Cherish the present

Impermanence is not something to fear, but a great teacher.

It reminds us to cherish the present, to cultivate goodness, and to avoid wasting our lives in meaningless pursuits.

When we truly understand impermanence, we live with greater purpose.

Master Sheng Yen

the turning of the season

The soul’s ripening happens in its own time, like the slow turning of the seasons.

We cannot rush the fruit to grow, only tend to the conditions that allow for its flourishing.

Sacred time is cyclical, not linear. It invites us into the grace of waiting, into the mystery that unfolds when we release our grip on urgency and lean into the rhythms of earth and spirit.

Christine Valters Paintner, The Soul’s Slow Ripening: 12 Celtic Practices for Seeking the Sacred

Rest

When we rest, we are not doing nothing.

We are allowing the wisdom of the body and the soul to catch up with us.

We are resting in the arms of spirit, keeping company with the soul, listening deeply to the voice that whispers softly in our ear: ‘You are loved. You are enough

Wayne Muller, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives

Stop chasing

Happiness is a butterfly

which, when pursued, is always beyond your grasp,

but which, if you sit down quietly,

may light upon you

Nathaniel Hawthorne

The painful illusion

Our sense of incompletion comes not from lacking something, but from the stubborn and relentless act of comparing ourselves to others. The flower doesn’t look at its neighbor and think, I should be taller, or redder, or more like a rose. It just unfolds in the sun, moment by moment, wholly itself.

We, however, are caught in the painful illusion that we must be better than or different from who we are to be worthy of love. But the lesson of the flower is clear: There is no other. There is only this – this moment, this self, this blooming.

Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

Travelling

Happiness is not a destination but a manner of traveling.

It’s the willingness to see the gifts in what is, rather than longing for what isn’t.

Katrina Kenison, The Gift of an Ordinary Day