148 books
—
55 voters
“When it came down to it, she decided, she believed in a few important things.
In humanity before Dogma.
In religion of human kindness.
In Poetry. In Sex.
In being clear enough to ask for what she wanted,
and detaching from ego enough to hear the answer.
In the power of yoga.
In being embodied.
In owning her reality without apology.
In embracing it all, the fuck-ups and the bliss.
In the absolute necessity of dark chocolate to her continued existence.
In the power of a hard swallow of whiskey to make everything clear.
That most of the time we all do the very best we can.
But most of all, she believed that nothing is fixed and unchanging,
Not even the things she believed the most.
That belief, it turns out, is the one that felt the most like freedom.”
―
In humanity before Dogma.
In religion of human kindness.
In Poetry. In Sex.
In being clear enough to ask for what she wanted,
and detaching from ego enough to hear the answer.
In the power of yoga.
In being embodied.
In owning her reality without apology.
In embracing it all, the fuck-ups and the bliss.
In the absolute necessity of dark chocolate to her continued existence.
In the power of a hard swallow of whiskey to make everything clear.
That most of the time we all do the very best we can.
But most of all, she believed that nothing is fixed and unchanging,
Not even the things she believed the most.
That belief, it turns out, is the one that felt the most like freedom.”
―
“To know the hope and the struggle and the stay still and the run away and the come here and the push back. And also what it is to say yes, to be present exactly where you are.”
―
―
“Teach me how to be loved.
Let me show you how to love me well.
School me in the workings of your heart, in the
language of your bones.
Let my open palm memorize the shape of your face.
Tell me the stories of your scars so I can trace them with the honor of understanding.
Do you see this fault line? It is where I was broken, over and over again, by the ones who came before you. Are you willing to take that in? My wide open eyes? My truth lives there, if you look for it. I have been loved by those who didn’t care to discover all that I am.
Will you be the one to see me whole?”
―
Let me show you how to love me well.
School me in the workings of your heart, in the
language of your bones.
Let my open palm memorize the shape of your face.
Tell me the stories of your scars so I can trace them with the honor of understanding.
Do you see this fault line? It is where I was broken, over and over again, by the ones who came before you. Are you willing to take that in? My wide open eyes? My truth lives there, if you look for it. I have been loved by those who didn’t care to discover all that I am.
Will you be the one to see me whole?”
―
“Poetry has a long, long memory. After our love is long gone, we will still be reading your poems. You will not be the only one whose heart this breaks. Know that we will stand , reading the words written about our love – and we will ache for you The body will remember the way you shifted and sighed as skin met skin and those words will pay tribute to the lines that were composed while we moved through this world together. Because of this, we will never truly forget you.
Let us remember.”
―
Let us remember.”
―
The Feminist Readers' Network
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— last activity Feb 05, 2023 06:50AM
A space for people interested in and supportive of feminism, feminist literature, and feminist theory.
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