Happiness


Natural heart rock

Natural heart rock

“There’s just no accounting for happiness,

or the way it turns up like a prodigal

who comes back to the dust at your feet

having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?

You make a feast in honor of what

was lost, and take from its place the finest

garment, which you saved for an occasion

you could not imagine, and you weep night and day

to know that you were not abandoned,

that happiness saved its most extreme form

for you alone.

No, happiness is the uncle you never

knew about, who flies a single-engine plane

onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes

into town, and inquires at every door

until he finds you asleep midafternoon

as you so often are during the unmerciful

hours of your despair.

It  comes to the monk in his cell. It comes to the woman sweeping the street

with a birch broom, to the child

whose mother has passed our from drink.

It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing

a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,

and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots

in the night.

It even comes to the boulder

in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,

to rain falling on the open sea,

to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.”

—–Jane Kenyon

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The Swan

Swan, I’d like you to tell me your whole story!

Where you first appeared, and what dark sand you are going

toward,

and where you sleep at night, and what you are looking for…

It’s morning, swan, wake up, clim in the air, follow me!

I know of a country that spiritual flatness does not control, nor

constant depression,

and those alive are not afraid to die.

There wildflowers come up through the leafy floor,

and the fragrance of “I am he” floats on the wind.

There the bee of the heart stays deep inside the flower,

and cares for no other thing.”

—–Kabir, translated by Robert Bly

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Eye Blessings

Eye Blessings

 

 

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Tom Attwater Is Dying. His Daughter Might Die, Too. The Letter He Left For Her Is Unforgettable.


I am crying. But they are just bittersweet tears. This is a story of a father and a daughter. They are running out of time. But he will always watch over her. Hugs, Barbara

Kindness Blog

Tom Attwater is dying of a brain tumor, but he isn’t worried about his cancer. Instead, he is trying to save his 5 year-old daughter from her own.

tom attwater Tom Attwater with daughter Kelli and wife Joely

He has vowed to raise approximately $820,200.00 for her cancer treatment, even if he wouldn’t be around to see her go through it.

Now Tom is almost half way to his fundraising target he is more adamant than ever to reach it. Tragically his deadline is short as his latest scans show his brain tumour is growing.

He says: “These days people make bucket lists, and the very top of mine – the one that matters most – is raising money to make sure Kelli gets the medical help she might need.

Tom attwater

“Some people have advised me to slow down and concentrate on enjoying the rest of my days. But how can I knowing…

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Shameful Report: US Military Families Food Stamp Use Quadruples Since 2007


YouViewed/Editorial

US Soldiers Used $100 Million In Food Stamps In 2013

Published on Feb 20, 2014

” New numbers from the Defense Commissary Agency just revealed that US soldiers spent over $100 million worth of food stamps at military commissaries in 2013. That’s more than quadruple the number in 2007. The Resident discusses.”

    This is absolutely shameful . While our worthless leaders dine on $100 steaks , caviar and $100 bottles of wine the people who really serve us are stuck in the welfare line and living hand to mouth . SHAMEFUL .

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We Are Works of Art


No one says it like Rumi.

Life, Love, Poetry, & Other Randomness

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All that I am & all that you are is poetry

We are works of art for all to see

The way we move, the way our minds operate

What wonders we think of & create

God is the great creator, the one who designed us

How we wove us together, all the angels made such a fuss

How like He, we have been wonderfully made

In awe they stood, at the works of art He had displayed

He watches us as move about the great canvas called life

Celebrating with us our successes & helping us through strife

How do your words flow upon the pages of your individual story?

What you create leaves behind long lasting memories

I hope that upon my pages, you see beautiful works of art

Wondrous colors amidst descriptive words that capture your heart

May my life tell of heartbreak & sorrow, but also…

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