“Effortlessly, Love flows from God into humans, Like a bird Who rivers the air Without moving her wings. Thus we move in His world One in body and soul, Though outwardly separate in form. As the Source strikes the note, Humanity sings — The Holy Spirit is our harpist, And all strings Which are touched in Love Must sound.”
““The breath of life”…of course that is Its name. And the breath, or course, goes in a cycle. We breathe, and the trees breathe. We breathe in what the trees breathe out. So we breathe each other into existence: We, and the galaxies, and the arrays of science and the codes of law and the plays of music, we are breathing each other into existence.”
From The Radiance Sutras by Lorin Roche, a translation of the Vijnana Bhairava Tantra, c. 7th century India
“The One Who Is at Play Everywhere says,
There is a space in the heart where everything meets. Come here if you want to find me. Mind, senses, soul, eternity – all are here. Are you here?
Enter the bowl of vastness that is the heart. Listen to the song that is always resonating. Give yourself to it with total abandon. Quiet ecstasy is here, And a steady, regal sense Of resting in a perfect spot.
You who are the embodiment of blessing, Once you know the way, The nature of attention will call you to return. Again and again, answer that call, And be saturated with knowing, “I belong here, I am at home.””
“As we live and as we are, Simplicity – with a capital “S” – is difficult to comprehend nowadays. We are no longer truly simple. We no longer live in simple terms or places. Life is a more complex struggle now. It is now valiant to be simple: a courageous thing to even want to be simple. It is a spiritual thing to comprehend what simplicity means.”
“I was suddenly made aware of another world of beauty and mystery such as I had never imagined to exist, except in poetry. It was as though I had begun to see and smell and hear for the first time. The world appeared to me as Wordsworth describes with “the glory and freshness of a dream.” The sight of a wild rose growing on a hedge, the scent of lime-tree blossoms caught suddenly as I rode down a hill on a bicycle, came to me like visitations from another world. But it was not only my senses that were awakened. I experienced an overwhelming emotion in the presence of nature, especially at evening. It began to have a kind of sacramental character for me. I approached it with a sense of almost religious awe and, in a hush that comes before sunset, I felt again the presence of an almost unfathomable mystery. The song of the birds, the shape of the trees, the colours of the sunset, were so many signs of the presence, which seemed to be drawing me to itself.”
From Dracula by Bram Stoker, published on this day in 1897,
“Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men´s eyes, because they know -or think they know- some things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.”