In today's technology-led culture, it's all too easy to spend our entire day staring at a screen.
We use computers at work, scroll through our phones during the commute, watch TV while eating dinner, then look through Instagram while we're in bed.
But this "always on" culture isn't making us happy. According to the Mental Health Foundation, 59% of adults in Britain are more stressed today than they were five years ago.
Thankfully, there's a way to ditch our smart phones and improve our wellbeing in one go - it involves grabbing some crayons and getting creative.
Colouring books for adults have become something of a phenomenon in recent years and we have 32-year-old illustrator Johanna Basford to thank for it.
"I think everybody has a creative spark, you just need the right situation and opportunity to express it," Basford tells HuffPost UK Lifestyle.
"For a lot of people, attending an art class just isn’t something that is feasible. But with a colouring in book you don’t need lots of time and you don’t need lots of equipment - you can just pop some crayons in your bag and go for it."
Basford, from Aberdeenshire, released the first ever colouring book for adults, Secret Garden, in 2012 after a publisher approached her about creating a traditional colouring book for children.
At the time, she was working as a freelance illustrator creating black and white images for brands as well as making downloadable desktop wallpapers.
"My commercial clients - people like creative directors - had been saying for ages that when they saw my artwork, they wanted to colour it in," she explains.
"They were just making passing comments but I thought it would be lovely to make sophisticated artwork - at the same level as I would create for a champagne bottle or a perfume box - that adults could colour in without feeling silly."
Basford says her publishers were sceptical about the idea, after all, colouring books for adults were not a trend at this point.
But thanks to their experiment with Secret Garden, the industry has bloomed.
Colouring books for adults now dominate the Amazon bestselling list here in the UK and out-sell cookery books over in France.
The books have been hailed as an easy way to access mindfulness, beat stress and improve wellbeing.
Although Basford didn't create Secret Garden with any of this in mind, she does now understand why so many people find her work therapeutic.
"We’re fatigued - I think it’s the constant bombardment of messages and alerts that we get from the internet that's to blame," she says.
"The books are a way for people to get a digital detox - they allow us to do something without being distracted by the ping of a tweet."
She also believes the nostalgia element to colouring may improve some people's wellbeing.
"Last time you sat down to do some colouring in you probably didn’t have a mortgage or bank payments to make, so it does tend to make you think back to a less stressful time when you were perhaps more carefree," she says.
One person who has truly felt the benefit of Basford's books Danielle Montgomery, who works in social media and online PR.
The 24-year-old, from Birmingham, first heard about colouring for adults after reading an article about Basford.
"I suffer with mental health disorders and had recently embarked on a mindfulness course, so I was encouraged to try the colouring therapy as a mindful exercise, as well as a distraction from my other mental health issues," she tells HuffPost UK Lifestyle.
"It wasn't until I relapsed and was taking some time off work when I first started colouring.
"My mum was keen to keep me company so she took a day off work and we spent a day colouring, however I didn't purchase a book, we just printed out several mandalas [a hindu symbol] and other patterns from the internet."
"My nan, bless her, has since bought me several colouring therapy related items, including a zen doodle book, which teaches you how to create your own illustrations and mandalas for colouring in."
A Hindu mandala
Montgomery is now a firm fan of Basford's books and loves the fact that colouring is a "soothing experience", that also requires concentration - enough to achieve escapism, but not enough to get stressed or overwhelmed.
"The colouring for me serves primarily as a distraction to the negative thoughts in my mind and allows me to become 'unstuck' from my depression.
"Depression doesn't allow its victim to progress with anything or do even the simplest of things without being consumed with dread and overwhelming anxiety, however the colouring therapy requires so little energy with beautiful rewards.
"There's no right or wrong answer - you can choose whichever shades of whichever colour, spend however long you need.
"Colouring allows you to take some time out from work, socialising, housework and other aspects of life that creates stress or tension, and just be absorbed into a fantasy land where the sky is green and grass is blue."
With colouring having such as positive affect on wellbeing, it's easy to see why Secret Garden has sold over one million copies in 27 countries.
Yet for Basford, the success of her first book still seems "unreal".
"I phoned my publishers to ask if they could let me know when we'd sold a quarter of a million copies because I wanted to put it on my Facebook - as you do - and tell my mum," she recalls.
"My publisher went quiet on the end of the phone and I started to panic. They said actually, the issue numbers had just come in and they thought we were going to hit a million in the next four weeks.
"I think because I work in a little studio attached to my house I’m quite detached from the world - so when I hear the numbers it feels quite surreal."
Secret Garden's success has not only led to Basford securing two further book deals (her second book Enchanted Forest was also a bestseller, her third book is due out in October), it has paved the way for other illustrators to create colouring books for adults.
Tiddy Rowan, author of The Little Book Of Mindfulness and Colour Yourself Calmpreviously told HuffPost UK Lifestyle: "The interesting thing about mindfulness is that it’s got no allegiance to any spiritual or religious beliefs, it's about the self. I think that's perhaps key to the popularity of these colouring books."
So, does Basford, feel in competition with her fellow illustrators and authors?
Not a bit.
"I really hope the category just continues to blossom," she says. "The more books there are, the more people there are over the world lying down laptops and picking up pens and pencils - and that can only be a good thing."
Secret Garden and Enchanted Forest by Johanna Basford are both published by Laurence King, £9.95
Daily Meditations
Living Without Fear(01 of121)
Where The Mind Is Without Fear by Rabindranath TagoreWhere the mind is without fear and the head is held highWhere knowledge is freeWhere the world has not been broken up into fragmentsBy narrow domestic wallsWhere words come out from the depth of truthWhere tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfectionWhere the clear stream of reason has not lost its wayInto the dreary desert sand of dead habitWhere the mind is led forward by theeInto ever-widening thought and actionInto that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake. (credit:Getty Images)
Awakening The Heart(02 of121)
by Hildegard of BingenHoly Spirit,Giving life to all life,Moving all creatures,Root of all things,Washing them clean,Wiping out their mistakes,Healing their wounds,You are our true life,Luminous, wonderful,Awakening the heart from its ancient sleep. (credit:Getty Images)
Dare To Be Happy(03 of121)
Morning Poem by Mary OliverEvery morningthe worldis created.Under the orangesticks of the sunthe heapedashes of the nightturn into leaves againand fasten themselves to the high branches ---and the ponds appearlike black clothon which are painted islandsof summer lilies.If it is your natureto be happyyou will swim away along the soft trailsfor hours, your imaginationalighting everywhere.And if your spiritcarries within itthe thornthat is heavier than lead ---if it's all you can doto keep on trudging ---there is stillsomewhere deep within youa beast shouting that the earthis exactly what it wanted ---each pond with its blazing liliesis a prayer heard and answeredlavishly,every morning,whether or notyou have ever dared to be happy,whether or notyou have ever dared to pray. (credit:Getty Images)
Make Your Own Road(04 of121)
There Is No Road by Antonio MachadoTraveler, your footprintsare the only road, nothing else.Traveler, there is no road;you make your own path as you walk.As you walk, you make your own road,and when you look backyou see the pathyou will never travel again.Traveler, there is no roadonly a ship's wake on the sea. (credit:Getty Images)
Praying For Peace(05 of121)
May there be peace in the higher regions;May there be peace in the firmament;May there be peace on earth.May the waters flow peacefully;May the herbs and plants grow peacefully;May all the divine powers bring unto us peace.The supreme Lord is peace.May we all be in peace, peace, and only peace;And may that peace come unto each of us.Shanti, shanti, shanti!--From The Little Book of Prayers (credit:Andrew Bret Wallis/Getty Images)
The Road Goes On And On(06 of121)
The Old Walking Song by J.R.R. TolkienThe Road goes ever on and onDown from the door where it began.Now far ahead the Road has gone,And I must follow, if I can,Pursuing it with eager feet,Until it joins some larger way,Where many paths and errands meet.And whither then? I cannot say. (credit:Getty Images)
Blessed Are The Meek(07 of121)
The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12) Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you [falsely] because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven. Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you. (credit:Getty Images)
The True Wonder Of This World(08 of121)
A Brave and Startling Truth by Maya AngelouWe, this people, on a small and lonely planetTraveling through casual spacePast aloof stars, across the way of indifferent sunsTo a destination where all signs tell usIt is possible and imperative that we learnA brave and startling truthAnd when we come to itTo the day of peacemakingWhen we release our fingersFrom fists of hostilityAnd allow the pure air to cool our palmsWhen we come to itWhen the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hateAnd faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed cleanWhen battlefields and coliseumNo longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughtersUp with the bruised and bloody grassTo lie in identical plots in foreign soilWhen the rapacious storming of the churchesThe screaming racket in the temples have ceasedWhen the pennants are waving gailyWhen the banners of the world trembleStoutly in the good, clean breezeWhen we come to itWhen we let the rifles fall from our shouldersAnd children dress their dolls in flags of truceWhen land mines of death have been removedAnd the aged can walk into evenings of peaceWhen religious ritual is not perfumedBy the incense of burning fleshAnd childhood dreams are not kicked awakeBy nightmares of abuseWhen we come to itThen we will confess that not the PyramidsWith their stones set in mysterious perfectionNor the Gardens of BabylonHanging as eternal beautyIn our collective memoryNot the Grand CanyonKindled into delicious colorBy Western sunsetsNor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into EuropeNot the sacred peak of Mount FujiStretching to the Rising SunNeither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shoresThese are not the only wonders of the worldWhen we come to itWe, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globeWho reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the daggerYet who petition in the dark for tokens of peaceWe, this people on this mote of matterIn whose mouths abide cankerous wordsWhich challenge our very existenceYet out of those same mouthsCome songs of such exquisite sweetnessThat the heart falters in its laborAnd the body is quieted into aweWe, this people, on this small and drifting planetWhose hands can strike with such abandonThat in a twinkling, life is sapped from the livingYet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tendernessThat the haughty neck is happy to bowAnd the proud back is glad to bendOut of such chaos, of such contradictionWe learn that we are neither devils nor divinesWhen we come to itWe, this people, on this wayward, floating bodyCreated on this earth, of this earthHave the power to fashion for this earthA climate where every man and every womanCan live freely without sanctimonious pietyWithout crippling fearWhen we come to itWe must confess that we are the possibleWe are the miraculous, the true wonder of this worldThat is when, and only whenWe come to it.
Opening Our Eyes(09 of121)
The Opening of Eyes by David WhyteThat day I saw beneath dark cloudsthe passing light over the waterand I heard the voice of the world speak out,I knew then, as I had beforelife is no passing memory of what has beennor the remaining pages in a great bookwaiting to be read.It is the opening of eyes long closed.It is the vision of far off thingsseen for the silence they hold.It is the heart after yearsof secret conversingspeaking out loud in the clear air.It is Moses in the desertfallen to his knees before the lit bush.It is the man throwing away his shoesas if to enter heavenand finding himself astonished,opened at last,fallen in love with solid ground.
Blessing Our Food(10 of121)
The food which we are about to eat Is Earth, Water, and Sun, compounded through the alchemy of many plants. Therefore Earth, Water and Sun will become part of us. This food is also the fruit of the labor of many. We are grateful for it. May it give us strength, health, joy.And may it increase our love. -Unitarian prayer
Rest Awhile(11 of121)
Come, Rest Awhile by Lucy Maud MontgomeryCome, rest awhile, and let us idly strayIn glimmering valleys, cool and far away.Come from the greedy mart, the troubled street,And listen to the music, faint and sweet,That echoes ever to a listening ear,Unheard by those who will not pause to hear–The wayward chimes of memory's pensive bells,Wind-blown o'er misty hills and curtained dells.One step aside and dewy buds uncloseThe sweetness of the violet and the rose;Song and romance still linger in the green,Emblossomed ways by you so seldom seen,And near at hand, would you but see them, lieAll lovely things beloved in days gone by.You have forgotten what it is to smileIn your too busy life–come, rest awhile.
The Captain of Your Soul(12 of121)
Invictus by William Ernest HenleyOut of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds and shall find me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate,I am the captain of my soul.
Play In The Rain(13 of121)
During Wind and Rain by Thomas HardyThey sing their dearest songs—He, she, all of them—yea,Treble and tenor and bass,And one to play;With the candles mooning each face. . . .Ah, no; the years O!How the sick leaves reel down in throngs!They clear the creeping moss—Elders and juniors—aye,Making the pathways neatAnd the garden gay;And they build a shady seat. . . .Ah, no; the years, the years,See, the white storm-birds wing across.They are blithely breakfasting all—Men and maidens—yea,Under the summer tree,With a glimpse of the bay,While pet fowl come to the knee. . . .Ah, no; the years O!And the rotten rose is ript from the wall.They change to a high new house,He, she, all of them—aye,Clocks and carpets and chairsOn the lawn all day,And brightest things that are theirs. . . .Ah, no; the years, the yearsDown their carved names the rain-drop ploughs.
I Am Eternal(14 of121)
Behind Me — dips Eternity by Emily DickinsonBehind Me — dips Eternity –Before Me — Immortality –Myself — the Term between –Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,Dissolving into Dawn away,Before the West begin –‘Tis Kingdoms — afterward — they say –In perfect — pauseless Monarchy –Whose Prince — is Son of None –Himself — His Dateless Dynasty –Himself — Himself diversify –In Duplicate divine –‘Tis Miracle before Me — then –‘Tis Miracle behind — between –A Crescent in the Sea –With Midnight to the North of Her –And Midnight to the South of Her –And Maelstrom — in the Sky –
Marching On(15 of121)
My Soul is Marching On! by YoganandaThe shining stars are sunk in darkness deep,The weary sun is dead at night,The moon’s soft smile doth fade anon;But still my soul is marching on!The grinding wheel of time hath crushedFull many a life of moon and star,And many a brightly smiling morn;But still my soul is marching on!The flowers bloomed, then hid in gloom,The bounty of the trees did cease;Colossal men have come and gone,But still my soul is marching on!The aeons one by one are flying,My arrows one by one are gone;Dimly, slowly, life is fading,But still my soul is marching on!Darkness, death, and failures vied;To block my path they fiercely tried.My fight with jealous Nature’s strong,But still my soul is marching on!
Worshipping In Nature(16 of121)
The Worship of Nature by John Greenleaf WhittierThe harp at Nature’s advent strungHas never ceased to play;The song the stars of morning sungHas never died away.And prayer is made, and praise is given,By all things near and far;The ocean looketh up to heaven,And mirrors every star.Its waves are kneeling on the strand,As kneels the human knee,Their white locks bowing to the sand,The priesthood of the sea!They pour their glittering treasures forth,Their gifts of pearl they bring,And all the listening hills of earthTake up the song they sing.The green earth sends its incense upFrom many a mountain shrine;From folded leaf and dewy cupShe pours her sacred wine.The mists above the morning rillsRise white as wings of prayer;The altar-curtains of the hillsAre sunset’s purple air.The winds with hymns of praise are loud,Or low with sobs of pain,—The thunder-organ of the cloud,The dropping tears of rain.With drooping head and branches crossedThe twilight forest grieves,Or speaks with tongues of PentecostFrom all its sunlit leaves.The blue sky is the temple’s arch,Its transept earth and air,The music of its starry marchThe chorus of a prayer.So Nature keeps the reverent frameWith which her years began,And all her signs and voices shameThe prayerless heart of man. (credit:Getty Images)
Serenity(17 of121)
The Serenity PrayerGod grant me the serenityto accept the things I cannot change;courage to change the things I can;and wisdom to know the difference.Living one day at a time;enjoying one moment at a time;accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;taking, as He did, this sinful worldas it is, not as I would have it;trusting that He will make all things rightif I surrender to His Will;that I may be reasonably happy in this lifeand supremely happy with Himforever in the next.Amen. (credit:Getty Images)
Come, Wanderer(18 of121)
Come, Come, Whoever You Are by RumiWanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.It doesn’t matter.Ours is not a caravan of despair.Come, even if you have broken your vowa thousand timesCome, yet again, come, come. (credit:imlijunda/500px)
Free Spirit(19 of121)
I am He! by ShankaracharyaMind, nor intellect, nor ego, feeling;Sky nor earth nor metals am I.I am He, I am He, Blessed spirit, I am He!No birth, no death, no caste have I;Father, mother, have I none.I am He, I am He, Blessed spirit, I am He!Beyond the flights of fancy, formless am I,Permeating the limbs of all life;Bondage I do not fear; I am free, ever free.I am He, I am He, Blessed spirit, I am He! (credit:Getty Images)
Your Inner Life(20 of121)
My Inner Life by Robert William Service'Tis true my garments threadbare are,And sorry poor I seem;But inly I am richer farThan any poet's dream.For I've a hidden life no oneCan ever hope to see;A sacred sanctuary noneMay share with me.Aloof I stand from out the strife,Within my heart a song;By virtue of my inner lifeI to myself belong.Against man-ruling I rebel,Yet do not fear defeat,For to my secret citadelI may retreat.Oh you who have an inner lifeBeyond this dismal dayWith wars and evil rumours rife,Go blessedly your way.Your refuge hold inviolate;Unto yourself be true,And shield serene from sordid fateThe Real You. (credit:Getty Images)
Listening, Learning(21 of121)
Ute PrayerEarth teach me stillnessas the grasses are stilled with new light.Earth teach me sufferingas old stones suffer with memory.Earth teach me humilityas blossoms are humble with beginning.Earth teach me caringas the mother who secures her young.Earth teach me courageas the tree which stands alone.Earth teach me limitationas the ant which crawls on the ground.Earth teach me freedomas the eagle which soars in the sky.Earth teach me acceptanceas the leaves which die in the fall.Earth teach me renewalas the seed which rises in the spring.Earth teach me to forget myselfas melted snow forgets its life.Earth teach me to remember kindnessas dry fields weep with rain. (credit:Getty Images)
Break And Build(22 of121)
Apocalypse by Sri ChinmoyWithin, without the cosmos wide am I;In joyful sweep I loose forth and draw back all.A birthless deathless Spirit that moves and is stillEver abides within to hear my call.I who create on earth my joys and dolesTo fulfill my matchless quest in all my play,I veil my face of truth with golden huesAnd see the serpent night and python day.A Consciousness Bliss I feel in each breath;I am the self amorous child of the Sun.At will I break and build my symbol sheathAnd freely enjoy the world’s unshadowed fun. (credit:Getty Images)
Trust(23 of121)
A Prayer of Trust by Thomas MertonMy Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.I do not see the road ahead of me.I cannot know for certain where it will end.Nor do I really know myself,and the fact that I think that I am following your willdoes not mean that I am actually doing so.But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing.I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right roadthough I may know nothing about it.Therefore will I trust you alwaysthough I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.I will not fear, for you are ever with me,and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. (credit:Getty Images)
The Mountain(24 of121)
Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain by Li PoThe birds have vanished down the sky.Now the last cloud drains away.We sit together, the mountain and me,until only the mountain remains. (credit:Flickr)
Live For Hope(25 of121)
Life by Charlotte BrontëLife, believe, is not a dreamSo dark as sages say;Oft a little morning rainForetells a pleasant day.Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,But these are transient all;If the shower will make the roses bloom,O why lament its fall?Rapidly, merrily,Life’s sunny hours flit by,Gratefully, cheerilyEnjoy them as they fly!What though Death at times steps in,And calls our Best away?What though sorrow seems to win,O’er hope, a heavy sway?Yet Hope again elastic springs,Unconquered, though she fell;Still buoyant are her golden wings,Still strong to bear us well.Manfully, fearlessly,The day of trial bear,For gloriously, victoriously,Can courage quell despair! (credit:Getty Images)
Never Forget What You Can Do(26 of121)
Famous by Naomi Shihab NyeThe river is famous to the fish.The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so.The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse.The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.The idea you carry close to your bosom is famous to your bosom.The boot is famous to the earth, more famous than the dress shoe, which is famous only to floors.The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets, sticky children in grocery lines, famous as the one who smiled back.I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do. (credit:Getty Images)
Maundy Thursday(27 of121)
Maundy Thursday by Wilfred OwenBetween the brown hands of a server-ladThe silver cross was offered to be kissed.The men came up, lugubrious, but not sad,And knelt reluctantly, half-prejudiced.(And kissing, kissed the emblem of a creed.)Then mourning women knelt; meek mouths they had,(And kissed the Body of the Christ indeed.)Young children came, with eager lips and glad.(These kissed a silver doll, immensely bright.)Then I, too, knelt before that acolyte.Above the crucifix I bent my head:The Christ was thin, and cold, and very dead:And yet I bowed, yea, kissed---my lips did cling.(I kissed the warm live hand that held the thing.) (credit:Flickr)
Earth Day(28 of121)
God the Artist by Angela MorganGod, when you thought of a pine tree,How did you think of a star?How did you dream of the Milky WayTo guide us from afar.How did you think of a clean brown poolWhere flecks of shadows are?God, when you thought of a cobweb,How did you think of dew?How did you know a spider's houseHad shingles bright and new?How did you know the human folkWould love them like they do?God, when you patterned a bird song,Flung on a silver string,How did you know the ecstasyThat crystal call would bring?How did you think of a bubbling throatAnd a darling speckled wing?God, when you chiseled a raindrop,How did you think of a stem,Bearing a lovely satin leafTo hold the tiny gem?How did you know a million dropsWould deck the morning's hem?Why did you mate the moonlit nightWith the honeysuckle vines?How did you know Madeira bloomDistilled ecstatic wines?How did you weave the velvet diskWhere tangled perfumes are?God, when you thought of a pine tree,How did you think of a star? (credit:Getty Images)
A Wild Sense Of Peace(29 of121)
The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell BerryWhen despair for the world grows in meand I wake in the night at the least soundin fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,I go and lie down where the wood drakerests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.I come into the peace of wild thingswho do not tax their lives with forethoughtof grief. I come into the presence of still water.And I feel above me the day-blind starswaiting with their light. For a timeI rest in the grace of the world, and am free. (credit:500px)
In A Dream(30 of121)
Song of a Dream by Sarojini NaiduOnce in the dream of a night I stoodLone in the light of a magical wood,Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowedIn that magical wood in the land of sleep.Lone in the light of that magical grove,I felt the stars of the spirits of LoveGather and gleam round my delicate youth,And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth;To quench my longing I bent me lowBy the streams of the spirits of Peace that flowIn that magical wood in the land of sleep. (credit:Getty Images)
Instrument Of Peace(31 of121)
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;where there is hatred, let me sow love;where there is injury, pardon;where there is doubt, faith;where there is despair, hope;where there is darkness, light;and where there is sadness, joy.O Divine Master,grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;to be understood, as to understand;to be loved, as to love;for it is in giving that we receive,it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. (credit:Getty Images)
Magic Of Melody(32 of121)
I Am In Need Of Music by Elizabeth BishopI am in need of music that would flowOver my fretful, feeling fingertips,Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,A song to fall like water on my head,And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!There is a magic made by melody:A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and coolHeart, that sinks through fading colors deepTo the subaqueous stillness of the sea,And floats forever in a moon-green pool,Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep. (credit:Getty Images)
Gliding(33 of121)
Gliding O'er All by Walt WhitmanGliding o'er all, through all,Through Nature, Time, and Space,As a ship on the waters advancing,The voyage of the soul—not life alone,Death, many deaths I'll sing. (credit:Getty Images)
To Love And Be Loved(34 of121)
Eros by Ralph Waldo EmersonThe sense of the world is short,Long and various the report,—To love and be beloved;Men and gods have not outlearned it,And how oft soe'er they've turned it,'Tis not to be improved. (credit:Getty Images)
You Will Arrive(35 of121)
Trust by Thomas R. SmithIt’s like so many other things in life to which you must say no or yes. So you take your car to the new mechanic. Sometimes the best thing to do is trust.The package left with the disreputable-looking clerk, the check gulped by the night deposit, the envelope passed by dozens of strangers— all show up at their intended destinations.The theft that could have happened doesn’t. Wind finally gets where it was going through the snowy trees, and the river, even when frozen, arrives at the right place.And sometimes you sense how faithfully your life is delivered, even though you can’t read the address. (credit:Getty Images)
Find An Unlikely Friend(36 of121)
Your Catfish Friend by Richard BrautiganIf I were to live my life in catfish formsin scaffolds of skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond and you were to come by one eveningwhen the moon was shining down into my dark home and stand there at the edge of my affectionand think, “It’s beautiful here by this pond. I wish somebody loved me,"I’d love you and be your catfish friend and drive such lonely thoughts from your mind and suddenly you would beat peace,and ask yourself, “I wonder if there are any catfish in this pond? It seems like a perfect place for them.” (credit:Getty Images)
Miracles(37 of121)
Miracles by Walt WhitmanWhy, who makes much of a miracle?As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge ofthe water, Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at nightwith any one I love, Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summerforenoon, Or animals feeding in the fields, Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining soquiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread withthe same,Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.To me the sea is a continual miracle,The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships with men in them,What stranger miracles are there? (credit:Getty Images)
Seaside(38 of121)
Flowers by the Sea by William Carlos WilliamsWhen over the flowery, sharp pasture’sedge, unseen, the salt oceanlifts its form—chicory and daisiestied, released, seem hardly flowers alonebut color and the movement—or the shapeperhaps—of restlessness, whereasthe sea is circled and swayspeacefully upon its plantlike stem (credit:Getty Images)
Walk Softly(39 of121)
Walk Softly, a Shaker hymnWhen we assemble here to worship God,To sing his praises and to hear his wordWe will walk softly.With purity of heart; and with clean hands,Our souls are free, we're free from Satan's bandsWe will walk softly.While we are passing thro' the sacred door,Into the fold where Christ has gone before,We will walk softly.We'll worship and bow down we will rejoiceAnd when we hear the shepherd's gentle voiceWe will walk softly. (credit:Getty Images)
Promises(40 of121)
The Promise by Jane HirshfieldStay, I saidto the cut flowers.They bowedtheir heads lower.Stay, I said to the spider,who fled.Stay, leaf.It reddened,embarrassed for me and itself.Stay, I said to my body.It sat as a dog does,obedient for a moment,soon starting to tremble.Stay, to the earthof riverine valley meadows,of fossiled escarpments,of limestone and sandstone.It looked backwith a changing expression, in silence.Stay, I said to my loves.Each answered,Always. (credit:Getty Images)
God Particles(41 of121)
God Particles by James CrewsI could almost hear their soft collisionson the cold air today, but when I came in,shed my layers and stood alone by the fire,I felt them float toward me like sporesflung far from their source, having crossedmiles of oceans and fields unknown to mostjust to keep my body fixed to its placeon the earth. Call them God if you must,these messengers that bring hard evidenceof what I once was and where I have been—filling me with bits of stardust, whaleskin,goosedown from the pillow where Einsteinonce slept, tucked in his cottage in New Jersey,dreaming of things I know I’ll never see. (credit:Getty Images)
Memorial Day(42 of121)
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth FryeDo not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep.I am in a thousand winds that blow;I am the softly falling snow.I am the gentle showers of rain;I am the fields of ripening grain.I am in the morning hush;I am in the graceful rush.Of beautiful birds in circling flight,I am the starshine of the night.I am in the flowers that bloom,I am in a quiet room.I am the birds that sing,I am in each lovely thing.Do not stand at my grave and cry,I am not there. I do not die. (credit:AP Photos)
(43 of121)
Opportunities(44 of121)
Opportunity by Robert WinnerOpportunity I love youWindows and watermelons march down the streetThe air is nobodySky is in positionI am ready to endure my freedomA riderless horse on a saffron plainA lake that spinsA tree that lets the wind decide (credit:Getty Images)
A Passion For Life(45 of121)
The More Loving One by W.H. AudenLooking up at the stars, I know quite wellThat, for all they care, I can go to hell,But on earth indifference is the leastWe have to dread from man or beast.How should we like it were stars to burnWith a passion for us we could not return?If equal affection cannot be,Let the more loving one be me.Admirer as I think I amOf stars that do not give a damn,I cannot, now I see them, sayI missed one terribly all day.Were all stars to disappear or die,I should learn to look at an empty skyAnd feel its total dark sublime,Though this might take me a little time. (credit:Getty Images)
Every Step of Your Path(46 of121)
Prayer of the Stages of the PathThe path begins with strong relianceOn my kind Teacher, source of all good;O Bless me with this understandingTo follow him with great devotion.This human life with all its freedoms,Extremely rare, with so much meaning;O Bless me with this understandingAll day and night to seize its essence.My body, like a water bubble,Decays and dies so very quickly;After death come results of karma,Just like the shadow of a body.With this firm knowledge and remembranceBless me to be extremely cautious,Always avoiding harmful actions And gathering abundant virtue.Samsara’s pleasures are deceptive,Give no contentment, only torment;So please bless me to strive sincerely To gain the bliss of perfect freedom.O Bless me so that from this pure thoughtCome mindfulness and greatest caution,To keep as my essential practiceThe doctrine’s root, the Pratimoksha.Just like myself all my kind mothersAre drowning in samsara’s ocean;O So that I may soon release them,Bless me to train in bodhichitta.But I cannot become a BuddhaBy this alone without three ethics;So bless me with the strength to practiseThe Bodhisattva’s ordination.By pacifying my distractionsAnd analyzing perfect meanings,Bless me to quickly gain the unionOf special insight and quiescence.When I become a pure containerThrough common paths, bless me to enterThe essence practice of good fortune,The supreme vehicle, Vajrayana.The two attainments both depend onMy sacred vows and my commitments;Bless me to understand this clearlyAnd keep them at the cost of my life.By constant practice in four sessions,The way explained by holy Teachers,O Bless me to gain both the stages,Which are the essence of the Tantras.May those who guide me on the good path,And my companions all have long lives;Bless me to pacify completelyAll obstacles, outer and inner.May I always find perfect Teachers,And take delight in holy Dharma,Accomplish all grounds and paths swiftly,And gain the state of Vajradhara. (credit:Getty Images)
Be Still(47 of121)
Rest by Christina RossettiO EARTH, lie heavily upon her eyes;Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;Lie close around her; leave no room for mirthWith its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.She hath no questions, she hath no replies,Hush'd in and curtain'd with a blessèd dearthOf all that irk'd her from the hour of birth;With stillness that is almost Paradise.Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,Silence more musical than any song;Even her very heart has ceased to stir:Until the morning of EternityHer rest shall not begin nor end, but be;And when she wakes she will not think it long. (credit:Getty Images)
To Be Or Not To Be(48 of121)
To be, or not to be--that is the question:Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of outrageous fortuneOr to take arms against a sea of troublesAnd by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--No more--and by a sleep to say we endThe heartache, and the thousand natural shocksThat flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummationDevoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep--To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,For in that sleep of death what dreams may comeWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause. There's the respectThat makes calamity of so long life.For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumelyThe pangs of despised love, the law's delay,The insolence of office, and the spurnsThat patient merit of th' unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus makeWith a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,To grunt and sweat under a weary life,But that the dread of something after death,The undiscovered country, from whose bournNo traveller returns, puzzles the will,And makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,And thus the native hue of resolutionIs sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,And enterprise of great pitch and momentWith this regard their currents turn awryAnd lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisonsBe all my sins remembered. (credit:Getty Images)
Cool Off(49 of121)
At Noon by Reginald GibbonsThe thick-walled room’s cave-darkness,cool in summer, soothesby saying, This is the truth, not the taut cicada-strummed daylight.Rest here, out of the flame—the thick air’sstirred by the fan’s fourslow-moving spoons; under the house the stonehas its feet in deep water.Outside, even the sun god, dressed in this lifeas a lizard, abruptly riseson stiff legs and descends blasé toward the shadows. (credit:Getty Images)
There Is No Waiting(50 of121)
The Call by Oriah Mountain DreamerI have heard it all my life,A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper.Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency.But always it says: Wake up, my love. You are walking asleep.There’s no safety in that!Remember what you are, and let a deeper knowingcolor the shape of your humanness.There is nowhere to go. What you are looking for is right here.Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand.There is no waiting for something to happen,no point in the future to get to.All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.Come home and rest.How much longer can you live like this?Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles. All this trying.Give it up!Let yourself be one of the God-mad,faithful only to the Beauty you are.Let the Lover pull you to your feet and hold you close,dancing even when fear urges you to sit this one out.Remember, there is one word you are here to say with your whole being.When it finds you, give your life to it. Don’t be tight-lipped and stingy.Spend yourself completely on the saying,Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together. (credit:Getty Images)
Still You Rise(51 of121)
Still I Rise by Maya AngelouYou may write me down in historyWith your bitter, twisted lies,You may trod me in the very dirtBut still, like dust, I’ll rise.Does my sassiness upset you?Why are you beset with gloom?‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wellsPumping in my living room.Just like moons and like suns,With the certainty of tides,Just like hopes springing high,Still I’ll rise.Did you want to see me broken?Bowed head and lowered eyes?Shoulders falling down like teardrops,Weakened by my soulful cries?Does my haughtiness offend you?Don’t you take it awful hard‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold minesDiggin’ in my own backyard.You may shoot me with your words,You may cut me with your eyes,You may kill me with your hatefulness,But still, like air, I’ll rise.Does my sexiness upset you?Does it come as a surpriseThat I dance like I’ve got diamondsAt the meeting of my thighs?Out of the huts of history’s shameI riseUp from a past that’s rooted in painI riseI’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.Leaving behind nights of terror and fearI riseInto a daybreak that’s wondrously clearI riseBringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,I am the dream and the hope of the slave.I riseI riseI rise. (credit:Getty Images)
Survivors(52 of121)
The following meditation will begin and end with the sound of the mindfulness bell.breathing ini am aware of my pain.breathing outi am aware that i am not my pain.breathing ini am aware of my past.breathing outi am aware that i am not my past.breathing ini am aware of my anger.breathing outi am aware that i am not my anger.breathing ini am aware of my despair.breathing outi am aware that i am not my despair.breathing ini am aware of peace.breathing outi am aware that i am worthy of peace.breathing ini am aware of love.breathing outi am aware that i am worthy of love.breathing ini am aware of joy.breathing outi am aware that i am an agent of joy.breathing ini am aware of hope.breathing outi am aware that i am an agent of hope.breathing ini am aware. (credit:Getty Images)
Leaving(53 of121)
No More Leaving by HafezAt Some pointYour relationshipWith GodWillBecome like this:Next time you meet Him in the forestOr on a crowded city streetThere won't be anymore"Leaving."That is,God will climb intoYour pocket.You will simply just takeYourselfAlong! (credit:Getty Images)
Start Living(54 of121)
My life has been the poem I would have writ by Henry David ThoreauMy life has been the poem I would have writBut I could not both live and utter it. (credit:Getty Images)
Where Wisdom Is(55 of121)
The Tables Turned by William WordsworthUp! up! my Friend, and quit your books;Or surely you’ll grow double:Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;Why all this toil and trouble?The sun above the mountain’s head,A freshening lustre mellowThrough all the long green fields has spread,His first sweet evening yellow.Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife:Come, hear the woodland linnet,How sweet his music! on my life,There’s more of wisdom in it.And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!He, too, is no mean preacher:Come forth into the light of things,Let Nature be your teacher.She has a world of ready wealth,Our minds and hearts to bless–Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,Truth breathed by cheerfulness.One impulse from a vernal woodMay teach you more of man,Of moral evil and of good,Than all the sages can.Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;Our meddling intellectMis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:–We murder to dissect.Enough of Science and of Art;Close up those barren leaves;Come forth, and bring with you a heartThat watches and receives. (credit:Getty Images)
The World Before You(56 of121)
Song of the Open Road, Part 1 by Walt WhitmanAfoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,Healthy, free, the world before me,The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,Strong and content I travel the open road.The earth, that is sufficient,I do not want the constellations any nearer,I know they are very well where they are,I know they suffice for those who belong to them.(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.) (credit:Getty Images)
Goddess(57 of121)
The Charge of the Goddess by Doreen ValienteListen to the words of the Great Mother, who was of old also called Artemis; Astarte; Diana; Melusine; Aphrodite; Cerridwen; Dana; Arianrhod; Isis; Bride; and by many other names.Whenever ye have need of anything, once in a month, and better it be when the Moon be full, then ye shall assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of me, who am Queen of all Witcheries.There shall ye assemble, ye who are fain to learn all sorcery, yet have not yet won its deepest secrets: to these will I teach things that are yet unknown.And ye shall be free from slavery; and as a sign that ye are really free, ye shall be naked in your rites; and ye shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in my praise.For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit and mine also is joy on earth; for my Law is Love unto all Beings.Keep pure your highest ideal; strive ever toward it; let naught stop you or turn you aside.For mine is the secret door which opens upon the Land of Youth; and mine is the Cup of the Wine of Life, and the Cauldron of Cerridwen, which is the Holy Grail of Immortality.I am the Gracious Goddess, who gives the gift of joy unto the heart. Upon earth, I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal; and beyond death, I give peace, and freedom, and reunion with those who have gone before. Nor do I demand sacrifice, for behold I am the Mother of All Living, and my love is poured out upon the earth.Hear ye the words of the Star Goddess, she in the dust of whose feet are the hosts of heaven; whose body encircleth the Universe; I, who am the beauty of the green earth, and the white Moon among the stars, and the mystery of the waters, and the heart’s desire, call unto thy soul. Arise and come unto me.For I am the Soul of Nature, who giveth life to the universe; from me all things proceed, and unto me must all things return; and before my face, beloved of gods and mortals, thine inmost divine self shall be unfolded in the rapture of infinite joy.Let my worship be within the heart that rejoiceth, for behold: all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals. And therefore let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honour and humility, mirth and reverence within you.And thou who thinkest to seek for me, know thy seeking and yearning shall avail thee not, unless thou know this mystery: that if that which thou seekest thou findest not within thee, thou wilt never find it without thee.For behold, I have been with thee from the beginning; and I am that which is attained at the end of desire. (credit:Getty Images)
Thirst(58 of121)
A Sikh PrayerYou are the Ocean of Water, and I am Your fish.Your Name is the drop of water, and I am a thirsty rainbird.You are my hope, and You are my thirst. My mind is absorbed in You.Just as the baby is satisfied by drinking milk,and the poor person is pleased by seeing wealth,and the thirsty person is refreshed by drinking cool water, so is this mind drenched with delight in the Lord.Just as the darkness is lit up by the lamp,and the hopes of the wife are fulfilled by thinking about her husband,and people are filled with bliss upon meeting their beloved, so is my mind imbued with the Lord's Love.The Saints have set me upon the Lord's Path.By the Grace of the Holy Saint, I have been attuned to the Lord.The Lord is mine, and I am the slave of the Lord. O Nanak, the Guru has blessed me with the True Word of the Shabad. - Guru Arjan (credit:Getty Images)
Pray For World Peace(59 of121)
Prayer For World Peace by Dr. Jane GoodallWe pray to the great Spiritual Power in whichwe live and move and have our being.We pray that we may at all timeskeep our minds open to new ideas and shun dogma;that we may grow in our understanding of the nature of all living beingsand our connectedness with the natural world;that we may become ever more filled withgenerosity of spirit and true compassion and love for all life;that we may strive to heal the hurts that we have inflicted on natureand control our greed for material things, knowing thatour actions are harming our natural world and the future of our children;that we may value each and every human beingfor who he is, for who she is,reaching to the spirit that is within,knowing the power of each individual to change the world.We pray for social justice,for the alleviation of the crippling povertythat condemns millions of people around the worldto lives of misery - hungry, sick, and utterly without hope.We pray for the children who are starving,who are condemned to homelessness, slave labor, and prostitution,and especially for those forced to fight, to kill and tortureeven members of their own family.We pray for the victims of violence and war,for those wounded in body and for those wounded in mind.We pray for the multitudes of refugees, forced from their homes to alien placesthrough war or through the utter destruction of their environment.We pray for suffering animals everywhere,for an end to the pain caused by scientific experimentation,intensive farming, fur farming, shooting, trapping,training for entertainment, abusive pet owners,and all other forms of exploitationsuch as overloading and overworking pack animals,bull fighting, badger baiting, dog and cock fighting and so many more.We pray for an end to cruelty,whether to humans or other animals,for an end to bullying, and torture in all its forms.We pray that we may learn the peace that comes with forgivingand the strength we gain in loving;that we may learn to take nothing for granted in this life;that we may learn to see and understand with our hearts;that we may learn to rejoice in our being.We pray for these things with humility;We pray because of the hope that is within us,and because of a faith in the ultimate triumph of the human spirit;We pray because of our love for Creation, and because of our trust in God.We pray, above all, for peace throughout the world. (credit:Getty Images)
A Moment Of Peace(60 of121)
A Short Peace Poem by Sri ChinmoyWorld peace can be achievedWhen, in each person,The power of loveReplaces the love of power. (credit:Getty Images)
Dare To Be(61 of121)
Disturb Us, Lord by Sir Francis DrakeDisturb us, Lord, whenWe are too pleased with ourselves,When our dreams have come trueBecause we dreamed too little,When we arrived safelyBecause we sailed too close to the shore.Disturb us, Lord, whenWith the abundance of things we possessWe have lost our thirstFor the waters of life;Having fallen in love with life,We have ceased to dream of eternityAnd in our efforts to build a new earth,We have allowed our visionOf the new Heaven to dim.Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,To venture on wilder seasWhere storms will show Your mastery;Where losing sight of land,We shall find the stars.We ask you to push backThe horizons of our hopes;And to push back the futureIn strength, courage, hope, and love.This we ask in the name of our Captain,Who is Jesus Christ. (credit:Getty Images)
Memorial(62 of121)
Memorial by Clifton GachaguaTo the young and able man who lets his death come inwith veils in his face that say you can come in and claima place among us. To the young man who closes his eyesto the parting of clouds and lets what is beyond come in.To the young man whose body is still warm, that weightlessbeing with halos, whose footsteps we will never fill. To the endlessclock machine in the god body of the young man whocloses his eyes as the light sweeps him to eternity. To the blessedbeating of his heart when we listen to our closed palms.To the complex latticework of smiles in his photographsevery two seconds you pick him up and back. God body love.Good-bye. To the young man whose laughter is now a memorial among us,as we sit under tents, listen to our mothers and sisters cry,shed our own not-so-private god tears love, shelter underthe night that claimed him. To him and beyond and the endlesslove through which God privately loves him. (credit:Getty Images)
Waiting(63 of121)
Fragment by Thomas HardyAt last I entered a long dark gallery,Catacomb-lined; and ranged at the sideWere the bodies of men from far and wideWho, motion past, were nevertheless not dead."The sense of waiting here strikes strong;Everyone's waiting, waiting, it seems to me;What are you waiting for so long? —What is to happen?" I said."O we are waiting for one called God," said they,"(Though by some the Will, or Force, or Laws;And, vaguely, by some, the Ultimate Cause;)Waiting for him to see us before we are clay.Yes; waiting, waiting, for God to know it." ..."To know what?" questioned I."To know how things have been going on earth and below it:It is clear he must know some day."I thereon asked them why."Since he made us humble pioneersOf himself in consciousness of Life's tears,It needs no mighty prophecyTo tell that what he could mindlessly showHis creatures, he himself will know."By some still close-cowled mysteryWe have reached feeling faster than he,But he will overtake us anon,If the world goes on." (credit:Getty Images)
Let Us Love(64 of121)
A Song by Anne FinchLove, thou art best of Human Joys,Our chiefest Happiness below;All other Pleasures are but Toys,Musick without Thee is but Noise,And Beauty but an empty show.Heav’n, who knew best what Man wou’d move,And raise his Thoughts above the Brute;Said, Let him Be, and Let him Love;That must alone his Soul improve,Howe’er Philosophers dispute. (credit:Getty Images)
A Moment Of Peace(65 of121)
Words Of Truth(66 of121)
Words of Truth by The Dalai LamaHonoring and Invoking the Great Compassionof the Three Jewels; the Buddha, the Teachings,and the Spiritual CommunityO Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and disciplesof the past, present, and future:Having remarkable qualitiesImmeasurably vast as the ocean,Who regard all helpless sentient beingsas your only child;Please consider the truth of my anguished pleas.Buddha's full teachings dispel the pain of worldlyexistence and self-oriented peace;May they flourish, spreading prosperity and happiness through-out this spacious world.O holders of the Dharma: scholarsand realized practitioners;May your ten fold virtuous practice prevail.Humble sentient beings, tormentedby sufferings without cease,Completely suppressed by seemingly endlessand terribly intense, negative deeds,May all their fears from unbearable war, famine,and disease be pacified,To freely breathe an ocean of happiness and well-being.And particularly the pious peopleof the Land of Snows who, through various means,Are mercilessly destroyed by barbaric hordeson the side of darkness,Kindly let the power of your compassion arise,To quickly stem the flow of blood and tears.Read the rest of the prayer on the Dalai Lama's website. (credit:Getty Images)
Asking For Help(67 of121)
Lord's Prayer: An Interpretation by Jim BurkloDear One, closer to us than our own hearts, farther from us than the most distant star, you are beyond naming.May your powerful presence become obvious not only in the undeniable glory of the sky, but also in the seemingly base and common processes of the earth.Give us what we need, day by day, to keep body and soul together, because clever as you have made us, we still owe our existence to you.We recognize that to be reconciled with you, we must live peaceably and justly with other human beings, putting hate and bitterness behind us.We are torn between our faith in your goodness and our awareness of the evil in your creation, so deliver us from the temptation to despair.Yours alone is the universe and all its majesty and beauty.So it is, Amen. (credit:Getty Images)
No More War(68 of121)
A Prayer Against War by Walter RauschenbuschO Lord, since first the blood of Abel cried to thee from the ground that drank it, this earth of thine has been defiled with the blood of humanity shed by the hands of sisters and brothers, and the centuries sob with the ceaseless horror of war. Ever the pride of kings and the covetousness of the strong has driven peaceful nations to slaughter. Ever the songs of the past and the pomp of armies have been used to inflame the passions of the people.Our spirit cries out to thee in revolt against it, and we know that our righteous anger is answered by thy holy wrath. Break thou the spell of the enchantments that make the nations drunk with the lust of battle and draw them on as willing tools of death. Grant us a quiet and steadfast mind when our own nation clamors for vengeance or aggression. Strengthen our sense of justice and our regard for the equal worth of other peoples and races. Grant to the rulers of nations faith in the possibilities of peace through justice, and grant to the common people a new and stern enthusiasm for the cause of peace.Bless our soldiers and sailors for their swift obedience and their willingness to answer to the call of duty, but inspire them none the less with a hatred of war, and may they never for love of private glory or advancement provoke its coming. May our young men and women still rejoice to die for their country with the valor of their fathers and mothers, but teach our age nobler methods of matching our strength and more effective ways of giving our life for the flag.O thou strong God of all the nations, draw all thy great family together with an increasing sense of our common blood and destiny, that peace may come on earth at last, and thy sun may shed its light rejoicing on a holy unity of all people.Amen. (credit:Getty Images)
Losing A Pet(69 of121)
Your Pets In Heaven by Ken D. ConoverTo have loved and then said farewell, is better than to have never loved at all. For all of the times that you have stooped and touched my head, fed me my favorite treat and returned the love that I so unconditionally gave to you. For the care that you gave to me so unselfishly. For all of these things I am grateful and thankful.I ask that you not grieve for the loss, but rejoice in the fact that we lived, loved and touched each others lives. My life was fuller because you were there, not as a master/owner, but as my FRIEND.Today I am as I was in my youth. The grass is always green, butterflies flit among the flowers and the Sun shines gently down upon all of God's creatures. I can run, jump, play and do all of the things that I did in my youth. There is no sickness, no aching joints and no regrets and no aging.We await the arrival of our lifelong companions and know that togetherness is forever. You live in our hearts as we do in yours. Companions such as you are so rare and unique. Don't hold the love that you have within yourself. Give it to another like me and then I will live forever. For love never really dies, and you are loved and missed as surely as we are. (credit:Getty Images)
For Our World(70 of121)
For Our World, Our Earth by Walter RauschenbuschO God, we thank You for this universe, our great home; for the vastness and richness of our cosmic environment; for the manifoldness of life on the planet of which we are a part.We are thankful for the morning sun and the clouds and the constellations of stars.We rejoice in the salt sea and the deep waters and green leaves of grass.We thank You for our sense by which we experience earth’s splendor.We would have souls open to all this joy, souls saved from being so weighted with care that we pass unseeing when the thornbush by the wayside is aflame with beauty.Enlarge within us a sense of fellowship with all that lives and moves and has being in space and time, especially with all who share this earth as their common home with us.Remembering with shame that in the past, we human beings have all too often exercised high dominion with ruthless cruelty, we admit that the voice of the earth, which should have gone up to You in song, has been a groan of travail.May we so live that our world may not be ravished by our greed nor spoiled by our ignorance.May we hand on earth’s common heritage of life, undiminished in joy when our bodies return in peace to You, our Great Mother who has nourished them. (credit:Getty Images)
Life's Miracles(71 of121)
Miracles by Walt WhitmanWhy, who makes much of a miracle?As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge ofthe water, Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at nightwith any one I love, Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summerforenoon, Or animals feeding in the fields, Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining soquiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread withthe same,Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.To me the sea is a continual miracle,The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships with men in them,What stranger miracles are there? (credit:Getty Images)
The Muses(72 of121)
To the Muses by William BlakeWhether on Ida's shady brow,Or in the chambers of the East,The chambers of the sun, that nowFrom ancient melody have ceas'd;Whether in Heav'n ye wander fair,Or the green corners of the earth,Or the blue regions of the air,Where the melodious winds have birth;Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,Beneath the bosom of the seaWand'ring in many a coral grove,Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!How have you left the ancient loveThat bards of old enjoy'd in you!The languid strings do scarcely move!The sound is forc'd, the notes are few! (credit:Getty Images)
There Is Hope(73 of121)
“Hope” is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson“Hope” is the thing with feathers -That perches in the soul -And sings the tune without the words -And never stops - at all -And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -And sore must be the storm -That could abash the little BirdThat kept so many warm -I’ve heard it in the chillest land -And on the strangest Sea -Yet - never - in Extremity,It asked a crumb - of me.From 'The Poems of Emily Dickinson' edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)
Night(74 of121)
If I say, "Surely the shadows will cover me, and light around me turn to night," to you even the night is filled with light; night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light to you are both alike. (Psalm 139:11)
Make Us Wise(75 of121)
I Come Before You by Chief Yellow LarkGreat Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds and whose breath gives life to the world: as I come before You, one of Your many children, I am small and weak; I need Your strength and wisdom. May I walk in beauty; may my eyes behold the red and purple sunset; may my hands respect what You have made; may my ears be sharp to hear Your voice.Make me wise, so I may know what You teach in every leaf and rock. Make me strong, so I may be able to fight my greatest enemy, myself. May I ever be ready to come to You with clean hands and straight eyes, so that when life fades like a sunset, I may come You without shame. (credit:Getty Images)
Simplicity(76 of121)
Tis the gift to be simple,Tis the gift to be free,Tis the gift to come downWhere we ought to be --And when we find ourselvesIn the place just right,'Twill in the valleyOf love and delight.When true simplicity is gained,To bow and to bendWe shan't be asham'd,To turn, turn will be our delight,Til by turning, turningWe come round right (credit:Flickr)
The Art Of Living(77 of121)
"The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his education and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he is always doing both." -- L.P. Jacks. (credit:Getty Images)
Destiny(78 of121)
I asked of Destiny by TagoreI asked of Destiny, “Tell me who with relentless hand pushes me on?”Destiny told me to look behind.I turned and saw my own self behind pushing forward the self in front. (credit:Getty Images)
Good Morning(79 of121)
Morning ChantThe Dharma body is bringing morning light.In concentration, our hearts are at peace,a half-smile is born upon our lips.This is a new day. We vow to go through it in mindfulness.The sun of wisdom has now risen, shining in every direction.Noble Sangha, diligently bring your mind into meditation.Namo Shakyamunaye BuddhayaNamo Shakyamunaye BuddhayaNamo Shakyamunaye Buddhaya (credit:Getty Images)
The Meaning Of Pain(80 of121)
On Pain by Khalil GibranYour pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
Generous Spirit(81 of121)
Prayer for GenerosityLord Jesus, teach me to be generous.Teach me to serve you as you deserve, To give and not to count the cost, To fight and not to heed the wounds, To toil and not to seek for rest, To labor and not to seek reward, Except that of knowing that I do your will. Amen.
Thanksgiving(82 of121)
Thanksgiving by Ralph Waldo EmersonFor each new morning with its light,For rest and shelter of the night,For health and food,For love and friends,For everything Thy goodness sends.
World AIDS Day(83 of121)
With One sweet Word of PeaceWith one sweet word of peace We bid our brother go; Peace as a river to increase And ceaseless flow. With one calm word of prayer We earnestly commend Our brother to your loving arms, Eternal friend.With one dear word of love We give our brief farewell; Our love on earth and yours beyond With him shall dwell.With one strong word of faith, We stay ourselves in you, And you, O God, in life and death Will strength imbue.For then one word of hope Shall on our parting gleam, And speak of joys beyond the scope Of parting grief. Farewell in hope and love, In faith and peace and prayer, Until the power of God's great arms Draws us all near.-George Watson (adapted)
From War To Peace(84 of121)
An International Prayer for PeaceLead me from death to life, from falsehood to truth.Lead me from despair to hope, from fear to trust.Lead me from hate to love, from war to peace.Let peace fill our heart, our world, our universe.Peace, peace, peace.
Mistletoe(85 of121)
Mistletoe by Walter John de la MareSitting under the mistletoe(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),One last candle burning low,All the sleepy dancers gone,Just one candle burning on,Shadows lurking everywhere:Some one came, and kissed me there.Tired I was; my head would goNodding under the mistletoe(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),No footsteps came, no voice, but only,Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,Stooped in the still and shadowy airLips unseen—and kissed me there.
Prayers That Change The World(86 of121)
The Predicament of Prayer by Abraham Joshua HeschelThe predicament of prayer is twofold: Not only do we not know how to pray; we do not know what to pray for. We have lost the ability to be shocked. Should we not pray for the ability to be shocked at atrocities committed by humanity, for the capacity to be dismayed at our inability to be dismayed?Prayer should be an act of catharsis, of purgation of emotions, as well as a process of self-clarification, of examining priorities, of elucidating responsibility. Prayer not verified by conduct is an act of desecration and blasphemy.A home is more than an exclusive habitat, mine and never yours. A residence devoid of hospitality is a den or a hole, not a home. Prayer must never be a citadel for selfish concerns, but rather a place for deepening concern over other people’s plight.Prayer is meaningless unless it is subversive, unless it seeks to overthrow and to ruin the pyramids of callousness, hatred, opportunism, falsehoods. The liturgical movement must become a revolutionary movement, seeking to overthrow the forces that continue to destroy the promise, the hope, the vision. (Moral Grandeur, pp. 262-63)
Journey Of The Magi(87 of121)
The Journey of the Magi by TS Eliot'A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.' And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. Then the camel men cursing and grumbling and running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly.Read the rest at AllPoetry.com
The Nativity(88 of121)
On The Morning of Christ's Nativity by John MiltonI.This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven’s eternal King, Of wedded maid and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing,That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. IIThat glorious Form, that Light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven’s high council-tableTo sit the midst of Trinal Unity, He laid aside, and, here with us to be, Forsook the Courts of everlasting Day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. IIISay, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred veinAfford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the heaven, by the Sun’s team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light,And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? IVSee how from far upon the Eastern road The star-led Wisards haste with odours sweet! Oh! run; prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessèd feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.Read the rest at Poets.org
The Night Before Christmas(89 of121)
A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the houseNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;The children were nestled all snug in their beds;While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.Away to the window I flew like a flash,Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,When what to my wondering eyes did appear,But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,With a little old driver so lively and quick,I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.Read the rest at Poetry Foundation.
Spellbound(90 of121)
Spellbound by Emily BronteThe night is darkening round me,The wild winds coldly blow;But a tyrant spell has bound meAnd I cannot, cannot go.The giant trees are bendingTheir bare boughs weighed with snow.And the storm is fast descending,And yet I cannot go.Clouds beyond clouds above me,Wastes beyond wastes below;But nothing drear can move me;I will not, cannot go.
The Way(91 of121)
IThe Way - cannot be told.The Name - cannot be named.The nameless is the Way of Heaven and Earth.The named is Matrix of the Myriad Creatures.Eliminate desire to find the Way.Embrace desire to know the Creature.The two are identical,But differ in name as they arise.Identical they are called mysterious,Mystery on mystery,The gate of many secrets.IIThe world knows beauty as beauty,So there is then ugliness.The world knows good as good,So there is then the bad.As is and is-not create each other,The hard and easy define each other,The long and short delimit each other,The high and low depend on each other,Voice and music harmonize with each other,Last and next follow each other.So the wise adhere to action through non-action,And communicate the teaching without words.From the Way come the myriad creaturesYet it imposes no authority.It gives them life without possession.It benefits them but asks no thanks.It does its work but claims no merit.Because it claims no meritMerit is never lacking in it.From the Tao Te Ching.
Navigating Life's Waters(92 of121)
You Yourself are the ocean and the boat. You Yourself are this shore, and the one beyond. O All-knowing Lord, You are the True Way. The Shabad is the Navigator to ferry us across. One who does not fear God shall live in fear; without the Guru, there is only pitch darkness.From the Guru Granth Sahib.
Become Your Own Light(93 of121)
Scattered rosebuds along lanes paved with sliced memories,each a reflectionwithin a reflection, glisteningagainst watersof the year gone by-the making, unmakingand remaking of a phenomenonthat is man himself.I wish that you never run out ofpeople to thank,moments to smile atand inkto give wings to your dreamswithin a dream.I wish you bothflowers in full bloomand remnantsof withered petalsfor the fragranceis neither in form,nor in shape, butin being and believing.I wish you colourin all its panoramic mightbut I also wish youthe wisdomto appreciate all that is black and white.I wish for youto becomeyour own lightfor the sun setsand the stars fadebut the soul alwaysremains.by Swastika Jajoo
Hold Onto Your Dreams(94 of121)
Dreams by Langston HughesHold fast to dreams For if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.
Shared Humanity(95 of121)
Common Dust by Georgia Douglas JohnsonAnd who shall separate the dustWhat later we shall be:Whose keen discerning eye will scanAnd solve the mystery?The high, the low, the rich, the poor, The black, the white, the red, And all the chromatic between, Of whom shall it be said:Here lies the dust of Africa; Here are the sons of Rome; Here lies the one unlabeled, The world at large his home!Can one then separate the dust? Will mankind lie apart, When life has settled back again The same as from the start?
Cosmos(96 of121)
Kosmos by Walt WhitmanWho includes diversity and is Nature,Who is the amplitude of the earth, and the coarseness and sexuality of the earth, and the great charity of the earth and the equilibrium also,Who has not look’d forth from the windows the eyes for nothing, or whose brain held audience with messengers for nothing,Who contains believers and disbelievers, who is the most majestic lover,Who holds duly his or her triune proportion of realism, spiritualism, and of the æsthetic or intellectual,Who having consider’d the body finds all its organs and parts good,Who, out of the theory of the earth and of his or her body understands by subtle analogies all other theories,The theory of a city, a poem, and of the large politics of these States;Who believes not only in our globe with its sun and moon, but in other globes with their suns and moons,Who, constructing the house of himself or herself, not for a day but for all time, sees races, eras, dates, generations,The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, inseparable together. (credit:Getty Images)
Find Your Voice(97 of121)
The Journey by Mary OliverOne day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice--though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your ankles."Mend my life!"each voice cried.But you didn't stop.You knew what you had to do,though the wind priedwith its stiff fingersat the very foundations,though their melancholywas terrible.It was already lateenough, and a wild night,and the road full of fallenbranches and stones.But little by little,as you left their voices behind,the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds,and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own,that kept you companyas you strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to dothe only thing you could do--determined to savethe only life you could save. (credit:Getty Images)
Kiss The Earth(98 of121)
Kiss The Earth by Thich Nhat HanhWalk and touch peace every moment.Walk and touch happiness every moment.Each step brings a fresh breeze.Each step makes a flower bloom.Kiss the Earth with your feet.Bring the Earth your love and happiness.The Earth will be safewhen we feel safe in ourselves. (credit:Getty Images)
One With Love(99 of121)
Poem by RumiThe minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along. (credit:Getty Images)
Children(100 of121)
Children by Khalil GibranAnd a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of children.' And he said: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness; For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable. (credit:Getty Images)
Poetry Of Earth(101 of121)
On the Grasshopper and Cricket by John KeatsThe Poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead In summer luxury,—he has never done With his delights; for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. The poetry of earth is ceasing never: On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills. (credit:Getty Images)
A Faith That Never Fails(102 of121)
Retrospect by Arthur Conan DoyleThere is a better thing, dear heart, Than youthful flush or girlish grace.There is the faith that never fails, The courage in the danger place,The duty seen, and duty done, The heart that yearns for all in need,The lady soul which could not stoop To selfish thought or lowly deed.All that we ever dreamed, dear wife, Seems drab and common by the truth,The sweet sad mellow things of life Are more than golden dreams of youth. (credit:Getty Images)
Be Free(103 of121)
I am in love, hence free to live by Vera PavlovaI am in love, hence free to liveby heart, to ad lib as I caress.A soul is light when full,heavy when vacuous.My soul is light. She is not afraidto dance the agony alone,for I was born wearing your shirt,will come from the dead with that shirt on. (credit:Getty Images)
The Spirit Of Youth(104 of121)
Sonnet 98 by William ShakespeareFrom you have I been absent in the spring,When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trimHath put a spirit of youth in every thing,That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him.Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smellOf different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew;Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play (credit:Getty Images)
Love Boldly(105 of121)
The Paradoxical Commandments by Dr. Kent M. KeithPeople are unreasonable, illogical, self-centered… love them anyway.If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives… do good anyway.If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies… be successful anyway.The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow… do good anyway.Honesty and frankness will make you vulnerable… be honest and frank anyway.People love underdogs but follow only top dogs… follow some underdog anyway.What you spend years building what may be destroyed overnight… build anyway.People really need help but may attack you if you try to help… help people anyway.If you give the world the best you have, you may get kicked in the teeth… but give the world the best you have… Anyway. (credit:VINCENZO PINTO/AFP/Getty Images)
May Your Soul Be Happy(106 of121)
Ode 2180 by RumiFrom these depths depart towards heaven;may your soul be happy, journey joyfully.You have escaped from the city full of fear and trembling;happily become a resident of the Abode of SecurityIf the body’s image has gone, await the image-maker; if thebody is utterly ruined, become all soul.If your face has become saffron pale through death, become adweller among tulip beds and Judas trees.If the doors of repose have been barred to you, come, departby way of the roof and the ladder.If you are alone from Friends and companions, by the help ofGod become a saheb-qeran. [lord of happy circumstance].If you have been secluded from water and bread, like breadbecome the food of the souls, and so become! (credit:Getty Images)
Passover(107 of121)
Upside Down, a Passover Poem by Chava TomboskyQuiet the volume and listen to the noiseUnderneath the veins of the city that's aliveart cries through the mouths of starving folksongs cry through the vocals pleading hopeTime is running, running, runningand the trains are coming, coming, comingAnd we wait for a new day to comeand we wait for a new tune to humand we play our eyes across the train drifting, drifting,failing to notice we must be all the sameBut time is running, running, runningand the trains are coming, coming, comingDoors revolve like a universal spheretolls are paid and our pockets empty bearour backs are turned to the hungry that waityet they keep on singingunder the subway pleading,our heels grinding to the cement floornever entertaining there could be moreAnd time is running, running fastand the clocks keep ticking ticking pastArtists, Bankers, Wall street brokers,geeks, thinkers, homeless, floatersevery color, all God's creatures breathe in the same raw airweaving side by sideeating ride by ridedozing half aliveintimate, organic, primal connection all ignoring the world's intentionAnd we keep riding, riding, riding fastas the clocks keep ticking, ticking pastThrough the night and half past dawn at last a lone voice encroaches onupside down he sees the worldriding past him like a tornado twirlsthe masses fail to stop and search whoas the vocalist tries to force time to stand stilleven the riders cannot change his willhe chants like he has all the time to passlooking searching feeling fastan amphitropous exposéhe begs the world to see like heand the folks cease staring ahead like sheepand soon their minds begin to peekthe riders stop one by oneas time finally halts mid-airthe lone voice sings a familiar dareof hope and loss and resonating despairand he promises the riders through his voice of emotionthat it can get better if we utter commotionand the dollars roll out one by oneclapping, tears, and joys are sungthe moment is paused it transforms disarrayas a virtue emerges to light that dayAlthough the clocks tic tic tockand the hustle and bustle does not seem to stopwe can carve a moment out of clay like a work of art, a Van Gogh, or Monet.We can listen to the pulse of our hearts and the routine beats that pass one by one or we can pause at our feet.We can view the beauty we share and realize there is much more to bearthan the economic treadmill of exhaustion we climbor the disappointment or diminished pay check tossed trade material deprived for sublime instead of loss.We can take the time to transform our space,lend a penny, or a smile or a tune against the race.We can change our world and stop the timewe can enlighten ourselves and dare to climbupside down like the man standing on his headseeing the colors the music insteadand before we even realize we will be higher and higher,a holy space will encompass something new will transpirehold our hands together and create abundance all aroundbreak free from the shacklesand listento thesound.Have a Happy Passoverenliven change, inspire freedom, instigate innovation... (credit:Getty Images)
See With Fresh Eyes(108 of121)
How Many Nights by Galway KinnellHow many nightshave I lain in terror,O Creator Spirit, maker of night and day,only to walk out the next morning over the frozen world,hearing under the creaking snow faint, peaceful breaths...snake,bear, earthworm, ant...and above me a wild crow crying 'yaw, yaw, yaw'from a branch nothing cried from ever in my life. (credit:Mayovskyy Andrew/Shutterstock)
Caring For The Earth(109 of121)
On the Silence and Stillness in Nature by Inayat KhanThrough the silence of nature,I attain Thy divine peace.Oh sublime nature,in thy stillness let my heart rest.Thou art patiently awaiting the momentto manifest through the silence of sublime nature.Oh nature sublime, speak to me through silence,for I am awaiting in silence like you the call of God.Oh nature sublime,through thy silence I hear Thy cry.My heart is tuned to the quietness,that the stillness of nature inspires. (credit:Luis Martin/500PX)
Fear No Evil(110 of121)
Psalm 23The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.He makes me lie down in green pastures,he leads me beside quiet waters,he refreshes my soul.He guides me along the right pathsfor his name’s sake.Even though I walkthrough the darkest valley,[a]I will fear no evil,for you are with me;your rod and your staff,they comfort me.You prepare a table before mein the presence of my enemies.You anoint my head with oil;my cup overflows.Surely your goodness and love will follow meall the days of my life,and I will dwell in the house of the Lordforever. (credit:Dirima)
A Prayer For Travelers(111 of121)
May it be Your will, G-d, our G-d and the G-d of our fathers, that You should lead us in peace and direct our steps in peace, and guide us in peace, and support us in peace, and cause us to reach our destination in life, joy, and peace (If one intends to return immediately, one adds: and return us in peace). Save us from every enemy and ambush, from robbers and wild beasts on the trip, and from all kinds of punishments that rage and come to the world. May You confer blessing upon the work of our hands and grant me grace, kindness, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who see us, and bestow upon us abundant kindness and hearken to the voice of our prayer, for You hear the prayers of all. Blessed are You G-d, who hearkens to prayer.
Let Things Take Their Course(112 of121)
Chapter 64 in the Tao Te ChingWhat is rooted is easy to nourish.What is recent is easy to correct.What is brittle is easy to break.What is small is easy to scatter.Prevent trouble before it arises.Put things in order before they exist.The giant pine treegrows from a tiny sprout.The journey of a thousand milesstarts from beneath your feet.Rushing into action, you fail.Trying to grasp things, you lose them.Forcing a project to completion,you ruin what is almost ripe.Therefore the Master takes actionby letting things take their course.He remains as calmat the end as at the beginning.He has nothing,thus has nothing to lose.What he desires is non-desire;what he learns is to unlearn.He simply reminds peopleof who they have always been.He cares about nothing but the Tao.Thus he can care for all things. (credit:Masterjack.Roger/Flickr)
Becoming Aware(113 of121)
A version of St. Ignatius's prayer:1. Become aware of the presence of God.2. Review the day with gratitude. Gratitude is the foundation of our relationship with God. Walk through your day in the presence of God and note its joys and delights.3. Pay attention to your emotions. Reflect on the feelings you experienced during the day. Ask what God is saying through these feelings.4. Choose one feature of the day and pray from it. Ask the Holy Spirit to direct you to something during the day that God thinks is particularly important. It may be a vivid moment or something that seems insignificant.5. Look toward tomorrow. Ask God to give you light for tomorrow's challenges. (credit:Chris Schmidt)
Mother's Day(114 of121)
Mother by Swastika JajooMa, mother, mai:the words, the words, the wordsthey come trickling forth in articulate abundance when i think of youand once emerged, elude with equal skill.Deep crimsons and blues surge;I reside within themwith the motherly paraphernalia (Have you eaten, my child? Have youstarted studying? Not quite.)gathering entire households of memoryfrom the folds of your embroidered sari. Sliver of light, teacher of life and weaver of magic-you have woven languages togetherto arrive at our language:you speak with soul and silence,whispering words as if each syllablewas a wave meant to heal. You are the faith i have always looked forin the stars; you are a synthesis of the celestial. To hold your hand is to forget and remember all at once.in your fingers, i have seen futuresand in the cusp of your palm,i have seen reflectionssome scattered, some wholelike the lines and lines and linesof poetry that run through them.Our conversations lined in accordance with different grammars are here on my walls, under my pillow,in the ink of my pen, within the liningof the dress you gifted me for my sixth birthday,in the pages of the book you hold as childhood remembrance:The Wishing Chaira jaded, faded copy from the seventies.Now, when i read it -each page a marker of yellowed memory-and meander in the same gardens of enchantment, the flowers become twice-gracedtales of a beguiling enhancement.you are the consonance of constancy.it is funny how we can read each other, talk to each other, become each other and remain as each other.In kindergarten, when they taught me how to spell m-o-t-h-e-rit marked the establishment of half my lexicon. (credit:Bokeh Estudio/500PX)
Sunflower Sutra(115 of121)
Sunflower Sutra (portion) by Allen GinsbergA perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of the railroad and your flower soul?Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower! And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack’s soul too, and anyone who’ll listen,—We’re not our skin of grime, we’re not dread bleak dusty imageless locomotives, we’re golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our own eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision. (credit:Janet Kopper)
Baby's Way(116 of121)
Baby's Way by Rabindranath TagoreIf baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment.It is not for nothing that he does not leave us.He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom, and cannot everbear to lose sight of her.Baby know all manner of wise words, though few on earth canunderstand their meaning.It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak.The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words frommother's lips. That is why he looks so innocent.Baby had a heap of gold and pearls, yet he came like a beggaron to this earth.It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.This dear little naked mendicant pretends to be utterlyhelpless, so that he may beg for mother's wealth of love.Baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tinycrescent moon.It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom.He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's littlecorner of a heart, and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caughtand pressed in her dear arms.Baby never knew how to cry. He dwelt in the land of perfectbliss.It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears.Though with the smile of his dear face he draws mother'syearning heart to him, yet his little cries over tiny troublesweave the double bond of pity and love. (credit:Barby Carlomagno/500PX)
Shavuot(117 of121)
Ruth 1:6-226 When Naomi heard in Moab that the Lord had come to the aid of his people by providing food for them, she and her daughters-in-law prepared to return home from there. 7 With her two daughters-in-law she left the place where she had been living and set out on the road that would take them back to the land of Judah.8 Then Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back, each of you, to your mother’s home. May the Lord show you kindness, as you have shown kindness to your dead husbands and to me. 9 May the Lord grant that each of you will find rest in the home of another husband.”Then she kissed them goodbye and they wept aloud 10 and said to her, “We will go back with you to your people.”11 But Naomi said, “Return home, my daughters. Why would you come with me? Am I going to have any more sons, who could become your husbands? 12 Return home, my daughters; I am too old to have another husband. Even if I thought there was still hope for me—even if I had a husband tonight and then gave birth to sons— 13 would you wait until they grew up? Would you remain unmarried for them? No, my daughters. It is more bitter for me than for you, because the Lord’s hand has turned against me!”14 At this they wept aloud again. Then Orpah kissed her mother-in-law goodbye, but Ruth clung to her.15 “Look,” said Naomi, “your sister-in-law is going back to her people and her gods. Go back with her.”16 But Ruth replied, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. 17 Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me.” 18 When Naomi realized that Ruth was determined to go with her, she stopped urging her.19 So the two women went on until they came to Bethlehem. When they arrived in Bethlehem, the whole town was stirred because of them, and the women exclaimed, “Can this be Naomi?”20 “Don’t call me Naomi,” she told them. “Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. 21 I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi? The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me.”22 So Naomi returned from Moab accompanied by Ruth the Moabite, her daughter-in-law, arriving in Bethlehem as the barley harvest was beginning. (credit:Getty Images)
The Power Of Thought(118 of121)
Meditation IV by John Donne"Our creatures are our thoughts, creatures that are born giants; that reach from east to west, from earth to heaven; that do not only bestride all the sea and land, but span the sun and firmament at once; my thoughts reach all, comprehend all. Inexplicable mystery; I their creator am in a close prison, in a sick bed, any where, and any one of my creatures, my thoughts,is with the sun, and beyond the sun, overtakes the sun, and overgoes the sun in one pace, one step, everywhere." (credit:Asia Images)
My Work(119 of121)
MessengerMy work is loving the world.Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird— equal seekers of sweetness.Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.Here the clam deep in the speckled sand. Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me keep my mind on what matters,which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.The phoebe, the delphinium.The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here, which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart and these body-clothes,a mouth with which to give shouts of joy to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,telling them all, over and over, how it is that we live forever. (credit:Lolostock/Shutterstock)
Be Present(120 of121)
The Gardener 85 by Rabindranath TagoreWho are you, reader, reading my poems a hundred years hence?I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.Open your doors and look abroad.From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years. (credit:Marser)
Connecting To Nature(121 of121)
A portion from the Pagan Community Statement on the Environment:We are earth, with carbon, nitrogen and phosphorus making up our bodies one day, and incorporated into mountains the next. We are air, giving food to the trees and grasses when we exhale, and breathing in their gift of free oxygen with each breath. We are fire, burning the energy of the Sun, captured and given to us by plants. We are water, with the oceans flowing in our veins and the same water that nourished the dinosaurs within our cells.We are connected to our families, through links of love, to their relatives, and so on to the entire human species. Our family tree goes back further than the rise of humans, including all mammals, all animals, and all life on Earth. The entire Earth is our immense and joyous family reunion.