There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.
And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.
In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.
The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.
And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.
You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
This is the most amazing thing I have ever read.
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM ALMOST TEARING UP
Reblog for eternity.
An ice cream van and a fire engine just went past my house at the same time
The resulting noise was either the most terrifyingly surreal/accurate representation of childhood in North East England ever heard by human ears or Bill Bailey’s new single and I’m not sure which is better
one half of my musical instinct is demanding i write harmonies for in the end by bvb
the other half is screaming that in the end by bvb is so soul-wrenchingly perfect that any attempt to alter it would be a Fall-worthy sin
i’m torn down the middle help what do
so this morning my flatmate woke me from dreaming i was on a date with frank iero by hammering nails into her bedroom wall to hang a washing line
i love her with all of my heart but i have never hated a person more i mean come on frank iero was looking at me with those huge eyes full of happiness and raw lust and pouring red wine for me and letting me have the last bite of his dessert and you interrupt that because you couldn’t be arsed to leave your room and hang your duvet cover in the living room
sort thy life out
We know you bought Tumblr, we know there is nothing we can do about it now, but we only request one thing.
Please, PLEASE do NOT ALLOW FUCKING CHILDREN ON THIS WEBSITE DO NOT MAKE IT FAMILY FRIENDLY, OKAY? THIS IS THE PLACE WHERE WE CAN SHIP AND READ ALL THE GAY SMUT WITHOUT FEELING BAD OR GUILTY AND NOT TO MENTION, THE ONLY PLACE WE DO NOT GET JUDGED BY IT. PLEASE DON’T MAKE IT FAMILY FRIENDLY.
Thank you, that is all we ask for
The first two pages from my upcoming comic Horus Story, the very true story of Horus’ birth according to Egyptian legend.
AAAAAHHH LITTLE SET AHAHHAH
Laughing entirely too hard oh my god
“I really want that box”
it must ave been around this time last year that i wrote that asgardvision minific/fic plan
i miss that
does anyone have it i can’t remember what i tagged it as
|—||Adrienne Rich (via turnphrasesintoweapons)|