THE INKWELL SOUL

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  • The In-Between Space

    The world shimmered, not with visual distortion, but with an unseen energy that pulsed beneath the surface of things. I existed in that shimmering, that liminal space between knowledge and feeling, where the mind’s sharp edges blurred into the raw, untamed landscape of the heart.

    It was a primal intimacy, a conversation whispered between my soul and the rustling leaves, the murmuring stream, the sigh of the wind. The oak tree in my backyard wasn’t just an oak tree; it was a stoic guardian, its roots anchoring deep into the earth, mirroring my own yearning for stability. The rain wasn’t merely precipitation; it was a symphony of release, each drop a tiny drumbeat echoing the rhythm of my own tears.

    My emotions weren’t simply internal states; they were living entities, swirling around me like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, each one a fleeting expression of the world’s vibrant pulse. Joy wasn’t just a feeling; it was the sun warming my skin, the laughter of children echoing in the park, the sweet taste of a ripe strawberry bursting on my tongue. Grief wasn’t an abstract concept; it was the hallow ache in my chest, the weight of unshed tears, the lingering scent of rain on dry earth.

    This in-between space was where I truly lived, where the boundaries between self and other dissolved. I felt the heartbeat of the earth beneath my feet, the ancient wisdom of the mountains etched upon my soul. The whispers of the wind carried secrets, and the rustling leaves sang lullabies that soothed my restless spirit.

    It wasn’t always easy, this dance between knowing and feeling. The mind, with its insatiable hunger for logic and order, often struggled to reconcile with the heart’s wild untamed nature. But I had learned to navigate this terrain, to find a delicate balance between the two.

    In the quiet moments, when the world was hushed and still, I would close my eyes and listen. I would listen to the symphony of my own emotions, the whispers of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the steady beat of my own heart. And in that listening, I found a profound sense of peace, a connection to something larger than myself.

    This was my reality, a tapestry woven from the threads of knowledge and feeling, a world where the boundaries between self and other blurred, where emotions danced like fireflies in the twilight, and where the whispers of the wind carried the secrets of the universe. It was a world of primal intimacy, where I lived and breathed and felt the pulse of life in every fiber of my being.

  • A Poem: Because Love…

    A flicker in the chest, they call it love,
    but maybe it’s the spark igniting the forge.
    “Side effect,” the words whisper,
    a byproduct of something wilder, deeper.

    Tell me, honestly,
    have you ever held something dear,
    a sunrise painted across a lover’s face,
    the way a child’s laughter spills like spilled starlight,
    and not felt the urge, the ache,
    to capture it, to hold it, to …make?

    A song, a clumsy melody hummed in the shower,
    a poem scribbled on a napkin, stained with coffee,
    a prayer, a desperate plea to the uncaring sky,
    even a mess, a chaotic burst of paint,
    a kitchen floor sticky with the remnants of late night baking,
    a testament to shared joy.

    Love, they say, is blind,
    but I say it’s the only thing that sees too much,
    sees the fleeting beauty, the fragile moments,
    the way the world is always slipping through our fingers.

    And in the reckless abandon,
    it demands immortality.
    Not in stone or bronze,
    but in the echoes of a song sung late at night,
    in the worn pages of a love letter,
    in the memories we build, brick by fragile brick,
    a legacy of feeling, a monument to the heart’s wild,
    untamed creation.

    Because love, it doesn’t just feel, it …does.
    It spills out, it overflows, it paints the world.
    in the colors of our deepest desires,
    leaving behind a trail of art, a testament
    to the messy, beautiful, undeniable truth:
    we were here, we loved, we…made.

    By Elizabeth Proett

  • The Superposition of Soulmates: A Quantum Love Story

    Quantum physics, with its mind-bending concepts of superposition and entanglement, seems a universe away from the messy, emotional realm of love. Yet, lately, I’ve found myself pondering the curious parallels. Perhaps, just perhaps, the search for “the one” isn’t so different from the dance of subatomic particles.

    Think about it: before you meet someone special, they exist in a state of superposition. They are, potentially, everything and nothing to you. A collection of possibilities, a wave function of potential compatibility. They are the barista with the kind smile, the person whose profile you scrolled past on the dating app, the stranger whose laugh you overheard in a bookstore. They exist in a probabilistic cloud, their potential as your soulmate unquantified, undefined. Until, that is, you observe them.

    The act of meeting, of truly seeing someone, is akin to a quantum measurement. It collapses the wave function. Suddenly, they are no longer a collection of possibilities, but a concrete individual, standing before you in sharp focus. The infinite potential narrows down to a specific person, with their quirks and charms, their history and hopes. The act of connection, of shared laughter or a lingering glance, is the interaction that forces them into a defined state – either a potential partner or not.

    And then there’s entanglement. Quantum entanglement describes how two particles can become linked, their fates intertwined regardless of the distance separating them. Doesn’t this resonate with the feeling of deep connection, of a bond that transcends physical proximity? The feeling that you just ‘know’ someone, that their thoughts and feelings echo within you, even when miles apart. Perhaps this isn’t just romantic fancy, but a kind of emotional entanglement, a connection forged on a deeper, almost subatomic level.

    There’s no formula for calculating the probability of finding your soulmate. But the metaphors resonate. Just as quantum particles exist in a state of uncertainty until observed, so too does love seem to operate on a principle of chance and destiny. It requires a leap of faith, a willingness to collapse the wave function and see what emerges. It demands vulnerability, the courage to entangle your heart with another, knowing that the connection, while potentially transformative, could also lead to heartbreak.

    But maybe, just maybe, by embracing the uncertainty, by allowing ourselves to be observed and to observe others with open hearts, we increase the probability of finding our own entangled soulmate. Maybe, just maybe, love is as mysterious and wonderful as the quantum world itself.

    *Is The Collapse of Wave Function at the Heart of Reality? medium.com

    *What Is Quantum Entanglement? NASA Science science.nasa.gov

  • My Biggest Toxic Trait

    “My biggest toxic trait is…I know how to love but I don’t know how to believe I’m loved.” The words, stark and honest, hit a nerve. It’s a confession, a raw admission of deep-seated vulnerability. It’s about the chasm between knowing how to give love and accepting it in return. It’s a painful paradox, a heart that overflows with affection yet struggles to receive it.

    This isn’t just about romantic love. It bleeds into every facet of connection – friendships, family, community. It’s the gnawing feeling that I’m on a periphery, always extending a hand while bracing for rejection. It’s the fear that if people truly knew me, the messy, imperfect me, the love would vanish like the morning mist.

    I know how to love. I love deeply, passionately, completely. I love with every fiber of my being, offering my heart freely, without reservation. I nurture connections, celebrate milestones, offer support, give gifts, express affection – the full repertoire of love languages flows effortlessly from me. It’s innate, a part of who I am.

    But believing I’m loved? That’s the battleground. That’s where the insecurities whisper their insidious lies. “You’re not worthy.” “You’re too much.” “They don’t really care.” The voices are relentless, eroding my self-worth, making me question the sincerity of every embrace, every compliment, every expression of affection.

    It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, this inability to accept love, I push people away, create distance, test their loyalty, all subconsciously, all driven by the fear of being hurt, of being proven right – that I’m not lovable. And in doing so, I create the very reality that I dread.

    It’s exhausting, this constant push and pull, this internal war between the heart that wants to connect and the mind that sabotages every opportunity. It’s a lonely existence, even surrounded by people who care. It’s like being on the outside looking in, watching love flow between others, wondering if I’ll every truly be a part of it.

    This quote, it’s a mirror reflecting my deepest fear – the fear of vulnerability, the fear of not being enough. It’s a call to self-awareness, a recognition of a toxic pattern that needs to be broken. It’s a reminder that healing begins with acknowledging the wound.

    Learning to believe I am loved is a journey, a long and arduous one. It requires dismantling the wall I have built around my heart, challenging the negative voices, and embracing vulnerability with open arms. It means accepting the love offered, even when it feels uncomfortable, even when a part of me whispers, “This can’t be real.”

    It’s about self-compassion, recognizing my worthiness, understanding that I am deserving of love, just as I am. It’s about rewriting the narrative, silencing the inner critic, and allowing myself to be loved, truly loved, without reservation or fear. It’s about finally believing that the love I so freely give can also be mine to receive. It’s about coming home to myself, accepting all the pieces, and finally understanding that I am enough. And in that acceptance, opening myself to the boundless possibilities of love.

  • Let It Be So…

    The ink bleeds secrets tonight, a dark mirror reflecting truths whispered in shadowed corners of the soul. It speaks of monsters we wrestle, native terrors coiled in the marrow of our being. “Transform the monster,” it urges, not slay it, but shape its darkness into a vessel of light.

    For even in the abyss, life flickers. Every cell, a universe in miniature, vibrates with the echoes of creation. Our wounds, far from scars of defeat, pulse with a strange vitality, a testament to battles fought and survived. We are alchemists of self, brewing our own elixirs of resilience, each breath a potent draught.

    No separation exists between the finite and the infinite. We are threads in the grand tapestry, extensions of the divine, our minds the loom upon which the sacred and the mundane intertwine. The body, a temple of whispers, houses a symphony of nerves, a trillion stars woven into a constellation of feeling. One faltering note can silence the entire orchestra, a reminder of the delicate balance within.

    Yet, within this fragility lies boundless potential. We are not defined by limitations, but by the boundless expense of our being. “Undefined…whole,” the ink proclaims, a paradox that sings of wholeness in the face of mystery. Healing is not a miraculous exception, but the birthright of every soul, an inherent rhythm in the symphony of existence.

    Let it be so. Let it be natural as breath, as heartbeat, as the turning of the seasons. Let thoughts blossom into words, and words take root in deeds, each act a prayer whispered into the vast cathedral of existence. For within these fragile vessels, we hold the spark of divinity, the power to transform, to transcend, to become the very medicine that mends the world.

  • You’re Beginning to Understand

    “You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you? That the whole world is inside you: in your perspectives and in your heart. That to be able to find peace, you must be at peace with yourself first; and once you learn how to master this, you will be protected from everything that makes you feel like you can not go on, that with this gift of recognizing yourself, even when you are alone, you will never be lonely.”

    “You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you?” The words, posed as a question, feel more like a gentle affirmation, a quiet recognition of a truth slowly dawning within. It’s a truth about the self, about the intricate connection between inner peace and outer experience.

    The world, it’s not “out there”, separate and distinct from me. It’s not something that happens to me, but rather something I carry within me, a landscape shaped by my perceptions, colored by my emotions, defined by the stories I tell myself about who I am and my place in the universe. It’s a profound realization, this understanding that I am the architect of my own reality, the curator of my inner world.

    To find peace, the quote suggests, I must first be at peace with myself. Not the idealized self I sometimes aspire to be, but the real, flawed, beautifully imperfect self that I am in the moment. It’s about accepting my strengths and weaknesses, my joys and sorrows, my light and my shadow, and recognizing that they are all integral parts of the intricate tapestry of my being. It’s about self-compassion, forgiveness, and embracing the journey of self-discovery with curiosity and kindness.

    And to truly enjoy life, I must enjoy who I am. This feels like a radical act in a world that constantly bombards us with messages of inadequacy, urging us to strive for an ever-elusive “better” version of ourselves. But the truth is, joy cannot be found in the pursuit of perfection; it blossoms in the fertile ground of self-acceptance. It’s about celebrating my unique gifts, honoring my authentic voice, and finding delight in the simple fact of my existence.

    Mastering this, the quote promises, will be a form of protection. Not a shield against external challenges, but an inner strength, a resilience that allows me to navigate the inevitable storms of life without being completely destroyed. When I know who I am, when I accept and love myself unconditionally, I am anchored. I can weather the criticisms, the setbacks, the disappointments, because my sense of worth comes from within, not from external validation.

    The most powerful promise lies in the final words: “even when you are alone, you will never be lonely.” Loneliness, in its deepest sense, is a feeling of disconnection, a sense of being separate from myself and the world around me. But when I recognize that the whole world resides within me, when I cultivate a deep and loving relationship with myself, I am never truly alone. I carry within me a source of infinite companionship, a wellspring of creativity, resilience, and love.

    This isn’t just about solitude; it’s about finding solace in my own company, about recognizing my inherent worth, about understanding that I am enough. It’s about coming home to myself, embracing all the facets of my being, and discovering that within this inner landscape lies a peace that transcends circumstance, a joy that radiates from within, and a love that never fades. It’s about understanding that I am the world, and in that understanding, finding a profound and unshakeable sense of belonging.

  • Here’s To Desserts!

    Okay, let’s be real, the person who came up with “stressed” spelled backwards is “desserts” was either a genius or someone desperately in need of a sugar rush. Or both, honestly. I mean, who among us hasn’t looked at a towering pile of paperwork and thought, “You know what? This could really benefit from a triple-chocolate fudge brownie?”

    It’s uncanny, isn’t it? The way those six letters flip and transform, going from a state of utter chaos to pure, unadulterated joy. It’s like the universe is winking at us, saying, “Hey, I know adulting is hard. Here’s a little linguistic magic to remind you that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and it’s probably a refrigerator filled with ice cream.”

    This discovery feels like permission to embrace the chaos, to acknowledge that sometimes, the only way to deal with stress is to face-plant into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. It’s self-care disguised as a spelling lesson. It’s like my inner child is finally being heard, validated, and given a free pass to the dessert table.

    And let’s be honest, “stressed” is my default setting. Between deadlines, drama, and the constant existential dread of not knowing what I’m doing with my life, my brain is a perpetual anxiety pinata just waiting to explode. But then I remember: desserts. They exist. They are real. And they are the spelled-backwards antidote to everything that ails me.

    It’s not about ignoring my problems, it’s about prioritizing my mental health. And if a spoonful of Rocky Road can momentarily silence the screaming void of despair, then who am I to argue with destiny? Or, you know, a cleverly constructed anagram.

    So, to the brilliant mind who made this connection, I salute you. You’ve given us a mantra, a coping mechanism, and a perfectly valid excuse to always have a stash of emergency chocolate on hand. Because life is stressful, but thank goodness, we have desserts. And honestly, sometimes I think that’s the only difference between me having a meltdown and me just being slightly overwhelmed, but ultimately a functional, human being. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear a pint of ice cream calling my name. It’s for stress, you know, spelled backwards. Purely medicinal.

  • The Vessel

    The universe heard my whisper, a yearning for growth echoing in the quiet corners of my soul. “Use me,” I breathed, “as a vessel.” I envisioned a gentle expansion, like a flower slowly unfurling its petals. I did not foresee the storm.

    The stripping began subtly, a slow erosion of the familiar. Comfort became a distant memory, replaced by a persistent unease, like a stone in my shoe I couldn’t shake out. Everything I held dear, every certainty I clung to, began to feel like sand slipping through my fingers. My foundations crumbled, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

    In the raw emptiness, I was forced to look inward. The universe, in its infinite wisdom, had cleared the debris, creating space for introspection. I learned to seek the quiet voice within, the compass that pointed true north when the external world was a blur of chaos. Love became less about grand gestures and more about the gentle whisper of self-acceptance, the quiet understanding of another’s soul.

    Silence, once an uncomfortable void, transformed into a sanctuary. In the stillness, I discovered the power of listening, not just to others, but to the whispers of my own heart. Letting go, initially a painful severing, became a liberation. I released the expectations, the resentments, the stories that no longer served me. Moving on, I realized it wasn’t about forgetting, but about integrating the lessons of the past into the tapestry of my present.

    Boundaries, once porous and easily crossed, became firm lines drawn in the sand. I learned to protect my energy, to honor my needs, to say “no” without apology. Compassion, born from my own struggles, bloomed in my heart, not only for others but, more importantly, for myself. I learned to forgive my missteps, to embrace my imperfections, to extend the same grace I offered others.

    The universe, it seemed, was not content with gentle lessons. It demanded I find my voice. I learned to fight, not with fists or anger, but with the unwavering strength of my convictions. Assertiveness replaced naivete, and I discovered the power of speaking my truth, even when my voice trembled.

    And then, the transformation was complete. The vessel, once emptied and broken, was now overflowing with newfound strength, wisdom, and resilience. The universe, having reshaped me in its crucible, whispered a new directive: “share.”

    Share the lessons learned in the darkness, the wisdom gleaned from the storms. Share the love that blossomed in the emptiness, the compassion forged in the fires of adversity. Share the strength that emerged from vulnerability, the voice that found its resonance in the silence.

    I am no longer the same vessel that whispered its yearning to the universe. I am a vessel overflowing, ready to pour out the riches I have been so painstakingly filled with. And as I share, I realize that the journey was for my own growth and of others. The universe, in its grand design, had used me, not just as a vessel, but as a conduit. And in that realization, I found my purpose.

  • The Audacious Legacy

    We’re given the brief, flickering spark of existence, a precious and unrepeatable chance to etch our story onto the fabric of time. The common narrative whispers of “aging gracefully” , a gentle fading into the background. But what if, instead, we chose a different path? What if we embraced the audacity of our fleeting time, choosing to ignite rather than to fade?

    “Your time on earth is limited.” This isn’t a threat, but a potent reminder. A reminder that every laugh un-laughed, every risk un-taken, every dream un-chased is a piece of our precious story left unwritten. Why settle for a polite, predictable narrative when we have the power to pen an epic adventure?

    “Age with mischief.” Let this not be a call to recklessness, but a battle cry against complacency. Let mischief be the spark that ignites our curiosity, the playful nudge that pushes us beyond our comfort zones. Let it be the courage to color outside the lines, to dance in the rain, to ask “what if?” and then dare to find out.

    “Age with audacity.” Audacity isn’t arrogance; it’s the quiet confidence to believe in our own potential, the unwavering determination to pursue our passions, no matter how grand or unconventional. It’s the strength to stand tall in the face of doubt, to speak our truth even when our voices tremble, to chase dreams that seem impossibly distant.

    “And a great story to tell.” This is the ultimate legacy. Not a perfectly curated image of serene composure, but a vibrant tapestry woven with threads of laughter, tears, triumphs, and stumbles. A story that inspires others to embrace their own audacity, a story that whispers, “Yes, you too can live a life less ordinary.”

    So, let us embrace the fleeting nature of our time. Let us fill our days with mischief, fuel our souls with audacity, and craft a story worth telling. Let us not simply age, but truly live. For it is not the years in our lives that count, but the life in our years. And the most extraordinary lives are the ones lived with a touch of mischief, a dash of audacity, and a whole lot of heart.

    “Your time on earth is limited. Don’t try to ‘age with grace’. Age with mischief, audacity and a great story to tell.”

  • Healing: A Journey of Letting Go and Opening Up

    “Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives.” This quote beautifully captures the essence of healing. It acknowledges that pain and trauma leave their mark, but it emphasizes that we don’t have to be defined or limited by them. Healing is about reclaiming our power from the wounds that once held us captive, choosing to live a life not dedicated to past hurts.

    “Inner healing begins the moment you choose to let go of the wounds that no longer serve you and make space for the peace that awaits within.” This speaks to the profound shift that occurs when we consciously choose to release the grip of past hurts. It’s a courageous act of self-compassion, recognizing that holding onto pain only perpetuates suffering. By letting go, we create the space for healing to blossom, allowing peace to take root and flourish.

    “True healing in any relationship begins when we replace judgement with compassion, assumption with empathy, and resentment with forgiveness – allowing love and understanding to flourish in every connection.” This quote highlights the importance of cultivating compassion, empathy, and forgiveness. These qualities are the bedrock of genuine connection. When we approach our relationships with understanding rather than judgement, we create a safe and nurturing space for love and growth to thrive.

    These words resonate deeply with me because they remind me that healing is an ongoing process, not a destination. It’s a journey of self-discovery, of learning to navigate the complexities of life with grace and resilience. It’s about honoring our pain while also choosing to move forward, to embrace the beauty and joy that life offers.

    As I reflect on these quotes, I am reminded of the importance of self-compassion and forgiveness, not only for myself but also for those around me. I am reminded that healing is a collective endeavor, a tapestry woven together by the threads of compassion, empathy and understanding.