Every stretch of time, whether an inch or a foot, is priceless. Life is made of these units, and each is an opportunity for mindfulness.
Not twice this day
Inch time, foot gem.
This day will not come again.
Each minute is worth a priceless gem.
Response of Takuan, 1573 – 1645, Zen teacher, when asked by a lord who asked how should we “pass the time.”
Summer Solstice
The person sees the morning as the beginning of a new day; takes germination as the start in the life of a plant, and withering as its end.
But this is nothing more than biased judgment on his part.
Nature is one.
There is no starting point or destination, only an unending flux, a continuous metamorphosis of all things.
Masanobu Fukuoka, 1913 – 2008, Japanese farmer and philosopher
If you put down the stories you tell yourself about your life for one minute, what remains?
Let go of a hundred years;
Rest from the ten thousand concerns.
Let go with both hands and walk on,
Free from judgment and division
Shitou Xiqian, Chan Master and hermit, 700–790 Song of the Grass-Roof Hermitage
Silence is fruitful only when it leads to interior peace and stillness.
Contemplation is a country whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.
You do not find it by travelling, but by standing still.
Thomas Merton
We tend to focus on, and speak about the soul life of an individual in terms of spiritual comfort and deep nourishment, qualities which are a central, and abiding dynamic of its presence,
but the equally unsettling and disturbing quality about this strange, often wild and courageous faculty of belonging inside us we have come to name ‘the soul’ is its ruthless, and almost tidal wish to find its own way to a full union with the world.
The soul is a planner’s nightmare, the career counsellor’s central surprise, the biographer’s conundrum, an internal abiding spring that is both a source and a continual unstoppable flow, an internal stranger at the door of our outer life about to break everything apart and leave;
a pilgrim suddenly more in love with the horizon than its home; and most disturbingly, someone who is willing to fail, often spectacularly, at their own life rather than succeed drably, at someone else’s
David Whyte
Once, when I was particularly depressed, a friend and pacifist from Holland told me something very beautiful: “The people who worked to build the cathedrals in the Middle Ages never saw them completed. It took two hundred years and more to build them. Some stonecutter somewhere sculpted a beautiful rose; it was his life’s work, and it was all he ever saw. But he never entered into the completed cathedral.
But one day, the cathedral was really there.
You must imagine peace the same way
Dorothee Soelle, Against the Wind
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