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Below is a pick-up from a Facebook post dated February 5, 2025: “Last Thursday night, which was the second night of the Chinese New Year, in the middle of writing an angry song, an afflatus-like idea popped up in my head, and I had this strong urge to write...

17,718 views • 1 month ago •via X (Twitter)

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I was on my mission when President Holland gave his “Safety for the Soul” talk about the Book of Mormon. I remember feeling the fire, but that’s not the talk that had the most impact on my life. While I was a missionary, I discovered a talk he gave called “Within the Clasp of Your Arms.” He wasn’t an apostle at the time. I loved it, but it took many years for me to finally understand it. Most of my childhood was spent growing up with an absent father—visiting him in prison, seeing him get arrested, watching him live as a homeless alcoholic and drug addict, hearing him fight with my mom, or once even threatening to kick us out in the middle of the night. I have some good memories of him, but not many. Then I became a dad. At the time, I was serving as stake clerk and preparing for a stake priesthood meeting. Something reminded me of this talk (I assume it was the Spirit), and I decided to listen to it again. The talk finally hit me like a ton of bricks. The Spirit gave me, I think, the strongest and most loving rebukes I’ve ever received in my life. I was crying on my way to the meeting. I was crying during the meeting. I was crying while listening to my stake president speak—which, ironically, was about being good, loving fathers. I was crying after the meeting. Afterward, we (the stake presidency) met quickly to discuss the meeting, and my stake president, who had noticed all my crying, asked me to give the opening prayer. I never got to meet him, but this experience made me feel closer to him. I’m not a perfect father, and I wasn’t a bad father then. I just had some things I seriously needed to work on. I’ve tried my hardest to live by what I learned that day. I repent when I fail to meet that expectation. I love President Holland. I’m going to miss him.

Brother Cheerio

25,161 views • 7 months ago

"For a lot of people, 'Jeanne Dielman' (1975) could represent the ideal woman, but when you look at the life of an ideal woman, it is unbearable." --- Chantal Akerman Full Excerpt: "I remembered, at first fleetingly but then very strongly, that I wanted to dedicate this film to my mother: that I wanted to say 'for my mother Natalia, called Nelly' and that I immediately repressed this idea out of modesty or censorship...and I also tell myself that if I had not known my mother, I would not have made this film, which is, however, absolutely not the portrait of my mother. I began with several very precise images from my childhood: watching my mother at the stove; my mother carrying packages...Why did I chose a beautiful woman? Because men always think that women inside their homes are ugly. My mother is beautiful. I think that Delphine [Seyrig] carried with her all the roles that she had played up to then, that is to say, the cinema...If I had used my mother, it would have only been my mother. At the beginning, I thought I was simply telling the story of three days in the life of a woman, but later I realised that it was a film about occupying time to avoid anguish, to keep moving so as not to think about the fundamental thing, which is being. There is also the contradictory aspect of these movements; when you see that woman, you tell yourself that it isn't possible; at the same time, I am talking about a woman I love who is my mother. All that is very ambiguous; for a lot of people, Jeanne Dielman could represent the ideal woman, but when you look at the life of an ideal woman, it is unbearable. The camera is not positioned to say that, but it is so obvious. For me this is very old; it goes back to images of my mother when I was a child." ("Identity and Memory: The Films of Chantal Akerman", Edited by Gwendolyn Audrey Foster, 2003) P.S: Remembering the great Belgian Filmmaker, Chantal Akerman, on her 76th birthday!

DepressedBergman

44,711 views • 1 month ago

This part breaks and heals my heart at the same time 💔Mingi’s words are full of wisdom, as always🥺 🐥 I was full of arrogance in the beginning, but after I made my debut, I felt so small. From then on, I lost a lot of my mental strength. As soon as I made my debut, I thought I was the best and I thought I was in first place. That’s why those aspirations, that tenacity, and that something about me - my self-worth - was so high. But after that, it was destroyed in an instant. 🐥 I lost a lot of my self-worth, and I started to feel like I was worth nothing. I started to doubt if there was any reason for me to be in this group. When I feel that kind of self-disgust, I think it’s important how I overcome those thoughts. In my early days of my debut, I think I only had a pretty packaging on me. I used to think, ‘I’m doing well, what more can I do?’ But after that pretty packaging came off, I had nothing inside. So I think it took me a long time to fill myself up. Now, even if I break down once in a while, I just go back to the human Song Mingi, and I look for the things I like one by one, and then I think, ‘People will like me a bit now, right?’ Since we’re celebrities, we need to satisfy the people to a certain degree. But I think we still have to satisfy ourselves in the process as well. I think I try to find a harmony between the two in my head. 🐥 It took me a long time to build this up, but I think the process of building myself up, unlike building a sand castle, you build it up little by little. So I feel like, internally, I have become more resilient, compare to before.

Irene | AhgaTiny

35,998 views • 10 months ago

Dear ARMYs, my precious moots. This is a very personal post, not my usual chaos, so please feel free to scroll past. Before anything else, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the messages you sent me last time. I’m sorry I disappeared but I needed time to process everything, to breathe and to find the courage to write these words without falling apart all over again. And still, I’m writing with the heaviest heart, tears running down my face, while part of me continues to refuse that any of this is real. On Monday, I had my annual check-up. The previous ones had gone well, so even though the fear was quietly sitting in the corner of my mind, I kept telling myself that everything would be okay. But then the end of the day came. When it was finally time to go over my results, the two specialists who have been by my side through my previous battles entered the room together. And I knew immediately. Because they only come in together when something is wrong. They started talking and I could hear their voices but my brain refused to take in what they were saying. Their words seemed to float somewhere around me without truly landing. Until a few of them finally did. A new diagnosis. Surgery. No time to wait. And even then my mind refused to accept it. After the shock came the realization.The fear. Then the sadness. Then the anger. Then that cruel, crushing feeling of injustice. I cried.I was scared.I still am. My thoughts went immediately to my children and my mother,my family. Then to BTS, ARMY and all the purple moments I thought were waiting for us. But this is not something I can ignore, postpone or pretend is small. I have to undergo surgery next Monday, followed by a strict one-month recovery. And this is the part that hurts beyond words: I won’t be able to attend any of the boys’ shows. Because these concerts were never “just concerts” to me. They were light and hope. They were something beautiful to hold onto whenever life felt too heavy. I had imagined Brussels and Paris with you: the songs, the fanchants, the laughter, the tears, the chaos, the friendships and that overwhelming feeling of being alive among thousands of purple hearts. Among my other family.

French Army_C | ⊙⊝⊜

25,430 views • 1 month ago