Sunrise, Louise Glück

—Brené Brown's "Daring Greatly"

Paula Mela

Mom. Get out. I'm doing spells.

I love how different forms of art are all obsessed with each other. A book tries to capture the feeling of music, a painting tries to depict a scene in a book, a song tries to paint a picture. And it's always insufficient. No single form of art can encapsulate another form of art and capture the essence of it – but it tries, and its attempts are impossibly compelling. All the forms of art are in love with each other and spend so much time trying to express what makes the other kinds of art so lovely.

Wounds of the Earth

— by xis.lanyx

"In the silence I suddenly understood the many ways a person can die but still be alive."

- Carmen Rodrigues, 34 Pieces of You

- quo - any prns - 19 -

Hello,

idfk what I'm doing.

pfp is by snuffmvtt

I love seeing prayers and stories of devotees who worship Gods that I don’t worship.

Actually, I’ve always been like this.

I love hearing the tales of religions that I don’t subscribe to. Even if I don’t agree with every Christian, I do enjoy hearing Christians talk about how wonderful Jesus is and what he means to them personally.

I enjoy hearing Muslims talk about their prayers, how they reserve time out of their day for their God.

I enjoy hearing Jews sing their psalms, I love hearing about how they prepare their food, how they consider God’s hands in their meals.

I love hearing about Hellenic rituals and Semetic celebrations. I love learning about the different holy days among different groups of pagans.

I love learning how different people have incorporated different Gods, acts, and customs into their faith. I love hearing about their myths and legends, the stories they tell their children before bed.

I love hearing about the different ways that humanity has connected to their personal idea of God.

I don’t worship Apollon or Shiva today, but I am so delighted to hear the prayers of those that do. It’s like I’m getting to feel the mist erupting off of a waterfall. Or hearing the echo of a song that I do not know the lyrics to, but I can still hum the melody. I can feel the notes permeate my mind, even if I don’t know what they mean.

I love that there are people who worship these Gods that I do not worship. I’m happy that there is so much diversity among humanity that we have enough love in us for all of them.

For the ones that even I don’t know the names of, or felt the warmth of. Someone has.

That’s a very very good thing.

“Latham raspberries.” Krider nurseries catalog. 1934.

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