‘Worry is simply a misuse of imagination.’
My son and my daughter-in-law sent me what may have been the most appropriate gift:
Two worry stones!
One for each hand.
Because I overthink (read: worry) that much.
So I’m a double-fisted overthinker now…going forward with the misuse of my own imagination.
~~ The Journey~~
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.~
While I am experiencing a fair amount of diggity these days, the next few weeks are promising to bring me an overwhelming surplus of diggity to my life…and that, my friends, is a good thing.*
*That is, depending upon how one defines ‘diggity‘ – of which I am using in line with the definition of “a state of being or existence, in association with and conveyed by interjections, such as absolutely or definitely”
“I think everyone feels like they personally own, somehow, all the many possibilities inherent in their lives. But I think that only lonely people, or frightened people, really celebrate that fact or enshrine it as the most important fact of all.
I co-own all that I have experienced thus far, and I’ll co-own everything that happens from this point, with someone or many someones.”
I’ve heard it said that everything in life happens in cycles. Sometimes I am comforted by that truth, and other times, I am horrified and despairing of it.
While I don’t know if I would define what’s happening to me as the result of some sort of cycle, I do know that I have been thinking a lot about the facts of my spiritual experiences, and how much they have affected my life and my identity.
And the simplest way I can identify this cycle is to accept that
I am not a fan of New Year’s Eve. I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s Eve.
So, I was delighted to see such an apt quote on my social media feed today..being the last day of December, the last day of 2017.
Like Sam Shepard, I detest endings….but perhaps it is simply that my perception is faulty.
May 2018 be a worthy beginning for all of us ❤
(or something like that)
I was reading an article the other day because I was feeling like sh*t and this article caught my eye as I was scrolling through my media feed.
This article was broken into four parts, each headlined by an action, and each part discussed scientific reasons why that action would help bring one out of a temporary ‘funk.’
(I say ‘temporary funk’ as this post is not meant to address the situation of those who suffer from clinical depression or other mental illnesses…just as I believe that the article was not meant as a replacement for seeking medical help, psychological therapy, or taking prescribed medications either.)
These are the 4 strategies as I listed them in my notebook, and the descriptions are my take on the information as it was presented in the article:
1.) Ask yourself: What am I grateful for?
2.) Label negative feelings.
3.) Make a decision
4.) Touch people
I would link to the article – if I could find it – so I will keep looking for it, and update with it if I can…
Found it: http://theweek.com/articles/601157/neuroscience-reveals-4-rituals-that-make-happy
“You took my hand and drew me to your side, made me sit on the high seat before all men, till I became timid, unable to stir and walk my own way; doubting and debating at every step lest I should tread upon any thorn of their disfavour.
I am freed at last!
The blow has come, the drum of insult sounded, my seat is laid low in the dust.
My paths are open before me.
My wings are full of the desire of the sky.
I go to join the shooting stars of midnight, to plunge into the profound shadow.
I am like the storm-driven cloud of summer that, having cast off its crown of gold, hangs as a sword the thunderbolt upon a chain of lightning.
In desperate joy I run upon the dusty path of the despised; I draw near to your final welcome.
The child finds its mother when it leaves her womb.
When I am parted from you, thrown out from your household, I am free to see your face.
– from FRUIT GATHERING, by Rabindranath Tagore (May 1861 ~ August 1941)
[Translated from Bengali to English by Rabindranath Tagore]
Published in 1916
And suddenly…I understood.