Kirsty-Lee ; One and Only

ayemark:

wyte-one-thousand:

pleiadian-princess:

radagastlovesyou:


you-are-another-me:


There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.
And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.


This is the most amazing thing I have ever read.


THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM ALMOST TEARING UP

Reblog for eternity.

this is beautiful
May 23

ayemark:

wyte-one-thousand:

pleiadian-princess:

radagastlovesyou:

you-are-another-me:

There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.


And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.



In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.



The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

This is the most amazing thing I have ever read.

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM ALMOST TEARING UP

Reblog for eternity.

this is beautiful

(Source: thegodmolecule, via thejsimmons)

ihavewaytoomanyfeels:

azureinfinity:

abagofkittens:

earthgirldonna:

tr4pdoor:

daydreamer-kay-em:

“This is an alternate universe where Bruce Wayne died instead of his parents. Causing His father Thomas Wayne to become Batman and his mother Martha to go insane and become the Joker. “

hold the phone.

yes

wow

I’m sorry but this is the best idea for an AU I have ever seen in the history of my life

can somebody write this
is this a written thing
May 23

ihavewaytoomanyfeels:

azureinfinity:

abagofkittens:

earthgirldonna:

tr4pdoor:

daydreamer-kay-em:

“This is an alternate universe where Bruce Wayne died instead of his parents. Causing His father Thomas Wayne to become Batman and his mother Martha to go insane and become the Joker. “

hold the phone.

yes

wow

I’m sorry but this is the best idea for an AU I have ever seen in the history of my life

can somebody write this

is this a written thing

(via thejsimmons)

thejsimmons:

Not every Muslim is a terrorist.

Not every black person is a rapist.

Not every white person is a school shooter.

May 23
Let’s get a few things straight!
May 17

(Source: ukeking, via roseshock)

May 17

dazegoneby:

piercingsandink:

masslyeffective:

spangledmystars:

I can’t click my reblog button hard enough

It’s not just the ladies who get insecure, it’s all of us.  It’s a human trait, yo.

reblog this everytime i see it. soooo cute!

This is my favorite male body love post, because it’s the only one where the male body has body hair.

(Source: dyslexicdan, via merryandpepegrin)

emmyc:

danieltflynn:

Nice to see you too, dog.

o m g
May 16

emmyc:

danieltflynn:

Nice to see you too, dog.

o m g

(via thejsimmons)

epic-humor:

see more
May 15

epic-humor:

see more

(Source: bassquiat, via thejsimmons)

May 15

(Source: sketchamagowza, via merryandpepegrin)

May 15

(via merryandpepegrin)

May 15

(via merryandpepegrin)

akaimzadi:

shaynthevandal:

nataliemeansnice:

fucking BOOM.

This is wonderful.

Perfection. This is it.
May 15

akaimzadi:

shaynthevandal:

nataliemeansnice:

fucking BOOM.

This is wonderful.

Perfection. This is it.

(Source: pre10tious, via merryandpepegrin)

May 9

I LOVE SIMS WAY TOO MUCH!!

(Source: chickennuggetpower, via thejsimmons)

May 7

(Source: eversims, via thejsimmons)

koalinmorgan:

shakespeares-sisters:

i’m weird ok

but when i say i’m weird i don’t mean like your cute and quirky girlfriend

i mean fucking weird 

like….

image

(Source: dickflavouredsoup, via roseshock)

May 6
wordsofapandacub:

 
May 6

wordsofapandacub:

 

(via merryandpepegrin)