“The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.”—Rabindranath Tagore (via thecalminside)
“There is nobody on the planet, neither those whom we see as the oppressed nor those whom we see as the oppressor, who doesn’t have what it takes to wake up. We all need support and encouragement to be aware of what we think, what we say, and what we do. Notice your opinions. If you find yourself becoming aggressive about your opinions, notice that. If you find yourself being nonaggressive, notice that. Cultivating a mind that does not grasp at right and wrong, you will find a fresh state of being. The ultimate cessation of suffering comes from that. Finally, never give up on yourself. Then you will never give up on others. Wholeheartedly do what it takes to awaken your clear-seeing intelligence, but one day at a time, one moment at a time. If we live that way, we will benefit this earth.”—When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chödrön, page 113 (via dharmasimulation)
“Perhaps the most important thing we bring to another person is the silence in us, not the sort of silence that is filled with unspoken criticism or hard withdrawal. The sort of silence that is a place of refuge, of rest, of acceptance of someone as they are. We are all hungry for this other silence. It is hard to find. In its presence we can remember something beyond the moment, a strength on which to build a life. Silence is a place of great power and healing .”—Rachel Naomi Remen (via unconditionedconsciousness)
“Tonight the woods are darkened.
You have forgotten what pain
Had once drawn you forth:
To remember it might yet be some pain.
But to forget may, too, be pain.”—Robert Penn Warren, section 3 “The Hazel Leaf” of “IV. Dark Woods,” from Promises: Poems. 1954-1956 (Random House, 1957)
“With an undefended heart, we can fall in love with life over and over every day. We can become children of wonder, grateful to be walking on earth, grateful to belong with each other and to all of creation. We can find our true refuge in every moment, in every breath.”—Tara Brach (via zenhumanism)
“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”—Fernando Pessoa (via istruggleandemerge)
“Let my edges that cut be stroked by sand and salt
let my slick surface coarsen till it’s crushed to bits
let my colors soften as they scrape the bottom
let the waves love me in their rough way
let me be changed by that love
let me not forget I held another
yet fully inhabit my particularity
let me be smooth enough to be rubbed by small fingers
and slipped inside a pocket or a bowl
let me prove that beauty is born when something breaks”——Gwynn O’Gara, “Let Me Be Beautiful Like Sea Glass” in Lost Orchard: Prose and Poetry from the Kirkland College Community, edited by Joe Pitkin (Excelsior Editions, 2014)
“Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don’t know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn’t you. That isn’t you at all.”—Leila Sales This Song Will Save Your Life (via refluent)
Stewing up half the night over letters and poems,
you could always hear, behind the hum
of cars and trucks trying to round
the impossibly tight corners, the sea.
First, often, just the wind blustered
about the disused locks and willowy canals,
but as you got to know that sound,
beneath it or above, the slow, persistent
movement was of water going underground,
till it receded and you heard nothing.
”—Gerald Dawe, from “A Fire in My Head,” in The Southern Review: A Special Issue: Contemporary Irish Poetry and Criticism (vol. 31, no. 3, July 1995)