Sometimes we don’t serve because it seems small, insignificant. But on the way to the big things God has in store, He will test us with small things. Don’t talk yourself out of going the extra mile at your house, serving your family, taking care of your children, getting up early, making sure everything is right. Nobody may be saying thank you, it feels like it’s unnoticed, but God sees your sacrifice. That’s what leads to new levels!
Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right, forget about the ones who don’t. And believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said it would be easy, just that it would be worth it
You love the roses – so do I.
I wish The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush.
Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
And soft to tread on.
They would fall as light As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be Like sleeping and like waking, all at once! ~
Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving;
What did you say, my dear?
The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child
Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob
Yes, my love, I hear.
One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon is braving,
Why not let it ring?
The roses lean down when they hear it, the tender, mild
Flowers of the bleeding-heart fall to the throb
It is such a little thing!
A wet bird walks on the lawn, call to the boy to come and look, Yes, it is over now.
Call to him out of the silence, call him to see
The starling shaking its head as it walks in the grass
Ah, who knows how?
He cannot see it,
I can never show it him, how it shook—
Don’t disturb him, darling.
Its head as it walked:
I can never call him to me,
Never, he is not, whatever shall come to pass.
No, look at the wet starling.
One dreams many things that are never to be experienced in this life such as “He dreams he is flying in the air.
“ A dream is not an entirely new experience, because most often it is the memory of past experiences.
In the waking state, the light of the self is mixed up with the functions of the organs, intellect, mind, external lights etc.
In dreams, the self becomes distinct and isolated as the organs do not act and the lights such as the sun that help them are absent.
The dreamer is not affected by whatever result of the good and evil he sees in the dream state.
No one regards himself a sinner on account of the sins committed in dreams.
People who have heard of them do not condemn or shun them.
Hence he is not touched by them.
The dreamer only appears to be doing things in a dream but actually, there is no activity The Sruti says, “He sees to be enjoying himself in the company of women.“
He who described his dream experiences uses the words “as if“; “I saw today as if a herd of elephants was running.
“ Therefore the dreaming self has no activity in dreams.
An action is done by the contact of the body and the senses, which have formed with something else that has form.
We never see a formless thing being active.
The Self is formless.
Therefore it is not attached.
As this Self is unattached, it is untouched by what it beholds in dreams.
Hence we cannot ascribe activity to it, as activity proceeds from the contact of the body and the organs.
There is no contact for the Self because this infinite Self is unattached.
Therefore it is immortal.
Doctors say, “Do not wake him up suddenly or violently“, because they see that in dreams the self goes out of the body of the waking state through the gates of the organs and remains isolated outside.
If the self is violently aroused it may not find those gates of the organs.
If he does not find the right organ the body becomes difficult to doctor.
The self may not get back to those gates of the organs, things which it sent out taking the shining functions of the latter, or it may misplace those functions.
In that case, defects such as blindness and deafness may result.
The doctor may find it difficult to treat them.
Dreams are due to mental impressions (Vasanas) received in the waking state.
The consciousness in a dream depends on the previous knowledge acquired in the wakeful state.
The dreams have the purpose of either cheering or saddening and frightening the sleeper, to requite him for his good and evil deeds.
His Adrishta thus furnishes the efficient cause of the dreams.
Even in the state of dream, the instruments of the self are not altogether at rest, because scripture states that even then it is connected with Buddhi (intellect).
“Having become a dream, together with Buddhi it passes beyond this world.
“ Smriti also says, “When the senses being at rest, the mind not being at rest, is occupied with the objects, know that state to be a dream.
“ Scripture says that desires etc. are modifications of the mind
Desires are observed in dreams.
Therefore, the self wanders about in dreams together with the mind only.
The scripture in describing our doings in dreams qualifies them by an “as it were“.
“As it was rejoicing together with women, or laughing as it were, or seeing terrible sights“
Ordinary people also describe their dreams in the same manner.
“I ascended as it were the summit of a mountain, I saw a tree, as it were“.
Dream creation is unreal.
Reality implies the factors of time, space and causation.
Further, reality cannot be sublated or stultified.
Dream creation has not got these traits.
The dream is called “Sandhya“ or the intermediate state because it is midway between waking and the deep sleep state, between the Jagrat and the Sushupti.
Dreams, though of a strange and illusory nature, are a good index of the high or low spiritual and moral condition of the dreamer.
He, who has a pure heart and untainted character, will never get impure dreams.
An aspirant who is ever meditating will dream of his Sadhana and his object of meditation.
He will do worship of the Lord and recite His name and Mantra even in a dream through the force of Samskara.
Deep into spring, winter is hanging on.
Bitter and skilful in his hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, starving along the Mediterranean: angry to see the glittering sea-pale boulder alive with lizards green as Judas leaves.
Winter is hanging on.
He still believes.
He tries to catch a lizard by the shoulder.
One olive tree below Grottaglie welcomes the winter into noontime shade and talks as softly as Pythagoras.
Be still, be patient, I can hear him say, cradling in his arms the wounded head, letting the sunlight touch the savage face. ~ May Morning
The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.
A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean.
To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would never open, Like some iron door;
To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower base And reach your skinny little neck
And take your first bite at some dim bit of herbage,
Alone, small insect,
Tiny bright-eye, Slow one.
To take your first solitary bite
And move on your slow, solitary hunt.
Your bright, dark little eye,
Your eye of a dark disturbed night,
Under its slow lid, tiny baby tortoise,
No one ever heard you complain.
You draw your head forward, slowly, from your little wimple And set forward, slow-dragging, on your four-pinned toes,
Rowing slowly forward.
Whither away, small bird?
Rather like a baby working its limbs,
Except that you make slow, ageless progress
And a baby makes none.
The touch of sun excites you,
And the long ages and the lingering chill
Make you pause to yawn,
Opening your impervious mouth,
Suddenly beak-shaped, and very wide, like some suddenly gaping pincers;
Soft red tongue, and hard thin gums,
Then close the wedge of your little mountain front,
Your face, baby tortoise.
Do you wonder at the world, as slowly you turn your head in its wimple
And look with laconic, black eyes?
Or is sleep coming over you again,
You are so hard to wake
Are you able to wonder?
Or is it just your indomitable will and pride of the first life
And slowly pitching itself against the inertia
Which had seemed invincible?
The vast inanimate,
And the fine brilliance of your so tiny eye,
Nay, tiny shell-bird,
What a huge vast inanimate it is, that you must row against,
What an incalculable inertia.
Challenger, Little Ulysses, fore-runner,
No bigger than my thumb-nail,
All animate creation on your shoulder,
Set forth, little Titan, under your battle-shield.
The ponderous, preponderate, Inanimate universe;
And you are slowly moving, pioneer, you alone.
How vivid your travelling seems now, in the troubled sunshine,
Stoic, Ulyssean atom; Suddenly hasty, reckless, on high toes.
Voiceless little bird,
Resting your head half out of your simple
In the slow dignity of your eternal pause.
Alone, with no sense of being alone,
And hence six times more solitary;
Fulfilled of the slow passion of pitching through immemorial ages Your little round house amid chaos.
Over the garden earth,
Over the edge of all things.
Traveller, With your tail, tucked a little on one side
Like a gentleman in a long-skirted coat.
All life carried on your shoulder, Invincible fore-runner.
I handed her the mirror, and said:
Please address these questions to the proper person!
Please make all requests to head-quarters!
In all matters of emotional importance please approach the supreme authority direct!
So I handed her the mirror.
And she would have broken it over my head, but she caught sight of her reflection and that held her spellbound for two seconds while I fled.
~ Intimates –
You were born a success, and you will die a success, if …
“For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his soul”? – Matthew 16 verse 26
We need to constantly reanalyze what achievement means. Most so-called attainment in the world is slavery.
The trappings of success often bring the opposite of success, at least in the ways most meaningful to people’s lives.
Success is not what you think it is. It’s often a trap.
You have been programmed from birth into a sick construct of competitive violence.
Most success by your likely definition will lead to the destruction of your individuality and your inner-beings grand potential.
There is nothing naturally wrong with being prosperous and we should have abundance and attainment in our lives.
But, we must possess the inner maturity to handle success; individually and as a culture.
Every degree of victory must be paired with a degree of integrity and compassion.
Success without integrity is always fleeting, or monstrous.
Real success sometimes involves saying no to growth, expansion and gain.
Real prosperity often involves absorbing tremendous loss on a personal level.
Real success often involves fatality.
Real success always involves virtues such as humility, compassion, and an abiding reverence and respect for life.
Fortune can be toxic, while failure feels safe.
Success is a risk, and failure seems guaranteed, so failure feels less disappointing.
The coup is more unbearable than failure because it comes with the death of anticipation and longing.
The anticipation is always sweeter than the moment what you longed for arrives.
Once accomplished, success reveals its unimportance in a life of true meaning.
Success can be like building an empty castle when all you needed was a true home for your heart.
Success itself has vanquished many noble hearts.
It has turned kings of spirit into spiritual paupers.
Success has led soulful masters of life’s grand estate, into spiritual bankruptcy.
Through blood, sweat, and tears, chasing success will exsanguinate you of the life-blood of your very soul.
The false need for what is commonly seen as success continues to rob people of true success, with which they were born.
Fame is a seducer in a marketplace of pimps and whores.
Success has turned an Earthly paradise, into a global brothel.
Success is ambition porn, and it’s addicts need no anonymity, for it is the open pornography of the culture.
Success is the father of frauds, and countless children of ambition’s covetous wandering-eye, and capital philanderings.
Success is the legal heroine — it is the cocaine of the culture; an opportunity opiate.
Success is a license to kill in the name of, “nothing personal, it’s just business.
” Success is the front-line of class warfare.
Victory is an object of tireless desire.
We have objectified success, even more than we have objectified women.
We are success prejudice, more than we are race prejudice.
Success is an equal opportunity destroyer.
As war often comes in the name of peace, success the destroyer often comes in the name of creation.
The devastation of accomplishment is usually unleashed through the pursuit of so-called solutions.
Success is the greatest of all panaceas.
Success was never meant to be attainment; it was meant to be a testament.
Our eye on the prize has moved from freedom to success slavery.
For many, success is the end of the road, that begins with a single step.
Don’t trust the path success takes you on, or what it leads you to.
Most success will lead you to falsity.
Quit trying to be successful.
Redefine success from this day forward.
Put it in its place. Quit begging, grovelling, manipulating, conniving, scheming, and wanting with such desperation.
Don’t allow success to turn you into a desperate, empty, begging fraud.
Self-satisfaction and gratitude for your completeness and innate perfection are the most mighty of all victories.
Reach for success, but slap its hand when it reaches for you.
Because what success wants from you, is what you want from it – everything.
There will never be enough that you want from it and that it wants from you.
Successes’ demands are as endless as yours.
It will siphon the reservoir of your hope to the last drop.
Master success today.
Be its master, not its slave.
Success is illusionary; an oasis in a desert, but which itself, is already in a true paradise.
Success was always with you. You were born a success, and you will die a success – if you can be successful at accepting the victory of living.
Being truly successful does not require winning positive pageant.
Being unsatisfactory is healthy too. My whole life is an engine of disappointment.
It’s why I wake-up in the morning.
If you are dissatisfied, moody, discontented, and the song in your heart sounds more like a long frustrated moan, it’s fine – groan, grumble, sigh, even growl.
But don’t forget this; you are more.
Real success is found in the balance of all things.
Be fair with life, since you wish life to be fair with you.
Make your contentment equal to your discontentment.
Voice your praise-filled gratitude as loudly, as your shouts of the foul.
Pray or give thanks in your way, as earnestly as you bemoan your woes.
Savior and sigh in the bliss of affections, as gutturally as your furrowed growls.
Shout glory, Hallelujah, or thank you, thank you, thank you, as fervently as your most exquisite rage.
Stretch your finger-tipped reach for inward success, as far and deep, as you reach outward.
Ardently strive – toward yourself.
Dream, reach, long, want, and hustle, but never once – for success.
Do it for you.
And please, do it like you.
Let your fortune merely be a testament to a life well-lived – in the way that it must be uniquely lived for you, and only for you.
Attainment is merely the acknowledgement of your significance.
And the highest form of happiness is to behold, and ever defend the significance of every person, as reverently and devoutly, as your own!