*I'm just a soul whose intentions are good, Oh Lord! please don't let me be misunderstood*

Tag Archives: moments


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There was a man who had four sons. He wanted his sons to learn
not to judge things too quickly. So he sent them each on a quest,
in turn, to go and look at a pear tree that was a great distance
away.

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The first son went in the winter, the second in the spring, the

third in summer, and the youngest son in the fall. When they

had all gone and come back, he called them together to describe

what they had seen.


The first son said that the tree was ugly, bent, and twisted.
The second son said no-it was covered with green buds and full
of promise.
The third son disagreed, he said it was laden with blossoms that
smelled so sweet and looked so beautiful, it was the most graceful
thing he had ever seen.
The last son disagreed with all of them; he said it was ripe and
drooping with fruit, full of life and fulfillment.

The man then explained to his sons that they were all right, because
they had each seen but ONLY one season in the tree’s life. He told
them that you cannot judge a tree, or a person, by only one season,
and that the essence of who they are – and the pleasure, joy, and
love that come from that life – can only be measured at the end,
when all the seasons are up.

α

If you give up when it’ s winter, you will miss the promise

of your spring, the beauty of your summer, fulfillment of

your fall.

Ω


Don’t let the pain of one season destroy the joy of all the rest.

Don’t judge life by one difficult season.

Persevere through the difficult patches and better times are

sure to come some time or later.


It all depends on how we look at things, and not on how things are in themselves.
The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it.
~ Carl Jung ~

wildflowers


Flowers often grow more beautifully on dung-hills than in gardens that look beautifully kept.
~ Saint Francis de Sales ~


 



 

 





alone on each stalk but beautiful

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

Ω

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

Ω

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon

I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow; if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic; to remember the limitations of being human.

Ω

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

Ω

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

Ω

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

Ω

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

Ω

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I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and

if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

contentment in just being alone

contentment in just being alone

by OriahMountainDreamer copyright © 1999 by Oriah Mountain Dreamer




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*Life is all about ROWING*


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My grandfather was a man who lived a rich life. A shipbuilder by trade,

he was one of 11 children born in rural Nova Scotia. Grandfather was a

quiet man, a deeply religious man and, perhaps most of all, a person of

significant character. Once when I was in high school, my grandfather

invited me to go on a rowing trip with him. He loved the sea and told me

that this particular evening promised a glorious sunset.

“Would you be interested in going on a rowing trip with me to visit a

tiny cove I’m sure you’ve not seen?” he inquired.

Looking outside, wiping the sweat from my teenaged forehead,

I suggested that 95 degrees was not the perfect time for a long rowing

trip and said another time would be better.

“Ah,” he said, “another time is for young men. Let’s do it now.”

With that clarity of perspective, off we went on what would turn out

to be a nonstop row of more than an hour. Given that he was in his

seventies and I a mere fifteen, the rowing naturally fell on my shoulders.

All during our trip to that cove, he was chiding me to go faster else we

miss the promised sunset.

“Chop, chop,” he piped up.

Sweating profusely, I diligently rowed until more than an hour had passed

and we turned a corner beyond a tiny point of land and into the promised

cove. Moments later, the sky burst into an orange-purple blaze.

My grandfather was right, the cove and the sunset were both breathtaking.

The scene is one I will never forget.

We were there, however, for no more than a couple of minutes when my

grandfather said, “Well, let’s head back now.”

Incredulous, I protested. “Granddad, you were right, it is beautiful here.

But look at me, I’m dying – let’s stay for a while.”

“No,” he said, “they’ll have made dinner for us and we’re already late.

We ought to think of others, not just ourselves. Besides, we’ve seen it

and this beautiful sunset will follow us home.”

Hands on the oars, I began the journey back. With each pull I renewed

my complaining: “It was nice, but not worth all that rowing…

This boat is too old and needs new oars… The current’s too strong today…

You’re the big shipbuilder – why don’t you take a turn rowing?”

On and on I went.

My grandfather merely sat quietly, enjoying the sunset.

Finally, after about thirty minutes he gazed at me and quietly said,

“John, put the oars down, would you?”

With the oars in the boat he stared me in the face: “I want to tell you

something today, something I very much hope you will remember.

John, most of life is rowing and if you don’t learn to be good at –

and enjoy – the rowing, you will grow up to be a very unhappy man.

Now put your hands on the wood and take me home.”

I would love to tell you that the scales fell from my eyes in that moment

and my life was lived differently from then until now.

But that would not be true.

At the time, those words seemed like the babblings of an old shipbuilder

about to make his last sail. But thirty years have passed and I know

now what he meant.

wise sage words .. enjoy the rowings of life .. that’s what life is all about .. treasure every moment

Life is mostly rowing.

There are, of course, moments of ecstasy, but most of life is made up of

simpler moments.

A walk on the beach,

a glancing view of a beautiful cornfield out an airplane window,

the first time you see your child steal a base,

a conversation where you know your words helped a friend,

lying in a tent by a river with the few people you love most,

the good feeling at the end of a hard day at work when you

know your efforts were not in vain.

It is precisely our ability to be present and enjoy those moments that

makes life worth living. We can spend our entire lives trying to get

from one big sunset to the next and miss a whole lot of great living

in between.

Sure those great sunsets are wonderful, but they are the icing, not the cake.

And it is not the big things that determine our success in the many realms

of our life.

Marriages are not built on the big anniversary trip to Hawaii or the special

gift that marks a date. It is in the rowing that marriages are made and broken,

in the daily honoring of life together.

Parents do not raise children well because of the camping trip taken once

each year to provide “quality time.” Rather it is in the rowing moments,

simple exchanges that occur thousands of times over the years that our

children learn the lessons they will need to live a life uncommon.

Leaders do not earn their stripes at the annual meeting when they give

a rousing speech that inspires the masses, but in the daily way their rowing

inspires a sense of pride and respect among those whom they lead.

But how do we begin to get better at the rowing and to appreciate the

simpler pleasures it has to offer?

How do we reclaim the innocence, faith and wonder with which we were

graced when we came into the world?

It seems to me that it begins with realizing that life is not about where we

are going as much as it is about being where we are.

How much of our lives are lived with the future as our focus – saving for

retirement, waiting for the weekend, counting the days until vacation,

looking forward to graduation, the next promotion.

We seem destined to believe life will be better when we finally get there.

When we choose to believe that each moment, however simple, offers

as much to us as the great shining moment of ecstasy, we begin to

experience our lives in a different way.

What part of the rowing must you pay more attention to?

Are you enjoying the moments of your life fully or waiting

for some future sunset when life will be what you desire it to be?

rowing life away into a future sunset?
rowing life away into a glorious future sunset?

 By John Izzo, Ph.D.



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