
The ancient Romans had it right:
we lose so much if we are caught up in our fears
and let our days pass, not making time for what is really important.
Begin at once to live
and count each separate day as a separate life,
Seneca

The ancient Romans had it right:
we lose so much if we are caught up in our fears
and let our days pass, not making time for what is really important.
Begin at once to live
and count each separate day as a separate life,
Seneca

As time went by, I realized that the particular place I’d chose was less important than the fact that I’d chosen a place and focused my life around it. Although the island has taken on great significance for me, it’s no more inherently beautiful or meaningful than any other place on earth. What makes a place special is the way it buries itself inside the heart, not whether it’s flat or rugged, rich or austere. wet or arid, gentle or harsh, warm or cold, wild or tame. Every place, like every person, is elevated by the love and respect shown toward it, and by the way in which its bounty is received
Richard Nelson, The Island Within
…you can
drip with despair all afternoon and still,
on a green branch, its wings just lightly touched
by the passing foil of water, the thrush,
puffing out its spotted breast, will sing
of the perfect, stone-hard beauty of everything.
Mary Oliver, The Poet with his face in his hands
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I heard a bird congratulating itself
all day for being a jay.
Nobody cared. But it was glad
all over again, and said so, again
William Stafford, News Every Day
photo Magnus Manske

Day and night, gifts keep pelting down on us.
If we were aware of this, gratefulness would overwhelm us. But we go through life in a daze.
A power failure makes us aware of what a gift electricity is; a sprained ankle lets us appreciate walking as a gift, a sleepless night, sleep.
How much we are missing in life
by noticing gifts only when we are suddenly deprived of them.
David Steindal-Rast
photo: forS

Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before or after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
TS Eliot, Four Quartets