The Universe Story

RCC_9953, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.


Everything tells the story of the universe.
The winds tell the story, literally, not just imaginatively. The story has its imprint everywhere, and that is why it is so important to know the story. 
If you do not know the story, in a sense you do not know yourself; you do not know anything. 

Thomas Berry, The Universe Story

How to live

RCC_9941, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.



This is our constant problem – how to live with people and remain free,
how to live with things and remain independent.

Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath

Returning thanks

RCC_3648, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.

No duty is more urgent than that of returning thanks.

Saint Ambrose

Living

RCC_9822, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr

I could live my life believing there are no miracles, no magic

and no deeper meaning; or I could believe that the

impossible is possible, that the heart can love in all

circumstances, that hope is infinite, promises are forever.

Leanne O'Neil

Presence

RIC_8532-1, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.

As long as there is a lower class, I am in it.
  As long as there is a criminal element, I’m of it.
  As long as there is a soul in prison, I am not free.

Eugene Debs

Let it be

_DSC6876, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.

Possessions, like happiness, are always eluding our grasp. Instead of constantly wanting to have, wouldn’t it be better simply to be to watch and let the natural environment exist in peace? A world whose true joys and riches, continually renewed and replenished, we have yet to fully appreciate?

Frédéric Back

Questions

RCC_9831, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.

         Who are you?

         Where are you from?

         Where are you in your journey?

Jack Kornfield, an ancient custom among nomadic peoples,amon g Bedouins and gypsies, recounted by Jon Kabat-Zinn in Coming to Our Senses

Challenge & Opportunity

RCC_9819, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

Wendell Berry, The Real Work

Parting

RCC_9757, a photo by rchoephoto on Flickr.

O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved?

And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone?

Walt Whitman, When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed

My road

RIC_6814
Originally uploaded by rchoephoto

Antes de recorrer mi camino yo era mi camino.

Before I travelled my road I was my road.

Antonio Porchia, Voices, translated by W.S. Merwin