Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

“Is it not enough, this blessed sip of life?”

February 19, 2019

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How many wonderful moments must you experience before you declare your life wonderful? Ten thousand? A dozen? One? And how many of those must you be able to remember? The same number? Fewer? None? Does it matter whether you can recall it, that wonderful moment? Or just that it happened?

“The truth is just like this.”

January 20, 2019

“He remembered waking once on such a night to the clatter of crabs in the pan where he’d left steakbones from the night before. Faint deep coals of driftwood fire pulsing in the onshore wind. Lying under such a myriad of stars. The sea’s black horizon. He rose and walked out and stood barefoot in the sand and watched the pale surf appear all down the shore and roll and crash and darken again. When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.”

~Cormac McCarthy, from The Road

“It’s not easy being green.”

January 15, 2018

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create—so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”

~ Pearl S. Buck

Zen Love

September 18, 2017

One evening, after a Dharma talk at the Cambridge Zen Center, a student asked Seung Sahn Soen-sa, “What is love?”

Soen-sa said, “I ask you: what is love?”

The student was silent.

Soen-sa said, “This is love.”

The student was still silent.

“Soen-sa said, “You ask me, I ask you. This is love.”

Perspective

August 23, 2017

Yesterday you climbed
To the top of the Empire State Building
(By elevator, mostly, but
There were a few steps here and there.)
You circled the observation deck,
Feet shuffling over old stone,
Hands gripping iron safety bars,
Like those of a prison cell
With a million dollar view.

You could see so much from there,
Except for you yourself—
So improbably aloft,
Tracing the edge of the precipitous building,
Scraping the cerulean sky.

Today you lie in bed
Writing poetry,
Once again seeking the spectacular,
Once again not knowing it’s you.

Since last I saw you

January 19, 2017

Things that have changed:

  1. I drink coffee.
  2. Dr. Sarno cured my headaches.
  3. I’m getting grey hairs.

Things that haven’t:

  1. I think of you
  2. I root for you
  3. I love you.

Only a bully beats himself up

January 1, 2017

“Were we to meet this figure socially, as it were, this accusatory character, this internal critic, we would think there was something wrong with him. He would just be boring and cruel. We might think that something terrible had happened to him. That he was living in the aftermath, in the fallout of some catastrophe. And we would be right.”

~Adam Phillips on the internal self-critic, from “Against Self-Criticism” in Unforbidden Pleasures

Be weird.

September 6, 2016

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Miss that plane

March 31, 2016

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“The best things in life…”

October 30, 2015

hugs


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