I Love Winding Trails That Seem To Go On Forever And Bends Blocked By Trees So You Can't See The Other

how to live life like a ghibli film

1. go out in nature more. every studio ghibli film has some aspect of nature intertwined with the storyline. sometimes its hard to get the energy to go outside, but just going out on your deck or opening the window in your room or taking a walk around the block is enough. if you feel like it, go for a hike! go into the woods and look at every flower, and every tree. look at the mushrooms and streams and notice the beauty of them. look at nature like you’ve never seen it before. wake up at 4 and watch the sunset. put plants around your room. realize how beautiful the world is around you. appreciate it. 

2. get a hobby! this step is certainly easier said than done, but its so worth it. struggling with mental illness makes it especially hard to get a hobby, but its very important that you don’t spend the majority of your time on social media. Start small. If you want to start drawing get a coloring book and fill in a picture with beautiful markers! If you want to write find a random prompt online, give yourself 30 minutes and see what you can come up with. Want to try baking? Start with an easy recipe, like chocolate chip cookies, and share them with your family or friends, or just yourself! Try out a bunch of hobbies, and see what you like best. Maybe you like making jewelry or writing poems or creating digital collages or making video edits or decorating your room or riding a bike or sewing or reading. The possibilities are endless, and getting a hobby you enjoy is very important, and fun.

3. start appreciating small things and noticing details. I don’t know how to explain this step, but in studio Ghibli films, small things always stick out. There are beautiful tiny details that make the story so much more magnificent. small details make the studio Ghibli films what they are. maybe on your way to school/work the sky was a really pretty color. Or the tea you made in the morning was perfectly steeped. appreciate small details of life that you don’t normally notice.

4. appreciate food. Pay attention to your food. If you can, try and make/bake your own food! But if you can’t, just be mindful of your food. Try not to eat while you’re on your phone. Dedicate times to just eating. Appreciating the food in front of you. Make yourself the ponyo drink with milk and honey, or ponyo ramen! Make yourself your own blend of tea like the Baron!

5. be kind and help others. Being kind doesn’t have to be a grand gesture, it can be smiling and waving at a baby in a café, or helping your mom finish the dishes, or paying for a friend’s coffee. Small gestures not only put good out into the world, but they also make you feel better. When you can, help others. Try volunteering at an animal shelter, or babysit for your aunt without charging her, or just listen to your friend when they’re going through something and be there for them. In every Ghibli film, the main character is always helping others, and being kind. Try to be like kiki, when she returned the pacifier to the mother who forgot it, or like chizuru from the cat returns, who risks her life to save a cat. Kindness comes in all shapes and forms, so just try your best to do what you can!

6. be your most authentic self. Stay true to who you are. dress how you’d like. Cut your hair like you’ve always wanted to. Stay confident and true to yourself. We all feel insecure sometimes, but we need to remind ourselves that we are great. Don’t try and force yourself to be someone you aren’t. Kiki felt insecure in her abilities as a witch, but she stayed true to herself, and believed in herself, and it paid off. Love and appreciate yourself, just the way you are.

7. (not really a tip but a fun suggestion) start collecting something! This is just an extra step that I wanted to include because I think its nice. But start a collection of things that interest you. It could be anything! Candles, stamps, teacups, antique figurines, 19th century photos, lip balms, books, key chains, flowers, hats. The choices are endless.

𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐧

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝟐𝟑 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬

— cosmo sheldrake, “the moss”

It is deeply, deeply beneficial to TERFs if the only characteristic of TERF ideology you will recognize as wrong, harmful, or problematic is "they hate trans women".

TERF ideology is an expansive network of extremely toxic ideas, and the more of them we accept and normalize, the easier it becomes for them to fly under the radar and recruit new TERFs. The closer they get to turning the tide against all trans people, trans women included.

Case in point: In 2014-2015, I fell headlong into radical feminism. I did not know it was called radical feminism at the time, but I also didn't know what was wrong with radical feminism in the first place. I didn't see a problem with it.

I was a year deep into this shit when people I had been following, listening to, and looking up to finally said they didn't think trans women were women. It was only then that I unfollowed those people, specifically; but I continued to follow other TERFs-who-didn't-say-they-were-TERFs. I continued ingesting and spreading their ideas- for years after.

If TERFs "only target trans women" and "only want trans women gone", if that's the one and only problem with their ideology and if that's the only way we'll define them, we will inevitably miss a vast majority of the quiet beliefs that support their much louder hatred of trans women.

As another example: the trans community stood relatively united when TERFs and conservatives targeted our right to use the correct restroom, citing the "dangers" of trans women sharing space with cis women. But when they began targeting Lost Little Girls and Confused Lesbians and trotting detransitioners out to raise a panic about trans men, virtually the only people speaking up about it were other transmascs. Now we see a rash of anti-trans healthcare bills being passed in the US, and they're hurting every single one of us.

When you refuse to call a TERF a TERF just because they didn't specifically say they hate trans women, when you refuse to think critically about a TERF belief just because it's not directly related to trans women, you are actively helping TERFs spread their influence and build credibility.

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

What to bring and wear adventuring

A compass, the land often wishes to lead you astray.

A cloak, extra thick to shield you from the elements

A backpack, to carry all your things.

Always, always bring at least two extra pairs of socks. Facing an orc horde on your own with only a breadstick is not as bad as wet feet. Bring socks.

Enough food to get two towns over. You never know when you may get lost.

A sword, trusty and true.

At least one small keepsake or charm, to remind you of a home left behind.

A knife, for chopping food and vines and who knows what else?

A comfortable pair of boots, that will not chafe or blister.

Did I mention the socks should be thick and comfy?

Always remember your tinderbox

An extra small piece of canvas or oilcloth to cover your belongings at night. If you’re cold, they’re cold, give them a blanket. (jokes aside, keep ur stuff dry).

pumpkin spice candles soon

pumpkin lattes soon

pumpkin everything

So I just had a thought

What if supernatural creatures don’t exist anymore? What if they did once, but through the years, they slowly mixed in with humans?

You can see the blood of fairies in the way a ballet dancer hovers in mid air before he or she hits the ground. You can see it in the way that middle school girl never forgets when someone makes her a promise. You can see it in how that one little boy in the kindergarten class seems more comfortable in the forest on that field trip than the others.

You can see the blood of dryads in hikers who never trip over roots. You can see it in that suburban grandmother never lets any of her garden die. You can see it in that one kid who climbs a tree faster than his friends, barely looking at the branches as he goes.

You can see the blood of naiads in the way a professional swimmer seems to command the water to help them. You can see it in how a cross country runner needs a water break more often than his teammates. You can see it in the way that one girl in your class always has a water bottle on her desk.

You can see the blood of mermaids in a surfer who can be tossed around underwater for a long time without drowning. You can see it in a teenage boy who doesn’t have to pretend to be unbothered by the pressure when he races his friends to the bottom of a swimming pool. You can see it in the little girl who wades into every stream she sees on a hike without quite knowing why.

You can see the blood of sirens in people who never have a problem with getting people to date them. You can see it in that soprano who can hit notes most of her fellows can only dream of. You can see it in the camp counselor who all the straight girls have a crush on, who can play guitar and sing better than any of the others.

You can see the blood of shapeshifters in the way an actor adjusts their personality to become their character with scary accuracy. You can see it in the subconscious, barely noticeable changes a tween girl’s eyes make to match her outfit better. You can see it in the way you always lose that one friend in a crowd if you’re not careful, because he’s just too good at blending in.

People who carry the blood of werewolves don’t change with the full moon anymore, but you can still see it in the way your best friend always knows something is wrong, though even they don’t know they’re smelling the changes in your body chemistry. You can see it in the way that one guy always seems to eat more than the reasonable amount of red meat at an all-you-can-eat buffet. You can see it in the way that one werido never has a problem when the teacher turns off the lights before a PowerPoint presentation because her eyes adjust quicker and better than yours.

The blood of supernatural creatures may have mostly faded away. But if you look closely, you can still see it.

I swear I saw a tumblr post on here that said ‘horses have over 4,000 bones’ and i don’t know where it came from because its totally wrong, they have 205, but what kind of fucked up horse has this person seen out there because I’m absolutely terrified of it 

Let’s talk about the fabulous aromantics out there