“And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.”
-William Butler Yeats
“And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.”
-William Butler Yeats
“The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me.The summit of the mountain,
the thunder of the sky,
the rhythm of the sea,
speaks to me.The faintness of the stars,
the freshness of the morning,
the dew drop on the flower,
speaks to me.The strength of fire,
the taste of salmon,
the trail of the sun,
And the life that never goes away,
They speak to me.
And my heart soars”-Chief Dan George
All of these moments that Chief George eloquently lists make my heart soar too! And my unbounded soaring heart is activated by all that surrounds me here – at home. Simple and sweet gifts of nature and love, and the “beauty of the trees and the softness of the air” touch me to my molecules.
May you feel your heart soar as precious moments compel your complete attention and are indelibly etched on mind and memory…
Thank you Stephen Hawking for never giving up. It did matter and we won’t forget. We’ll continue to try to unravel your brilliance…
“So remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes a universe exist.
Be curious.
And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. It matters that you don’t give up.”
-Stephen Hawking
“Bring the moon over the meadows
As you settle down the sun,
And we’ll go dancing with the dark,
Racing the rivers where they run.
For the heart always needs places
No-one else knows that you are,
So you may sew yourself anew
Beneath a blanket made of stars.
Then in the morning like all rivers
We’ll find our footprints by the sea,
And at last you will be you
And I finally feel like me.”
-Erin Hanson
“…as long as I can walk up the trail behind the house, or as long as I can go out into the yard and look up at the stars, I’ll never be unhappy, never. Not just count my blessings, but shout them.”
-Rick Bass, Winter (notes from Montana)