“Those of us committed to social justice activism, liberation, and collective love rarely, if ever, talk about our mistakes, the harms we cause, and how those harms impact people — especially people in our intimate sphere and families — publicly. That sort of radical transparency, self-reflection, and accountability, in my opinion, is what’s missing from the public arena and discourse of social and transformative justice.” -Vanessa Lewis

Reflections on the practice of loving and nurturing ourselves and living transparently:  https://thebodyisnotanapology.com/magazine/we-all-fck-up-the-importance-of-loving-yourself-even-when-you-disappoint-yourself/




“I am living for at least two now,” she mused.

A series of serendipitous but timely stimuli had once again greased the hamster wheels lodged deep between her Eye. First, there had been her reverent analogy to one famous philosopher’s Theory of Forms, then to a comedian’s commentary, a poet’s melody, and a screenwriter’s vision.

Artists’ paths had reignited her own attention back at/to the Source.

She rediscovered herself retelling the parable of her Perfect Cottage Home, and silently reliving the grandiose blueprints of the Paradisa Club. In fact, it was only a week prior that her brother had playfully (and perhaps prophetically) capitalized on a comparison between the latter and her most recent “Pyramid Scheme.” So it was also partly as a result of his ingenuity that she had restarted scanning her past, prying for new patterns. Acutely aware at what moment precisely she had made her first aberrant choice that day, she felt the well of confidence inside her rise continuously thereafter.

Her blood was swelling and spilling over and her neural paths were tingling and twinkling (as stars do) at the prospect of reconsidering direction:

Now is no-time to re-new adventure, they rethought themselves.