Ant No Thing to Fight About… There’s Plenty of Light

Ant No Thing to Fight About... There's Plenty of Light

“There are three types of approaches towards the Lord; the Eagle type, which swoops down on the target with a greedy swiftness and suddenness which, by its very impact, fails to secure the object coveted; the Monkey type, which flits hither and thither, from one to another, unable to decide which is tasty; and the Ant type which moves steadily, though slowly towards the object which it has decided is desirable. The ant does not hit the fruit hard and makes it fall away; it does not pluck all the fruits it seeks; it appropriates just as much as it can assimilate and no more. Do not fritter away the time allotted to you for sojourning on the earth in foolish foppery and fanciful foibles, which always keep you outdoors. When are you to walk indoors into the warmth and quiet of your own interior? Retire into solitude and silence now and then; experience the joy derivable only from them.”
Atharva Veda

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Just Jellin

Just Jellin

“PLATITUDE, n. The fundamental element and special glory of popular literature. A thought that snores in words that smoke. The wisdom of a million fools in the diction of a dullard. A fossil sentiment in artificial rock. All that is mortal of a departed truth. A jelly-fish withering on the shore of the sea of thought. A desiccated epigram.”
Ambrose Bierce

Daisy Don’t Doubt… Does He Love Me, Does He Love Me Not

Daisy Don't Doubt... Does He Love Me, Does He Love Me Not

“When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among
his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you
so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and
caresses your tenderest branches
that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots
and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread
for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge become
a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek
only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your
nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh,
but not all of your laughter, and weep,
but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and
takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say,
“God is in my heart,” but rather,
“I am in the heart of God.”

And think not you can direct the course of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy,
directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires,
let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and
give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and
meditate love’s ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
for the beloved in your heart

and a song of praise upon your lips.”
Kahlil Gibran

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Shine On

Shine On

“If a drop of water falls in a lake
there is no identity.
But if it falls on a leaf of a lotus
it shines like a pearl.
So choose the best place where you would shine.”

Unknown

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Blooming Amid Thorns

Blooming Amid Thorns

“The world is not respectable;
it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever;
but it is shot through with beauty, with love
with glints of courage and laughter;
and in these, the spirit blooms timidly,
and struggles to the light amid the thorns.”
George Santayana

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