How infinitely superior to our physical senses are those of the mind! The spiritual eye sees not only rivers of water but of air. It sees the crystals of the rock in rapid sympathetic motion, giving enthusiastic obedience to the sun’s rays, then sinking back to rest in the night. The whole world is in motion to the center.
So also sounds. We hear only woodpeckers and squirrels and the rush of turbulent streams. But imagination gives us the sweet music of tiniest insect wings, enables us to hear, all around the world, the vibration of every needle, the waving of every bole and branch, the sound of stars in circulation like particles in the blood.
The Sierra canyons are full of avalanche debris – we hear them boom again, and we read the past sounds from present conditions. Again we hear the earthquake rock-falls.
Imagination is usually regarded as a synonym for the unreal. Yet is true imagination healthful and real, no more likely to mislead than the coarse senses. Indeed, the power of imagination makes us infinite.
by John Muir (April 21, 1838 – December 24, 1914)
from John of the Mountains: The Unpublished Journals of John Muir
Knowing others is wisdom;
Knowing the self is enlightenment.
Mastering others requires force;
Mastering the self requires strength;
He who knows he has enough is rich.
Perseverance is a sign of will power.
He who stays where he is endures.
To die but not to perish is to be
~Tao Te Ching
One summer night, out on a flat headland, all but surrounded by the waters of the bay, the horizons were remote and distant rims on the edge of space. Millions of stars blazed in darkness, and on the far shore a few lights burned in cottages. Otherwise there was no reminder of human life. My companion and I were alone with the stars: the misty river of the Milky Way flowing across the sky, the patterns of the constellations standing out bright and clear, a blazing planet low on the horizon. It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century, this little headland would be thronged with spectators. But it can be see many scores of nights in any year, and so the lights burned in the cottages and the inhabitants probably gave not a thought to the beauty overhead; and because they could see it almost any night, perhaps they never will. ~Rachel Carson
The true pulse of life is love
It is the human condition
It’s why we exist.
Of thoughts of yesterday
That love does truly exists
It’s within ourselves.
It seems, love is so much in our lives
We can experience the sense of love
Returned to us by those who want it
You’re a lover I’m a lover
We are all lovers here
Deep down all we want is to love
And be loved in return.
Regarding, romantic love specifically
How many times we desire
When we discover that certain one
That want us, turning out to be
Becomes the best one for us.
And yet, at the same time
You desire them as a friend too
And, not only that, its though
To remember they love you
For exactly who you are
And everything about you.
Love can be for sure
But that it actually exists
It’s unfamiliar territory
To the being on both sides
Not needing to know all
The reasons and why’s.
When we love ourselves
The universe is on our side
And it wants us to thrive
That we are co-creators of our lives
One with The universe.
Then it’s easy to feel love
And have it really affect you
But, I believe that if we love
The person who we desire comes
It actually comes from ourselves.
When we love ourselves, remembering
To be careful to whom we give our hearts to
When we love ourselves we see it.
The events of our lives are lessons
Knowing that there are no shortages
Knowing that there is something greater
Knowing that love is on the way.
This the true pulse of the human condition.