Words are like little, compact storehouses. Packed within them are hope, longing, clarity, affirmation, cursing.
Words are loaded with power. Words can break bones. Words can heal souls, close breaches. Where humans are, words march incessantly back and forth, cleaving the air, like so many miniature clouds blown across our personal skies, pregnant with meaning. Sent well, and received well, they drop on us the full weight of the water of life. They bring us to laughter and to tears. They sparkle. They reveal the colors of life.
Our words are our most constant possessions. They are one of the things that no one can take from us.
I love words. I collect words. I love it when they come packaged in nice collections. I have hundreds of collections. Some collections I memorize. A few of my favorites are below:
A wonderful teacher once said to me, “Always start where the energy is.”
John Cleese
I’ve learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But if you focus on your family, the needs of others, your work, meeting new people, and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you.
Unknown.
I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
Age 62
Habits can’t be thrown out the upstairs window. They have to be coaxed down the stairs one step at a time.
Mark Twain
It is never too late to become what you might have been.
George Eliot
Happiness is not given to us in a package that we can just open up and consume. Nobody is ever happy 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Rather than thinking in terms of a day, we perhaps need to snatch happiness in little pieces, learning to recognize the elements of happiness and then treasuring them while they last.
James Faust
I will be strong to dare and do.
Indian Woman song
Please share your words with us.
PERPETUAL INVITATION
Take time to light a candle.
Real People. Real Time. Right Now. You!
Share your stories.
The media has lately offered up a fairly steady diet of “doom news”. If we are not careful, this constant overdose of bad news can create emotional indigestion, and leave us wondering if anything is right or ever will be right with the world.
I am not saying we should stick our heads in the sand and pretend all is well. A lot of things need attention. But a balance to bad news is needed: insights, simple acts of honesty, humor, lessons learned, beauty.
So, I invite you to share a story from your extraordinary life—simple or sublime. Go ahead, take 2 minutes and post it as a comment:
- What made you smile today (or yesterday)?
- What personal philosophy serves you well?
- What activities have you enjoyed?
- Who/what has inspired you?
- What have you recently learned?
Walker's Walkabout 
Friend of a friend posted a snippet of lyrics from a Leonard Coen song on Facebook the other day. While I’m not normally a fan of his, I liked this one:
There is a crack…
a crack
in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
Isn’t is often through imperfections, “cracks,” that we are able to see the light? Reminds me again that weak things can become strong with help and patience and, sometimes, a little different perspective.
By: Tania on December 8, 2009
at 9:26 AM
It is known that Numenarch passed by adversity and peril with strength, but more often he would use meekness and humility to persevere. Such would be the case as written in the Stygian Vulgate as he sought to pass into Umbra Asgarda. It was at the Summit of Thunder our Finder and Keeper would meet with the Tempest itself and parlay for passage. The Tempest rumbled its discontent at his approach. Even as Numenarch had the strength to pass beyond the Tempest without consent, he did honor the Domain of Storms with humble meekness.
‘The worms of the earth, their blood is upon you traveler. You shall not pass,’ The Tempest thundered angrily.
‘Would I disobey you, strike me down storm of storms,’ Numenarch replied bringing himself to rest on a stone.
‘Shade most foul, I shall not suffer you to pass, take your trickery and depart,’ The Tempest spoke jaggedly standing tall as a lightning spun hurricane.
‘Then I shall not seek to pass, but rather to persist in thy presence,’ Numenarch whispered clutching to a stone against the ferocity of the wind.
‘Do you find my presence pleasing?’ The Tempest roared tearing down stone with lightning, scattering ash and shadow in its wake.
‘Whether I would find you pleasing is not at task, I would take you as you are,’ Numenarch pledged peacefully holding out his hands.
The Tempest quieted and stared balefully down at Numenarch.
‘Ah, but shall your destination miss you? Will you not wither here without that which sustains you?’
Numenarch shook his head whispering into the wind softly.
‘Nay, I wander for its own sake, and would favor the fair winds of your company, than the spoiled color of isolation.’
The Tempest squinted, turning its winds upward, scattering the sky.
‘Then you would linger here and seek my favor? I warned you of trickery.’
Numenarch able to look up now whispered to the Tempest again.
‘Indeed, but I would seek your favor not to pass, but for the virtue of your favor alone. I have not a friend in this world.’
‘Nay, neither do I,’ said the Tempest, rain slowly falling to the earth, washing away ash from stone, and murk from sky.
So Numenarch lingered with the Tempest and listened to the poetry and prose of the storm and came to see the Tempest as she was; a lovely creature who dwelled alone in the sky. In time Numenarch would watch over the Tempest, and her keep, so that she could know the respite of slumber. The dreams of the Tempest would turn the sky brilliant shades of red, purple, and yellow… colors like Numenarch had not seen yet in all his travels. Her dreams would paint the sky vibrant and full of things the world had forgotten. Within her winds the words of a thousand dead languages whispered their poetry and in the fullness of time, Numenarch would come to hear their songs as well.
It was one day that the Tempest awoke and the winds of her voice were troubled.
‘I would send you hence,’ The Tempest said her winds gently pushing against Numenarch.
‘Nay lady, I would not leave you alone here,’ he returned, his words ringing like stygian iron against stone.
‘I have dreamed of you, and know of what you should do,’ The Tempest said gathering slowly into the sky, lightning caressing the clouds overhead.
‘You shall pass beyond into the Umbra Asgarda and there you will find five and one of your brothers and sisters.’ The Tempest spoke as the tresses of her wind opened the way forward.
‘Then I would deliver to them only sorrow at being parted from you,’ Numenarch whispered sadly.
‘Nay, you have seen the color of my dreams, and as such… the echo of my very being will persist with you always,’ said the Tempest as she turned the sky imperial and then to crimson.
‘Then know as well, my echo will persist with you always and that as I dream… I shall dream only of you,’ Numenarch promised, his eyes turning black against the sky.
…and so our Finder and Keeper did pass into the valley at the head of Umbra Asgarda, his humility and love turning the storm towards him always, her wind to be at his back all of his days.
By: Arthur on December 12, 2009
at 1:43 PM