1. beingblog:

    This being human is a guest house.
    Every morning a new arrival.

    A joy, a depression, a meanness,
    some momentary awareness comes
    as an unexpected visitor.

    Welcome and entertain them all
    Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
    who violently sweep your house
    empty of its furniture,
    still, treat each guest honorably.
    He may be clearing you out
    for some new delight.

    The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
    meet them at the door laughing,
    and invite them in.

    Be grateful for whoever comes,
    because each has been sent
    as a guide from beyond.

    ~Rumi, as quoted in Parker Palmer’s reflection on hospitality and welcoming the unexpected visitor.

     

  2. "What in your life is calling you,
    when all the noise is silenced,
    the meetings adjourned,
    the lists laid aside,
    and the wild Iris blooms
    by itself
    in the dark forest,
    what still pulls on your soul?"
     
  3. (Source: plevre, via the-natureworld)

     

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  5. "Sometimes a wind comes before the rain and sends birds sailing past the window, spirit birds that ride the night, stranger than dreams."
    — Don DeLillo, from Point Omega (Scribner, 2010)

    (Source: the-final-sentence, via apoetreflects)

     

  6. "Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes.
    Because for those who love with heart and soul,
    There is no such thing as separation."
     
  7. Sounds of spring

     
     

  8. "When anxious, uneasy and bad thoughts come, I go to the sea, and the sea drowns them out with its great wide sounds, cleanses me with its noise, and imposes a rhythm upon everything in me that is bewildered and confused."
     

  9. gouchercollege:

    Welcome back from spring break! 

    Hey, if you’re sad (or happy) to be back, maybe plan one of these for next weekend. Or the next weekend. Or, you know, the other weekend. 

     

  10. "…and in that flash of lucidity he became aware that he was unable to bear in his soul the crushing weight of so much past"
    — Gabriel García Márquez, from One Hundred Years of Solitude (Harper & Row, 1970, published in English)  (via apoetreflects)

    (Source: metaphorformetaphor, via apoetreflects)