cherry chapstick

We can live. By all means, live. Wake up, eat cereal, walk, work, talk, eat, sleep, live. I know I can accomplish great things when I live. I can get a bonus, have a relationship, read a book. Read 100 books. Hell, write a book.

Or, we can Live (did I lose you?).

We can fall in love. Or fall in Love over and over again, and without fear or apology.
Be fascinated by the freckles that make each day staggeringly complex and different. And similar.

We can listen. Or Listen with true openness and tolerance. To even the intentions spoken between words and without speech. Not just to those we understand with ease, but also those whose actions we will never understand.
And to those who are no longer with us, and exist instead in the slowdancing of snowfalls. And cherry Chapstick.

The only thing that’s constant is change, and we feel safer to resist impermanence. So, we can live. Or Live and open ourselves, as petals, and remain passionately curious.

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destined to be diamonds

It was a perfect day. Bright prisms of dew glittered like diamonds in the grass, although I knew that, as the day went on, they would be vaporized by the sun.

Vaporized by the sun! Wasn’t that what the universe had in store for all of us? There would come a day when the sun exploded like a red balloon, and everyone on earth would be reduced in less than a camera flash to carbon. Didn’t Genesis say as much? For dust thou art, and into dust shalt thou return. This was far more than full old theology: It was a precise scientific observation! Carbon was the Great Leveler – the Grim Reaper.

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Diamonds were nothing more than carbon, but carbon in a crystal lattice that made it the hardest known material in nature. That was the way we all were headed. I was sure of it. We were destined to be diamonds.

How exciting it was to think that, long after the world had ended, whatever was left of our bodies would be transformed into a dazzling blizzard of diamond dust, blowing out towards eternity in the red glow of the dying sun.

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Alan Bradley

one for me, one for you

Opening and giving to others is a movement that starts and ends within.

In order to offer our love to others, we need to first give to ourselves. Does that sound paradoxical? It’s not. The amount you can give is directly proportionate to the capacity of what you are.

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When we pause for a moment in stillness, we become instantly more self-aware. Oh, there you are. We are present and able to see clearly the most important character in our lives – ourselves. Our “selfs.” Are we really paying enough attention to this person?

Taking good care of yourself seems easy, right? You just do it. Of course. How simple. Except it’s not. Because until you actually accept and understand who your “self” is, it’s pretty hard to actually love it. We do this by simply being present with ourselves. Discovering our needs and filling them, just by asking, “what is it that I need right now?” Taking our time, taking what we need. Offering basic compassion. Nourishment.

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When we are filled with self love and approval, we are better able to give. What’s more is that we can give from an authentic and meaningful place. We can continue thirsting to offer more of ourselves, but without internal neglect, mindlessness or deprivation. We can channel our motives for avoiding focus on ourselves and learn that we can give not to fill a void. That void is filled with peace and love from within, not without.

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with the earth

Now I see the greatest secret to making the best person:

To grow in the open air,

and eat,

and to sleep

with the earth.

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Walt Whitman

the busy bias

Our society praises busyness. It equates being busy with being successful. If you are busy, then you are important, admirable and in high demand of others. Busy bees buzzing around here and there, chasing perfection, constantly working to meet and exceed expectations.

Is this not a totally biased perspective? To be a busy workaholic will certainly bring about results, but what’s the cost? Of course, doing nothing at all would not be correct.

Busyness can be guise for those who find discomfort in stillness. Sometimes we cannot fathom what would become of our lives if we just… didn’t. If we just stopped. Perhaps, we’d find ourselves feeling anxious and guilty in this state of being. Busyness can mask the emptiness we fear to find within ourselves because, of course, our lives cannot be meaningless is we are busy.

We must be careful of the difference here. A balance can be established between sitting idle and being constantly on the go. That balance is where we can be most effective. Most satisfied. We flourish.

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