auroraemoon
Aurorae ☾ Moon
Welcome to the butterfly forest of my imagination; through a meadow opening I see the tall pine trees of awareness shining...
I am an author and poet looking for a crack in the world, a tremor in the diaphanous skin of the earth. I am friends with dryads, moonlight, and half-formed ideas.
Birthplace: Legendarium
Current Location: Shangri-La
Destination: Númenor
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Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. I don’t belong, and, my beloved, neither do you.
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Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. I don’t belong, and, my beloved, neither do you.
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Tracy K. Smith, from “Don’t You Wonder, Sometimes?”, Life on Mars
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How to Nurture the Fledgling Aesthetic-Vintage Soul in you:
(** I am continually adding to this list **)
1. Explore secondhand bookstores for old, pretty editions of novels you may or may not have heard of.
2. Light candles in your bedroom/bathroom, and read by candlelight.
3. Write during a thunderstorm, and why not make it extravagant, even a little flowery, and if it is poetry, scribble it on parchment.
4. Dress in turtlenecks, plaid coats, and occasional bright socks (but keep the socks hidden-yes, be a mystery, in real life and on social media).
5. Go on, make yourself tea in pretty teacups (you can find plenty in secondhand stores!)6. Listen to classical and/or mediaeval music (with a lute and possibly a hurdy-gurdy) as you sleep/read/study.
7. Button up shirts are a must (and if they have a high collar, all the better.)
8. Stay late at a university library studying topics that no one else would. Delve into the realm of philosophy, metaphysics, epistemology, aesthetics, poetry—broadening ones mind is never to be frowned upon.
9. Avoid the pretension and arrogance that can often accompany academia — it hurts no one to be kind, gracious, mindful, and humble.
10. Elegance and confidence walk hand-in-hand, and if mingled with the right amount of nonchalance, mystery, and whimsey, then you are halfway to wherever you want to go.
11. Certainly, you can debate metaphysical theories, spiritual oddities, theological conundrums. Be kind though.
12. One day go and pick wild flowers and sketch leaves as the honeyed glow of the sun kisses their tender skin—memorise all the colours of the forest.
13. Watch dawn arrive, tis the colour of a dark purple-red wine, a starless sky, adore her quiet arrival—give thanks.
14. I know you just want to wander a thorn-covered castle by candlelight, write a letter as a storm thunders outside, and drink red wine as you read poetry by a crackling fire. If you can, why not.
15. Sometimes you might need to be coy or charming - it can all add to the mystery.
16. Remember how you craved knowledge when you were young, you once dreamed of adventures, of 'slaying dragons', of mystery, of overcoming mortal peril.
17. Buy an expensive journal and write in it the things that set your soul alight, all those existential suspicions that there is something more waiting out there for you to find it; all those spiritual questions you would dare not ask anyone.
18. Yes, the nights are marvelous. The full moon, with her burning white embers and the gathering of her velvet darkness. This also is to be a place of contemplative beauty.
19. That awkward smile you give your friends, yeah, I know, they don't really understand you, do they. Big libraries, big forest, big ideas, big dreams, big words and messy handwriting that tries to capture some of it alive.
20. "Taking a new step, uttering a new word, is what people fear most." - F. Dostoevsky. You may not have been this way before, have no fear...the angels are cheering you onward.
21. One of the skills you have is called daydreaming. From that psychotic state all good things flow.
22. Read some gothic literature, by candlelight.
23. The sound of wind and rain is calling you to leave your warm and cozy inside, and venture out into the wild and dark—and even there lies a metaphor for a light shining in a dark place.
24. On earth we are briefly gorgeous. Literature, ancient and modern, reveals it so like no other—surround yourself with books and words and poetry, all the fierce passions of the world bound in ink and vellum. They are eternal conversations with anguish and desire.
25. You long for the gentle strokes of your pen hitting the page as imaginations subtle hues rush through your mind. Your heart swells at the library of ideas now outlined in the mists, a bonfire of words, skyward ember fly , flickering thoughts on seraphim wings at the final push - and look at you - you've written a single sentence, you've conquered an Everest.
26. Delicate fairy lights wind their way along your bookshelves, an enchanting bouquet of light to draw your eyes to a thousand ideas.
27. In the morning you're still tying your shoelaces, it is a ritual, an act of faith, you often ask yourself: "Where are you even going?"
29. You like fonts, late nights you are sprawled in front of two monitors researching the aesthetic qualities of the dips and curves in a modified serif.
30. You are a combination of dark and light, a rain stained window, a poem tapping out some internal crisis—the vintage soul finds solace here among the soul's quieter, more desperate hymns.
31. Reading books in the shade of trees with the melody of a harp in the distance would be exquisite. The keeper of the flame lingers in such moments.
32. Perhaps you would like to go on little night picnics—bring fairy lights, imaginations, dreams, stories. The moon would love to hear your conversations, and she might just come down and tell you a story or two (Moon is like that).
33. Every day I wonder why I'm not living in a dark castle with secret passageways and rooms filled with books. Finance is one issue, howbeit a small one #sigh
34. "Of course there must be lots of Magic in the world." - Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden. But you already knew that, didn't you.
35. You're upset, I understand. You cannot go to sleep and wake up fluent in Latin, Elvish, or with an Irish accent.
36. Freshly baked lavender and lemon cake are necessary at times.
37. Folklore, legends, mysteries, secret poetry hidden behind castle stones, quiet on the outside, but filled with enough seismic activity that you might just create a new planet, complex theories about many things that never come out quite right, renaissance murals line the walls of your soul, spilling your deepest secrets to a bird at your windowsill. Sleep deprived, but still conscious. A mix of Clair de Lune and In the Hall of the Mountain King.
38. Pinpricks of stars on a velvet night, glints of dust floating on a ribbon of sun-streak, droplets of rain weaving down a windowsill. All of this, and you, are the same. Behind your eyes and coffee stained pages lies a whisper and an ache of what you may become.
39. Buying that new special pen.
40. Buying that new special notebook.
41. Trapped inside is a wild inner celt staring over the cliffs of moher, waiting for a ghostly lover to return from the sea.
** This is apparently a work in progress...
Current mood: aesthetic, bookish, nostalgic - LOL aesbookic
(Some were gleaned from various blogs, bust mostly my own)
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Sky Variations & Nebulae of Water. Part III. Art by StrayChild on ArtStation.
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Photos you’ll find on almost all dark academia blogs
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Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West c. October 1928
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“She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. With Stars in her eyes and veils in her hair, with cyclamen and wild violets.”
~ To the lighthouse, Virginia Woolf
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