{ Maybe I'm not Listening }
by Cassidy Millar
Featured Here on Etsy
Treasury Challenge Non Team, Challenge #154
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xoxox
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Monday, July 15, 2013
beauty cries
{ national geographic photo of the day }
Stop, oh please stop, you're killing me, cries beauty...if you fail to see your own, in all this majesty, endless possibility finding home in you&i, she cries...i'll die, i'll die in you, the light in your eyes will fade, and strangers will turn their stares into glances, hollow as you have become....i love you so, please don't refuse so many more times....i am the beauty within you, and i am alive.
xoxox
Friday, July 12, 2013
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
journal entry...
June 23 2008
sound explosion
Captured in a draft, a backwards motion of heat eating all my oxygen.
A heart beat next to mine all this time, and yet the echo resonates in his absence.
Collaborate and swindle all the moments we can share, and break off tiny pieces of each other to decorate the iris of our eyes with reflections of every last time.
Take my mouth to yours and fall against forever, push against the possibility of unknown.
Because tonight we cannot know and silence never tasted so perfect.
The face beneath my hands means what it means to mean and is what it ought to be yet cannot know it is.
The hands against my face take what they mean to take and steal what they do not realize their taking takes.
Bare against a thunderstorm that rages behind my back, meant to sweep in after me, to cover all my tracks.
xoxox
xoxox
Thursday, June 27, 2013
diary entries....
1 15 09
Her downfall will be her reflection. She will trip when she realizes what has become of her. She steps out of her tattered tent, the colors of her life ripping in the wind.
There is no monster coming.
She watches the tree line. Every morning she has risen, strapped on her armor, wincing as the metal covers the blood. She has sat outside that tent, before or after battle, watching birds or visitors, entertaining guests. They fall into a drunken sleep and she lays awake. They leave by morning. The peaceful breeze becomes her company. The silent trees become her conversation piece. She loses her thoughts to a past she will out live. She feels lost in her own scenery. She accepted this fate long ago.
This is her mistake.
There are no more battles. She wakes. Silence. She waits. The ground does not tremble. She stomps. Nothing awakes. She screams and yells and swears. Her echo comes back to her. Nothing more. She walks to the tree line. All woods begin to look the same.
There is nothing outside herself left to fight.
There are no monsters.
She walks back. The ground is muddy. Rain has plagued this place for weeks. She has fought without much sight, soaked in a grey haze.
She stops, sees movement by her feet. The reflection of a soaring shadow from over head. She glances up, but the figure is gone. She looks down. Finds her reflection. Finds what she has allowed this to become. Finds what she is missing.
She feels no pain. She has never really been afraid. She has never really missed her heart. Maybe, just maybe, she feels a sadness. A quiet, gentle regret. A discerning dissatisfaction. Her inability to be what she sees.
She has played pretend. Because when she over came all she has ever known, she didn’t know how to move on. She may not have left this place, but this place has left her.
She stares at her reflection. Nothing has changed. She remains exactly who she has always been.
She just hasn’t let go of all that’s ever been.
How does she stop from lying awake?
She has to stop fighting.
She has completed what she set out to do.
She’s taken by force the answers she sought.
Something is calling her home. Begging her to leave this mortality of being, to accept her way of understanding. To be free from all that threatens to tie her down.
She sees. In the sky, a reflection of meaning. A certain state of living.
The complications fall away. the reasons, the meanings, the sadness….goes away.
Its simply her, standing in a field, sword fighting with a playful imagination.
She believes.
That life is and people are. That she can be exactly what she sees. That she is strong enough to accept all things, instead of making them into monsters.
She rises. From a death she didn’t believe shed outlived. She walks, tainted. She remains, with experience coursing through her veins. Afflicted, affected, beaten down, lifted up. She has survived to feel a realm of human emotions. She has been, she has become, she has been undone. She has lived a life that she is fortunate to have known. Knowledge. Insight like armor. Made heavy and strong. Beautiful and resilient. She understand what she means. She understands the immortality of what she has gained. There was never a wasted moment. Never a lost sight. She has already lived a full life.
She has needed a vessel. Her perspective makes a beautiful boat. She will sail, to the corners of her world, to places she wishes to know.
She has needed to understand so that she could see. She needed to survive this first hand, to know what she is looking at. To understand the differences between this or that. To understand what being human means. What love is. What loss does to a soul. What happiness can change. She needed to be affected by it all to be any good to them.
She needed wind in her sails. She needed a dream. She needed a reason to live. Like every human who has ever felt pain. Like any person who has ever been consumed by the monsters they create. Like any wind up toy who has found themselves stuck in one corner.
She has learned. One thing. Life is and people are.
She cannot expect. She cannot want. She cannot fight.
She can dream. She can speak. She can love. She can be alive.
She can believe in beauty. Laugh at reason. Find peace in every second of every day.
She can accept reality for what it is.
She does not have to break beneath the fear of everyone else.
She does not have to agree.
She is free.
She will not forget,
how delicately the world is connected.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
xoxo
Oh its a joy to have you here! Welcome!!
{Whimsical and fierce. Elegant and untamed. A wolf in the city.}
We know who you are.
Raaarrr.
Adornment has befallen the Magicians Cat. Bows and sparkling stones, unearthed with fluffy white paws. The way two lovers hearts race beneath a seamless starlit sky. Fluff with bite. Like dolloping raindrops and dusty desert earth, oh gosh that smell is so divine...
Earrings and necklaces are made from natural gemstones, found natural items, leather, fur, and heart.
My intent is to love with creative imagination and sculpt that vibration through my favorite mediums.
The Magicians Cat is my outstretched hand, filled with deliciousness, for all my wild kindred spirits. Bursting with kindness, gentleness, and gratitude,
welcome to my paradise.
xoxoxo,
all my love.
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