That’s all! Just some things ….beautiful. Enjoy!
Inefffable: (adj) Too great to be expressed in words. late Middle English: from Old French, or from Latin ineffabilis, from in- ‘not’ + effabilis
Let us think the unthinkable, let us do the undoable, let us prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all. ~~ Douglas Adams
I attempt to surround myself with ineffable individuals. I put them on a pedestal, not so much to elevate them, more in an endeavor to hoist myself to their awesomeness. I seek to balance myself next to them and with my utmost energy work on becoming equal to them.
“Surround yourself with those who won’t compete but will revel in your success and see your ascent as a reflection of their own possibilities.” ~~T.D. Jakes
When you surround yourself with negativity and ugly, I think you become that. I have been scolded by many for appearing to run away from problems. I have tried to explain that I am not running away from anything, just trying to run towards solutions, happiness, and the amazing light that I find when moving away from the dark.
“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.” ~~ A. A. Milne
I seek the company of dreamers and achievers, those with strength, dignity, ethics, and humor. My best companions, friends, and mentors are those that strive for the best, even when surrounded by the worst and build me up, helping me to build up others.
“Surround yourself with those who see greatness within you, even when you don’t see it yourself!” ~~Zig Ziglar
choreophile may be used for someone who loves dancing. ‘phile’ is usually used for a person who ‘loves’.
“Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.”
These articles were taken from a Mrs. Roberts, who lived in the same house with her, while the owner was tripping it on the “light fantastic toe” at a hoe-down, break-down, “whoop-ze-zaw,” or some other merry-making that kept her from home until the break of day.
—The Baltimore Sun, 10 Jun. 1839
Had his old Guernsey friends been present on these occasions they would not have recognized in the soldier, resplendent in a general’s uniform, now dancing a mazurka, the handsome stripling who only a few years since had waltzed his way into the hearts of all the women of St. Peter’s Port.
—Walter R. Nursey, The Story of Isaac Brock, Hero, Defender and Saviour of Upper Canada, 1908
She made new friends with the older girls at school and soon had them walking like her: stomach tucked in, buttocks rolling like well-oiled joints and head held high, their jaws opening and closing as chewing gum klikked and klakked in their mouths. “These girls are heading straight to oku mmuo, hell,” our parents warned as the girls sashayed by and we secretly prayed to go to hell with them, just for a chance to be that glamorous.
—Chika Unigwe, Sugar in My Bowl (in Matatu 33), 2006
”I asked if the car had been in a major accident and the salesman said, ‘Oh, no, we don’t sell cars that have been in major accidents.’” But when his daughter drove the car home, he said, “the car was shimmying so badly” that she said she could barely control it. —Henry Gilgoff, Newsday (Long Island, NY), 26 Sept. 1973
The girls were so lovely and “boogied” so scintillatingly that one person was heard to remark, “Goodness, I’m certainly glad my husband couldn’t be here tonight.”
—The Chicago Defender, 1 Nov. 1941
“You’ve gotta dance like there’s nobody watching,
Love like you’ll never be hurt,
Sing like there’s nobody listening,
And live like it’s heaven on earth.”
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
Dancing is a perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire. ~ George Bernard Shaw
fandango, two-step, cakewalk, break, bust a groove, crunk, cut a rug, freak, footwork, get funky, get your swerve on, ghost ride the whip, juke, pogoing, rave, etc
disco · samba · tango · 2-step · boogie · conga · foxtrot – roth; quiall; rachel; pvcann; katiemiafrederick; fabio; salsaworldtraveler; Aaarrrrr!! Klutzy; Country Line Dances; Old Time Dance; My Time To Dance; Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy; A banana, a ghost and a dash of foxtrot in Blackpool
Nemophilist (n.) – Origin: Greek – Definition: A haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude.
So many forests in so many countries with so many people with so little time. Park forests, mountain forests, island forests, animal forests. I cannot say all of this better than the people I am quoting below.
“And into the forest I go to lose my mind and find my soul.”
– John Muir
“Gold is a luxury. Trees are necessities. Man can live and thrive without gold, but we cannot survive without trees.”
– Paul Bamikole
“I found far more answers in the woods than I ever did in the city.”
– Mary Davis
“In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.”
– John Fowles
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.
A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.
A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.
When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.
A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.
So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”
Smultroställe (n.) – Origin: Swedish – Definition: A special place discovered, treasured, returned to for solace and relaxation; a personal idyll free from stress and sadness.
In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future. ~Alex Haley
When I first read the word – Smultroställe – I thought to myself, “This word means family.” OK that’s a lie.
When I first read the word – Smultroställe – I thought to myself, “What the heck is a smult-tro-sally”. So i looked it up and thought to myself, “To me, this word actually means happy place” The second thing I thought to myself was, “How in the heck do you pronounce this word?”
In complete transparency, I still do not know how to pronounce it, but I can unequivocally state that my smultroställe is not just my family but it is my every person in my world who has existed in my happy place. Every person who has taken the time to reduce the daily drama and make me laugh. It is every person who has laughed with me and not at me. (Even when they ARE sometimes laughing at me.) It is every person who has chosen to spend time with me to create the millions of happy memories that I currently own. The memories that I will have and cherish until the day I die. The happy memories that I will have and carry with me until I go beyond death. Maybe to infinity and beyond. My smultroställe is YOU.
I found my happy place the minute I saw you. ~Sherrilyn Kenyon
To my million smultroställes. Come on, you know who you are!
The most beautiful things are not associated with money; they are memories and moments. If you don’t celebrate those, they can pass you by. ~Alek Wek
I am a collection of thoughts and memories and likes and dislikes. I am the things that have happened to me and the sum of everything I’ve ever done. I am the clothes I wear on my back. I am every place and every person and every object I have ever come across. I am a bag of bones stuck to a very large rock spinning a thousand miles an hour. ~Macaulay Culkin
When you finally discover your happy place, your soul will be more easily protected from all the darkness around. ~
I collect memories. I look for opportunities to try new things, go to new places, and meet new people all the time. ~Marcel Wanders