… a Star Wars quote taken completely out of context:
“Look at the size of that thing!”
“To all the girls whose thighs touch, with stretchmarks laid like gold across their backside, with bellies too full for any inadequate hands, thank goddess for your abundance.”
~ Kim Crosby
If you decide or wish to eat fresh, eat vegan, or eat healthier, that is fine.
However, none of these things is necessary for or tantamount to being a good pagan or a good witch.
via the savage daughter.
Menstrual cycles can be baffling, and that’s why I really wanted to make this special poster explaining this special time of the month, mostly so I can justify to my poor husband exactly why I am feeling totally insane. “It’s not me, honey, it’s the progesterone spiking,” or, “Can you understand now why I’m being a total bee-yatch? I’ve got at least five different hormones coursing through my body right now. I’m on drugs.” Marvel at the leuteinizing hormone! Be amazed as the estrogen takes a nosedive right before ovulation! Check out the egg as it takes its long journey through your reproductive system! Anyway, check it out and give me feedback — calling all OB/GYNs! Editors! Anatomy nuts! Sex educators! — before I send this thing to the printer. I know it’s a little crazy-looking, design-wise, but then again, so’s the menstrual cycle.
“At the age of ten I watched Grandma brush and pin up her long salt-and-pepper hair. “Grandma,” I said, “you could look twenty years younger if you’d just dye your hair.”
“Why would I want to look twenty years younger?” she asked, sounding truly curious.
She didn’t know? Everyone wants to look twenty years younger, I explained. I was sure of this because I’d seen it on TV.
She kindly told me that twenty years early she’d been forty and hadn’t had anywhere near the experiences she’d had now. “Sixty-year-olds have had much more interesting lives than forty-year-olds,” she said. “Why would I want to look like a less interesting person?”
Twenty years later an oddly colored strand of hair appeared near my ear. I tugged it loose and showed my best. “It looks like it’s filled with air!” I said, holding it up to the light.
“Honey, it’s gray,” she told me gently. After waiting a moment to let me absorb the news, she asked how I felt about it.
“Fine,” I said, a little surprised to feel the truth of it. “I’ve been looking forward to this day since I was ten years old.”
via The Girl God.
For beneath any religious and nationalistic and patriotic jingoism that declares that we are made in the image of gods or are the true harbingers of freedom or that we are the ultimate protectors of all that is good upon the planet, the fact remains: We are the beings who kill other beings like ourselves. There is no Zuul.
When one strips away the self-induced differences that we impose upon ourselves and on others, there is only the ‘we’. Peeking under the labels of Christian and Muslim and Pagan and Buddhist and atheist, we find ourselves pondering the same questions. Traveling past the checkpoints marked Alabama and Canada and Asia, we find that ‘we’ are living there. Looking into blue eyes or green or brown, we see ourselves looking back. Ten fingers, ten toes. A mouth that smiles in happiness and screams in pain. Arms that cradle infants and lovers and hoist the guns that may kill them. We are mothers and fathers and grandparents and sons and daughters across the world. In all of these things and many more, we are the same.
And that is the thing that we must ignore, that we must purge from our great rational human brains in order to wage our war. We must become an “Us” so that there may be a ‘Them’. Our cause must be just, so that theirs may be unjust. We must be right, so that they can be wrong. We must become different from them. We must make them so unlike ourselves that we cannot see ourselves in them any longer. So that we cannot see our own son or daughter in that small body lying crushed beneath the tank or hanging from the barbed wire fence. They must become so unlike us that their cries of fear and pain do not sound anything like our own. They must become utterly ‘not us’ so that we can proceed convinced that their hearts do not break as ours do.
via Witchvox Article.