Carriedbythewind - Carried By The Winds

“Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.”

— Coco Chanel

“May we raise children who love the unloved things”

by Nicolette Sowder

May we raise children who love the unloved things–the dandelion, the worms and spiderlings. Children who sense the rose needs the thorn

& run into rainswept days the same way they turn towards sun…

And when they’re grown & someone has to speak for those who have no voice

may they draw upon that wilder bond, those days of tending tender things

and be the ones.

“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” - Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper

Feeling a little lost at the moment. I haven't been able to communicate for the longest time. I am very used to being by myself and not letting anyone in. But lately, I feel too lonely, like life is too monotonous without the hustle and bustle of people around. I want to connect with people, especially be able to talk to my existing friends itself. I know they won't be able to understand how I feel or relate to my problems and so I have kept it all to myself. In this way, I have become boring with absolutely nothing to say. I wonder how I should break out of this dullness in my life. Any tips on how to start?

“Don’t just learn, experience. Don’t just read, absorb. Don’t just change, transform. Don’t just relate, advocate. Don’t just promise, prove. Don’t just criticize, encourage. Don’t just think, ponder. Don’t just take, give. Don’t just see, feel. Don’t just dream, do. Don’t just hear, listen. Don’t just talk, act. Don’t just tell, show. Don’t just exist, live.”

— Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

Everything

by Mary Oliver

I want to make poems that say right out, plainly what I mean, that don’t go looking for the laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves. I want to keep close and use often words like heavy, heart, joy, soon, and to cherish the question mark and her bold sister

the dash. I want to write with quiet hands. I want to write while crossing the fields that are fresh with daisies and everlasting and the ordinary grass. I want to make poems while thinking of the bread of heaven and the cup of astonishment; let them be

songs in which nothing is neglected, not a hope, not a promise. I want to make poems that look into the earth and the heavens and see the unseeable. I want them to honor both the heart of faith, and the light of the world; the gladness that says, without any words, everything.