FIVE STAR DAY! Create something. that makes you feel good about yourself. It will prompt you to do the work necessary to reach your goal.
The timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness. And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream.
Kahlil Gibran
… days of silence there in the desert were wearisome. –The Alchemist
What else should our lives be but a series of beginnings, of painful settings out into the unknown, pushing off from the edges of consciousness into the mystery of what we have not yet become.
David Malouf
Singer: Is there anything you’ve been able to draw upon, David? Is there comfort in the past?
Milch: I feel the past falling away and the attachments of regret for what wasn’t done or was done badly or was done without sufficient sympathy, and it was for that reason that our granddaughter’s visit was such a redemptive and compelling occurrence. Everything is an adventure for her and a delight and a surprise, an opening up, and that’s a big gratification.
Singer: I’ve never thought of you as a sentimental person, but maybe I misread that. How would you characterize yourself?
Milch: As an unsentimental person.
–David Milch’s Third Act by Mark Singer (New Yorker May 20, 2019)
Even in the midst of danger there come intervals of peace, If we possess enough inner strength, we shall take advantage of these intervals.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Today I would have been riding this LiveWire electric motorcycle (100 hp) if it hadn’t been raining cats & dogs. Rescheduled for Tuesday. (That’s my 35 hp KLR650 behind it.)
Anyway, let us rejoice in the blessings of nature, including electricity.l
Materialist world is the Bubble world. It’s inhabitants live inside a consumer-driven, status-obsessed bubble.
Possession is key. Those who can see beyond the walls of the bubble are deemed mad & deluded.
Glimpse of Truth will burst the fragile walls.
The Running Grave by Robert Galbraith
When Lucy woke, the room was already light. The curtains were not drawn and the pane of the open casement reflected a gleam of sun which she could lose and find by moving her head on the pillow.
A wood pigeon was calling in the elms. But it was some other sound, she knew, that had woken her — a sharp sound, a part of the dream which had drained away, as she woke, like water out of a washbasin. Perhaps the dog had barked.
But now everything was quiet and there was only the flash of sun from the windowpane and the sound of the wood pigeon, like the first strokes of a paint brush on a big sheet of paper when you were still not sure how the picture was going to go.
The morning was fine. Would there be any mushrooms yet? Was it worth getting up now and going down the field to see? It was still too dry and hot — not good mushroom weather. The mushrooms were like the blackberries — both wanted a drop of rain before they’d be any good.
Soon there’d be damp mornings …
WATERSHIP DOWN (1972) by Richard George Adams
When I get older losing my hair, many years from now, will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I’d been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?
Oooh, you’ll be older too. And if you say the word, I could stay with you. I could be handy mending a fuse when your lights have gone. You can knit a sweater by the fireside; Sunday mornings go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds, who could ask for more? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?
Beatles