Please check out Beth O'Halloran's blog on its original site where it will continue indefinitely. We hope you enjoy the wonderful quotes and commentary she shares on her blog, The Comfort Jar.
“What gives light must endure burning.” – Viktor Frankl (1905-1997) Holocaust survivor, neurologist, psychiatrist. And person you'd forgive for holding a grudge.
He also said, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.”
“We have a great deal more kindness than is ever spoken.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson. To the spider rescuers, snail side-steppers and those who lift worms from puddles.
Some zen master wisdom today: “My barn has burnt down, now I can see the moon.” – Mizuta Masahide (17th century Japanese poet).
And a contemporary one: "Ask yourself, how might this problem look from the moon?"– Shodo Harada Roshi. In fairness, that second one might be tricky with those tragic forest fires visible from space. But I've found it helpful with my J***s-that-was-my-parking-space-type rage.
“Anxiety is the handmaiden of creativity.” – T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)
Some fun facts to revisit: after The Black Death came the Renaissance. After the Spanish Flu came the Roaring Twenties.
Thomas Edison was afraid of the dark.
“You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just weather”. – Pema Chödrön
This is a photo of a lake in Maine, dawn on the rise. It was my view one morning while hiking on the Appalachian Trail. Before the trip, to ease my exacerbated twitchiness, a friend said, ‘It is hard. It is huge, but it is do-able. Step by step.’ Which helped.
For anyone else who finds the whole mindfulness thing another stick to whack themselves with – “Try looking at your mind as a wayward puppy that you are trying to paper train. You don’t drop kick a puppy into the neighbour’s yard every time it piddles on the floor. You just keep bringing it back to the newspaper.”– Anne Lamott
'Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.’ – Emily Dickinson
Emily was famously reclusive – sometimes only conversing through her closed bedroom door. It comforts me to remember those who thrived in chosen isolation – the recluses, the monks, this 19th century white-clad poetess. We don’t know when the dawn of this strangeness will come, but it will. Emily’s last words – "I must go in, the fog is rising."
“If we were going to get through this, I would need trees … Plant windbreak, woods, a forest, a glen.” – Amy Hempel.
Hempel is a famously kind, whip-sharp short story writer. Her latest collection, ‘Sing to It’, contains the story, Fort Bedd, in which a couple cling to the shipwreck of their bed in a dark apartment. The woman looks out, through the curtains, and says the above to herself.
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