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“Listen to me; your body is not a temple. Temples can be destroyed and desecrated. Your body is a forest – thick canopies of maple trees and sweet scented wildflowers sprouting in the underwood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated.”— Teau Taplin (2014), The Wild Heart
Liberation
Dec. 16th, 2021 12:22 pm“It is obvious that many women have appropriated feminism to serve their own ends, especially those white women who have been at the forefront of the movement; but rather than resigning myself to this appropriation I choose to re-appropriate the term “feminism,” to focus on the fact that to be “feminist” in any authentic sense of the term is to want for all people, female and male, liberation from sexist role patterns, domination, and oppression.”— Bell Hooks (1981), Ain't I A Woman?
Warm and cozy
Dec. 15th, 2021 04:43 pm“Hygge is about an atmosphere and an experience, rather than about things. It is about being with the people we love. A feeling of home. A feeling that we are safe, that we are shielded from the world and allow ourselves to let our guard down.You may be having an endless conversation about the small or big things in life—or just be comfortable in each other’s silent company—or simply just be by yourself enjoying a cup of tea.”― Meik Wiking (2017), The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living
Harmony and happiness
Dec. 14th, 2021 06:15 pm“…it must not be supposed that eudaimonia will demand many or great possessions; for self-sufficiency does not depend on excessive abundance, nor does moral conduct, and it is possible to perform noble deeds even without being ruler of land and sea: one can do virtuous acts with quite moderate resources. This may be clearly observed in experience: private citizens do not seem to be less but more given to doing virtuous actions than princes and potentates. It is sufficient then if moderate resources are forthcoming; for a life of virtuous activity will be essentially a life of eudaimonia.”— Aristotle (350 BCE), Nicomachean Ethics
With adrenaline numbed fingers, she hammered the buttons. Ignoring sweat in her palms, she clutched the joystick in a steely grip, wielding it with forceful, graceful accuracy. She barely noticed the small crowd gathering around her, bubbling with barely contained excitement. Could she do it? Would she be the first?— originally published in Dwelling Literary, April 2021
Her tiny, pixellated spaceship was badly damaged, under heavy fire. Sweat beaded on her brow. The final combatants closed in. The elite. They fired. She dodged. With surgical precision, her plasma cannons picked them off one by one, till there were no more.
The word CONGRATULATIONS rolled slowly down the screen. She grinned breathlessly, slamming her palms down on the arcade machine, as cheers all around drowned out the electronic victory music.
High above, in orbit, an onlooker smiled. “Contact central command. We’ve found the one.”
(Unfortunately, this litmag seems to have completely disappeared sometime during 2021. A pity, really. It was my first piece of fiction which wasn’t self-published.)
All the torn pieces of me
drift like dandelion parachutes,
falling in forgotten pockets
of the strangers I once loved.
Left behind, they sprout
like seeds in autumn.
In fading frosted footprints,
scented with memories,
blossom a myriad blue flowers.
But my flowers were red.
the unconventional and destitute
Dec. 12th, 2021 09:44 pm“To take the world as one finds it, the bad with the good, making the best of the present moment—to laugh at Fortune alike whether she be generous or unkind—to spend freely when one has money, and to hope gaily when one has none—to fleet the time carelessly, living for love and art—this is the temper and spirit of the modern Bohemian in their outward and visible aspect. It is a light and graceful philosophy, but it is the Gospel of the Moment, this exoteric phase of the Bohemian religion; and if, in some noble natures, it rises to a bold simplicity and naturalness, it may also lend its butterfly precepts to some very pretty vices and lovable faults, for in Bohemia one may find almost every sin save that of Hypocrisy. ...
Their faults are more commonly those of self-indulgence, thoughtlessness, vanity and procrastination, and these usually go hand-in-hand with generosity, love and charity; for it is not enough to be one’s self in Bohemia, one must allow others to be themselves, as well. ...
What, then, is it that makes this mystical empire of Bohemia unique, and what is the charm of its mental fairyland? It is this: there are no roads in all Bohemia! One must choose and find one’s own path, be one’s own self, live one’s own life.”— Ayloh (1902), The Romance of the Commonplace
This feels like a place from days past. All at once familiar and unknown. Like something from long ago, in days which my glasses tint with a rosy glow. Erubescent. Nostalgic. But in a world of social media dominated by faceless algorithms and impersonal clicks, perhaps this is the kind of space I need right now.
Time will tell.
Time will tell.
