The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.
When we dance we touch the essence of who we are and experience the unity between spirit and matter.
A lifetime may not be long enough to attune ourselves fully to the harmony of the universe. But just to become aware that we can resonate with it - that alone can be like waking up from a dream.
Joy in Ordinary Moments Joy comes to us in ordinary moments. We risk missing out when we get too busy chasing down the extraordinary.
Laughter, song, and dance create emotional and spiritual connection; they remind us of the one thing that truly matters when we are searching for comfort, celebration, inspiration, or healing: We are not alone.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you, If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here. No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches are the same to Wren. If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.
From Mission Joy There's a concept that we have in South Africa, the concept of ubuntu. It says, a person is a person through other persons. I mean I could not speak as I am speaking without having learned it from other human beings. I could not think as a human being except through learning it from other human beings.
Joy is much bigger than happiness. While happiness is often seen as being dependent on external circumstances, joy is not.
Every Child Has known God, Not the God of names, Not the God of Don'ts Not the God who ever does anything weird But the God who only knows four words And keeps repeating them, saying: ""Come dance with Me"" Come Dance
To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak.
If we cannot be happy in spite of our difficulties, what good is our spiritual practice? Gratitude is a gracious acknowledgment of all that sustains us, a bow to our blessings, great and small. Buddhist monks begin each day with chants of gratitude for the gifts of food and shelter, of friendship and for the teachings that benefit all. In the same way, Native American elders begin each ceremony with grateful prayers to Mother Earth and Father Sky, to the four directions, to the animal, plant, and mineral brothers and sisters who share our earth and support our life. Gratitude is the confidence in life itself. In it, we feel how the same force that pushes grass through cracks in the sidewalk invigorates our own life. In Tibet, the monks and nuns even offer prayers of gratitude for the suffering they have been given: “Grant that I might have enough suffering to awaken in me the deepest possible compassion and wisdom.†Gratitude does not envy or compare. Gratitude is not dependent on what you have. It depends on your heart. You can even find gratitude for your measure of sorrows, the hand you’ve been dealt. There is mystery surrounding even your difficulties and suffering. Sometimes it’s through the hardest things that your heart learns its most important lessons. As gratitude grows it gives rise to joy. We experience the courage to rejoice in our own blessings and in the good fortune of others. In joy, we are not afraid of pleasure. We do not mistakenly believe it is disloyal to the suffering of the world to honor the measure of happiness we have been given. Joy gladdens the heart. We can be joyful for people we love, for moments of goodness, for sunlight and trees, and for the very breath within our lungs. Like an innocent child, we can rejoice in life itself, in being alive. Encounter every new moment with wonder and gratitude, and you’ll experience that it’s never too late to open your mind and your heart. As Bob Dylan sings, “He not busy being born is busy dying.†Give birth to a grateful spirit and you will discover how to live fully and freely.
You tumbled into my heart I fell hopelessly in love with you from the first time I spied your tiny eyes Awe and terror that something so precious that smelled so pure could be given into my care I long to know that I have done good enough I wanted so much to do it perfectly to mother you as I was never mothered give you the life I had always dreamed But real life and my humanness got in the way If I find fault, it is not criticism of you but my own guilt at my own failings That I could save you from the fire of your own life that my struggle could take away yours and my suffering could protect you from pain All I can do is admire you admire you into your life Rejoice in you, everything Watch breath-taken as you create your world Forgive me for my mistakes Honour me for doing the best that I could Share with me all the worlds you find and come back to me in the spaces between
I cannot tell you how the light comes. What I know is that it is more ancient than imagining. That it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us. That it loves searching out what is hidden what is lost what is forgotten or in peril or in pain. That it has a fondness for the body for finding its way toward flesh for tracing the edges of form for shining forth through the eye, the hand, the heart. I cannot tell you how the light comes, but that it does. That it will. That it works its way into the deepest dark that enfolds you, though it may seem long ages in coming or arrive in a shape you did not foresee. And so may we this day turn ourselves toward it. May we lift our faces to let it find us. May we bend our bodies to follow the arc it makes. May we open and open more and open still to the blessed light that comes.
Among other wonders of our lives, we are alive with one another, we walk here in the light of this unlikely world that isn't ours for long. May we spend generously the time we are given. May we enact our responsibilities as thoroughly as we enjoy our pleasures. May we see with clarity, may we seek a vision that serves all beings, may we honor the mystery surpassing our sight, and may we hold in our hands the gift of good work and bear it forth whole, as we were borne forth by a power we praise to this one Earth, this homeland of all we love.
In loving ourselves, we love the world. For just as fire, rock, and water are all made up of molecules, everything, including you and me, is connected by a small piece of the beginning. Yet, how do we love ourselves? It is as difficult at times as seeing the back of your head. It can be as elusive as it is necessary. I have tried and tripped many times. And I can only say that loving yourself is like feeding a clear bird that no one else can see. You must be still and offer your palmful of secrets like delicate seed. As she eats your secrets, no longer secret, she glows and you lighten, and her voice, which only you can hear, is your voice bereft of plans. And the light through her body will bathe you till you wonder why the gems in your palm were ever fisted. Others will think you crazed to wait on something no one sees. But the clear bird only wants to feed and fly and sing. She only wants light in her belly. And once in a great while, if someone loves you enough, they might see her rise from the nest beneath your fear. In this way, I've learned that loving yourself requires a courage unlike any other. It requires us to believe in and stay loyal to something no one else can see that keeps us in the world—our own self-worth. All the great moments of conception—the birth of mountains, of trees, of fish, of prophets, and the truth of relationships that last—all begin where no one can see, and it is our job not to extinguish what is so beautifully begun. For once full of light, everything is safely on its way—not pain-free, but unencumbered—and the air beneath your wings is the same air that trills in my throat, and the empty benches in snow are as much a part of us as the empty figures who slouch on them in spring. When we believe in what no one else can see, we find we are each other. And all moments of living, no matter how difficult, come back into some central point where self and world are one, where light pours in and out at once. And once there, I realize—make real before me—that this moment, whatever it might be, is a fine moment to live and a fine moment to die.
Hope Hope is the belief that one hand reaching to another can eventually touch the moon, allowing the light to guide us through the night.
Could our minds and our hearts be big enough just to hang out in that space where we’re not entirely certain about who’s right and who’s wrong? Could we have no agenda when we walk into a room with another person, not know what to say, not make that person wrong or right? Could we see, hear, feel other people as they really are? It is powerful to practice this way, because we’ll find ourselves continually rushing around to try to feel secure again—to make ourselves or them either right or wrong. But true communication can happen only in that open space.
We don’t set out to save the world; we set out to wonder how other people are doing and to reflect on how our actions affect other people’s hearts.
Belonging And if it’s true we are alone, we are alone together, the way blades of grass are alone, but exist as a field. Sometimes I feel it, the green fuse that ignites us, the wild thrum that unites us, an inner hum that reminds us of our shared humanity. Just as thirty-five trillion red blood cells join in one body to become one blood. Just as one hundred thirty-six thousand notes make up one symphony. Alone as we are, our small voices weave into the one big conversation. Our actions are essential to the one infinite story of what it is to be alive. When we feel alone, we belong to the grand communion of those who sometimes feel alone— we are the dust, the dust that hopes, a rising of dust, a thrill of dust, the dust that dances in the light with all other dust, the dust that makes the world.
Love is the bridge between you and everything.
Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.
I see dance being used as communication between body and soul to express what is too deep to find words.
Attention is the most basic form of love. By paying attention we let ourselves be touched by life, and our hearts naturally become more open and engaged.
Most of us need to be reminded that we are good, that we are lovable, that we belong. If we knew just how powerfully our thoughts, words, and actions affected the hearts of those around us, we’d reach out and join hands again and again. Our relationships have the potential to be a sacred refuge, a place of healing and awakening. With each person we meet, we can learn to look behind the mask and see the one who longs to love and be loved.
When you have a more compassionate mind and cultivate warm-heartedness, the whole atmosphere around you becomes more positive and friendlier. You see friends everywhere. If you feel fear and distrust, then other people will distance themselves, they will also feel cautious, suspicious, and distrust. Then comes the feeling of loneliness. When someone is warm-hearted, they are always completely relaxed. If you live with fear and consider yourself as something special, then automatically, emotionally, you are distanced from others. You then create the basis for feelings of alienation from others and loneliness. JOY IS AN INSIDE JOB. THIS IS THE BEST NEWS EVER. It means that we don’t have to simply hope that we’ll feel better, someday, maybe. We can take the reins and create more JOY for ourselves.
The ultimate source of a meaningful life is within our own self. Usually everybody seeks happiness, joyfulness from the outside, from money, from power, from a big car, from a big house. The ultimate source of a happy life, even physical health, is inside not outside.