In light of Don Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years," I realized that I have trouble remembering. It gets hazy around 5 years old, and even then, I can only recall a couple events. Now, I don't have a long-term memory problem, but if I feel as if I don't write my life down, I won't think twice about it. And honestly, I can't think of that many things happening this past year, so I hope this will show me how I can live a more meaningful life.Plus, when I die, then I'll have stuff to talk to God about because right now, I think we'd have like an hour tops.
Ridicule is direct at times—a dagger shoved into one person by another—but at its core, it is not so different from insincerity. These tactics are often a piece of armor used for self-preservation, a way to flee human connection by focusing on the other as a caricature while exempting one’s self from the same level of scrutiny.
Agreed. I tend to laugh or ridicule even when things are serious because it’s a habit… sometimes, I just don’t recognize the connection.
Great read :P
(via miamygo)
Change your language. Instead of saying “I don’t have time” try saying “it’s not a priority,” and see how that feels. Often, that’s a perfectly adequate explanation. I have time to iron my sheets, I just don’t want to. But other things are harder. Try it: “I’m not going to edit your résumé, sweetie, because it’s not a priority.” “I don’t go to the doctor because my health is not a priority.” If these phrases don’t sit well, that’s the point. Changing our language reminds us that time is a choice. If we don’t like how we’re spending an hour, we can choose differently.
Fascinating Wall Street Journal Article on being busy.
some deep shit.
Change your words, Change your world.
Damn
):
saw a lady yesterday outside of wal mart wit a sign “Family of 4 is being forced out onto the streets, please help us, god bless you” i have her $5
<3
damn, this gave a goosebumps
Oh my.. <3
:’) <3
wow. deep shit <3
<3
<33
(via unresolved7th)
Heels resisting on forefoot pressures helplessly meet floors in sequence to octaves and drums. Natural reactions to sound arranged by genius guide moods towards expression atop nearest dance floors.
Crowds gather where rhythm moves through once still air. Bodies match up to verses both…
An almost love story. In an effort to self-edit conversation less, I’ll try to use less backspace on my computer. and my brain.
