For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one.
~ Kahlil Gibran
There are as many ways of loving as there are people, and that wildflower variety is the great beauty of this dimension of existence.
~ Jalaluddin Mevlana Rumi
A person’s life consists of a collection of events, the last of which could also change the meaning of the whole, not because it counts more than the previous ones but because once they are included in a life, events are arranged in an order that is not chronological but, rather, corresponds to an inner architecture.
– Italo Calvino
Time is a circus, always packing up and moving away.
~ Ben Hecht
The people of wealth and power do not know what it means to take a place seriously: to think it worthy of love and study and careful work. The Amish question “What will this do to our community?” tends toward the right answer for the world. The only sustainable city—and this, to me, is the indispensable ideal and goal—is a city in balance with its countryside. The real work of planet-saving will be small, humble, and humbling, and (insofar as it involves love) pleasing and rewarding.
~ Wendell Berry
In Yoga philosophy, as with all the great faiths, God could never be captured in words. But if you tried, you might say God is an intelligence akin to the Force in Star Wars or what Voltaire seems to have been getting at when he wrote that “God is a circle whose center is everywhere and circumference nowhere.”
I know there are as many yogic philosophies as there are scientific theories. Samkhya, Vedanta, Tantra. There is probably now a yoga philosophy they sell exclusively online for just $99.99 with a limited edition organic recycled yoga mat. Humans love to brand and argue. But the truth of our original nature must be singular. And yogis would note that meditation, religion, service, science, philosophy, and those funny pretzel poses are all paths to God. But none of those paths or methods encapsulates God. And none is better than the others. The paths are simply fingers pointing at the moon, rafts across the ocean of suffering, different strokes for different folks. Or to use my favorite metaphor, the paths — like all things subject to birth and death — are waves.
God is the sea.
~ Jaimal Yogis, All Our Waves Are Water: Stumbling Toward Enlightenment and the Perfect Ride
“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had!
“I wish I knew!” thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, “Nothing, just now.”
“Think again,” it said: “that won’t do.”
Alice thought, but nothing came of it. “Please, would you tell me what you call yourself?” she said timidly, “I think that might help a little.”
“I’ll tell you, if you’ll come a little further on,” the Fawn said. “I can’t remember here.”
So they walked on together through the wood, Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Alice’s arms. “I’m a Fawn!” it cried out in a voice of delight. “And dear me, you’re a human child!” A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed.”
~ Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass