(Source: beyondsurrender, via remainsofhersoul)

quietactions:

There are monks
who practice breathing in hate
and exhaling love
so that the world might be better.
I wish I could do the same
for your pain.
But if all I can do
is kiss your brow as you sleep
I will do it
every night.

illsevenyournine:

mia-the-wonder-slut:

cakeandrevolution:

pubhealth:

Why Finnish babies sleep in cardboard boxes

For 75 years, Finland’s expectant mothers have been given a box by the state. It’s like a starter kit of clothes, sheets and toys that can even be used as a bed. And some say it helped Finland achieve one of the world’s lowest infant mortality rates.

It’s a tradition that dates back to the 1930s and it’s designed to give all children in Finland, no matter what background they’re from, an equal start in life.

The maternity package - a gift from the government - is available to all expectant mothers.

It contains bodysuits, a sleeping bag, outdoor gear, bathing products for the baby, as well as nappies, bedding and a small mattress.

With the mattress in the bottom, the box becomes a baby’s first bed. Many children, from all social backgrounds, have their first naps within the safety of the box’s four cardboard walls.

Mothers have a choice between taking the box, or a cash grant, currently set at 140 euros, but 95% opt for the box as it’s worth much more.

The tradition dates back to 1938. To begin with, the scheme was only available to families on low incomes, but that changed in 1949.

(From BBC)

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-22751415

Socialism at work.

I would rather my tax money pay for this than drone missiles.

Read about this the other day. Wish the United States would follow suit.

(via thekitegetsaway)

You’ve never liked sunsets, always ensured that you were safely home by 6pm.
You avoid confrontation, anger. Prefer the comfort of your own mind over other people.
Sitting in your lounge room, I pointed out a rare, opened window, noting that sunlight was a welcomed offering to the pale, musty carpet.
Pointing out the colours, you exclaimed that the sky is the only one that can truly heal from a bruise. Look, you said.
Look at the way clouds group together.
The way they twist and turn, until you are never quite sure which way is up. Notice how the sun projects light and life onto the clouds and see how the clouds respond.
They beat the poor sun until it’s out of their grasp.
So, tell me.
Look me in the eyes and say that a sunset is beautiful.
Say it with truth.
Say it with your pleading eyes.
See, if I were to paint a sunset, I would if you wanted me to; I wouldn’t use purple or blue.
White for the coulds.
A bright, almost orange for those special, rare occasions.
No, I wouldn’t use those.
I would choose dark shades, mostly black and grey.
Because I know.
See, I’ve been taught that everything that holds beauty also houses the ugly words like pain and fear and hate.
Then, stopping for breath you turned your black and blue patchwork body away and walked out of the room, your house and the street.
I haven’t seen you since.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to wake up in the morning
No, this does not mean that I’m getting sick, again
No, you don’t have to withdraw your children from my care
This doesn’t affect my finger painting skills or stretched imagination that I still tend to get lost in
It just means that I need your support. Your hand reaching toward mine, so I can feel enclosed in the warmth of your palm and we can travel on in this journey of life together
Living
Breathing
Maneuvering as one
People will stop us in the street, point and say, look it’s the two person
Travelling together through all of lifes success and downfalls
Spreading a message of strength and encouragement
Children will watch in awe and exclaim ‘I want to be a two person when I grow up!’

But that’s a little too cheesy for me
I don’t like things that are melting
and your support diminished
The moment I said
Could I come over for breakfast?
I need something to look forward to in the morning.

farrahtales:

[TW: EATING DISORDERS] “It Ain’t Skinny They Hate” - a slam poem about thin privilege

(this is my first time so I’m sorry if it’s terrible)
(also I know over-apologizing is somewhat of a turn off)
(but shh I’m Canadian it’s in my nature)

Every now and then I get told to
“Eat a sandwich!”
“Where’s your meat?”
“You’re all skin and bones, put some more on your plate!”
I don’t like it, but
it ain’t skinny they hate

I see the crusty-pixelled saved and resaved facebook jpegs
“Real men like curves, only dogs go for bones!”
and no I don’t wanna see it
especially when I got small tits
and wish
I had an ass that didn’t stab people’s laps
when I sit on them, but
it ain’t skinny they hate

and I know skinny isn’t always strong
skinny isn’t immune to pinching itself
glaring at itself
loathing, over-working, and starving itself
and spewing its breakfast in the washroom at school
but it isn’t because they’re running from skinny

it’s because they’re running from fat

and no they’re not always polite
but they could be on the defense
trying to cope with the privileges fat’s denied, and skinny’s afforded
can you blame them?
if you didn’t understand
why why why why
all your life
the body you were born into isn’t regarded as inherently RIGHT

I get told to eat a sandwich

my baby sister gets to grow up
compared to me, who didn’t diet or exercise
but is told that she HAS to diet and exercise
to look like me

that she wasn’t fine and perfect just the way she was
with chubby arms bared in a sundress
dipping cookies
into a glass of milk
on the front porch

like it’s so fucking taboo to have told her
she doesn’t need to improve
that her body was just as okay as mine

and I don’t know what that’s like

to be policed for my size
to be punished by society, including those who love me
for, of all things, my weight

because
it ain’t skinny they hate

(via yewwantcheezwifdat)

(via rainonherparade)

imaginarydiamonds:

I drunkenly told you once how much I love your beard.
You cut it seven weeks later and I never asked you why.
You always wear sunglasses when I see you, even at night, and I keep making up new theories about the color of your eyes.
Maybe they’re black, like the winter nights I stayed up late…

imaginarydiamonds:

You always hated happy endings.
A taxi driver told me once that you shouldn’t love people who don’t believe in fairytales. They have given up a long time ago.
I wanted to ask him if I should love you,because even though you didn’t believe them,you still made sure I have more blankets on my side…

turnipsalad:

I THOUGHT I HAD A FAVOURITE INFOMERCIAL GIF

BUT I THINK I HAVE FOUND A NEW FAVOURITE

lolzpicx:

(Source: tgwb, via remainsofhersoul)

imaginarydiamonds:

The first boy I ever kissed had brown eyes and a green heart.
He always asked me about how money my father makes and never wondered what my favorite color was.

The second boy I kissed tasted like whiskey and gave away his kisses like flyers for a cult.

The third boy I ever kissed never…

itsonlyyforever:

runningislife:

Reverse Gender Stereotypes at the Gym

i fucking this LMFAO

hepatitisbey:

I don’t want to learn in a classroom anymore. I want to travel and talk to people and learn that way. I want to learn as I go, gathering knowledge and not being rigorously tested on it. I don’t want to lose passion in the things I like because of the worry of exams. I want to fuelled by snippets of knowledge I gain from people and be inquisitive. School has stolen my passion for the things I’m interested in and I hate it for that.

“Pajamas over people.”Christopher Hudspeth