People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.
Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives.
The limitations in life do not necessary limit you.
Like the North Star, you’ve been the constant in my life. You’ve been my companion in good and bad, my support in happy and sad, while distance fulfilled its role with utmost dexterity… the role of strengthening our foundation for seven years of a long-distance affair! I could always see your face, deep in the cove by the clamouring sea of distance… every time I closed my eyes.
Never knew the word Goodbye could scatter my heart into pieces. Just 1 word, could made me cry over you.
An interesting way to practice dying is by opening to illness. Each time you get a cold or the flu use it as an opportunity to soften around the unpleasant and investigate how resistance turns pain into suffering, the unpleasant into the unbearable. Notice how discomfort attracts grief. Watch the shadows gather in the aching body. Hear them mutter in complaint and self-pity.
Nothing in my life has ever felt so good yet it hurt so achingly bad.
Lingering, bottled-up anger never reveals the ‘true colors’ of an individual. It, on the contrary, becomes all mixed up, rotten, confused, forms a highly combustible, chemical compound then explodes as something foreign, something very different than one’s natural self.
Dim as the borrowed beams of moons and stars
To lonely, weary, wandering travelers,
Is Reason to the soul; and, as on high
Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
Not light us here, so Reason’s glimmering ray
Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
Pain does not differentiate between rich and poor or Christian and Buddhist. It brings the same feelings to everyone.