Anonymous you write some lovely things :)
I can’t think of anything I’ve written recently and posted on here…except overexcited tags and occasional posts about essay writing or tea. Did you find it in my archive!? Whatever it is, thank youuu! ;)
"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous. I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension. But I am not always in what I call a state of grace. I have days of illuminations and fevers. I have days when the music in my head stops. Then I mend socks, prune trees, can fruits, polish furniture. But while I am doing this I feel I am not living.”
― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934"
— I usually find so much to agree with in the words of Anais Nin, but I find her words here terribly sad, for she describes how much life she missed out on. There is music, too, in the mending of socks, the pruning of trees, and the polishing of furniture. To do these things with proper awareness and the right frame of mind, one is living as vividly as when experiencing what she calls the “high moments.” These simple acts are marvelous too, they can be acts of love—or at least done lovingly, and savored, cherished. I think people now, in this age of always seeking the next hi-tech thrill, this age of such easy ennui, especially need to be reminded of the existence of these small glorious moments.
- Nobody (via paleviolet
(Source: journalofanobody, via paleviolet)
adj. entranced and unsettled by the vastness of the universe, experienced in a jolt of recognition that the night sky is not just a wallpaper but a deeply foreign ocean whose currents are steadily carrying off all other castaways, who share our predicament but are already well out of earshot—worlds and stars who would’ve been lost entirely except for the scrap of light they were able to fling out into the dark, a message in a bottle that’s only just now washing up on the Earth’s atmosphere, an invitation to a party that already ended a million years ago.