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Arkiv for kategorien 'Om fine ord'

Skjermbilde 2015-09-12 kl. 19.27.20
You deserve to look in the mirror every morning and see someone that, though not perfect, isn’t trying to be.
You deserve to walk past the billboards and commercials that show staged-and-Photoshopped images of what
and who you are supposed to be and laugh at them, secure in the knowledge that you are wonderful because
you are real. You could imagine that the models themselves must be so much greater in person when not reduced
to a pose and a cheesy tagline – maybe they are at their most beautiful when just stepping out of the shower,
hair still wet, and excited to go eat a good breakfast – but you don’t compare yourself to them.
You deserve to love your body simply because it is yours, and it is capable of so much.

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You deserve to look past whatever is displayed on the outside, whatever code lingers on your skin to be read by society and neatly organized into some compartment about who you “are” – fat, thin, ugly, tall, awkward – and be even more in love with what exists within you. Of course you may have moments in which you regret past mistakes, or dislike a character flaw that you know you need to work on, or feel the rope of maturity tugging at your ankle saying “Come on, catch up,” but it doesn’t define you. You deserve to appreciate all of the wonderful qualities you bring to the table, instead of relentlessly harping on yourself for the categories in which you fall just a tiny bit short.

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You deserve to look for love, if that’s what you want, and be ready to accept it when it comes your way.
You might find yourself overwhelmed and even briefly in disbelief when you realize that someone actually loves you
for who you are and wants nothing more than to be with you, but you should be able to embrace that unconditional caring with your own. You should wrap your arms around them and cover them with your whole body – flesh, bone,
the ugly little cracks and scars that they can’t stop kissing – and know that you are a good person, who is worthy of
such joy. You deserve not to question every person who gives you a compliment or tells you that you’re wonderful,
not to wonder if they have some ulterior motive, or if you are somehow the victim of an elaborate prank.
You should realize that you are worth loving because you are ready to love back.

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You deserve to go through your day and take in the good parts, breathe in the good air and appreciate the little things that too often go unnoticed. You should know that a strong flower growing in a city sidewalk, a child laughing and blowing bubbles, or strangers that smile at one another and mean it are all things worth loving, and which
make your day a net positive. You deserve to live your life for the joys and not the frustrating slights that are
out of your control, to be able to say that because you held the door open for an older man with too many bags
on his arms, your afternoon was good. Though the profound effect these tiny moments of happiness can have on
all of us are often lost in the shuffle of life and its myriad injustices, you deserve to look at them and
see them for the victories of compassion and simplicity that they are.

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You deserve to try, and give it your all, but be okay if you fail. You deserve not to spend so much of
your life berating yourself for not having been “good enough,” especially when you’re not even sure what “good enough” might entail. Your job might be strenuous, your classes impossible, but you deserve to be able
to do your best work and, at the end of the day, put your pen down and sleep well. You deserve to have
a personal best that is good enough for you, to not constantly feel as though you’re outrunning yourself with expectations, to the point of sapping the joy out of a hard day’s work.

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You deserve to be truly happy for others. You deserve a life that is filled with its own successes and triumphs,
that is carved out in the image you desire, and that is not effected by the perceived victories of others.
Sometimes others may get things that we wanted for ourselves, but you deserve to be confident enough
with your own life and journey that someone else’s achievement is not directly detrimental to your own desires.
You deserve to see success not as some finite pie from which we must all take exactly one slice, but rather
a constantly evolving and growing garden in which we can all flower and reach the sunlight.

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Perhaps most of all, though, you deserve to be okay. You deserve to know that a day in which you can just barely get out of bed because you are sad, or sick, or simply not ready to see the outside is not the end of the world. You deserve to know that moments of weakness do not make you fundamentally weak, only fundamentally human, and that sometimes we’re not going to be effusively happy, and that is okay. You deserve to be happy just existing and not constantly holding yourself up to a standard of fake smiles and forced cheerfulness. You deserve to not beat yourself up when you do not reach perfect acceptance of your body, your personality, the love you receive, or anything else that may come your way. Though you should know that you are worthy of these things, learning to be happy just in a kind of stasis with yourself is a long process, and you should know that we are all working on it. You deserve to live through all of your emotions, all of your states of motivation, and know that as long as you are treating everyone with kindness (including yourself), you have nothing to be ashamed of. – Lachy Wells

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“Ikke gråt, min venn.

Ikke gråt. For tårene dine er vene, blanke krystaller i sjelens regnbue som englene ser opp mot når regnet har gitt seg. Snart vil solen bryte frem gjennom skylaget og spre strålene sine over trekronene. Snart vil alt det som var for alltid forsvinne i skyggene. Snart vil alt bli bra igjen; Snart vil håpet omslutte hjertet ditt og fylle det med varme.

Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.
For jeg vet hvordan du har det. Når vi lever i hverdagen er vi i grunnen så usikre innerst inne. Vi er så redde for å dumme oss ut; Det er så mye vi gjerne skulle ha sagt, men som vi aldri sier fordi vi er så redde for at andre ikke skal forstå og gjøre narr av følelsene våre. Vi er så redde for at andre skal baksnakke og dømme oss; Vi føler at verden er så overfladisk at vi ikke tør å si noe annet enn de tomme frasene vi har sagt tusen ganger før. Hvis vi hadde kunnet skulle vi gjerne vært ærlige og vist andre hva vi egentlig føler. Vi skulle så gjerne ha satt ord på tankene våre uten at noen kunne håne oss og såre åpenheten vår. Til slutt sitter vi der mutters alene med tårene våre. Vi gråter ikke fordi vi vil det, men fordi vi føler at vi ikke har noe annet valg; Vi tør ikke å åpne vinduet og rope så høyt vi bare kan: Forstå meg.
Vær så snill og prøv å forstå meg.

Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.
For her er du trygg; Her er det ingen som ser ned på følelsene dine. Når du nå leser dette er du fri til å gjøre det du har lyst til. Du er fri til å la natten løfte tankene dine og la dem sveve i vinden. Her opphører tiden og evigheten begynner. Disse ordene er en sfære fylt av stillhet og håp; Lik sju små, brune bamser som samler seg utenfor vinduet ditt i månelyset, og sammen synger de i kor: Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.

Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.
For du er så vakker der du sitter. Du er så vakker når du tørker tårene dine; Du er så vakker når øyelokkene sakte lukker seg og sinnets rosenstein gjenspeiles i disse ordene. En gang, for lenge, lenge siden skinte en stjerneglorie i eonets rike: Like mild og strålende som stjernene som fyller nattehimmelen en fredelig høstnatt. Hadde du sett lyset den fylte mørket med hadde du kanskje følt at den var så yndig at du fikk lyst til å ta den i hånden og gjemme den i hjertet ditt. Så, en dag, eksploderte stjernene, og edelglansen de var laget av spredde seg i en ufattelig undergjørende tåke av stjernestøv. I denne tåken ble først solen til. Siden ble jorden født. Og mange, mange år etterpå så en liten baby dagens lys; Det var deg. Men selv om de storslåtte stjernene ikke er der lenger er jorden vi bor på dannet av støvet de etterlot seg, og hvert minste atom i kroppene våre var en gang, for lenge siden, en bitteliten del av disse underbare og praktfulle stjernene som lyste opp en mørk himmelhvelving. Derfor er du vakrere enn noen er i stand til å forestille seg, for hele kroppen din er et speilbilde av stjernene du ser i natten. Tårene dine er laget av stjernestøv og sjelen din er fylt av den samme lengselen som er å finne på uendelighetens terskel. I hele universet finnes det ingen annen som deg; Du er så enestående.
Du er så vakker.

Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.
Jeg vet hvor vondt du må ha det nå. Jeg vet hvor vondt det er å se seg selv i speilet og føle at man ikke strekker til fordi at andre ikke forstår og prøver å skjule usikkerheten sin bak falske, overfladiske masker og kommer med dumme kommentarer. De tenker ikke på den glemte stjernen og stjernestøvet tårene dine er laget av. De tenker ikke på skjønnheten som fyller livsblusset i kroppen din. De sier det fordi de ikke vet bedre; De kjenner ikke til hemmelighetene i hjertet ditt. De har aldri følt gleden som blir til i tankene dine når du drømmer eller blir forelsket. De er selv redde for å åpne døren til følelsene sine i fullt dagslys og forsøker å dekke over dette ved å legge vekt på tomme ting som blir meningsløse i forhold til stjernehimmelens høymod eller ei trist jentes såre tårer. Vær så snill, ikke hør på dem. Ikke bry deg om den tåpelige dømmingen av andre menneskers speilbilde; Ikke bry deg om de ydmykende flirene som kommer til syne når man har sagt noe oppriktig og vist frem de innerste, forsvarsløse krokene i hjertet sitt: Ikke bry deg om alt det ytre folk legger vekt på fordi de er så feige at de ikke tør å blottstille sjelen sin.
Hvorfor skjønner de ikke hvor mye følelsene og tårene dine er verdt?

Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.
For hadde stjernene kunnet synge hadde de nynnet disse ordene. Hadde blomstene kunnet snakke hadde de fortalt deg det samme. Og hadde solstrålene som kommer gjennom vinduet en lun sommermorgen hatt en stemme hadde også de hvisket: Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt. Lik de sju små, brune bamsene som ville samle seg utenfor vinduet ditt en stjerneklar natt og sammen sunget i kor: Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt. Lik en liten engel som stryker håret ditt med den vesle hånden sin når du er lei deg og synger en lydløs sang for deg: Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.

Ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.
Snart vil morgenduggen dekke blomstene på marken. Snart vil solskinnet omfavne deg og tørke tårene på kinnet ditt. Snart vil fuglene synge i trærne. Snart vil lyshavet folde hendene sine ut og fylle naturen med livets musikk; Snart vil smerten din være over. Snart er det morgen. Snart vil alt det som var bare være et vagt minne fra fortiden som langsomt vil blekne hen etter hvert som tiden går. Snart vil livsgledens smil banke på døren din og ha med seg en krans av hvite liljer; Snart er det en ny dag i livet ditt fylt av håp og undring; Skjønnhet og liv; Ta vare på denne dagen og ikke vær redd; Ikke vær redd for å gå den i møte.

Så ikke gråt, min venn. Ikke gråt.
Vær så snill.
Ikke gråt.”

– En tekst jeg synes var så utrolig vakkert skrevet at jeg bare måtte dele den videre. Funnet her

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«Diamonds are held under tons and tons of pressure, extremely high temperatures of fire and shuffled under shifting of tectonic plates for a long, long time. Yet when they come out from there and are put on display for their beauty; Does anybody stop to evaluate the diamond based upon all the shit it’s been through and say: ‘Remember that disgusting hole it used to be in? I bet it was hell in there!’ No, people don’t remember where a diamond has come from; They just see the beauty of it now. But it wouldn’t have become so beautiful, you know, if not for all of that. So why should we look at other people, or at ourselves and evaluate them/ourselves based upon their/our pasts? Shouldn’t we forget that? And only see the beauty that is in front of our eyes? Whatever it was, it made you beautiful! And that is what matters.»

– C. JoyBell C.

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«There are dark days ahead.”

Yes. The darkest.

You will not be able to light enough candles to push away the encroaching of this night.
The dark has its own heavy weight. There is a night sky obscured by impenetrable clouds.
The stars are as impossible to imagine as if they did not exist.

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But they are there, lover. They are always there. Shining and exploding and fragmenting into pieces too far away to see. The light moves toward us over countless miles, and even in their eventual darkness, they travel toward us still.

Millions of meteors burn, every day, as they enter the atmosphere. Incinerate and turn to dust. Disintegrate into the finest particles. So that every time you breathe you are inhaling the universe.

Right now, this very moment, your lungs are filled with stardust.

So keep breathing in the stars every time you sing. Stretch in asana and exhale divinity. Know that you are made of this universe and this universe was made for you. The very atoms that have made you whole are formed from stardust. Your light? It’s inborn. Been in you since the beginning before the beginning. Will still be here in the end after the end.

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It’s still going to get dark sometimes. The cycle between darkness and light is predictable and necessary and true. We must go deep and explore the murky shadows. We must travel down and dig our fingers into into the earth and discover the root of things. We must dance in the underworld. And we must – and we will and we do – eventually rise again.

But we need to remember, when the shadows lengthen and the nights grow ever longer, that we bring our own light into the darkness. That even when it burns out a star is still a star. And you are still you. And your light is as true and as necessary and as ever present as the North Star that still guides the sailors home.

So do me a favor, love. Know this. No matter how dark the night may get, your light will never burn out.

The incandescence is you. – Jeanette LeBlanc

Skjermbilde 2015-04-15 kl. 00.21.52Skjermbilde 2015-04-15 kl. 00.18.09Skjermbilde 2015-04-15 kl. 00.32.02
Name ten things you wanna do before you die and then go do them.
Name ten places you really wanna be before you die and then go to them.
Name ten books you wanna read before you die and then go read them.
Name ten songs you wanna hear again before you die, get all of your friends together and scream them.
Because right now all you have is time, but someday that time will run out.
That’s the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.

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Think of all the things that are wrong with your life and then fix them.
Think of all the things that you love about your life and be thankful you are blessed with them.
Think of all the things that hold you back and realize that you don’t need them.
Think of all the mistakes you have made in your life and make sure that you never repeat them.
Because right now all you have is time, but someday that time will run out.
That’s the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.

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Name ten thousand reasons why you never wanna die and then go tell someone who might’ve forgotten.
Try to list the endless reasons why it’s good to be alive and then just smile for awhile about them.
Soon the sun will rise and another day will come.
Soon enough the sun will set and another day will be gone.
And right now all you have is time, but someday that time will run out.
That’s the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.

– Paul Baribeau, Ten Things

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«Someone once asked me what my heart was made of. I thought about it for a while.

Searching for the right words to say. Opening my chest and ripping my skin apart to get a closer look inside.
For a long time, I held it close to my face. Examining it. Probing it. Poking it several times.

I did not know what it was made of. No clue what the foreign substances were. So I used metaphors and adjectives for they were the only option. Until now, I’m not entirely certain if I had answered right.
That’s why I had to ask her, «What is your heart made of?»

She did not hesitate. Didn’t even pause to think.
She merely smiled one of her lopsided smiles and stared one of her mesmerizing stares.

«Crystallized sugar, rocks and a flyleaf,» she said softly.
«Some parts are shiny and sweet. Some parts are hard. And some parts are unbearably empty.»

– Author Unknown // Elsker denne teksten. Hva er ditt hjerte laget av?