The most exhausting thing in my life is being insincere.
Words hang like wash on the line, blowing in the winds of the mind.
Everyone wants to understand painting. Why don’t they try to understand the song of the birds? Why do they love a night, a flower, everything which surrounds man, without attempting to understand them? Whereas where painting is concerned, they want to understand.
“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind.” This is the commandment of the great God, and he cannot command the impossible. Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand. Anyone may gather it and no limit is set. Everyone can reach this love through meditation, spirit of prayer, and sacrifice, by an intense inner life.
Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists.
I have noticed that I am lately becoming what in my earlier and silly years I would have qualified as rather silly.
Truth is completely spontaneous. Lies have to be taught.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.
We use the word “love” but we have no more understanding of love than we do of anger or fear or jealousy or even joy, because we have seldom investigated what that state of mind is. What are the feelings we so quickly label as love? For many what is called love is not lovely at all but is a tangle of needs and desires, of momentary ecstasies and bewilderment — moments of unity, of intense feelings of closeness, occur in a mind so fragile that the least squint or sideways glance shatters its oneness into a dozen ghostly paranoias. When we say love we usually mean some emotion, some deep feeling for an object or person, that momentarily allows us to open to another. But in such emotional love, self-protection is never very far away. Still there is “business” to the relationship: clouds of jealousy, possessiveness, guilt, intentional and unintentional manipulation, separateness, and the shadow of all previous “loves” darken the light of oneness. But what I mean by love is not an emotion, it is a state of being. True love has no object. Many speak of their unconditional love for another. Unconditional love is the experience of being, there is no “I” and “other” and anyone or anything it touches is experienced in love. You cannot unconditionally love someone. You can only be unconditional love. It is not a dualistic emotion. It is a sense of oneness with all that is. The experience of love arises when we surrender our separateness into the universal. It is a feeling of unity. You don’t love another, you are another. There is no fear because there is no separation.
Each small task of everyday life is part of the total harmony of the universe.
Yes, it is better to look from the window than not to look at all, but to look through the window cannot be compared to the windowless sky.
I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only a child playing on the seashore while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
The hidden harmony is stronger than the visible.
Be like the bird, pausing in his flight On limb too slight, Feels it give way, yet sings, Knowing he has wings.
We turn to God for help when our foundations are shaking, only to learn that it is God who is shaking them.