flax-golden tales: broken horses

broken horsesbroken horses

broken horses are still wild
only worn and wounded by time
no amount of harm can diminish their passion
their spirit will remain even if hooves and hearts and memories are lost
being trapped in stone is not the same as being tamed
it simply makes them stronger
changing form cannot change nature
even broken horses run
so fast and swift that the pain
disappears in the wind

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

going on hiatus

An announcement!

Erinland is going on temporary hiatus. Not that it will be terribly noticeable, since I have pre-scheduled flax-golden tales & will possibly be posting photos from hiatusland, but I thought I’d announce it anyway.

I am hugely busy this week and then I shall be away on proper vacation next week. I might be Instagraming or Tumblring occasionally and I shall try to keep up with Twitter but I won’t have much internet, so I will be mostly unplugged.

For your listening enjoyment while I’m away, something from my latest musical obsession: MS MR.

MS MR – Hurricane from MS MR on Vimeo.

(Dance party.)

apple picking dance party

Be back soon(ish).

flax-golden tales: hardest truths from softest wool

hardest truthshardest truths from softest wool

You will not want to consult the lambs—no one truly does—but the opportunity cannot be resisted if given.

So if the sun is right and they are waiting for you, ears alert and listening, you will enter their field under many small watchful gazes.

You will lean close to a single lamb and tell it your troubles.

And in return it will give you the truths that you do not want to hear.

That you are better off without her.

That it is not yet over.

That what is holding you back is yourself.

That you can only wait.

Then you will pet the lamb who has given you this burden and you will notice the softness of its fleece beneath your fingers.

And things won’t seem so bad.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

autumnal & apples & birthday

apple landscapeYesterday was Adam’s birthday and I wanted to do something appropriately autumnal so we drove a bit up the Hudson and went apple picking.

We picked apples and got an early pumpkin and also the farm had bunnies and chickens. We also took a lot of photos, including Adam levitating and me in the first denim jacket I’ve owned since I was approximately thirteen years old.

adam levitating

apples me

apples us

Afterwards we came back to the city and ate All The Sushi at Sushi Yasuda. (We sat at the bar and said we liked salmon when asked our preferences and our sushi chef said “I have nine kinds of salmon!” so it was splendid before we even started eating and then the eating part was divine.) By the end of the day we were sunshine-tired and sushi-full and very happy birthdayed.

The leaves are in that stage where they are thinking about changing but not properly flame-colored yet, only a little bit around the edges, but the crispness in the air and the quality of the light are showing their autumnal cards, just before the equinox.

Autumn is my favorite.

flax-golden tales: to the ones who do the leaving

the ones who do the leavingto the ones who do the leaving

This is an ode to the ones who do the leaving.
The ones who dare to break ties and hearts
because they know they are not princes in disguise,
are not one true loves,
are not cursed.
Those who cannot be anything but what they are
no matter how they try.
The ones who know that they are swans
even if they pretend to be princes for a time
out of politeness,
out of fear,
or to meet expectations.
Because it felt easier,
or safer,
to be something they are not.
The ones who told themselves lies
and sometimes even believed them.
The ones who have come to learn that staying is the cowardly act
and that running away can be brave.
The ones who find their voices,
find their feathers,
find their wings
and leave the familiar in favor of the unknown.
The ones who realize
they can be something true
somewhere else.
And to seek it
they must leave
the place where they were.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

circus art

I shared this over on Tumblr and Twitter last week but I thought I’d put it over here for good measure.

Illustration of Celia by the amazingly talented Abigail Larson:

celia - abigail larson

Prints are available over here. I already ordered one.

The Night Circus was published 2 years ago this week. It seems like it was just yesterday and so very long ago, both together at the same time. Something about this picture is perfect for how I feel about it lately, moving toward something else but still surrounded by stripes and feathers and magic.