

But, I couldn't change anyone and ended up changing myself.

I didn't say no, didn't say "that's for me to know only." "None of your business." Whatever they demanded and pushed out of me I gave.........even the word gave sounds like I had a choice.....untrue.

Do you know within you there is a dream, an ambition, a plan.......that you donot tell anyone. It is very dear to you and you wish only for yourself to ever know.

But since my early ages, I was not demonstrated well what clear boundaries are and how an individual must never blend with another separate individual, that there should always be a difference between 2 people that interacts.

So when somebody asked, and in some cases even when no one asked I would spill out all my beautiful treasures as if something within me, feared holding it in for too long...........as if that was a compelled move I had to push out of me.......

And thus, such upbringing and mindset attracted the exact type of insecure, timid and scared lovers.

Who wanted more than what human decency allowed.

They would become the walls that surrounded me and I truly believed that walls indeed could hear.

I was scared and for years I reciprocated regardless of what he was doing.

I thought, it was natural and it was pitiful even because he is scared of being abandoned and has anxious habits.

But then I already had walked into the path of self healing.

And without even realizing my inner true feelings started getting louder each day.

It went from, "he is here and it is alright. He is scared and that is why...."

To, "I don't like this, I feel scared and uncomfortable, I feel terrible, my skin is crawling with stress and disgust, my mind is in shambles, I'm not happy, this is not right."

And today, I have grown into my own skin and self.

Before I know someone's internal voices, I tend to hear my own first.

Funny, isn't it?

That is what was supposed to be for all.

Themselves before another.

But it took me 24 years to learn this basic human, common sense.

When you are around unaware blind people, you yourself close your eyes shut and imprint on yourself the identity of the blind, so you don't feel yourself being left out or worse, crazy.

But here it is.

To all who suffer from lack of boundaries, it is not because you are just timid and coward to assert yourself, it is also because it is to be expected for a child that grew up around people who took blue to be green.

It is natural to feel this way and be lost when it comes to where your right starts and when another's begin.

So learn, step by step, with patience.

Don't use shame or fear as a tactic to teach yourself better.

Panicking doesn't lead to quick results, it leads to you flying out of your body and disassociating, separating and losing your self.

So it's alright.

Take it from a girl who had eyes plastered all over her walls.

It's going to be alright.

You need not forgive or forget.

And here I'm to let you know, you do not have to feel guilty for not missing them.

This forceful sky is something I will never miss.

It makes me honor and desire the roof, standing in between.

"Yes, stand in the middle and hide the sky away from me, hide me away from the sky."

Learning boundaries doesn't have to feel like whiplashes dripped with shame.

Take baby steps.

Learn at your own pace.

For you who knew the river as green, need not feel so ashamed to someone who grew up since before, knowing the river as blue.

It's alright.

Take your time.

And keep things to yourself.

This privacy you see, is a right of all.

Do not let another take it away from you.

And never forget to listen how someone makes you feel.

Uncomfortable, scared, disrespected, helpless, is what mine made me feel.

What does yours make you feel?

Doesn't matter good or bad, I do not condemn positivity that visits me and my painted words of grey.

I welcome the sun basked ones, it is not your fault that someone didn't experience the delight you had.

It is wise to always listen to your feelings.

Whether someone makes you feel happy or agitated.

Regardless of the emotion's tone, it is very helpful to be attuned to yourself.

Alright?

Be safe and steady.

[urspiritualnurse]

Indeed, privileged we are.

An empty self we land as, and grow with time.

I was ashamed for a while of the teachings I grew up with, from this height I have risen upto, my awareness can see things it couldn't before, so I thought, "what was I thinking? That wasn't how things were supposed to go."

Now as I observe my awareness grow up each day, I realize this one eternal thing.

Just when I think, I have finally learned the last thing I needed to be aware of, something comes up, a very foreign yet intriguing aspect of a perception.

I suppose it is like the experience of a parent, who watches their child grow endlessly, although to all parents there is this one age, one phase of their child's life, they wish was the end of their change.

Some wish the adorable nature of their 7 year old child to be the eternal, some wish the admirable diligence and reliability of their 30 year old child to be the eternal, that stands as the end, and where the change no longer follows.

But time moves hand in hand with a man's nature, growing vividly in brilliant ways.

The mother who wished her son would stay 7 for eternity, finds the child growing up one day to be a teen who wishes solitude and distance.

The father who wished his son to stay the same reliable age of 30 forever, inevitably also finds his child growing old and withering as years accumulates on his age.

I find myself sometimes, like that parent.

My awareness being my child, there is this certain stage it reaches where I feel completely at ease, I feel safe and content and wish for nothing but for that state to be eternal, the end game.

But, inevitably it grows......

It grows up and I cannot make it stay in that previous comfortable, familiar phase.

What else can I do other than step back and watch.

Watch as it grows up until the day I die.

Until the very end of my life, it will continue to grow.....

And I must be a clean observer, content on watching something splendid grow.

And in this stage of my awareness, I'm made aware that gratitude to what I was taught in my past is important and necessary.

It is a privilege almost, that I was educated and was not made to be an empty shell.

I cannot imagine myself being impacted by no experiences and implanted by no surroundings until I reached a certain age where I could gather knowledge on my own.

You are born, starting from the age of 0, and empty you are.

With no parents, no society, no culture, no language, no world, no nothing to impact you up until you reach your 20s.

It's a very unfortunate circumstance to ever go through.

Such is why, I'm privileged to have been not an empty shell up until I reached this age where I could finally choose for my own.

I'm glad that I had a belief whether right or wrong, pleasant or unpleasant, I'm glad I had a pattern of thinking and doing things whether destructive or helpful.

I'm glad that during my early years I had something to lean on and that I was not empty.....

I thought I was full of contradictions and made confusing remarks considering how many times the way I talk about a topic changes.

But I suppose this is my child's growth I'm witnessing.

My awareness, my dear child, doesn't stop when I tell it to.

Ofcourse there was this one state I felt the most comfortable and safe in, but here I am 10 miles away from it, in a different heights of perspective.

And I'm sure, after some time, I will speak about it in another way that goes against this, but that too will be the growth of my awareness speaking.

To put it simply, I do not contradict any sense.

I simply speak about the awareness that I'm witnessing the very moment.

A mother who speaks of her 10 year old's physique and suddenly after 20 years later finds changes in what she used to say, that is not her contradicting herself.

That is a witness, stating what she has seen in her sons growth.

"He is a delightful boy with untidy habits, likes to play all day, and is short in height compared to his friends."

"He is a reliable son with punctual habits, likes to read his books all afternoon, and is well built than average. "

She will say to her listeners as she speaks about her son, all years long.

And each year that passes, as the son goes from 10 to 11, 11 to 12, 20 to 30.

Each of her descriptions of him, changes sometimes bit by bit and sometimes drastically.

Yet none of who listens to her finds it contradicting.....for they know the ever present and plain in sight rights of all, that is growth.

I acknowledge the fact that my awareness is a growing child, and indeed I am not a contradicting force, that lacks devotion to a certain cause permanently.

I always had thought before that awareness was some sort of humiliating entity that stood in your mind and whipped your thoughts with shame.

"I know you so very well." I used to hear that alot when I was young.

And it never felt comforting or kind.

It felt as though someone stripped my skin apart from me, and looked at my gaping red flesh, and grinned in victory as if they had proved that indeed some kind of dirt was always hiding underneath my skin.

"I know you."is a word of comfort to a man miserable by his own invisibility.

But in my life I had dealt with this phrase with immense shame.

Those who said they knew me with extreme vigor and enthusiasm wanted not to comfort me but to humiliate.

You break a vase, and no one is around, you feel nervous and you know it in your bones that it was not intentional but scared of the punishment you might inevitably receive, you keep quiet.

And someone walks in, finds the broken vase and smirks.

"You did it , didn't you?"

And you with your translucent naivety, nod your head with pleading eyes full of fear.

And they say to you, "I know you better than you know yourself, ofcourse it is you, it has to be you."

And then you are left feeling seen, but at what cost?

Your dignity, your sense of self, your shielding skin......

I suppose this was one of the reasons I never dared to be aware, I felt incredibly powerless in the face of awareness or any path that lead me towards it,

I felt uncomfortable and dreaded the idea of an awareness walking in and smirking with pride, proving to me, what I am to my ownself........

And I suppose the fear of being aware is caused when one thinks, being aware cost grave injury......

If in the back of your head, you believe that you are horrible and you live hiding from it.

The word awareness will strike such fear in you, for you perceive it to be a dare devil who will skin your ignorance alive and prove to you and all who sees, that indeed it was right! You are horrible.

But those days are over and the awareness no longer is what it used to be.

There is no longer something that I truly want to hide from, and such is why awareness does not bother me as it used to.

What else does it need to show me, I will see it all with my stubbornly open eyes.

And I had believed the things that grows endlessly are bound to cause trouble for anything big or grand is a catastrophe that needs binding.

You plant a tree and each day it grows faster than it's kin, and for few months you rejoice the speed and pace but there will come a time when you will start sensing fear within your nerves as you watch it cross the sky and still not stop its endless growth.

"What kind of creature is this?

All can see it, such racket it is causing does it have no fear?

How greedy is this tree, does it not know the word enough.

If it falls, it will destroy towns and people.

Worst, if someone climbs it.....they might never get their way back home."

This fear and dread, I had this since I can remember.

What I saw grow.......endlessly without a stop.......it caused panic in me.

But this awareness that keeps on expanding itself is kind.

Just when I think it has found something for me to lean on, it discovers something else again and hands it to me.

If my awareness had stopped on, "one must value what they create, not what was implanted in them by default." Ofcourse it was a kind and healing state I was in, it encouraged me to move past by upbringing and roots and create something of my own.

But look at this new height, this new growth........

It says, appreciate what you had learned, nomatter what the education was......or who taught it to you......it honors my mother, my father, my past self, my country, my culture, my family, my past, my roots of the beginning.......

This is kind....

Just when I think,

"This is it! I have finally found the ultimate kind thing to do to myself, the best path to walk for myself."

It discovers more for me.

It is as though a parent, continuously pursuing better, better, better to provide.

Just when you think they have given all that you could ever had asked for, their eyes that are always on the look out for more better things, finds something new to offer time and again.

Indeed, this is love.

This greed, this paranoia, this envy, this restlessness to chase and chase and pursue endlessly for more ways to love someone, be kind to someone, be fair to someone......

This is love.

When you think you are at the point of affection and care, where you no longer need to pursue for more ways to love and care.......that you indeed reached a height so in peak, depth so endless, that you no longer need to move anymore.

Then I suppose the gravity of dedication depends on one's exhaustion and rest.

You plant a beloved seed and it is one moment of time, below the height where your knees align, and in that state of that plant you discover all the ways to treat it well.

And think to yourself, "this is it! I know how to care for it, and I no longer need to learn more."

But the tree grows quietly as your night shifts to day each morning, and you realize it has grown up to the height your head and hands cannot reach.......

And foolishly you keep on caring for it, as though it is still the knee aligned little sapling....

You give birth to a healthy child and they are as lovable as peaches in spring, so within your reach, so tiny and fragile, you learn earnestly how to care and love that small infant.

And think to yourself, "finally ! I know everything when it comes to loving and tending to a child. I no longer need to seek knowledge anymore."

But within few generous blinks the time takes, the child is all grown up, who wears now ripped jeans, baggy torn shirts, listens to song you do not understand, has interest far fetched than yours.....completely foreign and unfamiliar than the infant you once held......

And you try so hard to love and care for them in those expired ways you had discovered before.

You wipe his nose for him but he seems to find it embarrassing and irritable.

You bend down to tie his laces and he seems to find it infuriating........

And you wonder to yourself.....

"What is wrong? With me, with him."

But nothing is......

Nothing was.

It is just that, you had stopped the pursuit of more.......when it comes to love and care.

You want within your mortal form, ofcourse to rest.

For the constant pursuit exhausts all.

But everything grows...........and with it, so should your ways.......

Whether loving, caring, thinking, feeling, believing......

Do not be so stubborn......or you might start a feud with your cherished ones.

Whether self or others.

Let there be room for all to grow.

Whether it be a plant, or a breathing person or the breathing person's formless, unidentified, awareness.

[urspiritualnurse]

There are times when a spirit manifests in itself blindness,

In cases where there is a guide who was sent for someone specific, gets entangled by the one who they were meant to protect, even more so if their little assigned human is bathing in malice and untransformable filth of negativity.

The poor spirit who is born with loyalty and care weaved within, for the one who they are meant to serve.

Becomes the first one transformed, sometimes for the bad.

An assigned spirit's purpose is to guide, accompany, the one who they were paired with.

But before the start of life, all spirits are made to take an oath.

A pledge of some sort, which is like a double-edged sword, depending on the ones they protect.

"No matter what happens, I shall be with them and guard them with all my floating remains."

They deliver devotion in such soul tying promises.

And they land on earth, near their dearest, and lord knows why, the ones who are theirs to guide and protect, are sometimes, unfortunately malicious, hopelessly drowned in malice, a walking force of evil.

And the poor fair spirit with body made of translucent light, transmutes into something else entirely.

Taking in the air of evil, one helplessly becomes one.

And there are some people who loathe you with no regard for morals.

They resent you to such extremes that they would do anything to provoke misfortune out of you, send forces of evil and attack your bare and asleep back.

Leaving you no room of peace even in your sleep.

Sometimes, they might send your way dark forces that were already named before your birth, recorded long ago in the books of pagans and myths.

Sometimes, they might send your way stenched words of magic, smeared in black.

Sometimes, they might send their poor and unfortunate spirit guides your way, who had unwillingly turned into something they were not.

So tread carefully.

When banishing away whatever evil is send your way, some evil within those forces needs your prayer.

If there is, a spirit whose white hands were forced to be painted with blood.

By a force of oath that their devotion urged out of them.

Show them some grace and pray for their renewal.

If possible, plead on their behalf, to the god who pairs together a human and a spirit before life flows to begin.

And sometimes the wickedness they throw will no know bound, and send your way a demon whose name must be called, inorder to defend.

In such tricky and illusive cases, if nomatter how hard you inquire and try, cannot find the name of that entity.

Then, name it yourself.

Call it a flea, if you will.

A leech if you will.

A barren coal, if you will.

Whatever insulting, devious names that suit those entities,

Name them and thus, call them out.

Protect yourself.

And those in need.

Although extending empathy towards the opponent's whether it be their limbs or spirit guides can be benevolent and kind.

Do not forget your intelligent discernment that knows the time and space to be kind.

Stay safe.

[urspiritualnurse]

"The lamb who rests among the stars, when the veil of night is high and wide,

and the moon is the house where the light resides.

Guide the lamb, who is in sleep, let their open windows of conscious invite no intruder.

When asleep floats the lamb above their land, swaying across together with the air of dreams, heading towards the aether where the prophecy is seen.

Let the body, the lamb, leaves behind, be cradled by the lord divine.

No pestering fleas, no audacious fangs, no malevolent eyes, no-none of what digs and drain, shall touch the asleep lamb.

In honor of all those who protect thy, O' dear fair lamb.

Sleep with ease,

for defenses take away peace,

and walls of fort are the God's duty to increase."

The garden of sleep is where most lie vulnerable,

the open doors across your heart and head, with it the sleeping giant of thy' Self.

Leads malice to grin.

Thus, you must never bind your God's hand by the stubbornness you lead while awake.

"I will do by myself." You rhyme with pride in the lands of awareness.

But when asleep, your identity no longer sticks with you. It wanders away the moment you close your eyes, and the flesh you leave behind, lies their vulnerable and defenseless.

Such is why, leave the door of self, in the hands of the divine you pray upon.

For when asleep, you are to be a toothless infant of the Lord,

the one and only child of his, he will with utmost urgency, protect and shield.

So, before inviting the fog of dreams to drowse your assertive eyes, asleep.

Lean onto your god.

[urspiritualnurse]

i just hope that no person anywhere in the world at any point in the future has to go through what mothers in gaza went through these past few months.

like it was so insane. women were giving birth without medical aid and having c-sections without anaesthesia while being malnourished and unable to properly provide food and warmth to their newborns. they couldn't produce milk and couldn't afford baby formula. hell, at a certain point finding baby formula was impossible in certain areas of gaza. and there was the constant fear of death hanging over their heads.

there were hopes that after the ceasefire things would improve for these babies and their mothers. that their quality of life would improve. but now that there are chances that israel won't continue with the ceasefire, we need to support these mothers and infants, now more than ever.

please please consider helping my friend suad, who has a little baby boy who suffers from respiratory problems. she just wants to ensure her son's well being. baby khaled is around 8 months old. her fundraiser has been verified (#279).

please help suad and her baby

[urspiritualnurse]

There once was a demon on his quest to please the God brahma.

Demonstrating his immovable devotion, he commits to asana, going forth eternal.

For he wished to attain a boon from the lord brahma, the creator of the universe.

As the ages of God were the times, where one could receive a boon, if ever they succeeded to please a deity.

Whatever one asked, the god would grant it all with no thought spared.

And such were the two deities, brahma and Shiva, who from all divine beings didn't discriminate who won their hearts or who their devotees were, whether it was a mortal, a nymph, or a demon, the two deities equally blessed all kinds, if ever the meditative quest was accomplished.

The demon was nameless and a bottom feeding scoundrel, his distaste for women and the demeaning ways he saw their strength, was known to all his kin.

In his tyrannical spirit that had all arrogance and audacity but none of the powers.

Found himself leaning onto the idea of awakening a God's favor, and earning an infinite boon.

So he prayed and stayed in the meditative asana, for years uncountable.

Such conviction of his ambition led his heart to burn fierce, the fire tempting even the most grand gods to look his way, and watch his dedication in play.

So after the untraceable years comes to pass, lord brahma finally appears before him.

Engulfed in a golden light, he stands above, "O' nameless demon, you have won my attention, you can ask of me one thing, no less no more, and that I shall make it come true."

The ecstatic demon rejoices within, the excitement visible in his eyes.

He bows his head in reverence, showcasing a humble form to the god he prayed.

"O' mighty one, that has created all, I ask of you the release of death, turn my fickle flesh, a stone, that cannot be touched by any end, let me become immortal, O' dear lord."

Brahma contemplates the wish he heard, for God's gave no thoughts on their boons, but when immortality was the thing that was asked, they pondered for they knew the consequence of having death leave a soul, the audacity, the atrocity one could commit if the fear of death stood nomore.

But the lord being a deity of his word, keeps his promise and let's him have what he had asked.

"On one condition", brahma answers.

The demon feeling restlessness bubble up within his throat, hurriedly asks with impatience, "that is??"

"You must deliver a name, an existence that can indeed give you death, for immortal I shall make you, but one being must remain able to end you, if you ever so decide to wreck havoc on the cosmic order."

The demon with his shrewd mind, without sparing a simple thought, utters the existence that he grants the power to kill him.

"A woman." He says, "O' dear lord, make it so, that only a woman can end my reign with it my stubborn life."

Pleased, brahma delivers his wish.

"Very well, then it shall be only a woman that can deliver to you, your death."

So the demon bows as the last sign of courtesy, when inside burns within him arrogance and malevolent plans, a mockery to that he has chosen to be the knife to ever reach his heart.

"A woman? A puny, frail little woman will kill I? The mighty and strong demon?!

What a humorous intellect I have, and what a studious mind the lord has, for he could not get the joke I was playing."

So begins his tyranny, for each day he wrecks havoc on the heaven and earth, and begins naming himself, for demons could only have a name if they were deemed powerful or worthy and now once nameless demon, had finally thought he had become worthy of a name.

So he named himself, Daruk.

Such fear he caused, killing and slaughtering mankind, gods, nymphs, demons all alike like pigs.

Restless grew heaven and earth.

His power that stood sturdy nomatter what divine strength cornered him, left some god giving up their pride and catering to the demon, out of fear.

For his pleasure became their safety. So began their bowed head and flattering gestures, dedicated all to the merciless demon, daruk.

Brahma watching from above, frowns upon his wasted boon, guilt and shame pestering each of his three heads, he looks for hope in every divine women, goddesses, nymphs, demoness yet could find no one that could stand the ruthless, shameless, bared and evil demon without shrieking in fear and vomiting out disturbance.

He was hideous both in appearance and soul, one look at him would lead a man born in privilege know despair of a beggar and butchered cows.

Such were his air, repulsive and dirty, vile and suffocatingly evil.

But there remained one goddess, far above, witnessing the demons atrocity.

Goddess parvati, shrinks in pain as she witness life's being spilled, faith being split, the entire cosmic order bend towards breaking.

She knew something must be done to stop his diabolical dance of bloodshed.

But within her she could feel a restraint, a subtle feminine limit.

Where the long ingrained virtues of a woman that is to be taught to fear shame and unabashed wrath.

The limit on her throat, where she could feel up to how much she could scream and how loud she could let out her voice, what words she could let out in anger and how much she can be bare.

In what ways she can move inorder not to expose too much of herself, in what amount she can shed the bloods of others, and if the blood could ever be allowed to stain her polished garments.

Such limits she could feel, her avatar durga which she had long created, although strong and fierce had within her, some sort of civility that made her falter at the face of hideous hedonism.

There was in that avatar, poised, a calm, a dam that guided the amount of what she could show and express.

But she knew to win the battle with this demon, one should be able to let go of shame, their conditioned virtue, upstanding morals and civility.

As she witnesses the other warriors, marching towards the demon in vain, as each sword that sliced his limbs and tore his flesh, healed within mere seconds, all the more agonizing was to witness the demon's blood that dropped out of his wounds, create another him.

The more he bled, the more numbers of him grew.

The gods, the demons, the mortals, all withered away in despair as none of what they tried, could get through his agitating immortality.

Fearful parvati, weeps away her one last tear and with a deep breath, let's go of herself.

In the meditative stillness, within her she searches something potent and raw, hideous and shameless, brutal and ruthless, who cared none about appearance or civility, who cared none about her garments being sullied, or her face being scarred.

She finds within herself kali, and she grabs ahold of her from within and pulls her out of herself.

The entire mountain of kailash, submerged with dark ashes as once fair parvati whose serenity was obvious to witness, remains nomore, instead stands in her place her avatar, ma kali.

Skin as dark as the night, coal and ashes smudged on her once adorned face, clothes ragged and torn, uncaring of her open bossom and her vulnerable parts.

She sprung down the earth where the demon danced his tyranny, infront of him she stands with eyes maddening with rage.

She looked demonic and unlike any image of god.

For this was her sacrifice, gods who feared appearing less than, who cherished their image and sworn to preserve their shell, to let go of it was the bravery equivalent to a mortal leaping into the flames.

The demon puzzled, looks at her appearance and scoffs.

"What is this despicable wear you adorn yourself with goddess?

For have you no shame?"

The mockery visible in his eyes, the disdain towards women audible in his voice, as he looks down at her intense state, expecting nothing out of ordinary.

Laughing at her trancelike rage, making light of her wrath, he laughs, he taunts, he mocks.

As kali lunges forth with a sword, slashing his head off, as his blood drips down from his severed throat, he creates from it another one of him.

"You foolish woman!

That is why, your kind knows no sense.

For it was all so clear that my end is unattainable, but you still in futile, laughable attempts chose to do the same thing those moronic gods did before.

For you can only cry and weep, frail little thing, and get blinded by emotions and here I thought rage was the only emotions that made all invincible yet here you are, a woman, creating foolish responses even from such powerful emotion, as rage."

Kali engulfed by her wrath's fire, tears apart his limbs, just as the demon thinks of chuckling in delight, and very clearly making it visible as to how futile it all was.

He catches the goddess, opening her mouth wide to feast upon his torn limbs like a cannibalistic devil, fear starts surfacing from deep within as he still tries to cloak it with arrogance and wit, "you fool! My blood. Do you see it? They are spilling and all it takes is for it to hit the ground and there I shall reemerge!"

He scoffs, just then kali begins drinking all of his blood, draining it all empty, severing his head and sucking up the blood from his bare torn veins.

Panic runs within the demon, now fearing for his life.

As he learns how wretched she was willing to be, inorder to end his life.

"You insolent woman!

What a demonic god you are!

Have you no shame?

Who will ever pray to you, you barbaric demon!"

Her wrath faltering none at his attempts to taunt, keeps hungrily devouring all of him.

Her eyes reddened with madness, her rage all so visible, violent and untamable she had become.

From above the god who were rejoicing at the demon's end.

Starts slowly picking up on the fact that the goddess even after the demon daruk's death didn't return back to her formal state.

Instead she continues to walk the earth, each step destroying civilians after civilians, shattering the earth's, mountain and bare back.

The god fearing kali's uprising bloodthirst, calls Shiva.

With frantic hurry and panic.

For they believed only he could calm her wrath and get her back to her senses.

So he comes down to the earth where war remnants remained fresh, blood spilled everywhere, as he watches his beloved parvati in a form he donot recognize.

But although no god could see in that form of her, something so similar to parvati.

Hence, creating fear for the unrecognizable change.

What made parvati, parvati was her nurturnace and compassion yet in the form of kali none could sense it, except rage and fury and pure bloodlust.

But Shiva could see past the fury, a hurt mother, a defeated governess, a guilty goddess, an ashamed sage, who within drowned in sorrow for not being able to save those who came to her for shelter.

And deep within a visible outrage for being looked down upon, a violent need to rebel out of her previous restraints, and the obvious fury that burned out of love and need for protecting something or someone.

So lord Shiva approaches his beloved wife, parvati.

In a loving voice he calls her name, stands before her and smiles with a kind gaze that whispered to her deep subconscious, that she was seen and heard and therefore with it, understood.

Honored, respected and feared.

But his efforts wash away in vain as the goddess stops for none.

Heartbroken he finds himself, attempting one last of his hope.

He lays down bare and vulnerable on the ground, forsaking his mighty pride and as her unstoppable feets while walking, finds itself stepping on him.

The deep regret, jolts the goddess awake, for she had stepped onto her beloved and crossed her own devotion and respect for him.

She trembled with guilt as her blood thirsty eyes dampened with remorse.

The state of her husband that she adored and honored so much, lying on the bloodied ground, dusted and bare, all the while her feet strangling his chest.

Made her heart heavy with regret and agony.

She stops, hurried and aware.

Falls down near her husband and begs for forgiveness.

Shiva witnessing his beloved weeping not out of fear but out of sheer guilt, for all his eternal life he had been mistakenly stepped by his own devotees, for even his statue was him, and in it he had always witnessed his devotees tremble in fear and weep out for their dear life, for they dreaded his wrath and what it would cost them.

But his dear beloved, was weeping out of serene honor that was formed not out of fear but love.

So he embraces the disheveled form of parvati, and leads her back home.

To this day, goddess kali is called upon, prayed to, in moments when one needs destruction for the sake of making way for something new.

She is the mother and a fierce protector, the human term of "tough love" that describes her way of nurturance.

Different she is from fair parvati.

But her compassion remains infinitely similar.

There will come a time when one needs to be shameless, for one might be surrounded by crowds that they are taught to entertain with poise and civility and amidst them someone might test their patience, one after another, pushing their boundaries with arrogance and confidence by knowing and believing they will not scream out loud, out of their long ingrained etiquette and upstanding image.

So they test and they test, taunt and mock and commit horrible atrocity one after another, while standing amidst the crowd like a coward knowing, one wouldn't "misbehave", lash out infront of all, for they were born and taught to be ashamed by expression that knows no bound.

But the day will come, when enough will be enough and one's once feared shame of ever acting out, remains stern no more, and they then find themselves, becoming shameless and loud.

Jay Ma Kali.

-Gods and their trails.

[urspiritualnurse]

In the quest of transcendence, a man is submerged within a stream of violent flowing river.

For the man wishes and pursues silence and stillness for his meditative asana.

This is his test, for a man disempowered and plagued by fear, resorts to spewing aggravated curses to the unstopping river, the noises the stream makes, he gets agitated by how the river is, so different and unaligned to what he desires, he stoops to control, the river's motion.

He forces it to remain still and quiet, but it happens not.

So he burns in the never-ending struggle of trying to acquire control outside of him, vainly wasting all his efforts.

Until and unless, one day beaten down with exhaustion, and led to a force state of surrender.

Where he no longer cares what and how the river is, as the man depends on only his silence and stillness that he upholds regardless of what his surrounding is.

When he transcends such distractions of misalignment.

He rises above the river stream and is placed by the divine, finally beneath the serene oak tree.

That whispers not a thing, disturbs not a single trance.

Sometimes transcendence is tricky and testing.

It will not put one in a place which aligns and meets the needs and requirements of his quest.

For if a man's quest is silence, he is placed in the loudest space ever to exist.

For if a man's quest is stillness, he is placed in the most chaotically dancing spaces.

Until and unless he transcends all his circumstances, distractions, and his surroundings.

He will not be moved from where he was placed.

He must find the silence regardless of how noisy his world is.

He must find stillness regardless of how chaotic his world is.

And when he does attain it from his ownself, all the while detached and unresponsive to his surroundings.

He will fly above, all that he was put in and is honorably placed onto spaces where his needs align.

He who once pursued silence will then, find himself beneath a serene tree.

He who once pursued stillness will then, find himself above an unmoving boulder.

Such is the process.

Such is the way.

[urspiritualnurse]

Mundane Game Changers

organised bookshelves

blackout curtains

a pressure cooker

a pet

a dishwasher, even if it's a tabletop one

curtain tiebacks

a breakfast foods cupboard/station

living in a 15 minute city/neighbourhood

basic life skills

a spot that isn't your bed to hang out

a scented candle

the right medication

a clean space

one of those bottles that keeps drinks hot/cold

electronics that work/aren't old or broken

[urspiritualnurse]

Parvati, the universal mother,

One day finds her spirit withering slowly from exhaustion.

Being a devotee of her now beloved husband, and after receiving a union, witnessing her sage self become a wife of his.

A maternal fire she always had within, regardless of her womb's deliverance of a child.

For she had a nurturing rhythm that paced her wide and open heart.

But somehow, she felt a wave of exhaustion cornering her divine essence.

For she now, was so preoccupied by the duties of a wife, a mother, the universal governess.

She felt herself lose touch with the raw force of creativity that one has within, when one creates for their own sake.

Brushing of her tasks for a day, she decides to make time for her own.

With no child, or a husband to care after.

Just her own self, alone and wonderfully present.

She takes a look at her husband's state, one last time before she turns around to the quest of her own.

He, just like always, appears to be in a meditative state, engulfed by his own cosmic quest.

She then takes a look at her son, kartika, who appears to be emersed in his play with his beloved and near, peacock gifted by the divines on his merry day of birth.

With relief coursing through her once guilty heart, she finds encouragement on their lost attention towards something of their own, a push to move towards her own personal time.

She leaves towards the heart of the mountains, where the miraculous goddess of hot spring lay bared for all tired and worn, to bathe and soak their vessel in.

As she lets down her ebony hair,and lets go of her polished garments, immersing herself in the spring's puddle.

She closes her eyes in peace and serenity, where the air amidst swirled around scent of none but her own.

She found her long asleep identity emerge out herself,

"That is right.....I am gauri.....I am my beloved gauri."

Long before all that has happened that turned her into someone else, a transcendent being, divine and immortal, mother and a wife, governess and the ruler.

She lovingly embraced the translucent self of hers, that had none of what she had acquired along her journey, just plain old self of hers, that was called gauri.

Within those moments of self intimacy, she finds herself invigorated and inspired more than ever to create something...........anything......for her sake alone.

As the hot spring coddled her pale skin, the residue of her day starts forming a lump around it, she slowly starts caressing each of her flesh and from it fell, remnants of dirt filled clay.

With the potent shedding, wasting none of what is hers,

She swiftly begins molding it into a shape that her hearts desires.

Her hands moving and tracing the mold, with utter love and compassion, the softness in her eyes carving out from it, the shape of a child.

After the sculpture comes to complete, she finds herself endeared with pride.

With her divine palms, blessing her creation, she brings alive the mold that she just carved.

From there, awakens a little boy, with eyes round and open like that of a youthful deer, with cheeks puffed and red like that of a brilliant rose.

She names him with affection in each letters, ganesh.

Her son that she created out of her own self, through noones convincing, or any sense of duty.

Ganesh, he was her most intimate and endearing creation that reflected who she was within, beyond what others made or asked of her.

Her heart filled with joy, she speaks to her new awakened son,

"My dear ganesh, I'm your mother, and you may from this day forth, do as you please, live as you want, for I have faith in your heart and mind, and I truly trust that your freedom will cost no one's life and wellbeing."

Hearing his mother's benevolent generosity, he beams with joy and reciprocates his mother's faith back to her,

"I'll do as my mother says, and asks of me, for our hearts and minds are not separate from one another, my happiness is yours and yours will be mine. "

With her heart, feeling the immense depth of affection waving across her usual composure, she finds herself utterly charmed by her adorable little young boy.

She then states,

"Very well then, if you must obey with ease and acceptance on your part, will you do me the honor of shielding the spring waters from any potential intruders? I wish to remain hidden and undiscovered by all, for this is my moment and time, and I wish to soak in it all on my own. Do not let anyone enter and pass through. Nomatter who they say they are. Understand my dear child?"

With eager motivation, ganesh accepts.

"I will, mother.

Rest in ease, bathe in your sense of self, I will let no one pass through.

Until I'm alive and breathing, no one shall enter your solitude."

With that, he leaves his mother to herself.

Relishing his newfound life and his kind mother's gaze.

He finds himself motivated with his task, as he with immense concentration stands in the middle, like a dam pushing back the fierce sea, like a wall holding back rebellious spirits that aims to be free.

And somewhere in the frozen mountains of kailash, lord Shiva finds himself opening his eyes from his deep slumbering meditation, the silence that he cherished now feeling suffocating for he could not hear the heartbeat of his beloved wife anywhere near him.

He stands up from his entrancing seat, and roams his gaze around in every direction, inquiring every servants of his, "where is my parvati? Have you seen her?"

All nodding away in declination.

His heart begins to grow agitated, for never had he ever not had found parvati around when he opened his eyes.

So he trails the traces her footsteps that she left behind on the fair snow.

As it takes him towards the spring.

There he finds a little boy, guarding the heart of it.

With patience and virtue in each of his words, lord Shiva asks the boy, "Child, move away, for I have to pass through."

But the boy devoted to his mother's plead and wishes.

Does not budge from his place.

Lord Shiva, taken aback, once again with a hint of hurry and agitation swirling in his tone, asks the child again.

"Boy, do not stand in my way, for my fury knows no virtue, knows no patience.

I will in anger, forget your age and innocence. "

The boy doesn't budge, he proudly proclaims, "I can withstand all, for my mother."

Lord Shiva puzzled, asks curiously, "mother? Who are you speaking about?"

And the child with pure joy seeping in his voice says aloud, "My dear mother parvati.

She wishes to bathe with her self alone, she wishes no one's company except her own. And I will obey her command until my breath runs out."

Lord Shiva chuckles with a hint of arrogance in his eyes, "Child, she is my wife.

She is my parvati, and she need not solitude when I'm here.

Her wish to be alone applies to only others, not me.

She is mine. And I'm hers. There is no yours and mines, within our bond.

We transcended long ago such estrangement.

We are one.

So be wise, and let me through."

But the boy, moves not an inch.

He stays in his place, eyes filled with determination and respect for his mother, honoring each of his mother's wishes regardless of who stood infront of him.

"No." He says curtly.

Lord Shiva now fuming with rage, finds his blue ashy skin burn bright red,

"How dare a puny child, keep me away from my wife!

You shall regret the day you were born."

And thus, lord Shiva with his trisul, severes the boy's head away from his body.

Just then, Parvati appears with her eyes shocked with despair, at the sight of her beloved child's spilling blood, the forsaken head that had abandoned his neck......she froze in devastation, as her eyes slowly traces the cause, she finds her husband's bloodied weapon and his heaving breath that signified his rage's relief.

Enraged with despair and maddening resentment, she goes for shiva's head.

"How dare you! You arrogant man.

You dare not be away, and let me breath in my air, you had to show the child your authority over him and his devotion to his mother, you had to show him that I belonged to you and I had no self of my own apart from you??!

How dare you! You insolent wretched man!!!

I will destroy all that you preserve, if you dare not bring my child back to life!

I will kill all kind that prays and praises you.

You have tested a mother's patience and a woman's sense of self.

You dare cross my boundary! I will wreck all that you build!

Bring my child back to life, this instant!"

She roared in fierce blood thirsty rage.

Terrified and regretful, Shiva backs away with timid, solemn steps.

"I am deeply ashamed my dear, I cannot undo what I have done but I will make things stand correct again. I will do everything in my power to grant you what you wish.

I am terribly ashamed dear. Forgive me."

He bows.

And then scurries away with his servants in search of a solution, all the gods reaches out to Shiva, fearing parvati's rage, they advise Shiva for all kinds of ways.

And within all those overflowing methods, Shiva finds himself drawn to one solution.

As he follows the guidance of it, he searches in the forest a freshly deceased animal, and asks his servant to bring its head to him.

And with long search, his servant brings forth, a severed elephants head.

With divine powers, and esoteric chants, Shiva combines the head with the severed body of ganesh.

As white lights envelopes ganesh, its release brings forth a new build child, with the body of a man and head of an elephant.

Truly regretful of his deed, Shiva bows to his son and wife.

Asking for forgiveness.

As he learns, from that day forth, how entitled he had been over his wife and all the dominion he ruled over.

Charitable parvati, without even a disturbed expression, embraces ganesh, "nomatter how you appear, your essence is indistinguishable, I can recognize it nomatter what you become my dear ganesh."

The gods touched by ganesh's devotion to his mother, grants him boons and blessings.

So does his father, Shiva.

Witnessing the effort of her husband to correct his doing, she embraces him with forgiveness and a new found identity of hers.

For she realizes, she will allow none, to ever claim her and her solitude.

And such convictions of hers, gets her husband to give in and let go.

For he learns, the arrogance one holds over the other individual, leads to entitlement that inevitably suffocates another's free will.

And the rage of a caged bird, exceeds that of his own.

Fearful he becomes, honoring he becomes.

Fierce she becomes, commanding she becomes.

As both counterparts begin in harmony, exploring the term, "No."

For parvati learns to wield it.

And Shiva learns to kneel before it.

(This vedic history, whether myth or fiction, shows distortion that happens not just to mankind but also to the revered gods.)

- Gods and their trails.

[urspiritualnurse]

You're bedrotting too much.. What now?

Actually listen. I know you probably scroll through multiple posts trying to give you advice and you listen, but you don't actually listen. You continue scrolling. So for once, listen to the advice and take it.

Count to three then sit up. Turn your device off, take a deep breath, count from one to three, and then at three you sit up immediately. No excuses, no delaying.

Don't think, just get up. Don't think about the tasks you have to do. Thinking about it might make you feel lazy and urge you to get back in bed, so don't think. Just get up. You can count to three as well if it helps. Roll out of bed, stand up, and stretch.

Feel clean. Sometimes, when we're bedrotting, we feel gross (or at least in my case). When we feel gross, we might feel even more lazy or tired. What always works for me is doing one task to feel clean. This could be taking a shower, fixing up your bed, washing your face, changing your clothes, brushing your hair, cleaning that one pile of things just hanging around on your desk or on the floor.

Do only one task and one task only. Don't think about other tasks, think about only one task that you want or need to do. It doesn't need to be super complicated or huge, it could be a small thing like charging your laptop or taking a dirty mug out of the room and into the sink.

Turn it into a game! What always helps me is setting a timer and having a goal or multiple goals to achieve within that period of time. For example, within 30 minutes, I must clean my desk and my vanity table. If I don't achieve this, I get to have one spare life of extra 10 minutes. If I waste that spare life, I can't touch my phone for an entire 2 hours. If I win (achieve my goal), I get to eat a sweet treat. Set rewards, set consequences, and set a pace that you're comfortable with.

Don't be afraid if you mess up, just keep going. If, let's say, you lose the game or you face any obstacle throughout the day, don't give up. Just because you lost once doesn't mean you'll lose the entire day. Don't get back to bed, just keep going until you achieve the results you want.

Set everything in ridiculously small steps. Thinking about everything all at once will overwhelm you and push you back to bed. When you have a goal or a task, put it in VERY tiny microscopic steps. Don't think about anything else. For example, if you want to clean your desk, the first step is to even approach your desk. Second step: Grab any piece of trash and throw it. Third: Take 5 things off your desk. Fourth: Take another 5 things off your desk. Fifth: Dampen a towel. Sixth: Wipe the desk. And so on.

Listen to yourself UNLESS your mind is telling you to go back to bed. If you need a slower pace to get yourself going, go ahead. If you need a faster pace with more pressure, go ahead. If you want to put on some music or watch a film in the background or listen to a podcast / video while doing something, go ahead!

[urspiritualnurse]

The different ways, both the living and the dead handle emotions and unfortunate circumstances.

For years I've consumed media where the dead returns back to haunt, in the most petty and vile forms.

It annoyed me a little, I thought many times, why is it being so difficult and so scattered all over the place?

They held within a reason, yet would walk around with messy steps and ruin more than what was reasonably necessary.

And then I realized, the obvious yet overlooked differences between them and us.

When we go through a misfortune, terrible and enraging.

We do not stay there, for we are forced by nature to move constantly like that of our flowing blood.

Traveling towards life and being touched by new experiences that purifies, filters, transmutes in a way, those bitter, resentful, emotions we felt about the situation and after months maybe years, or maybe a few days, we are changed.

We nolonger respond to that angering circumstances the way we freshly did before.

Cause we are alive and we are living, constantly everyday.

Like a muddied puddle of water that travels down, drop by drop with forward time through the filtered pipe, slowly but surely clearing the residue of dirt, leading it towards an inevitable clarity.

But the dead, does not move.

They do not flow, for one who died with anger freshly carved within his heart, the time for him stops right then.

There is no movement of life, guiding the dead towards new experiences, for them to ever make sense and peace with what has happened.

So those who were done wrong, treated harsh, caused trouble, or just vengeful for reasons their own.

Return back to the lands of the living, with rage as new as before.

As though, the misery had just happened.

The response to inconsolable rage, is blindness.

We all experience them bubbling within us, when the wound is fresh and anew.

But as time goes by, clarity is delivered, and sanity returns, with it our civil reasoning too.

Unreasonable are some spirits, petty are their actions, and their rage is blind so much so they trouble all who are unrelated sometimes to their cause.

But such is their tragedy, they are dead and their time has stopped.

They do not flow no more, neither are they within the school of life anymore.

They are not able to learn what the alive ones do.

So, pitiful they walk with hollow chest that is filled with the most intense emotions that they had just before their death.......

And with no one to tell them reasons, or give them guidance, clarity.

They walk blinded by those intense memoir within, which remains the only thing that ties them to their estranged life of before.

It is as though you witnessed right before your death, the unfaithful atrocity your betrothed had been doing.

As your heart burns in agony, and your mind erupts flames of anger, your life ends, abruptly.

No time and privilege of processing things, you find yourself hollow and jaded, floating around the alive civilization with nothing of you except the rage that you held within, the closest moments of your death.

No therapy to console, no friends to share, no ears to listen, no space to vent, you hover above all, burning with nothing but rage.

As the foreign clock ticks somewhere, moving forward and clearing away all of yesterdays.

You are there, forsaken by moving time.

Within a capsule, trapped in a loop.

Anger......anger is all that remains of you.

And your name, your morals, your values, your reasonings, that was buried long ago together with your bones and flesh, rots somewhere beneath the earth.

Yet you float.......the alive air, with nothing but your anger.

And you haunt the lover of yours, even after her hair has gone grey and her skin wrinkled.

Nomatter how unrecognizable her face and posture has become, whether she has reached 60 or 90.

Will not matter, because for you time exists not.

And the wound is fresh, so is your anger.

Eternal your rage becomes, immortal your vengeance.

The touch of forever, you receive finally.

But under unfortunate circumstances, while alive death ended you with no spared empathy yet after all has ended, immortality reached only your rage.

Unfair it is, is it not?

-The Dead clients, (the neighbors across.)

[urspiritualnurse]

Let’s talk Health

So guys, i am turning 29 in a month and let’s be real my body is not what it used to be! Despite me working out 4times a week, fasting, and paying attention to what i eat, i can feel my body weakening in way. Not that i don’t feel healthy but I’m still having some back pain, less energy, and just like feeling my body more. And that is normal.

20 years old me and 30 years old me wont be the same! There are things that we need to do to keep up so we maintain our best self. My body wont be producing all the collagen that i use too, likes guys i can hear my BONESSS! And I’m telling that is is not giving!

After a bit a research, i realized that i was lacking nutrient that my body could not produced on it’s own or way less!

So here a list of Nutrients we need as bad gyals hitting our 30s, especially as black women

1. Vitamin D 🌞

Why? Black women are more likely to have vitamin D deficiency due to melanin reducing sun absorption. Low levels can affect bone health, immunity, and mood.

Sources: Sun exposure (15–30 mins/day), fatty fish (salmon, mackerel), fortified foods (milk, orange juice), and supplements (2,000 IU daily if deficient).

2. Iron 💪🏾

Why? Many Black women experience iron deficiency, which can lead to fatigue, hair thinning, and anemia.

Sources: Lean meats, beans, lentils, spinach, tofu, fortified cereals. Pair with vitamin C (oranges, peppers) to boost absorption.

3. Magnesium 🧘🏾‍♀️

Why? Supports stress management, sleep, muscle function, and heart health. Many people don’t get enough.

Sources: Nuts, seeds, whole grains, dark leafy greens, dark chocolate.

4. Calcium 🦴

Why? Helps prevent osteoporosis, which Black women are at higher risk for later in life.

Sources: Dairy, leafy greens, almonds, fortified plant-based milks.

5. Omega-3 Fatty Acids 🧠

Why? Supports heart, brain, and joint health while reducing inflammation.

Sources: Salmon, sardines, walnuts, flaxseeds, chia seeds, omega-3 supplements.

6. B Vitamins (Especially B12 & Folate) ⚡

Why? Helps with energy, brain function, and red blood cell production.

Sources: Eggs, fish, meat, leafy greens, fortified grains, and B-complex supplements if needed.

7. Collagen & Vitamin C ✨

Why? Supports skin, hair, nails, and joint health.

Sources: Bone broth, citrus fruits, bell peppers, berries, collagen supplements.

8. Fiber & Probiotics 🥗

Why? Supports gut health, digestion, and weight management.

Sources: Whole grains, beans, vegetables, yogurt, kefir, and fermented foods.

9. Zinc & Selenium 💁🏾‍♀️

Why? Supports immune function, hair health, and thyroid balance.

Sources: Shellfish, nuts, seeds, Brazil nuts, and meat.

Supplement Recommendations:

Multivitamin for Women (with iron, D, and B vitamins)

Vitamin D3 (if deficient)

Omega-3 Fish Oil

Magnesium Glycinate (for stress & sleep)

Probiotic (for gut health)

Hope this helps my lovesss, until next time