The Climate of Attitude

All the Feels, Photo by @Sheri_DiPietro_Photography featuring a bestie + me

It’s all a manner of musings. Your psychology is your philosophy in so many words. Where your verse begets your vices. Whence, so forth, come or go by the wayside any of the solid miracles of making a magical impact of abundant happiness into your livestream or slippery dreams scoring a touchdown upon another’s plate. Some people are so settled into sulking they’re forever flinging their hulking sour sediments all over everyone else. In opposition, optimists are eternally brewing. We can take the dank and form it as a prank. Intelligently tricking ourselves with an understanding that these crazy rotations are sorting something significant if we can trust it’s so. It’s sly grins of deep-rooted comfort with gorgeous goofiness. The climate of attitude speaks to the altitudes at which you wish to peak. Our mood bargains for our manifestations.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways ~
Maggie Smith, Good Bones

I use honor as most do toothpaste. I aim to brush my being by esteeming my raw emotions at least twice a day. As hurriedly as you might buff your neanderthal gear, I choose to make time for the longer route to walk to through whatever is by going on inside of me. It blends both elegant and difficult in charted moments. The details can be so beautiful that I stop for elongated breaths to absorb every speck of the knockout in natural light, as well as the artistic patterns of shadows. Sometimes I quake with fear trying to stall the feelings. I cook a week’s worth of food. Rummaging through the rearranging the refrigerator to neatly make space for new things, chopping all sorts of local veggies into differing-sized cubes or slivers, plus pinching bits of spice or flavoring somehow always distills this meditative meandering mentality that works out levels of my angst to elevation.

I spend exceptional amounts of hours reminding myself of the buoyancy that I preach to others. Indeed, there are acerbic intervals that I seem to have misplaced all belief in myself. Even with such pregnant practices of positivity. Despite copious mantras, tangible weathered paper books, or online poetic authors’ words of savvy spelled out so clearly in black and white, besides countless audiobooks live-listening cheerleaders. We can only bend so close to brightness before we break a new branch of our evolution. Broken is ironically required for transformative healthiness. The clever severing worldly way I’ve seen it, one should snap often in order to render a majority of life sap from the proverbial tree of wisdom. It’s quite a bit about the length to which you will gallop with fear or cower with shame. I’ve gathered that reckless is astutely stronger than its counterpart conformity.

You made a believer out of me ~Andrew Innes / Bobby Gillespie / Robert Young, Primal Scream, Movin’ On Up

Let us cast boundless bosoms of hugs to those in need. For each frown, yours or an accessory of others’ loitering lethargic dimples of decline, may you offer rays of snuggly reform. Wrapped by someone’s mere touch carrying concern can leave us rapt with new intent. I don’t want to maintain a gross miscalculation of phobias. Instead, we could affix to the presumption of our inherent invention. How we’re destined to prescribe our future through the caboodles of caring means we consume. This includes all aspects of ravishing realism ambushing you indoors when you’d hoped to be outside or cheating you out of nooky whilst you thought fooling around was a sure gone conclusion. Any prejudice to partisanship aside, we can rest in the reflection that the approach to our posture secures the acme of our position.

The paradigm of a wholesome person sashays an inward path as earnestly as the outward enters unto partaking. Yet, we can’t help but expose some grimey arteries of inauthentic disruption. The royalty of my scruples rules because I remain a dominantly aware organism of forgiveness. I quicken the speed of my salvation. I’m getting better at precipitating extensive chunks in lieu of them winding up as smithereens. My tender heart appreciates if you violate her with clenching cuddles and saucy-flavored flattery. Your sweet-talking salutations, coupled with tributes to the tendrils of my locks, complete looks and crannies, doctrines of knowledge, or highbrow hilarity, keep me passing the gallstones of frozen immobility that solidify in gaping spaces I’d rather be reserved for ease. It’s excitingly cultured to learn that latitudes of liberation bestow grand longitude equally.

An ambiance of attentive grace is your garland of guileless glory.

LOVER of life. Especially people, places, philanthropy and photography.

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