Sometimes cautionary tales and feelings of apprehension just go out the window when someone just knows how to make you smile.

Clean Living

2014, the start of a brand new year. Like a lot of people, I have been projecting about what I want from the year to come. There aren’t necessarily single achievements I want to accomplish. Although, I would like to run at least 3 marathons this year. Maybe 2 halves and one full or two fulls and a halve. I also want to concentrate on time for the races. Push myself.

I naturally want to be happy and healthy and I wish that for my friends and family also, therefor most importantly, I want to concentrate on clean living. Whole foods, running, yoga, swimming, start surfing again, and doing things that feed the soul.I want to start my masters this year and continue shooting, venturing to more places. I want to stare at something I’m in awe of, every day.

I want to be moved. I want to create beautiful work. From a solid and happy place.

Clean living for the soul, mind and body.

“Show up for your own life, he said. Don’t pass your days in a stupor, content to swallow whatever watery ideas modern society may bottle-feed you through the media, satisfied to slumber through life in an instant-gratification sugar coma. The most extraordinary gift you’ve been given is your own humanity, which is about conciousness, so honor that consciousness.
Revere your senses; don’t degrade them, with depression, with wilful oblivion. Try to notice something new everyday, Eustace said. Pay attention to even the most modest of daily details. Even if you’re not in the woods, be aware at all times. Notice what food tastes like; notice what the detergent aisle in the supermarket smells like and recognize what those hard chemical smells do to your senses; notice what bare feet fell like; pay attention every day to the vital insights that mindfulness can bring. And take care of all things, of every single thing there is – your body, your intellect, your spirit, your neighbours, and this planet. Don’t pollute your soul with apathy or spoil your health with junk food any more than you would deliberately contaminate a clean river with industrial sludge.” – The Last American Man.





“I don’t let anyone touch me,” I finally said.
Why not?”
Why not? Because I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, their smell of beer or fifteen-year-old whiskey. Men who didn’t come to the emergency room with you, men who left on Christmas Eve. Men who slammed the security gates, who made you love them then changed their minds. Forests of boys, their ragged shrubs full of eyes following you, grabbing your breasts, waving their money, eyes already knocking you down, taking what they felt was theirs. (…) It was a play and I knew how it ended, I didn’t want to audition for any of the roles. It was no game, no casual thrill. It was three-bullet Russian roulette.”
― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

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