There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.
And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.
In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.
The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.
And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.
You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
This is the most amazing thing I have ever read.
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM ALMOST TEARING UP
Reblog for eternity.
Wow that was beautiful. Made me tear up.
The floor of a video game store, it is entirely flat
this would fuck me up
im not ok
Imagine a drunk person walking in there
i’d actually lose my shit if i went in there, fuck. i’d fall over
I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS PICTURE FOR SO LONG
My mom just told me I was going to Hell for laughing at this
THEY SEE ME ROLLIN’, THEY PRAYIN’
(Source: elle-luminati, via haokimchi)
Chinese Fried Rice, Chicken, & Egg Roll
If you’re lesbian and you fall for a guy
If you’re gay and you fall for a woman
If you’re bisexual and you have a preference for girls
If you’re bisexual and you have a preference for guys
If you’re pansexual and have a preference
What’s not fine is telling someone they can’t love another person because it doesn’t fit into the confinements of a label.
T H I S
If you’re asexual and get attracted to someone somehow.
(Source: 50shadesofacceptance, via ashiaisms)
It’s a lot easier to be angry at someone than it is to tell them you’re hurt. — Tom Gates (via solunars)
(Source: hellanne, via seonmyeonghan)
This man, James Verone, robbed a bank for one dollar. Why only one dollar? Because he knew that in prison he could get the medical care he could not afford with his part time salary as a convenience store clerk. He was approved for food stamps, but they did little to help his finances. Between his back problems, carpel tunnel, and arthritis, he simply couldn’t handle the pain any longer.
On June 9th, he sent a letter to his local paper, the Gaston Gazette, that stated: “When you receive this a bank robbery will have been committed by me. this robbery is being committed by me for one dollar. I am of sound mind but not so much sound body.”
He then took a cab to the RBC Bank, and handed the teller a note asking for one dollar and medical attention. He quietly took a seat in the lobby and waited for police to arrive.
Since Verone only stole one dollar, he was only charged with larceny. His bail, which he doesn’t plan to pay is set at $2,000, reduced from the normal $100,000. He’s scheduled to see a doctor this Friday, and hopes to get foot surgery, back surgery and to have a protrusion on his check treated.
To me, this is the perfect example of how disturbingly corrupt and unjust our health care system has become under HMO’s. For this man, or any person for that matter, feels that he needs to be imprisoned just to see a doctor, is ridiculous.
This is exactly what I hate about America. Why is it that you can buy an entire house with money you don’t have, but still can’t apply for health care if you don’t meet the requirements? That’s messed up.
This is what sick people in America are resorting to. But BEST HEALTHCARE SYSTEM IN THE WORLD, right guys?
And prison healthcare is terrible. That is how desperate this man was.
how about instead of arguing about the definition of racism we just try not to hate a person based on their skin color and rather hate them for who they are on the inside <3
Gemini & Being Alone