I am a man with a heart that offends with its lonely and greedy demands.  In a manner of speaking, I'm already dead.

-Sufjan Stevens

I think we may have moved past a critical point in regards to the sustainability of human life on Earth beyond the next 100 years. I hope that this is not true. In any case, I live my life today, accepting the possibility that it might be true, and letting the associated feelings come and pass through. Then, I go on living, and if I happen to find an opportunity to be kind or gentle to myself, to others, to nature, or to the earth itself, I try to take advantage of it…

Walking along in the forest, I felt a cool breeze on my face and arms, as beams of sunlight pierced through tree branches and reached down to gently touch the pine needle covered path below. As I walked on, slowly, I became aware of a faint, low humming sound that seemed to eminate from the shadows of trees and shrubs off to the side of the trail. Quietly, I stopped to listen and the sound stopped. Slowly, I started walking again, and the sound soon resumed.  

I walked around along the path as it turned around a corner, and I continued hearing the sound, yet still there was nothing that I could see, and the low frequency of the sound made it difficult to pinpoint location.

Wabi-Sabi (Japanese)
a way of seeing the beauty in
imperfection, of knowing that everything (even you) is perfectly imperfect,
of feeling a sense of acceptance
and appreciation of everything, just as it is.

Breathe free

To See

Power in Love

Brilliant light above

Growing

Flowing

Time stops going

All is glowing

Slow, then Fast

No Past

No End

Still, let's pretend

If it's curiosity that killed the cat....

Then it's acceptance of death that brought him back!

It's better to play a role than to be played by one.

THE RIVER

Virgin mother, dark and sweet

Fecund water reaching deep to

George's cross of wooden teeth

Ashen waters muddy swirl 

White burning wood is swallowed hole

Where frogs and fish feet twist and twirl 

Hello, Goodbye

The bright white light that makes us fly

As slow we spread our wings to cry

If you can't beat them, join them

- Roberto Assagioli