Plugged In to Palms, Photo by BradensEye

Liberation is tuning out what doesn’t suit you in exchange for tuning in. This is not a battery or wall or technology thing. We cannot go buy this at the corner shop or the mega-mall, and certainly not online. Having the decency to define when to crack your seals and where to stopple is elementary. There you are, a succession of syrupy sweetness everyone wants to sip. Proper plugging in is the mixologist’s hand-crafted couture primo liquor that barely hints tipsy while instead configuring your palate to equate with those subtleties of definition which distinguish heroines from a Sears catalogue model. We want to be the great pour. We ought to course our stream as blood through the veins of the entrenched Marathon des Sables runners. Marveling when you’re in a stride that shows up more like a glide is the pivotal plying artistry of life.

When I’m on a roll nothing makes me happier or feel more satisfied, like plugging in, life makes sense. ~Beth Orton

Ushering the exploratory features of self is the best-beaten path to habituating the hook of plugged in omniscience. You know you’re fueled without being easily overridden. Your personality shows you’ve sunk so well into a state of intentional hypnosis that your mood is an orchestration of noble equilibrium. Happiness is unfakeable and rattling yourself is a far-off veneer from yesteryear. Such is the concentrated formula of fetching the informed composure of priviness to plugging in. Within these walls, our edifice of thwarting receptors may rise and temerity excels. A magnitude of sufficient meaning is hemmed into our archetypal skirts. Sensibility thrust upon us is collected as accommodating adaption. Even our vulnerability softens to surprise us with its integration. Indeed, to plug in sympathetically is to keenly shape the strokes of vitality by lessening their strain.

Invisible threads are the strongest ties. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

It is not so much what we see, as what is the point. If we’re plugged into excessive social media, addiction, disruptive people, naughty enablers, and deflating emotional demands they rupture our individual alchemy. Tangled stress fury bleeds into deep reservoirs filling the drought-ridden drudgery areas of vanity or ego that stun. Just as a botched spleen or brain immobilized by aneurysm blemishes our metaphysical mantra. Here, peripheral vision is paralysis. Where we forget to fasten mankind with petulance is the strength of fortresses. The ability to be mesmerized with smothering ourselves in bold textures of harmony is the culmination of artful humility. What we want is to ingrain our memory with thoughts of peace. Let your sake be devotion to the preservation of best self. Do not exist for proving except leaps of wisdom.

The chemistry was still there. To me, that was the biggest thing: Would the chemistry be there? Can we really go ahead and do this? And it was obvious within the first moment of plugging in the instruments that the magic was still there. It was a fantastic feeling. ~Christine McVie

Intimidation is the vise that bonds us with tendencies only bound to exaggerate a mangling of our aptitude. The communion of more humane life choices is dropping into the relevance between the sciences of life on earth in synchronicity with your chemical makeup. Think explosions of the most eternal sexual attraction paired as longevity-loving partnership simultaneous. Most wish for this lore of true love nurtured just right and void of mythmaking vice. But how many of you are lulling the conversation as gentle lullaby compared to allowing it to lure through flummox to torrents of pain? We must abide by our sixth sense. Greasing our emotions on the wheels of instinctive credence is where precise plugging in takes the potion from concocting to potent cure. The greater our affinity to our bumbling the farther we fall from humbling. Conceptually, inventory is everything. Taking inventory and keeping it rotating is the organic root prowess here.

Your connections to all the things around you literally define who you are. ~Aaron D. O’Connell

Don’t let your world take ownership of you. We do urgency and status a favor to remember we belong to ourselves, not to our things. Attachments rouse lust for more attachments. There’s a fragility in the thrill of having so much. Study your location, your possessions, community, superstitions, zeal for critique or cynicism, what rattles you late at night or as the boxing jab nicks your chin. From the fleeting to the finite, correlating our acquaintanceship to things or people we succumb may be the muddle eluding our happiness. Putting myself near a pristine sandy shore or amidst the treetops, view does wonders for my soul. While echoes of the volumes of dank skyless camping tents in dark corners of a rainy desert barren of plant life is a quick extinguisher of my light. Our visibility for that which is blatantly our improvements is the stroll through the park versus the mad dash from the boogeyman. It’s the reflexive phenomena of the clouds parting clearly to give the sun room to shine thoroughly.

I am a part of all that I have met. ~Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Let your alignments be revelatory of connected courtship to clever conscientiousness.

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