We have often heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This is usually taken to mean that the sense of beauty is utterly subjective; there is no accounting for taste because each person’s taste is different. The statement has another, more subtle meaning: if our style of looking becomes beautiful, then beauty will become visible and shine forth for us. We will be surprised to discover beauty in unexpected places where the ungraceful eye would never linger. The graced eye can glimpse beauty anywhere, for beauty does not reserve itself for special elite moments or instances; it does not wait for perfection but is present already secretly in everything. When we beautify our gaze, the grace of hidden beauty becomes our joy and our sanctuary.
John O Donohue, Beauty: Rediscovering The True Sources of Compassion, Serenity, and Hope
Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry.
Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.
Each time we go out, the world is open and free; it offers itself so graciously to our hearts, to create something new and wholesome from it each day. It is a travesty of possibility and freedom to think we have no choice, that things are the way they are and that the one street, the one right way is all that is allotted to us. Certainty is a subtle destroyer…
John O Donohue, Eternal Echoes
True freedom and the end of suffering is living in such a way as if you had completely chosen whatever you feel or experience at this moment.
We humans have a tendency to lean into the future or to seek something “more exciting” than what is in front of us. The challenge is to be fully awake and fully invested in the completeness of the present moment.
The moon and the sun are eternal travellers.
Even the years wander on.
A lifetime adrift in a boat or old age leading a tired horse into the years,
every day is a journey and the journey itself is home
Matsuo Basho, 17th century Japanese poet, Narrow Road to the Interior.
I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you