We are rag dolls made out of many ages and skins, changelings who have slept in wood nests or hissed in the uncouth guise of waddling amphibians. We have played such roles for infinitely longer ages than we have been men. Our identity is a dream. We are process, not reality, for reality is an illusion of the daylight — the light of our particular day.
~ Loren Eiseley
The picture alone, without the written word, leaves half the story untold.
~ James Lafferty
This post is in response to Susannah Conway’s April Love 2018 prompt for today: Written. Quick post today. M and I have been out hiking and enjoying this beautiful Sunday. I hope your Sunday is/was beautiful, too.
A few of the 10,000 reasons to be happy: 635) A hike in the woods. 636) Perfect hiking weather (cool, breezy, and sunny). 637) Fields of purple flowers. 638) Seeing two Bald Eagles on our way home. 639) Sitting by the Pocomoke River. 640) Lunch at our new favorite Chinese restaurant. (Our old favorite is closed. The couple who owned it — she was the waitstaff and he was the chef — decided to retire.)
What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but scattered along life’s pathway, the good they do is inconceivable.
~ Joseph Addison
It has often been said that our environmental crisis is a crisis of perception. We do not readily see the patterns that would reveal our dependence on the natural world, nor are we commonly aware of the systems within which we are deeply embedded. Our attention, entrained on objects and focused on flat screens, is far removed from the dynamic and animated nonhuman world. We are as good as blind to the wonder at our feet or the daily spectacle of an ever-changing sky.
~ Laura Sewall
I like walking because it is slow, and I suspect that the mind, like the feet, works at about three miles an hour. If this is so, then modern life is moving faster than the speed of thought or thoughtfulness.
~ Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking
The past is never where you think you left it.
~ Katherine Anne Porter
The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it.