Alla inlägg märkta: intuitive writer

The flow of life

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”Destruction breeds creation.” Life is a series of natural, and spontaneous changes. To obtain peace and happiness, it’s vital that we become comfortable with everything that’s unfolding; circumstances taking place, feelings and emotions running through our bodies, as well as people dancing in and out of our lives. Change is the nature of life. It’s the nature of your being. The only rational thing for us to do is to embrace every aspect of life – the good and the bad, the highs and the lows, the love and the fear – whatever life may present us with; shouldn’t we just dive right in, and at least try our best in line with the moment we’re in. But what if, there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so, as William Shakespeare so neatly put it. According to the Vedas (the primary texts of Hinduism) there is no such thing as good or bad, right or wrong. There are only creation -> maintenance -> destruction. Then back to creation. Flowing like a beautiful …

At least we’re breathing the same air – You and I

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”We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”-Anaïs Nin 5 AM. ‘A good night’s sleep? Merely a memory,’ the young boy thought while trying to scratch his upper back. His left hand reached out to the other side of the bed, searching for something that wasn’t there. He grabbed the pillow, pulled it close to his chest, forced himself to awaken old memories, old scents. Regardless of how hard he tried he could not forget that scent. There were people who got caught up in old memories while listening to music. It was the smell, that haunted him. He dragged himself out of bed to open the balcony door. His feet touched the raw, biting surface. He was paralyzed, and in some miraculous way his broken heart still found a way to beat. The thunderstorm had kept him up all night. He had never gotten over them, traumatised since early childhood. And the rashes, those damn rashes. He had never gotten rid of them either. ‘Will I ever get over this,’ he whispered to himself, staring …