heavenlyyshecomes:

Do you understand? When I am done telling you these stories, when you’re done listening to these stories, I am no longer I, and you are no longer you. In this afternoon we briefly merged into one. After this, you will always carry a bit of me, and I will always carry a bit of you, even if we both forget this conversation.

Hao Jingfang, ‘Invisible Planets,’ in Invisible Planets: Contemporary Chinese Science Fiction in Translation, tr. & ed. Ken Liu

(via lunefrog)

geopsych:

““My first religious experiences came to me both in wild places and in very human places, but perhaps the most poignant were where the two were intimately blended, at least in my perception. An example that I would share here is that of lying on a warm stone in rural Spanish sunshine, alone, my eyes closed, my soul infused with the scents of cistus and thyme, listening to the sound of goat bells above the tumbling rush of the river beside me, and I knew—with that subjective certainty which so thoroughly imbues such moments—that time did not exist: everything around me was the wholeness of all that had ever happened in that ancient valley. It was not crowded with humanity, but human culture was fully involved, scratching its living in the dusty hills, quietly but so very deeply rooted, and perpetually narrated by the stories and songs of those people generation after generation. Eight years old, for me it was an experience of feeling completely held, in peace and security—home—to the extent that I recognise my spiritual journey to have been in some measure a seeking to recreate that exceptional feeling.””

— Emma Restall Orr, in her essay Pagan Ecology: on our perception of nature, ancestry, and home, in the book The Wanton Green, Contemporary Pagan Writings on Place. I promised I would post these descriptions of childhood moments sometimes. Here’s one.


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