But what if I should discover that the poorest of the beggars and most impudent of offenders are all within me?
That I stand in need of the alms of my own kindness.
That I myself am the enemy that must be loved.
What then?
Carl Jung
That I feed the hungry, forgive an insult, and love my enemy: these are great virtues.
But what if I should discover that the poorest of the beggars and most impudent of offenders are all within me? That I stand in need of the alms of my own kindness. That I myself am the enemy that must be loved. What then? Carl Jung
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A 4.2 earthquake just occurred about an hour ago! Second one this year in our area.
Mother Earth tiring of all the nonsense? I thought I would share this poem, wish I could take credit for it but I can not. Feel free to take it for yourself and/or share it with someone else if you like.
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all uphill When the funds are low, and the debts are high And you want to smile, but you have to sigh When care is pressing you down a bit Rest if you must, but don't you quit. Life is strange with its twists and turns, As every one of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about When you might have won had you stuck it out Don't give up though the pace seems slow You may succeed with another blow Success is failure turned inside out The silver tint of the clouds of doubt And you never can tell how close you are It may be near when it seems so far So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, It's when things seem worse, that you must not quit. “Faith is what makes life bearable, with all its tragedies and ambiguities and sudden, startling joys.”
— Madeleine L'Engle Everyone has need and seeks guidance at some point during the course of their lives. It may be to learn, begin or find the way through a thought, idea or situation or to simply have anothers point of view or insight when making a decision. For some there may be a yearning from deep within ones self look for divine guidance. I am not talking religion, I am talking about that deep mysterious pull that makes us hunger for spiritual sustanence and growth, though we may not recognize it as such. Some find it through yoga practice, through nature, through working with others in less fortunate circumstances, through the giving of themselves. Finding ones spirituality is a very personal thing for each and every one of us. There is no guide taking you by the hand and leading you step by step to reach the fulfillment your looking for. It is a personal journey that everyone must take on their own. For some of us the journey is more arduous than others. Always though, you are given or find the very person or thing you need at the time it is needed.
The fact that life is so busy and chaotic these days I find that the best advice I have for anyone is to take a minimum of 10 minutes each day whether indoors or out and just sit quietly. Let the burdens and stresses you carry slide off your shoulders for a moment or two by sitting in a quiet place, closing your eyes and taking slow deep breathes. In doing so, you allow your inner voice to be heard. This may also help you to gain control over how you face the rigors of your day. Coming to the end of a year and looking towards the new one, I like to take the time to reflect on the year I've journeyed through. Remind myself what I have to be thankful for, revisit the adversities that challenged me to see if I caught the lesson within. And remember in the coming year, that whatever the situation good, bad or indifferent, this to shall pass. Writers Group/Dec. Prompt: The assignment is to use Robert Frost's classic poem, Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening, as a prologue for a short story(or a poem) about the person in the poem. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. “Ironic” he thought standing in the quiet woods “that this poem came to mind at this moment.” It would be so easy to remain in this place. Just shake the heavy burden from his shoulders like flakes of snow and settle in to the silence. It had been a year of trials and loss. Misunderstandings and grudges. Family ties had been strained and friendships tested. He kept clinging to the belief that everything would eventually turn out for the better but faith had diminished to just a small mustard seed of hope. He had no idea if his plan could change the circumstances, but he had given his word to try. When you give your word, you keep it. This journey of his was long, and he had tired of being in the cramped seat of the bus. When they pulled into the station he grabbed his duffle bag and debarked. Being on the outskirts of a small town at midnight didn’t provide much in the way of transportation. Especially if you were a stranger. Slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder Luke started walking towards town. About half way there he could no longer resist the temptation of the woods that bordered the road. The quiet wind through the tree branches seemed to beckon him, so he stepped off the road and into the serenity of the snowy woods. Taking a deep breath of crisp cool air he headed deeper into the trees. It wasn’t long before Luke broke through woods and found that they bordered a lake. It was if this quiet sanctuary had been waiting here just for him. He dropped his duffle to the ground and took a seat on it. Stretching his long legs out he looked around, taking in scenery that was lit by the light of the moon. Luke felt the peaceful feeling that is only reached when your alone with yourself in total silence.. And for a brief while the burden of his promise was lifted. Soon the cold cut through his jacket and he realized that although he wanted to remain there he could not, because as the poem said, he had promises to keep and miles to go before he could sleep. |
AuthorHello, I'm Kim Hitzges. I am a writer, photographer, and mixed media artist who is following the magic that guides my life. Archives
June 2021
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