‘How we spend our days, is of course, how we spend our lives.’
– Annie Dillard
‘I’ll tell you right now, the doors to the world of the wild self are few but precious.
If you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door.
If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.’
– Clarissa Pinkola Estés
‘There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold onto the shore. They will feel they are torn apart and will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water. And I say, see who is in the water with you and celebrate.
At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.
The time for the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word ‘struggle’ from your attitude and vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.’
– Unnamed Hopi Elder, Hopi Nation, Oraibi, Arizona
‘There are so many kinds of beauty. Some people love roundness and softness, and other people love sharp edges and strong muscles.
Some people like thick hair like a lion’s mane, and other people like thin hair that pours down like an inky waterfall, and some people love someone so much they forget what they look like.
Some people think the night sky full of stars at midnight is the most beautiful thing imaginable, some people thing it’s a forest in snow…
There are a lot people with a lot of ideas about beauty. And love. When you love someone a lot, they just look like love.’
– Rebecca Solnit
‘Staring down from the bridge
at the moon
in the river, who
could know, without looking
up, it stands whole above
its shattered self.’
– Tess Gallagher
‘She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of life, and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth –
it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall and clears it for a different celebration
where the one guest is you.
In the softness of the evening
it’s you she receives.
You are the partner of her loneliness,
the unspeaking center of her monologues.
With each disclosure you encompass more and she stretches beyond what limits her,
to hold you.’
1,17 The Book of a Monastic Life
‘When love beckons to you, follow him,
though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
Think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.’
– The Prophet