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The Goddess can be seen as the symbol, the normative image of immanence. She represents the divine embodied in nature, in human beings, in the flesh. The Goddess is not one image but many – a constellation of forms and associations – earth, air, fire, water, moon and star, sun, flower and seed, willow and apple, black, red, white, Maiden, Mother, and Crone. She includes the male in her aspects: He becomes child and Consort, stag and bull, grain and reaper, light and dark. Yet the femaleness of the Goddess is primary not to denigrate the male, but because it represents bringing life into the world, valuing the world. The Goddess, the Mother, as symbol of that value, tells us that the world itself is the content of the world, its true value, its heart, and its soul…
Starhawk, Dreaming the Dark
I don’t love you because you are perfect or beautiful.
Nor is it because you are broken and flawed.
I love you because it is in me to love you.
Therefore, no matter how beautiful or perfect you are,
Those will fade and I will love you no less.
Though your flaws and brokenness be fixed and healed,
I could not love you any more than I already do.
Our love is etched in eternity and cannot be changed.
For love was beautifully broken for the perfectly flawed.
Jim Wern  (via womanspleasure)

(Source: jimwern)

apoetreflects:

"Originality lives at the crossroads, at the point where world and self open to each other in transparence in the night rain.  There, the plenitude of being comes and goes.  Originality summons originality: a work of art that contains the mind of freedom will call forth freedom in others.  But originality also asks presence—the willingness to inhabit ourselves amid the uncertain transports and sufferings that are our fate.  To feel, and to question feeling; to know, and to agree to wander utterly lost in the dark, where every journey of the soul starts over.

If we demand change too insistently—in art, or in the self—something grows stubborn and digs in its heels.  But within presence and a lightness of being, we can open into the new.  It may be that originality is simply what you step out of the way of; it is what must come if the old ways are dropped, discarded like clothes.  But originality is also, a question, a request we make of ourselves and the world.  We ask it in the quality of our attention and concentration, and we ask it without expectation of an answer.  Such a request, self-raised, self-contained, ripens itself.”

—Jane Hirshfield, from “The Question of Originality” in Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry (HarperPerennial, 1998)

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