Happy

Happiness doesn’t fall out of the sky and hit you on the head.

You have to yank happiness out of the ichor and decide it has no choice but to be yours.

It’s gonna hurt either way.

Choose happiness.

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Vulnerability

We are told not to show ourselves as vulnerable because it might make us easier targets. Easier to hurt, manipulate, catfish.
Oh well.
We are all already vulnerable.
The only other option is to close ourselves off and experience nothing joyful, connected, or worth living for.

Vulnerability is the only way we can truly enjoy our lives or become anyone worth becoming. Not to mention the only way to feel satisfied in life and our relationships.

We’re going to get hurt whether we’re allowing ourselves to feel vulnerable or not.

Emotionless is not how I want to live. Vulnerable sucks. I’m only kinda good at letting myself be vulnerable. But it’s worth it.

 

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They Follow Me

There are these
Stilted Scarecrows
Jolting about
On corpse legs

Forcing their way
Into my line of
Vision
Throwing blood about
Beating on a drum

Funny
They choose not to notice
My silence

The past
Cannot be
Re-done
Re-spoken

Some wounds
Cannot heal
Until the
Scar tissue
Is erased
In another life

So desperate
For me to be
Sitting around
The fire
With you

But I remember
What those embers
Can do

I’ve collected
These Scarecrows
Though I’m really
Not certain how
Or why
They shamble around
In the dark
Just out of sight
Waiting to pounce
To stitch their bony joints
Into my hair

I’ve befriended
Murders of crows
I’ve decorated
My home
With them
Etched them
Into my bones

And yet
These Burning Eyed
Scarecrows
They find me

Clothed in dead skins
Sickles in their hands
Carved faces
Straw innards
They haunt
Ghoulish calls
Carrying clappers
And stones

They are my funeral march
Hurling perilously
Into the fires they create
Pinning me the patsy

I’ve collected
These Scarecrows
They keep hiding behind
Death masks

I do not belong
To them
But they claw
At my skin

Their past presence
Scarring my Sight

I belong to the ravens
I side with the crows

 

By Daphne shadows

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Smile – Create Joy

 

Pick your goals and resolutions wisely. The decisions you make today, tomorrow, and the next day will define who you are next year.

 

“All who have accomplished great things have had a great aim, have fixed their gaze on a goal which was high, one which sometimes seemed impossible.”

Orison Swett Marden

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Celebrate what you want to see more of.

Tom Peters

 

If you want more joy in your life, create it.

I personally love how Brendon Burchard talks about this. He calls it bringing the joy. Love his energy. Check out his video.

He even gives four ways to create joy in your life and self.

You only need to watch the first 10:45 of the video for our purposes, as the last bit is talking about his services. Which I totally don’t have the money to buy, but if you do, totally keep watching! 😉

 

 

Image is the property of LDS Media Library

Choose Struggle, Choose to Create

Pain is a given.
No one in this life will escape without hurting.
No one enjoys pain. No one orders up tests or trials in this life. No one jumps up and down in line, hoping they’ll get selected to have another trauma or misery, scar or issue to add to their life.
Doesn’t matter.
Pain is a given.

Within this pain, we have two choices. As always, we have to choose.

 

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ONE
Denial. Bury your head in the metaphorical sand. Seek distractions. Never live in your own body, in the present moment. Don’t work on your issues. Don’t face your demons. Never face your secrets. Hide. Avoid. Refuse to believe. Push others away. Refuse to grow, work on your failings (because we all have our failings).

TWO
We do the work. We struggle through our challenges and fail we may, but we get back on. We let go of what has died. We move forward to what we need. We learn from the past but leave it there. We take the punches as they come, and we figure out how to work around them, hit back, or turn everything upside down and create our own arena of war. We face our demons, our failings, our mistakes. We learn from them and we learn how to destroy shame, turn it into something brilliant and vibrant.

If we choose option one, all we feel is the pain of this life.
If we choose the second option – yes, we’re going to feel pain. But we also get this spectacular, miraculous, gorgeous, chaotic, mess of joys and peace, possibilities and these amazing experiences we never thought possible.

We always have the option to either create or destroy our own life.
Pain is never an option in this life. It’s a given. Why not go through pain to grow, change, and become, so we can then experience joy, peace, and the ability to thrive? Passiveness isn’t going to get us anywhere. No one enjoys treading water, playing the waiting game. No one enjoys hurting for nothing. Well, no one enjoys hurting, period. Gather your hopes, dreams, touchstones and friends. The pieces of yourself that anchor to your very soul. Pain will come regardless. But please, don’t allow it to rule your life. Live through it until it breaks open to magnificence. This life is livable if we choose to stretch past what we think we can do.

 

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Persephone Knows

This is a poem I wrote some time ago and published here in October of 2015. I’ve re-written it. I’d take the previous one down, but that feels ingenuine. I often take what I’ve made and rip it apart, before stitching it back together with different thread.

Since writing them, I’ve gone through many of poems and changed them. Without telling anyone. Just so you know. 😉

So without any further fuss
I give you –
Persephone Knows

 

My feet

They won’t walk right

My legs

They don’t shift light

My thoughts

So staggered

My sense

It’s shattered

No meter, no rhythm

Guess the lies never mattered


 

Beautiful how the truth can be.

Daringly sinister, you see.

The duality.

 

The beauty it can create.

Hearts it can incinerate.

 

Depending on the paintbrush

Using oils or lye

On which canvas

The why?

 

Even as the teardrops drip

And lips pout red

Something grows inside

As this truth is fed.

 

It’s really quite simple, darling.

Though that doesn’t make it easy.

It’s really not that hard.

Rather filled to empty.

 

Balances what’s inside me.

If I can’t be real

I can’t be free.

 

But now and then

I rummage and shuffle

Pretend I’m not me

Hide in this muzzle

 

Tips the scales and down I go

Falling until I hit bone and bow

 

When it comes to me,

Well, you see

Only hurt can smother the doubt

Always seem to take this route

 

So, I sit here and burn

Fight myself at every turn

Forget to breathe

Struggle and seethe

 

Scrape at the dead skin

Beg the truth not to win

Drowning in plastic again

 

I slam the windows

Barricade the door

But truth drags me by the feet

And I wash up on the shore

 

Drowning in flames

Dancing in the darkness

Shadows flickering

In duality’s likeness.

 

If only I’d remember

If only I’d learn

What always is salvaged.

Persephone knows

Death can be lovely

And flowers can be damaged.

 

If only I’d listen

I cannot hide pieces

And not be stricken.

 

The sun doesn’t always shine

The moon sometimes takes her time

I cannot smudge parts of my soul

And expect to live whole.

 

Truth cannot speak, only strike

Dormant matches in my chest

My beast never hides

Truth burns me best.

 

If only, if only

If only, I’d learn.

 

But always,

Always

I choose to burn.

 

by Daphne Shadows

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(this poem is disjointed instead of flowy, on purpose)

The Abyss. The Masquerade.

Do you ever get stuck?

Come up against wall after wall, again and again and again. Until you finally just say screw it?
Do you ever wonder why you’re holding so tightly? Then wonder what it is exactly that you’re holding to?
Do you ever just get tired?
Tired of all the petty, childish, selfish drama of others.
Tired of the same no good, same.
Tired of the pain.
Of the knowing and the incapability to do anything about it.
The correspondence between misery and choice is breath to my lungs.
But I’m still not breathing.
Sometimes the silence is the only thing that keeps me alive.
What do I have but this noise masquerading as life?
What do I have more than a truth I can do nothing about?
What is there but this sadness?
What is there but this madness?
How do I crawl out of the abyss when all I’ve ever known is to suffer? To flounder in the denial.

 

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