April 21st, 2014

It was early in the morning, but he knew exactly what was happening in his chest and woke my mother to ask her to call an ambulance. Our telephone was in the living room, but before she could leave their bedroom to use it, he asked for something else. My father asked that the ambulance not use its siren.

Weeks later, when the fear of death had receded like some strange tide, my mother asked him about the siren. My father said simply that he worried it would have woken and frightened his three sleeping daughters. It is true that we were all light sleepers and that our farm was usually blanketed by the polite silence that comes from having no close neighbors, but what impossible kindness there was in my father’s request.

I have called it an act of kindness, which I think it was. It was considerate in a way I cannot begin to understand; generous in a way no one would expect, much less demand. Years later I still do not comprehend how in what very well might have been the final moments of his life, my father thought to ask for quiet so that his daughters might continue sleeping.

Kindness is like holding an ice cube in your hands. It stings, but then the cold dissolves; what at first you could barely hold becomes something you cannot let go. My father’s request for a quiet ambulance came from a man so familiar with kindness that the sting was completely gone: the ice was no longer cold, but one with the flesh.

Absolutely exquisite essay by Casey E. Cep, who recounts what her father’s heart attack taught her about kindness – a virtue that Kerouac captured beautifully and Einstein articulated so memorably.

Henry James, it turns out, was right.

Do your soul a favor and read Cep’s full essay.

(via explore-blog)

April 20th, 2014
April 16th, 2014
8. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like “I think” or “I might.” Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”
8 Ways to Say ‘I Love You’
April 15th, 2014
I am so bored
of these boys that
think think think
instead of feeling.
E. E. Cummings said it:
“kisses are a better fate than wisdom,”
and I am living it,
pressing my mouth to others’
as a way of saying hello.
I am six tons of emotions with a tidal
wave heart. I do not think first.
I act, I react, I aim to
fall over others like a rain.
Call me foolhardy, call me illogical,
call me a spitfire of light chasing
whatever explosion brought me here.
I do not know logic
as well as I know passion,
and (I think) you can taste
my fury desire to be alive
in my kiss.
Feel First, Think Second | Lora Mathis (via saisonlune)

(Source: lora-mathis, via saisonlune)

April 13th, 2014

(Source: chloecastellano, via keefrich)

March 30th, 2014

(Source: kisedbyfire, via waydowntown)