On what happens after you jump off cliffs and other scary things

….you die.

I can’t recall was it The Last Song or The Vampires Diaries that said: eulogies aren’t for the dead to hear; they’re for comforting the living.

No matter how much pain you think or you’re truly in, there’s no greater pain than losing a person in your life that was supposed to be with you forever. If you love them, you wouldn’t harm yourself. Because the person you’re actually killing isn’t you; it’s them.

The blog I reposted had nothing to do with death but I was just reminded or prompted to write what I wrote because of her blog title.

Hudhurungi

I did a scary thing, a bold thing. But this piece is not about taking the plunge, it’s not about gathering the guts to leave your comfort zone, it is about what you experience and feel immediately after leaving your comfort zone.

I still experience bouts of fear, I still feel jittery and daunted.

This is for my fellow cliff jumpers, are you afraid too, even after the jump? Is it a bit like jumping off a cliff into the ocean and being submerged under the waves? You know that you will come up and swim, eventually, but for now the force of your jump has you under the rolling waves.

Well this is me, this is me saying that I am still scared, and if you are too, blink twice. We are learning together, are we not?

I am still daunted, still trembling in hope and fear, still learning…

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Why I’ve never finished a journal

The Alpine Path

This is my beautiful new Moleskin journal, part reward for hitting my word count last month and part indulgence that I couldn’t resist any more. Some may say these journals are overrated, but the softness of the leather, the silky feel of the pages, and most importantly, the perfect distance between lines make it love every time for me.

When it’s been a while since I’ve last purchased a notebook of any kind, I start to get an itch to visit Barnes and Noble or a twinge when I walk past the journal aisle in Target, even if I have nothing particular in mind to use it for. There is something about all of those gloriously blank pages. Each one is a new beginning. Sometimes I flip open a new journal and just run my fingers over blank page after blank page. It’s perfect without the imperfections of life finding…

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Repost: The Dark Side Of Empathic People That You Rarely See and Must Always Be Cautious Of!

Empaths are more susceptible to the negative energies in life. Their intense ability to feel can’t get away from the deep-rooted evils that exist in the world. Their deep understanding of how the world exists and operates is enough to confuse and sadden them. What they can’t understand is why this type of energy exists in the first place, if all it does is hurt others.

The dark side of being an empath is constantly being exhausted and fatigued from the energies you absorb. But, you’d never know it. Because the empath never dares break down or lose composure. They quietly observe, acknowledge and feel.

As many others do, empaths want to be loved and accepted for who they are. But, it is their generosity and kindness that often sees them being taken advantage of by those who only take, never give. Empaths are ‘givers’ by all means, ready to show kindness to those in need at all times.

The dark side of being an empath is not knowing that being so selfless places an incredibly heavy burden on one’s self. Even the empaths that do recognize the burdensome nature of their selflessness often choose to ignore it, because carrying that weight is more meaningful than letting it fall on someone else’s shoulders.

The dark side of being an empath is knowing that you willingly neglect both your body and mind for the sake of others. A neglect that builds over the years, eventually resulting in the need to go soul-searching once again, a practice that we only take up when we feel completely lost.

The dark side of being an empath is knowing that even when they fall in love, they never do so entirely. They simply aren’t capable of giving every ounce of their heart to someone else. They know that if they tried, the intensity of the passion would most likely be too much to handle, for themselves and their partners.

Which is why they always keep a little part of them hidden away from the rest of the world. They keep a guard up out of necessity, even if they want nothing more than to let it down and succumb to an overwhelming love.

The dark side of being an empath is the war that is always being waged within. The war they wage against the sadness, the darkness, and the sorrowful side of themselves that is always trying to rear its ugly head and lead them into self-destruction.

The only way they can fight this successfully is by learning to distinguish between emotions that are their own, and emotional energies that are imposters, invading from the outside. Empaths need people who understand who they are, people they can talk to and who will listen.

Empaths need to be able to let down the wall they’ve built up around their feelings so that they can let their empathic selves do good in their own life.

Otherwise, empaths are destined to fight a war within themselves that never ends.

– Written by Wendi

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Repost: Emptiness

I have a deep desire for something more than just ordinary indulgence. I have a longing, an ache which I don’t completely understand. I constantly have this feeling that I’m not living my life to the fullest. I am unsatisfied, hungry and uncharacteristically empty.  There is a persistent hammering for something more than just what is. I close my eyes and as my psyche rises up into the great nothingness, it releases a nebulous hankering, one which doesn’t know it’s purpose. It’s like there is this huge being inside me which persists without reason. There is no purpose for this being except that it’s just there, a living, breathing something inside me.

There is a whole big world I’m born into, of which I have seen fractionally nothing. It makes me feel small, it makes me feel insignificant. I have issues with being just a speck of dust within the galaxy, I have issues with being and feeling insignificant. Though I know not of what may really mean not being and feeling insignificant.

It makes me think of power. Is that why people desire power? To be and feel significant? Is that why people do the mad hustle, is that what fills their deep wells? Or does power makes them more anxious and restless? Or does power deepens their already deep wells?

It makes me question the existence of everything. It makes me question the purpose of everything. It makes me question the worth of it all.

I am happy, but I’m not full. I am laughing, but I’m not full.

Something lacks. Something is missing.

Or is that all there is? An eternal emptiness?

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What or who would you be if you knew you couldn’t fail?

SheenaLuce

That’s all it took, that one question.

And I knew without doubt that if money were no object, if I knew I’d never fail,

Then I’d create something every day for the rest of my life.

If art makes me happy, if it really is my calling,

Then l won’t make the mistake of ignoring it so early on in my life. I won’t give myself the chance to regret it later.

Despite every thread of doubt, every twinge of uncertainty, every fear of failure,

If it’s my dream, maybe I have to follow it, and if I fail, at least I’ll know.

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Writing For Myself

Mia Holt - Blog

IMG_3840When you sit down to write, who are you talking to? When your pen touches the paper, when your fingers tap down on your keyboard, who are you writing for? Who are you telling your thoughts, feelings and fears to? Your hopes and dreams. Is it me, or you?

Over the last few days, I’ve been experimenting with a different tone on this blog. Instead of sharing the best places to eat or visit, I’m sharing something far more personal – I’m sharing me.

I’ve been exploring my writing style, and for the first time in a long time I’ve been writing without the expectation you’ll read it. Just allowing myself to jot down these words and allow the thoughts to leave my mind and imprint something more permanent.

As you sit and embrace them by reading this, the notion that I’m writing for me and not you may seem strange, but in…

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