Unrequited peanut butter
Odin's omen filled mailbox as March marches in like the lion . . .
The disastrous compartmentalisation of the global Weltanschauung . . . linear symbol systems driven at the speed of light; or, how to watch the superbowl on your iPhone while driving in Boston traffic in your Tesla, dreaming of a job anywhere as a result of uni classes you hate.
“Things” are not alive. Things are nouns. Lively is an adverb. There is no thing-ly.
Inevitably, the journey takes each of us in different directions; however, by virtue of circumstances or choice, each of us will at some point in our lives find ourselves on the outskirts of society listening to the silence coming from within. During these times, we realize that contemplation is a destination as well as a practice. – Richard Rohr
The practice of meditation as it was presented by the Buddha is no more and no less than working with yourself—sitting with yourself, alone, without entertainment, without further feedback and encouragement. – Chӧgyam Trungpa
The sense of who we are shrinks into a narrow identity, looking at the world through a lens defined by that which we tried to avoid – J. Krishnamurti
"Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love." – Charles Schulz
The living word
In Tew's Day's mailbox, this final day of 2023 February . . .
Chinese poets believed that when the words stop the poem goes on like a canoe, its oars lifted from the water.
The word is dead when it is said, some say, I say it just begins to live that day. – Emily Dickenson
The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done. – John Steinbeck
Do you have the patience to wait
Till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
Till the right action arises by itself? —Lao Tzu
Saint who?
In the mailbox this 27th of 2023 February waxing Moon Day
Today is the 216th anniversary of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's birth. The poet was born in Portland, Maine on this date in 1807.
While the Watercourse was carving for aeons, and after a 30 year opposition from ranchers, miners, and entrepreneurs, President Woodrow Wilson established the Grand Canyon National Park on this date yesterday 104 years ago in 1919.
The mind creates the abyss and the heart crosses it. – Sri Nisargadatta
Saints so love the world that they yield to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, they trace with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. Their houses are dangerous and finite, but they are at home in the world. . .loving the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such... balancing monsters of love. – Leonard Cohen (adapted and edited) posted by Maria Popova in The Marginalian.
It's John Steinbeck's birthday. He was born 121 years ago today in 1902 Salinas, California.