Grace


I really like this idea of Grace-

“I do not understand the mystery of grace-only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.”

-Anne Lamott

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Gratitude


Today I have had 3 amazing conversations with 3 different, very important people in my life.

And I feel very, very grateful for that and it makes me very happy at the moment.

“It’s hard to stay mad, when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst…and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life…”

 

To really live


“Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone, one question . . . Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you.”

– Carlos Castaneda

Scroll to the bottom and read– good message.

Trees


 

I want to be a tree.

“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

Herman Hesse

 

i like these words


“Sometimes it hurts. Just growing up. Changing, growing. No longer are you the person you were yesterday because the nights changed you. The days changed you. All the guarantees in life become marks on a timeline instead of moments. We all get broken hearts, nights where the queazy fulfillment of alcohol turns to morning headaches and squinting eyes at the sun. We all punch our pillows until we fall silent, our muscles worked to exhaustion.

We all wake up and stumble, barefoot to the daylight readying ourselves for our day. We interact with merchants, and sellers. We all see the advertisements that tell us what to be, what to buy. Some of us fall victim, some of us continue on.

We all sigh heavily at the disappointment of the day. Or throw back our heads and laugh at the glory. We all kick off our shoes. Most, if not all, take moments to scroll through captured words, moments and memories that helps us get over the day, or cherish it.

Sometimes, you get pushed. Beaten. Sometimes you get lifted, celebrated, cherished.

Most times you just get up and do what you need to do. Even though it hurts. Because one day it’s not going to hurt as bad. One day you will wake up, after all the hard work, and realize the person you changed into isn’t someone different but just more… well you.”