what we think about expands and wears pathways in our hearts and minds

in

So, why not let weeds choke the well-worn trails of guilt and regret... of envy and greed... of fear and need. Liberation lies in love.

Interconnectedness

"Let one therefore keep the mind pure, for what a man thinks, that he becomes." ~ The Upanishads

I'm trying anyway... And when I falter (which is often), I remind myself, progress, not perfection. And with "exercise", it DOES get easier...

(source of photo)

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Lose The Armor Already...

in

I KNEW A MAN BY SIGHT

I knew a man by sight, A blameless wight, Who, for a year or more, Had daily passed my door, Yet converse none had had with him.

I met him in a lane, Him and his cane, About three miles from home, Where I had chanced to roam, And volumes stared at him, and he at me.

In a more distant place I glimpsed his face, And bowed instinctively; Starting he bowed to me, Bowed simultaneously, and passed along.

Next, in a foreign land I grasped his hand, And had a social chat, About this thing and that, As I had known him well a thousand years.

Late in a wilderness I shared his mess, For he had hardships seen, And I a wanderer been; He was my bosom friend, and I was his. And as, methinks, shall all, Both great and small, That ever lived on earth, Early or late their birth, Stranger and foe, one day each other know.

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Poem by Henry David Thoreau (July 12, 1817 – May 6, 1862)

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Mourning Dove

in

They say that at nights He simply went through by just crying They say that he wasn’t eating It simply didn’t suit him just taking They swear that the sky itself Was vibrating by listening to his weeping How he was suffering for her, And even when he was dying he was calling for her: He was singing He was wailing He was singing He was dying from mortal passion. That a sad dove Very early in the morning will sing At the lonely house Whose small doors are widely open They swear that this dove Is no other (thing) than his soul, That is still waiting For the unhappy (woman) to return. Cucurrucucú dove, cucurrucucú don’t cry. The stones never, dove, What will they know of loves? Cucurrucucú, dove, don’t cry anymore... **************

Devastating and beautiful... All at the same time.

*** From Pedro Almodóvar's film, Hable Con Ella, "Talk to Her" *************************************

Where Spring is Eternal

in

Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well.

~ Vincent Van Gogh

(Image: Van Gogh's "Fishing In Spring")

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Just Love...

in

And you'll be loved in return. Even if you don't "know" it, you will be. And even if they don't say it back, or show it back, do it anyway. And besides, just loving, simply because you can? Well, we'll all be better off now, won't we?

***(Thank you for this contribution, Holly. You're right, that 20 minutes were well worth it. What she's saying isn't really rocket science, but we could certainly use all the reminders we can get. ) *********************************