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Other people are bright;
I alone am dark.
Other people are sharp;
I alone am dull.
Other people have purpose;
I alone don’t know.
I drift like a wave on the ocean,
I blow as aimless as the wind.

I am different from ordinary people.
I drink from the Great Mother’s breasts.

— Lao Tzu (via fernsandmoss)

July 2014     3:53 pm     113 notes


Nettie Harris - by Mikey McMichaels - 084116IMG_6743

24 July 2014     7:01 am     400 notes

Darkness within darkness. The gateway to all understanding.

— Lao Tzu (via fernsandmoss)

July 2014     12:51 pm     194 notes

22 July 2014     11:32 am     21 notes

22 July 2014     11:32 am     52 notes

Dark skin is highly esteemed among these people. ‘When a child is born they anoint him once a week with oil of sesame, and this makes him grow much darker’. No wonder their gods are all black ‘and their devils white as snow.

Marco Polo’s Notes On India

(Source: yearningforunity)

July 2014     11:30 am     890 notes

billowy: aww, what a lovely blog and beautiful face, dear!

wow, thats so sweet. i think the same about you. thank you honey pot. 

21 July 2014     2:52 pm

soaked to the soul

21 July 2014     2:47 pm

Look at your feet. You are standing in the sky. When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth. We walk through it, yell into it, rake leaves, wash the dog, and drive cars in it. We breathe it deep within us. With every breath, we inhale millions of molecules of sky, heat them briefly, and then exhale them back into the world.

— Diane Ackerman (via gypsy—bitch)

(Source: purplebuddhaproject, via gypsy--bitch)

July 2014     3:16 pm     1,534 notes


Hector Acebes
Portraits in Africa 1948 - 1953

18 July 2014     2:40 pm     129 notes


The Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, Indian, c. 500 CE.

18 July 2014     11:41 am     613 notes

18 July 2014     11:41 am     418 notes

Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land. Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers. Here’s to the janitors who don’t even fucking understand English yet work hard despite it all. Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile. Here’s to the laundry man at the Marriott who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru. Here’s to the bus driver, the Turkish Sufi who almost danced when I quoted Rumi. Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation. Here’s to the taxi drivers from Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt and India who gossip amongst themselves. Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels. Here’s to Western Union and Money Gram. For never forgetting home. Here’s to their children who carry the heartbeats of their motherland and even in sleep, speak with pride about their fathers. Keep on.

Immigrants. First generation.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo.

(via theijeoma)

(via 49yearsleft)

July 2014     10:55 am     22,994 notes


Eritrean woman from Tigrinya tribe with traditional tattoo. Photographer unknown

17 July 2014     5:49 pm     1,849 notes


 Lalla Essaydi’s exhibition at Jackson Fine Art Gallery in Atlanta

17 July 2014     11:46 am     8 notes