Qualities

Devotion

Devotion lights candles at dusk.  She braids her grandmother’s hair with an antique comb.  She works as an ecologist at the university.  She wears long flowing tunics with bright cotton pants.  She has never taken a dance class, but she moves with an unstudied grace, sensitive to the edge where her body meets the air.
Devotion balances periods of great stillness with times of moevement and exuberance.  She has prayed in many temples and seen evidence of God in unlikely places.  She keeps a postcard of Saint Francis above her desk.  A Yemenite amulet hangs in her window.  Always she remembers to honor the Mother.

Inspiration

Inspiration is disturbing.  She does not believe in guarantees or insurance or strict schedules.  She is not interested in how well you write your grant proposal or what you do for a living or why you are too busy to see her.  She will be there when you need her but you have to take it on trust.  Surrender.  She knows when you need her better than you do.

Honesty

Honesty is the most vulnerable man I have ever met.  He is simple and loving.  He lives in a small town on a cliff near the beach.  I had forgotten how many stars there are in the midnight sky until I spent a week with him at his house by the sea.
In my time I have been afraid of so many things, most especially of the heights and of the darkness.  I know if I had been driving anywhere else, the road would have terrified me.  Knowing I was on my way to see him softened the fear.  And in his presence the darkness becomes big and deep and comforting.  He says if you are totally vulnerable you cannot be hurt.

Joy

Joy drinks pure water.  She has sat with the dying and attended many births.  She denies nothing.  She is in love with life, all of it, the sun and the rain and the rainbow.  She rides horses at Half Moon Bay under the October moon.  She climbs mountains.  She sings in the hills.  She jumps from the hot spring to the cold stream without hesitation>
Although Joy is spontaneous, she is immensely patient.  She does not need to rush.  She knows that there are obstacles on every path and that every moment is the perfect moment.  She is not concerned with success or failure or how to make things permanent.
At times Joy is elusive – she seems to disappear even as we approach her.  I see her standing on a ridge covered with oak trees, and suddenly the distance between us feels enormous.  I am overwhelmed and wonder if the effort to reach her is worth it.  Yet, she waits for us.  Her desire to walk with us is as great as our longing to accompany her.

All from The Book of Qualities by J. Ruth Gendler.

Here’s to the crazy ones

Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers.
The round pegs in the square hole. The ones who see things differently.
They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo.
You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them.
Because they change things. They push the human race forward.
And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.
Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.

Apple Computer advertisement, 1997

Kelly Corrigan: I dare you

Sometimes the biggest secret women keep is what they really want to do with their lives.

Go on: I dare you.

(I dislike watching video on the computer, intensely, but this is worth it)

The Sum of Our Days

A fabulous memoir by Isabel Allende.  I read it a couple of years ago, but turned back to its pages last night for some reason.  I won’t even attempt to say anything that Allende can’t say better herself. Some of my favorite passages:

Never do harm, and wherever possible do good.

All the air blew out of our rage in an instant, and deep in our bones we felt a grief as vast as the Pacific Ocean, a pain we hadn’t wanted to admit out of pure and simple pride.

What does imagination feed on, anyway?  In my experience, on memories, the vast world, the people I know, and also the persons and voices I carry within to help me on the journey of living and writing.  My grandmother used to say that space is filled with presences, of what has been, is, and will be.

Love is a lightning bolt that strikes suddenly, changing us.

The entire tribe was there to celebrate her, and once more I found that in an emergency you toss overboard the things that are not essential, that is, nearly everything.  In the end, after a thorough lightening of loads and taking account, it turns out that the one thing that’s left is love.

And my favorite:

I didn’t know then that sadness is never entirely gone; it lives on forever just below the skin.  Without it I wouldn’t be who I am, or be able to recognize myself in the mirror.