Susan Cain, Quiet (via revelationsong)
YES. yes yes yes yes yes.
(via lebellecoeur)
(Source: accountedfor, via alexandersattler)
I’m a bit sickened with all the posts about longing for love to complete them or waiting for the guy to come or focusing all attention on finding true love.
It’s short changing what love really is.
Yes, the Beatles were right when they said “Love is all you need” and love is the end-all-be-all, but not in the way that you think. Not in the way that you post.
By only viewing love in the romantic or sexual way, we are short changing ourselves out of love’s depth and breadth and height and beauty. You were not created solely for romantic or sexual love. Your life does not revolve around that. That is not your ultimate purpose. And if that is what you’re only searching for in life, I can assure you that once you attain that, you won’t be satisfied… You’ll long for something more.
And that wish for “more” is true. You are so much more. You were made for so much more.
Sexuality/Marriage/Romance is but a small sliver of the love that we are all invited to take part in here on earth. Loving God, loving our neighbors, loving our family/friends, and loving our enemies.
YES.
RIP Maurice Sendak.
Literary brilliance.
I
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner. Through the first gate,
Into our first world, shall we follow
The deception of the thrush? Into our first world.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,
In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,
And the bird called, in response to
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,
Along the empty alley, into the box circle,
To look down into the drained pool.
Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,
And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Sometimes I want to step out
of Time like a fitted dress after
a long evening out.
Shake my hair and
stretch my freely moving limbs
in a sort of eternity on earth.
But Time shall still
wrap its taut cloth around me
until I shed my outer garment
to be with You.
{the unbearable lightness - tyler lyle}
Ooh, Manitou Springs. I absolutely adore that town.
