130 posts shown.
Let us venture for a moment—just a brief moment—into the biting frost, to claw at the dark earth and feel it slip through our fingers; muddy, soft, almost as if it were alive, as if you could hear it breathing... breathing... And so we all dance together in death... listen to the sound, for it is cold, as gentle as a white night or an American dawn... though what kind of dawns were they really? As if they occurred billions of years ago, or perhaps just seconds past? For time does not exist—or so some violetstorm claimed in more recent times, those foolish, sweet, modern times, when he returned to me, again and again, because he was always there, tucked away in my dreams. Komanche always called me into the cold, back to Ukraine, with weapons in hand, to stand by his side and witness that final gasp... For I have been to the Had as well, and he watched over me there. Through black, darkest-of-black, forged bars, feeling as though bones themselves were snapping... Yet even that was not terrifying. Though, I must admit, the rattling sound was somewhat sinister. It felt, for a fleeting second, as if time had stopped—not time, mind you, but the heart. It stopped, and then it leapt. Vivid, bloody, much like those old days when the red blood flowed... the blood of men. It was by the edge of some stream, deep in the Midwest, near Borna, back when we drank nothing but Dioniz and the gods themselves were speaking. Oh, how beautiful it was, simply to hear them.
https://www.facebook.com/10000082421...32165/?app=fbl
hahaha, where on earth did my kafa go?
Ashley Mendoza6 said:Look, if a woman is "too old," especially when you factor in all the plastic surgery that’s become way too common lately, she just ends up looking sterile. It feels unnatural.
To me, the perfect woman from a sexual standpoint is someone you can just grab by the hair, pull her close, and lose yourself in the moment without having to overthink it—without worrying if she’s going to be "too much" or if the vibe will break mid-act. I honestly believe that kind of raw, uninhibited energy is exactly why those younger, more superficial girls get left behind. 🤷
If that primal connection isn't there, she’s just not sexy to me, 🤷 even if she’s as gorgeous as a Hollywood starlet on a movie poster...
I.
*Just to be clear, I am definitely not talking about anything non-consensual or harmful here.
Well, that's what happens when you're an idiot.
Benjamin King17 said:Childhood is arguably the most carefree chapter of a human life—you aren't burdened by the weight of the past or the anxieties of what's next. You simply exist, shielded from worry because someone else is always looking out for you. Now, adolescence brings its own specific brand of stress—not the kind we face later in life with careers and families, but something more primal... the desperate need to fit in and prove oneself to peers. Many people endure significant hardships during those teenage years—it isn't always a happy experience. For some, there are struggles with parents, unstable environments, or fractured social circles. My point is this: while childhood is often the peak of happiness, even a middle-aged adult can recapture that sense of peace—provided they find a little bit of organization...
But why on earth would "not having to worry about yourself" be considered the ultimate happiness? That sounds pretty idiotic to me. For me, the greatest moment of pure joy was finally moving out from my parents' house. Honestly, even if things were total crap, that felt more like true freedom.
Gary Fox2 said:Hands down, the absolute worst chapter of my life was growing up...
Between being constantly criticized, mentally worn down, and feeling totally insecure—all thanks to the endless nonsense my mother forced on me while my father just couldn't care less—it was a mess. My grandparents were either far away or gone.
I didn't have a single damn soul I could actually turn to.
The truth is, I never really got to be a kid when I should have been... which is why I’m such a kid at heart now. I find joy in the little things, and more often than not, I can manage to push aside whatever stress I'm dealing with—or just blast through it—just to get back to that sense of carefree freedom.
And honestly? I have zero patience for people trying to impose their "rules" on how I should act, or the constant nitpicking, overcomplicating everything, or the endless complaining... I just want positivity...
Then you get this certain group of people who roll their eyes at how "happy" I always seem to be. But I need it. I need that peace that comes from positive vibes, good people, and simple moments... that Zen-like state where nothing can touch you and everything feels human again.
That’s my therapy.
I hate my childhood.
Well, yeah—childhood is everything, sure, but it isn't some sacred, protected sanctuary. For me, it wasn't even the worst part; it was puberty. That was easily the most traumatic stretch of my life.
Carol Kern2 said:But honestly, I don't think kids even realize they're happy. Like, do you actually need to be self-aware to feel bliss?
If you ask me, the happiest people out there are usually the drunks, the crazies, and little kids—people who aren't really "present" in that deep way.
So, does being totally oblivious to everything around you actually lead to happiness? Is that the secret?
I remember being maybe 7 years old, and my mom told me I had no idea how lucky I was just to have my own room to sleep in. She said I wouldn't even realize how much I'd miss it once I moved out. We ended up moving about four times after that.
Now that I’m a grown woman (hopefully!), I can actually recognize those happy moments when they happen. I can slow down and just soak them in. Actually appreciate them.
Looking back, I know my childhood was super happy, but I was totally clueless about it at the time. And even more than that, I didn't have the capacity to value those moments while they were happening.
So, what's the deal? Do you need awareness and the ability to appreciate life to be happy, or does being completely unaware of everything actually bring it to you?
Drunks, lunatics, and kids??? Not conscious? My god, people are so dense. And then you have these sober, corporate drones—people who don't even think for themselves, just mindless puppets and parasites of today's decay—who claim to be the "conscious" ones. It's grotesque. Just look into their eyes and you'll see they are soulless scavengers; there is nothing behind their gaze... just walking dolls... when they die, nothing will remain but their pathetic bones. But sure, let's call them conscious.
What on earth does this have to do with twins? I’m completely lost here...😵
Jesse Watson37 said:Speaking of which, something weird happened to me recently—something I’ve honestly never experienced before. I met this guy who wasn't exactly a supermodel or anything, just a decent, charming guy, but he was easily twice my age. Still, there was this magnetic pull toward him that I couldn't shake... He's around 50, but he looks like he's in his late 30s.
Well, thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock.🙄
Now this is a solid topic to dive into!!!!
I suppose it just comes down to how we’re wired—some people are simply born with an artist's soul, while others... well, they aren't. It’s a strange sort of cosmic lottery, isn't it? Some are destined for passion, others for much more mundane pursuits. And then there is the matter of attraction—one person might be drawn to a sharp intellect, while another finds themselves captivated by sheer personality. Perhaps your boyfriend was just a bit slow on the uptake—or maybe it was just the guys in general. Even I’ve had to deal with it—one guy once told me quite plainly that I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, yet somehow, not the most "sexy"... grrrrrr...
Noah Garcia4 said:Yeah, I work at an accounting firm. It’s fine, I guess—there isn't exactly much breathing room for deep thought or existential crises. It’s mostly just a relentless stream of paperwork and endless rows of numbers. Honestly, it’s exactly the kind of grind I’ve always been used to doing.
Are you serious? He almost took you out? That’s absolutely terrifying.
You’re probably still young enough to handle that kind of chaos without it breaking you. Personally, I'm well past that stage—I don't think I could stomach it.
I have my final hearing this Wednesday, and by the time I walk out of that courtroom, I fully expect to be a very happy, newly single woman.
I’ve reached a point where I don't find myself longing for some manufactured, fictional world anymore—and I know, I explicitly said the opposite in my very first post.
If I didn't have this stubborn refusal to accept reality, I suppose I could just close my eyes and pretend none of this is happening.
I’ve finally made my peace with reality; if anything, stepping back into the real world feels like a massive weight being lifted off my shoulders.
Thank God those damn hallucinations are finally behind me.
I am truly glad to hear you're working🙂
Regarding my boyfriend—it was a nightmare, really. I don't even want to think about it. He ended up in jail. Things are better now, but he seems so hollowed out; the whole ordeal just broke him. Regardless, I am genuinely happy to see you navigating the real world so successfully.
Wait, you're getting a divorce? I'm so sorry. But you seem so much more grounded now, and I'm relieved you aren't dealing with those hallucinations—you saw firsthand how much they destroyed my boyfriend. Just take care of yourself and keep moving forward.👍
Are you actually outoftheblue? I’m glad to hear things are looking up for you professionally—where did you end up landing, if you don't mind my asking? How’s the grind treating you? Honestly, my boyfriend has been on Zyprexa and various other medications lately, and... well, things got incredibly dark. He had an episode where he nearly killed me in a fit of madness. 😁😁He’s doing better now, I suppose, though there is a certain sadness to it—he struggles so much to reconcile with reality. And if I’m being completely honest, I occasionally find myself missing that imaginary world he lived in; I spent so long believing in his delusions right alongside him. It's a strange thing, really. I’m also on some medication myself.
Drew Flores3 said:Ouch... that "Christian" forgiveness of yours actually hurts.
Well, ha, ha, ha. 😂😂
The hair on my neck stands up just the same 🙄—the moment I hear this endless rambling about forgiveness 🙂--🙂I find myself thinking, please, just go jump in a lake; if anyone ever laid a hand on someone I love, I couldn't imagine forgiving them for a second 🙄, let alone praying to my dear God to let me pay them back. I’m certain they’d hear me, both on Earth and in Heaven.
Grace is right, along with anyone else who claims that forgiveness brings peace—after all, a blessed man is usually a peaceful one.
But for me, justice itself seems to demand a different kind of order—one where even God doesn't offer absolution. If you forgive a crime, you become an accomplice to it. God can be just as merciless as He is merciful. I wonder, when you see a person without arms or legs, would you call that a merciful God? Or would you say that God always forgives?
Susan Price30 said:Christianity is built upon Revelation and Tradition—if we set aside the theological treatises of great theologians and the Holy Fathers throughout history. Therefore, based most heavily on oral Tradition, early Christians knew what Jesus looked like. They knew he had green eyes, long dark hair, was tall, athletic, and had a darker complexion. Then there is the Shroud of Turin, or perhaps relevant historical books from the historians of Jesus's era and his contemporaries who wrote about him. For instance, the works of ancient Roman historians like Flavia or Josephus are quite interesting.
(I recall someone sharing links to some modern books regarding the historical aspect and life of Jesus here, but I can't find the thread right now because I can't remember the title.)
I am not sure what you are asking me or what you are insisting on. Are you questioning the existence of Jesus, or do you simply believe that all the paintings, icons, and even the Raphaels aren't a faithful representation of the image of Jesus as we consider him to be through Tradition?
And why is this so important here and now, in this specific thread? I truly don't understand... is it because you got the impression that I worship Jesus? Of course I worship Him 🤣 and love Him with all my being; it's no secret.
Honestly, nuns actually have the privilege of being officially wed to Him.😁 Personally, I would love nothing more than to retreat to a monastery and spend the rest of my days in communion with God and nothing else, but that isn't my calling...
🙂 🎉
I’d happily retreat to some quiet monastery just to spend the rest of my days in communion with God—nothing else, just that. But, alas, that isn't quite my calling...
Well, you could always approach it this way 😍—you don't strictly need a monastery 👍
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If your calling isn't communion with God, then what on Earth is it?
I certainly wasn't aware that Jesus was Divinely beautiful 😍
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I feel a bit embarrassed even saying it, 🙂
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It feels a bit silly—one might even end up implying that Jesus was some sort of player 😂😂
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Michael Anderson2 said:😁
A few years back, I had this strange experience while reading in bed. A little bug landed on my book, drawn in by the light. Usually, I would have just snapped the book shut—quick and easy—leaving nothing behind but a tiny two-dimensional imprint on the page...
But this bug was different. It was silky, green, fragile, and so full of life; I could actually see it as a living thing... So, I didn't close the book. It wandered across the page, crawled onto my hand, and then flew away.
Ever since then, I don't kill bugs. 🤷
🙂👏👏👋👋
🙂
Neither do I—well, except by accident, of course.
Actually, when it comes to spiders, I'm nearly at the point where😁😍, love has blossomed and a bond has formed between us.
Benjamin Taylor6 said:It's highly unlikely that you haven't read up on other types of awakening. We're talking about awakening through the TM-siddhi program (which is essentially the highest tier of Transcendental Meditation TM):
Then you have the folks who meditate and end their sessions by literally jumping around: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHwhGUo90jw
Well, I have read about Branimir, Elvis, and Boris—😍...that is, regarding those unfortunate labels used for children with disabilities. Most people recoil from such kids, but if you ask me, I’d much rather spend my time with them than with those who seem physically flawless yet are absolute monsters at heart—honestly, it’s nauseating. My prayer would simply be: God, please keep me far away from people like that.
As for levitation and WORLD PEACE🙏🙏🙏, heh, I wouldn't mind flying myself, but I suppose I shouldn't pester God too much unless it is an absolute necessity or His divine will; besides, if it is already His Grace, then no matter how hard I try, I might just end up hitting my head on something and getting nowhere.🤷
Or perhaps I have misunderstood everything all over again🙄—and now I am being besieged by spiders once more. This one is particularly large, and since I don't have the heart to destroy its little home, I suppose I shall have to attempt to coexist with it again.😲😍, thankfully it is just outside the window, so I won't be forced to dream about it in the middle of the night.😵😵
Benjamin Taylor6 said:unknown Asks:
Before I passed away, I wrote something inspired by the thoughts of an unknown individual: "There is no saving a tiger that has already decided to die." It’s a hard truth, but it's true—you simply cannot help someone who has no desire to be helped. It’s a two-way street, you see? Anything else—forcing your assistance on someone who hasn't asked for it—is nothing more than a form of violence. It's reckless, frankly, and quite indifferent to the person's own will.
😲
What even is that? God, waking up is just... it’s a struggle. Every single morning, it feels like a personal battle against my own existence. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering why we even bother getting out of bed in the first place—it’s exhausting before the day has even truly begun. If a man spends his entire life immersed in Zen Buddhism—devoting every waking hour to meditation and deep contemplation—and yet, in the end, he’s powerless to stop his own son from taking his own life... well, that's a heavy thing to sit with. It makes you wonder about the limits of all that spiritual practice, doesn't it?
Honestly, if he could just find his son a decent partner—someone who actually keeps things interesting—maybe the kid would be too busy focusing on life instead of obsessing over death. It’s all about redirection, really. Focus on the physical, focus on living... it beats wallowing in that dark headspace.
Am I exaggerating? Not even a little bit. My friend is living proof of that—just look at his situation: I was reading through some old discussions recently—you know how I get, once I start digging into these philosophical rabbit holes, it’s hard to stop—and I kept coming back to this idea of spiritual progress versus the sheer, noisy chaos of modern life. It’s funny, isn't it? We spend our whole lives trying to find some semblance of peace, yet we build these massive, loud systems that practically scream at us to stay distracted. There’s this specific thread where Benjamin Taylor6 was making points about the necessity of deep focus, and honestly, I think he hit a nerve there. He was talking about how most people just skim the surface of existence—they touch the water and then run away because they’re afraid of getting wet. But if you want actual growth, you have to dive in. You can't just dabble in Zen Buddhism or try a bit of Transcendental Meditation TM on a Sunday morning and expect to become a saint by Monday. It requires a level of discipline that most Americans, frankly, seem to have lost somewhere between the invention of the smartphone and the endless stream of junk food. I remember sitting in a coffee shop in Chicago a few years back—just one of those rainy Tuesday afternoons where everything feels a bit heavy—and watching people pass by. Everyone was glued to their screens, eyes darting, hearts racing, totally disconnected from the person sitting right next to them. It felt like we were all living in this frantic, shallow bubble. It reminded me of what Thomas Davis6 was saying about the superficiality of modern "enlightenment" seekers. People want the results without the work. They want the feeling of being connected to God without actually having to sit in silence and face their own messy, complicated selves. It’s easy to talk about grace, but acting with grace when someone cuts you off in traffic on the I-95? That’s the real test. That’s where the rubber meets the road. We preach these high-minded ideals, but the moment things get inconvenient, we revert to our primal, agitated states. We need more than just slogans. We need a fundamental shift in how we approach our inner lives. If we don't learn to quiet the noise, we're just going to keep spinning our wheels, chasing shadows while the real substance of life passes us by. It’s frustrating, really—watching everyone rush toward nothingness with such incredible speed.
Look, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again—everyone wants to credit their spiritual awakening to some lofty, sanctified practice like prayer, deep meditation, or endless contemplation... but honestly? For me, it wasn't some quiet moment of Zen Buddhism or sitting cross-legged in a temple. It was far more primal than that. In my case, the whole thing was triggered by the vagina. There—I said it. While everyone else is out there chasing enlightenment through rituals or staring at the ceiling waiting for a sign from God, I found my truth through something much more visceral and grounded in the body. It sounds scandalous to the pearl-clutchers, I know, but let them keep their incense and their chanting; I'll stick to the reality of how it actually happened. 😍
Look, regarding what was written up there—honestly!
Well, that is exactly what I asked in the meditation thread, and nobody bothered to answer me.🙄
And this is precisely the sort of response I was hoping for.👋👋👋
It seems human willpower alone isn't enough to become a saint, or even just a good, wise person—you could pray and meditate every single day and still fall short. You need God's Grace and a gift from Heaven; essentially, you need God's plan. Period. And frankly, Heaven is just naturally out of reach for some people—yikes.🙂🙂
And of course, there's the whole "bonus physical satisfaction brings peace to the home" thing—ha, ha, ha.😂😂