A free man is one of the most terrifying things for a woman because once a man becomes free:

He cannot be trained.
He cannot be moulded.
He cannot be controlled.

He cannot be manipulated into who we want him to be.

You complain that your man isn’t strong enough, doesn’t fuck you hard enough, well enough or frequently enough, isn’t strong or passionate or exciting or masculine enough.

You say you want a king who is established and mature. A man who isn’t dependent on mummy’s love, so starving for her nourishment and so scared of its withdrawal that he will do anything to keep it on tap.

But what you aren’t grasping is the very thing that would make this man all of that and more is also the very thing that when it truly shows up, will threaten to completely destroy all your Disney princess fantasies and christian conditioned covenants that are keeping it alive.

And that shit is terrifying.

A free man’s integrity is more important to him than his need for your approval.

He loves you, but loves himself more.

A free man says ‘no’ when he means no and ‘yes’ when he means yes, and he’s 100 percent committed to living his truth and his path whether you choose to walk with him or not.

That kind of man is terrifying because it puts us women in a certain position where our tried and tested hooks no longer work.

No longer can we control with our feminine emotional and sexual superpowers and tricks that have worked on every other man since we became daddy’s girl, those parts that know precisely all his weak spots and how to trigger, seduce, overwhelm, entice, and frustrate him to get exactly what you want and keep him there.

When a man becomes free no longer can we use him for our own sense of security, safety, and holding.

Suddenly those things become our own responsibility.

We are pushed into having our own discernment, to walking our own path and finding our own truth and fullness.

You want him to embrace and love your wildness don’t you?

But what about his?

Not being in control of men is a terrifying fucking thing for a woman – with memories of torture, rape, burnings and witch hunts in our blood.

But don’t be fooled into believing we are the weaker sex by any means.

Over the years many of us have learnt a far more covert style to have the upper hand.

You think patriarchy is a dangerous force of control and oppression?

So is a woman who wants a ring on it.

We’ve turned around the very thing that was created to own us – and used it to own them.

Payback perhaps.

Who could say exactly?

But the fact is all of us are suffering for it.

Because man or woman – none of us are here to be owned, to be put on a leash and given treats when we do good; punished when we do bad.

This isn’t about polyamory or monogamy or what is a right way of being together. But this is about examining what love really is and questioning whether the bargains and contracts and subtle power agreements are really that.

It’s a difficult dichotomy to get a handle, on I know…because there is a part in all of us that really does enjoy being given everything we want:

The princess.
The brat.
The little girl.

She doesn’t want to hear ‘no.’ EVER.

She wants it all her way. ALL THE TIME.

But there is a big sacrifice to pay if you let the princess, the brat, or the little girl run the show, and that is the emasculation of the man and the inner death of the woman.

A real man does not get hard for little girls, just as real women do not get wet for little boys.

Yet somehow we continually turn each other into just that and then wonder about why the spark has gone.

And the most terrifying thing about a free man is also the most beautiful, because to receive the love of a free man is one of the most nourishing awe inspiring, powerful, special things you will ever receive.

When he is with you you know it’s because he really fucking wants to be there.

When he chooses you, you know it’s because from every part of his being that this is his truth.

Not because you worked on him to do so.

Not because of conditioning or fear or signed rules of engagement.

Because you surrendered to allowing him to be exactly as he is and the true love that has the potential to flower from there is magnificent.

Because you can truly meet and receive who he really is, rather than a watered down compromised version of him that came forth because you pouted your lip in just the right way that he caved.

Because secretly the man you really want, the ‘perfect’ guy that you so totally ‘deserve,’ is the one who won’t always make you happy.

He is going to challenge you, even scare you.

He’s not always going to please you – and, fuck, you’d hope he wouldn’t, because your happiness is not his job…

…It’s yours.

sursa: Vanessa Florence

Taieri ilegale in Carpati

Ce-a fost odată pădure pare acum un cimitir de soldați necunoscuți care înghite încet nordul României și vestul Ucrainei. Adică, cea mai mare pădure virgină din Europa și speciile ei protejate.

poster-cccClear Cut Crimes durează 42 de minute și a fost filmat timp de un an în Munții Carpați.

Investigația noastră urmărește banii, trece prin toate etapele tranzacțiilor financiare cu păduri seculare, studiază anatomia acestor afaceri de sute de milioane de euro și localizează corupția sistemică care anunță dezastrul.

Banii se mișcă în logică de cartel, iar cartelul e format din oameni și corporații. Principalul beneficiar: grupul austriac Holzindustrie Schweighofer. Ei sunt centrul de gravitație al cartelului și procesează mai mult lemn decât poate fi tăiat legal în România.

În jurul lor rămâne câmp și crește o rețea de crimă organizată care taie ilegal păduri, aranjează dosare de revendicare și virusează instituții. Are două niveluri: gulere albe și interlopi violenți. Primii sunt politicieni influenți, ceilalți – “echipa de intervenție”. Și ei câștigă.

Folosesc oamenii săraci drept paravan și trec la propriu cu buldozerul peste orice și oricine le stă în cale, în timp ce poliția asistă liniștită la spectacol.

Rețeaua Schweighofer se întinde și în Ucraina, de unde lemnul ajunge la fabricile din România ale companiei. Aici, în țara vecină, o mână de combatanți din conflictul cu Rusia încearcă să i se opună cu forța. Se numesc “Batalionul Cazacilor”, blochează în drum camioane, opresc trenuri care transportă copacii tăiați ilegal peste graniță și organizează ambuscade în pădure. Nu-i suficient însă: cartelul e puternic, a corupt și funcționari din Kiev.

Clear Cut Crimes dezvăluie cronicile criminale din dulapul tău. Un proiect RISE Project & OCCRP.


Kinds of Silence


Not speaking and speaking are both human ways of being in the world, and there are kinds and grades of each. There is the dumb silence of slumber or apathy; the sober silence that goes with a solemn animal face; the fertile silence of awareness, pasturing the soul, whence emerge new thoughts; the alive silence of alert perception, ready to say, “This… this…”; the musical silence that accompanies absorbed activity; the silence of listening to another speak, catching the drift and helping him be clear; the noisy silence of resentment and self-recrimination, loud and subvocal speech but sullen to say it; baffled silence; the silence of peaceful accord with other persons or communion with the cosmos.

Source: Paul Goodman – Speaking and Language

You should date a girl who reads


“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

― Rosemarie Urquico

Higher Self


“The essence of greatness is the ability to choose personal fulfillment in circumstances where others choose madness.” (Man’s Search for Meaning – Viktor Frankl )

 “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”

“There is one thing you can do for me,” she finally says in her broken English. “Tomorrow morning, get up at four A.M. and go out onto the streets of Phoenix. Find someone who believes that he is alone, and convince him that he’s not.”
(Mother Teresa, quoted by Wayne Dyer in I Can See Clearly Now)

Nisargadatta Maharaj: “My stand is clear; produce to distribute, feed before you eat, give before you take, think of others before you think of yourself. Only a selfless society based on sharing can be stable and happy. This is the only practical solution. If you do not want it, then—fight.”

Source: Wayne Dyer – I Can See Clearly Now



At the midpoint of the academic quarter, we find these words written on the blackboard:

“This is your midterm exam. You have 30 minutes to write. Your answers will determine whether you remain in this advanced seminar.”

He looks at the six of us, all sitting there with our open blue books, dutifully ready to write for 30 minutes, and he hands us a paragraph that reads:

A self-actualized man arrives at a dinner party in which everyone is dressed in rather formal attire. Evening dresses and suits and ties are worn by everyone. He is wearing a pair of dungarees, tennis shoes, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap. What does he do?

Dr. Redl looks at us, tells us that he will return in 30 minutes, and leaves the room abruptly.
The six of us cast curious glances at each other, and with puzzled looks on our faces begin to write. After precisely 30 minutes, our professor returns to the room and asks each person to read aloud what they’ve written. We all say pretty much the same thing, trying to sound scholarly and regurgitate back what we learned about this idea of self-actualization: He wouldn’t bring it up, he wouldn’t explain himself, he’d simply act as if nothing were bothering him. He would engage in conversation and be himself even though he wasn’t dressed the same as everyone else. He wouldn’t judge the situation or feel uncomfortable about it because he never judges others or himself by appearances. He wouldn’t be bothered by the fact that he stood out, he wouldn’t apologize or excuse himself. All of our blue books pretty much convey these kinds of responses to the midterm question. After Dr. Redl has listened to each of us, he picks up his briefcase and slams it down on the seminar table in feigned indignation and outrage at our answers. “You have all failed this course. You haven’t yet learned a thing. All you had to do was to write three words on your paper.” He takes his chalk in his hand, turns around to the blackboard, and writes in large letters: HE WOULDN’T NOTICE. He then leaves the room for five minutes while we sit there smiling sheepishly and staring at each other.

source: Wayne Dyer –  I Can See Clearly Now