The roving gaze of the mariner who never attaches himself to what he sees, whose very glance is roving, floating, sailing on, who looks at every person and object with a sense of the enormous space around them, with a sense of the distance one can put between oneself and one’s desires, the sense of the enormousness of the world and of the tides and currents that carry us onward.
you’re going to have to
Whosoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god.
Our real journey in life is interior; it is a matter of growth, deepening, and of an ever greater surrender to the creative action of love and grace in our hearts. Never was it more necessary for us to respond to that action.
Everything in nature is lyrical in its ideal existence, tragic in its fate, and comic in its existence.
…a little weariness’ll change a lot of things.
What was the self?
You wanted a life of causes, but it was all effects: you could never get before.
Finding meaning in the meaningless was no kind of meaning, but you were satisfied with meaningness.
Luck is a skill, as is beauty, intelligence—all things you’re born with. It can almost ruin you, the belief that you can choose.
I watch a baby in a restaurant play with a plastic Slinky.
The only way past is through.
Let there be soft space in the outcome,
a possibility we might overgrow our borders,
become whole counties of light. Let us remember
this season, our chins tucked, our hard lean
into gray wind. Let the heart go rich with moss.
Let it have no footprints. Let the sun bleach
the bones of words you no longer need.
Let the birds sing in orange and red.
Let the underfoot miles go. Let everything you touch
name you. Let it be a long kiss. Let us stay
until Sirius skips his scorched heart like a stone
through the last spokes of darkness.
- Nicole Terez Dutton
I see humanity as a family that as hardly met. I see the meeting of people, bodies, thoughts, emotions or actions as the start of most change. Each link created by a meeting is like a filament, which, if they were all visible, would make the world look as though it is covered with gossamer. Every individual is connected to others, loosely or closely, by a unique combination of filaments, which stretch across the frontiers of space and time. Every individual assembles past loyalties, present needs and vision of the future in a web of different contours, with the help of heterogeneous elements borrowed from other individuals; and this constant give-and-take has been the main stimulus of humanity’s energy. Once people see themselves as influencing on another, they cannot be merely victims: anyone, however modest, then becomes a person capable of making a difference, minute though it might be, to the shape of reality. New attitudes are not promulgated by law, but spread, almost like an infection, from one person to another.
The dispute about how to achieve a better life, whether it should be by individual effort or by collective action, has no point any more, because they are two sides of these ams coin. It is difficult to do anything without help or inspiration from outside oneself. Individual struggles have simultaneously been collective ones. All the rest movements of protest against contempt, segregation and exclusion involve an infinite number of personal acts by individuals, making a small change in the whole by what they learn from each other, and by the way they treat others. To feel isolated is to be unaware of the filaments which link one to the past and to parts of the globe on may never have seen.