Thursday, February 26, 2009
Clear Out What Isn't Beautiful
If we desire more abundance in our lives, we must create a vacuum to allow ourselves to receive the good we seek. How can good come into our lives if there is no room for it? The way we create the vacuum is by giving away what we no longer need or desire but what can serve others.
Many woman I know share a seldom expressed yearning to be comforted. To be mothered. Instead, we are the ones who usually provide comfort, caught between the pressing needs of our children, our partners or our friends.
Though we are grown, we never outgrow the need for someone special to hold us close, stroke our hair, tuck us into bed, and reassure us hat tomorrow all will be well.
Through The Eyes Of Love
Today, no matter where or how you live, look upon your home through the eyes of Love. Walk around the rooms and offer thanks for the walls and roof that safely enclose you and yours. Pause for a moment to consider all the woman who have lost their homes through death, divorce, debt or disaster. Be greatful for the home you have, knowing that, at this moment, all you have is all you truly need.
Everyone is a house with four rooms. A physical, a mental, an emotional, and a spiritual. Most of us tend to live in one room most of the time, but unless we go into every room everyday, even if only to keep it aired, we are, not a complete person.
Today, think back over your life to the times when you felt most beautiful. I have, and I was surprised to discover that my real moments of beauty resulted from something more powerful than just the combination of the right hairstyle, makeup and clothing.
It was the situation in my life which I felt beautiful were all different, but LOVE was the common denominator that transformed me.
You Can See Forever
To see takes time. We haven't the time. Here is the unrelenting truth and it's chilling to the soul. Most of us have been given a miraculous gift - the ability to see but we don't take the time to do more than glance around.
Bathing and Bath
The significant difference between bathing and bath. Bathing is merely cleansing, removing of grime and sweat in a shower. Close the doors, run the tap, pour in the bath salts and essential oils. Shut out the world by sinking into the tub. That is what I call taking a bath.
The Face In The Looking Glass
Are you becoming more comfortable with the uniquely beautiful face that is staring back at you? One of the ways I begin to love my face is to enhance it with make up. To me, makeup is a sophisticated mask that endowed me with self-confidence.
Making Peace With My Hair
We have all been brainwashed into believing that if we can just get the right shampoo, conditioner, perm, colour, and cut. At home, my hair never looks the way it does when I come from my monthly appointment with the hairdresser. This is because, I have yet to learn how to simultaneously hold a blow dryer and a curling brush in two hands.
Walking As Meditation
Never approach walking as an exercise. You will never made it past the front door. Instead, walk regularly for your soul and your body tags along. I go on walks for a "moving meditation" - fitness of the spirit.
I am a tree, grown in the shade, and today I stretched my branches to tremble for a while in the daylight. I came here to tell you good-bye, my beloved, and it is my hope that our farewell will be great and awful like our love. Let our farewell be like fire that bends the gold and makes it more resplendent.
Every thing in nature bespeaks the mother. The sun is the mother of earth and gives it its nourishment of hear; it never leaves the universe at night until it has put the earth to sleep to the song of the sea and the hymn of birds and brooks. And this earth is the mother of trees and flowers. It produces them, nurses them, and weans them. The trees and flowers become kind mothers of their great fruits and seeds. And the mother, the prototype of all existence, is the eternal spirit, full of beauty and love.
The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word "Mother," and the most beautiful call is the call of "My mother." it is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart. The mother is every thing -- she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness. He who loses his mother loses a pure soul who blesses and guards him constantly.
Be happy because I shall live in you after my death. My departure today would be no different from my going tomorrow or the day after, for our days are perishing like the leaves of autumn. The hour of my days are perishing like the leaves of autumn.
Let us walk this rough path firmly, with our eyes toward the sun so that we may not see the skulls and serpents among the rocks and thorns. If fear should stop us in middle of the road, we would hear only ridicule from the voices of the night, but if we reach the mountain peak bravely we shall join the heavenly spirits in songs of triumph and joy.
Autumn passed, and the wind blew the yellow leaves form the trees, making way for winter, which came howling and crying. I was still there without a companion save my dreams, which would lift my spirit to the sky and then bury it deep in the bosom of the earth.
Extreme torture is mute, and so we sat silent, petrified, like columns of marble buried under the sand of an earthquake. Neither wished to listen to the other because our heart-threads had become weak and even breathing would have broken them.
I took her cold hand and kissed it, but when I attempted to console her it was I who needed consolation more than she did. I kept silent, thinking of our plight and listening to my heartbeats. Neither of us said more.
I will do all you have said and will make my soul an envelope for your soul, and my heart a residence for your beauty and my breast a grave for your sorrows. I shall love you, Selma, as the prairies love the spring, and I shall live in you in the life of a flower under the sun's rays. I shall sing your name as the valley sings the echo of the bells of the village churches; I shall listen to the language of your soul as the shore listens to the story of the waves. I shall remember you as a stranger remembers his beloved country, and as a hungry man remembers a banquet, and as a dethroned king remembers the days of his glory, and as a prisoner remembers the hours of ease and freedom. I shall remember you as a sower remembers the bundles of wheat on his threshing flour, and as a shepherd remembers the green prairies the sweet brooks.
I Want You
I want you to love me as a poet loves his sorrowful thoughts. I want you to remember me as a traveler remembers a calm pool in which his image was reflected as he drank its water. I want you to remember me as a mother remember her child that died before it saw the light, and I want you to remember me as a merciful king remembers a prisoner who died before his pardon reached him. I want you to be my companion, and I want you to visit my father and console him in his solitude because I shall be leaving him soon and shall be a stranger to him.
What Will You Be?
Tell me, my beloved, what will you be after having been magic ray to my eyes, sweet song to my ears, and wings to my soul? What will you be?"
Hearing these words, my heart melted, and I answered her, " I will be as you want me to be, my beloved."
Raise your head and let me look at you, my beloved; open your lips and let me hear your voice. Speak to me! Will you remember me after this tempest has sunk the ship of our love? Will you hear the whispering of my wings in the silence of the night? Will you hear my spirit fluttering over you? Will you listen to my sighs? Will you see my shadow approach with the shadows of dusk and disappear with the flush of dawn?
How Shall We Part
And now, my beloved, what shall we do? How shall we part and when shall we meet? Shall we consider love a strange visitor who came in the evening and left us in the morning? Or shall we suppose this affection a dream that came in our sleep and departed when we awoke?
She responded, "No, my beloved, this nightingale should remain alive and sing until dark comes, until spring passes, until the end of the world, and keep on singing eternally. His voice should not be silenced, because he brings life to my heart, his wings should not be broken, because their motion removes the cloud from my heart.
Those days passed like ghosts and disappeared like clouds, and soon nothing was left for me but sorrowful memories. The eye with which I used to look at the beauty of spring and the awakening of nature, could see nothing but the fury of the tempest and the misery of winter. The ears with which I formerly heard with delight the song of the waves, could hear only the howling of the wind and the wrath of the sea against the precipice. The soul which had observed happily the tireless vigor of mankind and the glory of the universe, was tortured by the knowledge of disappointment and failure. Nothing was more beautiful than those days of love, and nothing was more bitter than those horrible nights of sorrow.
It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created in years or even generations.
Place of Exile
There is something greater and purer than what the mouth utters. Silence illuminates our souls, whispers to our hearts, and brings them together. Silence separates us from ourselves, makes us sail the firmament of spirit, and brings us closer to Heaven; it makes us feel that bodies are no more than prisons and that this world is only a place of exile.
Language Of Love
We were both silent, each waiting for the other to speak, but speech is not the only means of understanding between two souls. It is not the syllables that come from the lips and tongues that bring hearts together.