Grace an Invitation
What's your name?
Anonymous

Thank you for sharing that story! I hope you are well!!!

Nevermind. I know your name. It's Megan Mitchell. Lol I know I seem like a creep, but 2 years ago you and another girl named shelbi were my counselors at KAA...... They're called counselor a, right? Yeah well I was in your cabin and somewhere along the last days of our session, I told you I had a tumblr. You gave me your URL on a small piece of paper and told me to follow you. You wrote your URL in cursive and I couldn't read it at all. Throughout those 2 years, even though I couldn't read.....
Anonymous

Hi! I am so sorry you couldn’t read my handwriting, but yes Shelbj and I were counselor a together at KAA: ) that is so funny! How are you doing?

You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.
Thich Nhat Hanh (via awelltraveledwoman)
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit.
Aristotle  (via thatkindofwoman)
Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.
Mark Twain (via thatkindofwoman)

"The easiest thing to do is nothing. Even when a lot of odds are against us, we can always do something."

Leah Samuelson today

The Brooklyn-based arts org. where I got to intern this summer <3

"Now you endeavor
To gather yourself
And withdraw in slow
Animal woundedness
From love turned sour and ungentle.

When we love, the depth in us
Trusts itself forward until
The empty space between
Becomes gradually woven
Into an embrace where longing
Can close its weary eyes.

Love can seldom end clean;
For all the tissue is torn
And each lover turned stranger
Is dropped into a ruin of distance
Where emptiness is young and fierce.

Time becomes strange and slipshod;
It mixes memories that felt
The kiss of the eternal
With the blistering hurt of now.

Unknown to themselves,
Certain small things
Touch nerve-lines to the heart
And bring back with color and force
All that is utterly lost.

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on the fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning”

John O’Donahue, from To Bless the Space Between Us

There’s no money in poetry, but there’s no poetry in money, either.
Robert Graves (via taylorbooks)