Exhilaration is the transportation from humdrum to elegance. Both in the peace of quiet’s stillness and the celebration of a lively quiver, it is the action to flutter your own heart that lends its hand to gratitude. We spend an abundance of time looking outward waiting for things to change. As well, we’re continually checking inward wondering what might have gone wrong at the placement department. We habitually linger in the desires to look different, be delivered that person of our dreams, the gig of a lifetime, or just darn fine cuisine that doesn’t render us on the diabetes train. When you take your business by your own reigns the flutters become more analogous to quantum fluctuations of the transformational kind. Learning to ferment your own enlightenment is way beyond that black-label kombucha any day. Make a fuss to waggle your bolder love notes through tending to your own sweet core. Besides, stirring the trusses of self lures more magic from those exterior sources you wish for anyway.
I believe no man was ever scolded out of his sins. ~William Cowper
I’m saddled with a family history of high blood pressure and cholesterol. These are often subtly fatal conditions, as they may manifest through sudden heart attacks or else. They are most certainly a foodie carb-lovers evil twin. I’m ultra crystal in my clarity that if money were no object I would never again trespass the wickedness of so much as a potato chip given the means to park my booty on a pristine piece of paradise with a private chef cooking me the healthiest home-grown plant-based foods daily. To keep the thrill of that lifestyle temptation generating synapses connections in my brain, I gobble the personal flirtation to wolf down some serious vegan fare to vibrate my heartstrings now and again. I’m in the door because I understand the impact. Pay for my meal or pay it forward by cooking for charity and I’ll aim to keep coming back. Simply put, I make better choices through alluring enticement and without death threats. Wistfully, I envision the Starbuck’s-style takeover of zero-crap 100% beneficial food joints on every corner.
I still get thrilled by the energy that is a live performance, the fear and the panic and the electricity that happens on the night. I think jolting myself every once in a while with that fear is a good thing for me. ~Jane Krakowski
The opportunity to be heard by an audience of your peers or strangers can be the type of tremor akin to flapping your famous moves upon the Apollo stage. I mention to myself privately more than publicly how much I want to do public speaking. The idea that opening my mouth might lead someone else’s life in an acutely inspirational direction thumbs my heart wildly. Small or large instances to get this throb on land in my lap the more I remain available to receive the dare as it arises. Recently, I was hashing some creative philanthropy initiatives at a round-table networking workshop during a sustainability conference. They asked for one person from each group to present the findings. Before I could nominate her, the brilliant babe pointed to me instead. Caught off guard, especially as she’d been the clever one taking notes, I was encouraged to address the room. Unprepared is not the grooviest space to lean in, but I did it since I knew my heart wanted it. The result was a reminder that practicing sharing our voice produces the nourishment to beat louder for the individual and the whole.
It was the sexual chemistry I wanted more of. It was electric. I’d forgotten what it was like to be with someone who excited you in every sense of the word, who thrilled and frightened you in equal measure. ~Lucy Robinson, The Greatest Love Story of All Time
Separating midnight and late morning, I’d crawled from beneath the plush comforter to pee. I wasn’t ready to give up dreamland, so I tucked back in for a final go-round before noon. Unaware, my subconsciousness was rife with the fact that I’d just tipped the three year mark of sans intercourse. Physically and mentally crushing me, the lack of intimacy crashed hard into a heavy-petting delusion. Twin men were coming on to me. One was benign, while the other ruffled every millimeter of my skin with his flirtatious eye contact, as his confident groin protruded and began rubbing against my knees at our public conversation spot. Once I released myself back into reality, I was panting breathlessly. The friction of this sequence enthused a glowing rendezvous of masturbation to welcome my day. If I couldn’t find my man yet in the here and now, the least I may do for me was wallop a wealth of spirited results I fancy from said human anyhoo. The courage to take your flutters into your own hands is the rule of personal power.
You’re awarded so very many moments in all your days. Every atom harbors the occasion to amount to emphasis. Allow yourself the uproar to devise ends to all the wonderings. The emotional charge of setting our course to fulfill ourselves is the simple footing of any good thrill. What we want doesn’t have to be any huge conception, though it can be anything you choose. The real point is risking to please yourself to capacity or exceedingly. I believe it’s silly to jeopardize all of our precious time expecting the eruptions to unfold for us. We must bend our precepts, wind rare conclusions through our intellect, and persuade our passions to captivate us anytime. Mister Married messaged me his new single. I was charmed by his share and the melodic journey my listening induced. No matter tapering my fondness since he was unavailable, I could gush over his gift, harmonizing with the hint of what partnership with such talent must feel like. For it is by reasonably idiosyncratic approaches or apparatus that we may discover the most sizable flutters of our unique existence.
You need to let the little things that would ordinarily bore you suddenly thrill you. ~Andy Warhol
In the long run, how much we managed to flutter matters infinitely more than all of the stars.