We can speak without voice to the trees and the clouds and the waves of the sea. Without words they respond through the rustling of leaves and the moving of clouds and the murmuring of the sea.
~ Paul Tillich
What year is it in your imagination?
~ Lynda Barry
I looked over at my neighbor, the song sparrow, and thought about how just a few years ago, I wouldn’t have known its name, might not have even known it was a sparrow, might not have even seen it at all. How lonely that world seemed in comparison to this one! But the sparrow and I were no longer strangers. It was no stretch of the imagination, nor even of science, to think that we were related. We were both from the same place (Earth), made of the same stuff. And most important, we were both alive.
~ Jenny Odell, How to Do Nothing
Self-care is never a selfish act – it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give the care it requires, we do it not only for ourselves, but for the many others whose lives we touch.
~ Parker J. Palmer
This is the only advice I offer you. Pick the small thing, and carry it on. Let it change your life.
~ Anna White, Mended
Most of the time the universe speaks to us very quietly
in pockets of silence
in the shape of clouds
in forgotten memories
in moments of solitude
in small tugs at our hearts.
~ Yumi Sakugawa, Your Illustrated Guide to Becoming One With the Universe
To walk quietly until the miracle in everything speaks is poetry, whether we write it down or not.
~ Mark Nepo
That’s the trouble with people. their root problem. Life runs alongside them, unseen. Right here, right next. Creating the soil. Cycling water. Trading in nutrients. Making weather. Building atmosphere Feeding and curing and sheltering more kinds of creatures than people know how to count.
… If your mind were only a slightly greener thing, we’d drown you in meaning.
~ when the trees speak in The Overstory by Richard Powers
It is a serious thing
Just to be alive
On this fresh morning
In this broken world.
~ Mary Oliver, excerpted from “Invitation”