Love imperfectly. Be a love idiot. Let yourself forget any love ideal.
A succulent wild woman is one of any age who feels free to fully express herself in every dimension of her life.
Cats are angels with fur.
Choosing succulence is a deliberate act of personal revolution. It means waking up! Embracing your true self, studying your patterns, and letting out your most alive self. We all have one.
Women need a space to be creative -- creativity thrives in solitude.
If you let yourself be truly seen, then you can be truly loved.
Marry yourself first -- promise never to leave you!
My body is precious and not separate from my soul.
If you're not embodying and living in who you are, you're going to have - it's going to be like fragments. You're going to have all these different aspects and sub-personalities that don't get managed and handled. That don't get managed and handled. And I think that's probably a lot of the agony that comes in death.
Some say, Life is short. I say; Life is tall-grab a straw!
Use your internal grandmother for guidance and advice.
I take every opportunity to tell people how happy my mother is to be dead.
Dogs are miracles with paws.
Use lots of exclamation points. They love to be overused.
Being tame is what we're taught: ... put the crayons back, stay in line, don't talk too loud, keep your knees together, nice girls don't... As you might know, nice girls DO, and they like to feel wild and alive. Being tame feels safe, being wild, unsafe. Yet safety is an illusion anyway. We are not in control. No matter how dry and tame and nice we live, we will die. And we will suffer along the way. Living wild is its own reward.
We're all afraid of suffering or agony or torture. It's only natural in some ways. It's only human, let's say. I don't know how natural it is. It probably is conditioning.
Our creative dreams are subject to grudge-holding when we decide that other people somehow have made their dreams real and we have not.
Inside the book between the lines, was a place to rest and absorb the magic
We are each a gift, exactly as we are in this moment, with no improvements!
I envision a world filled with women traveling alone and meeting each other on the path.
I have a strong theory that all the dead people are looking down and laughing and smiling and saying "Oh look, they are so upset about the death thing."
There ARE people who won't customarily eat an entire row of cookies, or hear food calling their name from other rooms, or who don't grind up food in the garbage disposal for fear of eating it, or get it back out of the garbage so they could eat it. Of course, my binge eating was just a cover-up for the larger issue: Trying to fill the emptiness
Certainly survival is important- very important- but at some point surviving wasn't enough. I felt ready to complete my surviving journey and start thriving and just living.
The more that each of us tends our own soul, the more the world will prosper.
I am in my life for a purpose. There is no place to rush to. I am safe. It's all ok.
"I take every opportunity to tell people how happy my mother is to be dead."
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