I've heard my teacher say, where there are machines, there are bound to be machine worries; where there are machine worries, there are bound to be machine hearts. With a machine heart in your breast, you've spoiled what was pure and simple; and without the pure and simple, the life of the spirit knows no rest.
We live in an age fit for heroes. No time has ever offered such perils or prizes. Man can provide a full life for humanity – or he can destroy himself with the problems he has created. The test of this century will be whether man confuses the growth of wealth and power with the growth of spirit and character.…
We cannot not live out the fullness of a flourishing human life separate from and an acknowledgment of and intimacy with the Divine. Well, actually, we can. Understanding this choice necessitates an exchange of expectations. Consequently, the only reasonable expectation is that our life experience will be mediocre. At best.
SpiritusDe kant van God die nooit gestorven isOf opgestaan. Die niet de tafels schreefVoor Mozes, maar die boven water zweefdeToen alles leeg en nog onbrandbaar wasEn sinds die tijd zwevende heeft gewachtOm eindelijk te branden boven de gedachtenVan iedereen die meer heeft te vertellenDan in de taal past. Nu is God zichzelf.
The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes within the souls of people when they realize their relationship, their oneness with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize at the center of the universe dwells the Great Spirit, and that its center is really everywhere, it is within each of us.
Each one of us is longing only for health and happiness, in search of a way of living in the world that will let us appreciate our bodies, make good use of our minds, and fulfill our spirits. To treat my patients well, I needed to treat them as souls rather than symptoms. I needed to help them learn how to live and live well.
From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free.For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.
There is a spirit greater than you, always within reach of you, but he only comes to take charge when your own spirit is lost, and cries out in his own tongue, which you cannot know but only feel, and it is in feeling that you will have orders. Yet not even in feeling, for I felt nothing, only surprise that I was going forward.
Vi sitter på varden og lar blikket seile. Fra jøkelens islys i øst til Lofotvæggens hilderland i vest under havranden. Det ryker av dypet og det driver av himlen, mens storm og tåke knuses mot hjørner og gjél. Og syn og sus flyter sammen til en saga om mineralets evige suverænitet.
Watch through the clarity of your mind ,the clear essence of your soul and judge accordingly.Your Inner Voices state the Truth and only the Truth.Let not anything interfere between your heart and mind.Let not anything break the Silence that comes within and promote Spirit .BECAUSE what matters is to promote Spirit .Voices from within
The cure for our modern maladies is dirt under the fingernails and the feel of thick grass between the toes. The cure for our listlessness is to be out within the invigorating wind. The cure for our uselessness is to take back up our stewardship; for it is not that there has been no work to be done, we simply have not been attending to it.
Suddenly, Tara's accomplishment was clear. She had lined up allies among the school's various groups and got them all to work together for probably the first time in the school's history. She was like a master builder who could bend materials like stone and steel and clay to her will... except her materials were flesh and spirit.
Age has no reality except in the physical world. The essence of a human being is resistant to the passage of time. Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and omega. An end in itself.
Up there in that room, as I see it, is the reading and the thinking-through, a theory of rivers, of trees moving, of falling light. Here on the river, as I lurch against a freshening of the current, is the practice of rivers. In navigating by the glow of the Milky Way, the practice of light. In steadying with a staff, the practice of wood.
Who would guess," he teased, "that I'd ever see you on a rooftop with straw in your hair?"Kit giggled. "Are you saying I've turned into a crow?""Not exactly." His eyes were intensely blue with merriment. "I can still see the green feathers if I look hard enough. But they've done their best to make you into a sparrow, haven't they?
