Following:Succulents Forever !
I write to make peace with the things I cannot control. I write to create red in a world that often appears black and white. I write to discover. I write to uncover. I write to meet my ghosts. I write to begin a dialogue. I write to imagine things differently and in imagining things differently perhaps the world will change. I write to honor beauty. I write to correspond with my friends. I write as a daily act of improvisation. I write because it creates my composure. I write against power and for democracy. I write myself out of my nightmares and into my dreams. I write in a solitude born out of community. I write to the questions that shatter my sleep. I write to the answers that keep me complacent. I write to remember. I write to forget.
I write because I believe in words. I write because I do not believe in words. I write because it is a dance with paradox. I write because you can play on the page like a child left alone in sand. I write because it belongs to the force of the moon: high tide, low tide. I write because it is the way I take long walks. I write as a bow to wilderness. I write because I believe it can create a path in darkness.
I write as ritual. I write because I am not employable. I write out of my inconsistencies. I write because then I do not have to speak. I write with the colors of memory. I write as a witness to what I have seen. I write as a witness to what I imagine.
I write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words, to say the words, to touch the source, to be touched, to reveal how vulnerable we are, how transient we are. I write as though I am whispering in the ear of the one I love.”
Terry Tempest Williams
Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert
I don’t know why they wanted to leave the rhinoceros at my house.
I was raking up some leaves from the dirt when the woman in the blue and white striped sweater drove her sports car into my flower bed. She told me I had to take the rhino, but I was confused and angry that her red sports car was in my planter. I told her I don’t take rhinos, take it to the zoo, but she just kept arguing with me. So I started throwing dirt in her car and yelling at her, and then her friends started in, and I tossed some dirt at them too. I finally got through to her boyfriend, and he said, oh, yeah, we’re supposed to go to the zoo.
I wish I had just taken the damn rhino. I don’t know why they were so afraid of him.
He who knows how to live can walk abroad
Without fear of rhinoceros or tiger.
He will not be wounded in battle.
For in him rhinoceroses can find no place to thrust their horn,
Tigers can find no place to use their claws,
And weapons no place to pierce.
Why is this so? Because he has no place for death to enter.
– Tao Te Ching – Lao Tzu – chapter 50
— Catherynne Valente, “Choose Life”
— Adam Phillips (via psychotherapy)
What is it that we seek
In all these other worlds?
Is it just to escape
The mundane parts of life?
Or is it to break the rules —
At least for a little while
At least in our minds.
We enter these alternate realities
And admire their creators —
Maybe even hope to make
Worlds of our own one day
They give us new ideas
And play out our fantasies —
Safe little games of fiction.
But where is the guidebook
For those of us who really
Want to change the world —
Not just imagine what we want
But make it real — “make it so”
Not just to make a nice world
In our heads, but in reality?
The hero’s journey is always hard —
To fight the things that are wrong
That everyone else seems to accept.
What they never tell you is that
The hardest part is coming back
To the real world, after you’ve seen
The peace and beauty of your own soul.
"That we go numb along the way is to be expected. Even the bravest among us, who give their lives to care for others, go numb with fatigue, when the heart can take in no more, when we need time to digest all we meet. Overloaded and overwhelmed, we start to pull back from the world, so we can internalize what the world keeps giving us. Perhaps the noblest private act is the unheralded effort to return: to open our hearts once they’ve closed, to open our souls once they’ve shied away, to soften our minds once they’ve been hardened by the storms of our day.”
―Mark Nepo, “Hearing the Cries of the World” from our summer 2013 issue (which happened to be our 150th issue of Parabola.
Read Nepo’s essay here.
Photography Credit: Fernando Lemos
Anonymous among strangers
I look for those
with hidden wings,
and for scars
that those who once had wings
from Mon Semblable
— Abraham Maslow
They will ask you
what have you produced.
Say to them,
except for Love,
what else can a Lover produce?
— ~ Hafiz
“Simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and thoughts, you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.”
― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot (via rabbitinthemoon)
— via The Question Holds The Lantern | John O’Donohue.