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#old souls
wordsbyjenpoetry · 20 days
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Connected souls will always return to one another. The matching vibrational energy will draw them to where they belong, in every single lifetime.
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creature-wizard · 3 months
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Are you an old soul?
Literally every time I look up what supposedly makes a person an "old soul," I see a bunch of stuff that pretty strongly points to regular old autism. I do so wish people would quit trying to spiritualize neurodivergence.
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...♥️
.repost from @ankalewi54
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snowangelsoul · 8 months
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"The number of dark rings of a tree reveal its age. I think our souls are like trees. "Old Souls" have many rings & scars. Like trees, souls have a history."
EAS
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hometoursandotherstuff · 10 months
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koldsoul9 · 16 days
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My elementary age kiddo who loves Taylor asked me why I’m so fascinated with Taylor. I said I love her lyrics, story telling, intrigued by her life and life story and level of her capabilities. She said, well I mean she is dating Travis Kelce, what more is there to the story? Why do you read into her lyrics so much? I said well yes, she is telling the world that she is dating TK but she could have a very private life that no one knows about. Maybe she had kids that no one knows about. I think her lyrics give insight to her truth. Why would she have chosen privacy? I said possibly due to Safety? Peace of mind. She is one of the most photographed women in time….she could want peace away from that. My daughter was quite and said huh…well maybe she is a lesbian.
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abrighterspark · 5 months
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piece together
my patchwork soul
select each emerald thread
sew, with care, and intent to mend
the parts where love leaves holes
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moonlightloverrr · 17 days
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I think some of us were just meant to experience life more deeply. We don’t watch sunsets, we feel them. When others cry, we cry too. We’re painstakingly present yet constantly living in a state of nostalgia for the past. We’re highly alert to the beauty and the pain in the world and long for a future where the good that’s been lost can be restored.
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readyforthedarkside · 8 months
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Antique Playing Cards, which one speaks to your heart?
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awareness-and-healing · 2 months
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.❤️
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girl4music · 2 months
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The tonal shifts of ‘Wynonna Earp’ never fail to whip lash me with it’s back and forth drama and comedy.
Especially in the 4th season where they just drop f-bombs like it’s nobody’s business even in scenes where it’s not even necessary and not expected.
For example: You have this scene in the final episode of the show, ‘Old Souls’, where Waverly and Nicole are Mulder and Scully-ing with investigating Waverly’s haunted wedding dress. Finishing off each other’s sentences, seamlessly bouncing off each other… and you can see exactly why they’re getting married.
Then suddenly Nicole drops an f-bomb out of nowhere. I was like “Well, that didn’t happen in The X Files. That I can recall...” 😂 The scene goes like this:
WAVERLY: “My purgatory historical kills file actually has a buttload of weddings that ended in bloodshed. When your town has forty times the murder rate of a normal borough, you don't always connect the dots.”
NICOLE: “Here's another one. 1968. The bride axed her groom to death on the foot of the chapel right after she'd-“
WAVERLY: “-Just axed her family to death? Then killed herself?”
NICOLE: “Slit her throat.”
WAVERLY: “With the axe?!”
NICOLE: “Wanna see her beautiful wedding dress?”
WAVERLY: “Ooh, wait, don't tell me. Vintage lace, inlaid sapphires in a heart?”
NICOLE: “Bingo.”
WAVERLY: “So, we know the dress is haunted, so it's gotta be the dressmaker, right?”
NICOLE: “There's an old wedding announcement. Check this out.
*sits next to Nicole to look at the laptop*
‘The bride will be wearing a creation from Cursey's Bridal Boutique, designed by Ms. Brigitte Hogback.’”
WAVERLY: “That's definitely the weirdo who sold me the dress. Also!
*runs back to the investigation board*
First wedding massacre, 1922. Ah! A Miss H, left at the altar, killed her guests.”
NICOLE: “Well, that is a terrible way to be dunked on.”
WAVERLY: “Awful enough to want to destroy every future wedding in town?”
NICOLE: “Baby, if you left me at the altar, I would fսck shit up. I might kill Nedley.”
WAVERLY: “Nicole!”
NICOLE: “I'm kidding. I think.”
WAVERLY:
*gets all flirty, walks back to Nicole smiling*
“What else would you do to keep me around?”
For a moment it was like watching the The X Files but I’m fairly certain there were no f-bombs in that show. I mean from what I’ve seen of it I hadn’t heard any. But ‘Wynonna Earp’ just drops f-bombs every other scene.
It just completely took me out. In a very funny way. But yes, Waverly and Nicole were very Mulder and Scully in that little scene. It was adorable to watch how they were just in the same mental space one moment and the next things suddenly got spicy between them. I’m the same. Mental stimulation gets me going. If someone can stimulate me mentally, they suddenly have all the power to stimulate me sexually. Intelligence is sexy. Especially when it’s two females.
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wordsbyjenpoetry · 2 months
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And that's the truth. No matter the distance, you don't need touch to feel a deep connection.
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creature-wizard · 3 months
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The responses I'm getting to this ask post about old souls are really demonstrating how the whole concept of old souls is ableist as hell and harms children. People who were autistic, depressed, traumatized, etc. as kids had adults project a bunch of ridiculous shit onto them instead of getting the help and support they needed.
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africanamermaid · 23 days
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Why did it JUST hit me that Ocarina of Time Link is an old soul.
Like, it stopped me in my tracks.
What's an "old soul"?
You can't tell me this isn't OOT Link.
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decaydancemp3 · 7 months
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Socializing blues
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Pairing: Obi wan x reader
Contents: To anyone like me who finds it hard to socialize and hates small talk, but in the end people only find a way to make you feel less than what you are.
To all the old souls that feel out of place.
And to all of us who have so much love to give but live in a world that does not know how to accept it.
So I wrote a piece where Obi wan comforts you (and me) 😄
Warnings: none
Word count: 800
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You look away into an unfathomable distance, your mind existing elsewhere while your finger traces the rim of your empty tea cup. But it breaks when another hand clasps yours, breaking your wordless incantation to make sense of your haphazard thoughts. You turn to meet the blue eyes that were waiting for yours. He lists your hand and places it on the side of his face. His skin warm, his beard coarse to the touch, his breath soft and slow. It tethers you to him, bringing you back to the present.
“Where did you go?”, he asks of your wandering mind. “Where my mind needs no explanation.”, you smile and so does he. “What is troubling you?”, he prods further. You tuck his hair behind his ear. “People.”, you frown. “You take a chance on them only to realize why you don’t.”, you explain looking away again. “Ah you tried to socialize.”, he straightens in his seat, a knowing look on his face.
“Yes.”, you roll your eyes at his spot on intuition. “They remind me of how unlovable I am.”, you look away into the view of the city but sense his brows furrow in your peripheral vision. “Its silly, leave it.”, you wave your hand and rest it on the table. You heave a sigh but you feel his hand slide over yours, clasping it gently once again. You feel his comfort wash over you, and turn away, you won’t let anyone see you cry. Especially him.
“Then allow me to remind you that you are loved.”, he says softly getting you to look at him.
“That you will always be loved by me.”, he adds, a balm to your aching soul.
“And what proof do you have?”, you ask with a short sniff, your defenses breaking down.
“You could be lying to me, only to make me feel better.”, you see his soft expression, your mind unwilling to accept his statement. But he steadies you instead, giving you a soft knowing smile, even though you knew you were coming off as a cynic.
You watch as he slides his other hand into his pocket, retrieving a well worn piece of paper.
“This is a poem you wrote me, I read it every night.”, he holds it between his fingers and you recognise your handwriting that spelled out his name. His hold on your hand unwavering, like he was your anchor, holding you down against the storm.
His fingers find the collar of his shirt and pulls downs the corner of his robe to show you a pendant, one you knew well for it was your own creation.
“A charm you made to remind me of home when I went on missions, I wear it everyday.”, he looks into your soul, you couldn’t run anymore.
“You love like a torrential rainfall, but people only want you in a portion that could fill their ladles. When actually they need to step out and be drenched by you.”, you try to squirm away, from the truth he knows about you. But he only continues.
“You’re hard to understand only because people lack the knowledge to see you, to truly see you.”, he pauses, his chest heaving from the passion with which he was saying these words to you. He wanted to hold you by the shoulder and imbed this truth depth in your heart, so that you will never forget it. And he will remind you over and over for that was why he was here. To love you in the same way you did. This was your time to be drenched.
“And I’m grateful to possess this knowledge, for I see you, for all that you are and I can only love you. Wholeheartedly, with every fiber of my being because you deserve it.”, he stops, hoping his point was made. Hoping you knew how valuable you were to him.
Your façade was broken, the vacuum in your chest filled by his words. The tears beginning to stream down. The coldness filled with his warmth and love. You intertwine your fingers with his and his thumb caresses the back of your hand. “Oh, darling.”, he reaches out and wipes away your tears. What was first sadness, now have been converted into joy. For there he sat, in front of you, the only man who knew you.
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