Let Life Dream You

let-life-dream-you1“Stop Dreaming”. You’re not likely to find those two words in pretty script on some inspirational poster hanging in a CEO’s suburban office. You wouldn’t say those two words to your kids. But what if you were supposed to be doing something more beautiful than you ever could have imagined, something bigger than you ever could have dreamed? What if you only had to let go of your (and your parents’, your culture’s, your religion’s, your everything’s) preconceived notion of success to make room for a life lived truer and deeper? What if you stopped dreaming, let go, and let life dream you?

I dreamed of being a successful singer-songwriter. I dreamed of playing to sold-out arenas and talking to Springsteen on the phone about summer plans. And I went after it. So many people carry the burdens of their ‘if onlys’ and ‘somedays’ when it comes to their dreams; they end up twenty years down the road thinking that if only they hadn’t gotten married, or had the baby, or whatever, they could have gone after their dream and had the life they imagined. I had no ‘if-only’s.’ No excuses, nothing holding me back. I went for it.

I spent over a decade of my life chasing the dream through dirty little clubs, where my feet would stick to the thin pool of beer and vodka residue on the floor. And I chased the dream down the interstate to the next town, passing the littered remains of those who came before me who chased their own dream, caught it, and got what they wanted. And found it wasn’t what they needed.

I know what it’s like, because somewhere out there on that road I caught my dream, too. And once I caught it, I held on fiercely, but it was like holding a fistful of sand: the tighter I closed my fingers, the emptier my hand became. Around that time I got a letter from a woman named Emily, which started me down my own path of letting go of my identity, my self, and what I thought was my dream. I wrote a song with a friend about her letter, and that song evolved into a project that has touched more lives than I could have ever imagined.

Every step of the way, I let go of the dream of being a singer-songwriter, of selling out arenas and making summer plans with Springsteen. I started writing songs for other people to sing, about other people’s stories, which made everything less and less about me at each turn.

And I got out of my own way and began to trust the process, which gave me the most amazing lightness of being. It was as if life started dreaming me, rather than me dreaming about life. Slowly, deeply, beautifully, something bigger started to happen. I had the opportunity to work with some Grammy-winning friends I’d been dreaming of collaborating with for a long time. We wrote songs about other peoples’ deeply moving letters, and have traveled around the world playing the songs their letters inspired.

I can tell you that the world will be no sadder and no less hopeful if you let go of your own dreams. Birthdays will not be cancelled. Why? Because when you let those dreams go, they don’t disappear. They don’t cease to exist, because energy can’t be destroyed… only transferred. Dreams are fluid, ever-changing scenes of hope on a movie screen in your mind, so let them move and dance and be themselves. Let your dreams float out into the ether and find their true home. They may come back to you in a more beautiful way than you ever could have imagined.

When I was 19, I heard a story about an old man on his deathbed. As he took his final breaths, the old man grabbed the hand closest to him and said ‘I have lived my spring, my summer, and my autumn. Now I enter my winter, having never sung my song, because I have spent my seasons stringing and re-stringing my instrument.’

To me, that story is about sacrificing the present for a future that doesn’t exist yet, a future that may never come, when something beautiful could be made right now. The world needs your skill and passion and talent, and it needs you to do the best you can today. The rest will take care of itself. Today is what matters the most, not someday. The old man was waiting on someday, and never got to sing his song. You have your own song to sing. Stop dreaming about life. Let go, let life dream you, and sing. Taken from an article posted on February 12th, 2013 by Alex Woodward http://inspiyr.com/let-life-dream-you/

Thank you for the inspiration Alex. I am deeply grateful for your thoughts that showed up just when I needed them.

It is a risk to live fully.
Yet a much graver risk not to.
Brandon A. Trean

The One You Feed

indianstortellA Cherokee Legend

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.

“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.”

He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

Having lived long enough to know the words of the “Old Indian” are true, I can attest to the wisdom in this legend of my ancestors. I have been know to frequently say “a person finds what they are looking for” or “we end up right where we put ourselves”. By those I mean “expecting good brings them and anticipating bad attracts it” and “thoughts are our compass that directs us to where we end up”. Plain and simple: thoughts breed more like thoughts.

Far from having become some namby-pamby simpleton who is lost in positive euphoria all the time, I am still very much human in spite of my growth and present day understanding of myself. I have bad moments like everyone else. I just don’t allow myself to get stuck there. I readily fight the “bad wolf” for my happiness and contentment.

With long-term intention and lots of practice, being somewhere north of the line between happy/sad and good/bad has become relatively easy to maintain most of the time. Practice does not make perfect, but it can make one darn good at something! In the beginning throwing off the negative thoughts was difficult; a war of sorts. However the more battles I won, the more I began to win until today shooing away negativity is usually not that hard. I am very grateful for the slow process of practice and learning that brought me to the good life I life today. I ended up living with the “good wolf I fed”.

Negative thoughts breed negative thoughts,
and positive thoughts breed positive thoughts.
When you are aware of this,
you will become aware
of the ultimate power
that you hold over your own life!
Unknown

Full Power Ahead

letting go

If “holding on” was a class one could take, I’d get an A+ without having to study. Being a world-class practitioner of the tightly gripped past I have both benefited and been hurt by my stubbornness. It’s takes strength and wisdom to look into the murk of what was and clearly know what to let go and what to hold on to. Sometimes it’s impossible.

There is a danger in hanging on to what is unhealthy. Gerald D. Jampolsky was focusing on the potential peril when he wrote, When we think we have been hurt by someone in the past, we build up defenses to protect ourselves from being hurt in the future. So the fearful past causes a fearful future and the past and future become one. We cannot love when we feel fear… When we release the fearful past and forgive everyone, we will experience total love and oneness with all.  The key thought in all that is “forgiveness”. When I have truly forgiven my the pain becomes exorcised, but love remains untarnished.

Like most of us, often a past chapter of my life was a combination of joy and love mixed with heartache and pain. More than I care to admit I have swirled the two together and killed the good memories burying them with the bad ones. Doing that strips my recall of not only sorrow, but happiness as well. What works much better is to find some sort of equilibrium between the two where the focus can be the reminiscent joy and love. But the sadness is not forgotten for in many ways it is the pain that makes the good all the more meaningful, like night gives meaning to daytime. This only works if my forgiveness is genuine and complete. Grief, pain and sorrow are important landmarks for my life and to completely try to make any of them vanish is to deny myself wisdom earned the hard way.

Such thinking is nowhere more important than on the subject of romantic love. In “Never Let Me Go” Kazuo Ishiguro said I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it’s just too much. The current’s too strong. They’ve got to let go, drift apart. Often there is a story after the story where the same river brings the two who drifted apart back together at a later time . What once was can not be recreated, but with letting go new possibility is created.

A second chance is not feasible until the contents of the initial possibility are cleansed by releasing it. That does not mean to deny any part of what once was, but instead to hold memories with reverence in a past tense. Sometimes in your life you have to leave some precious things not because you don’t deserve it but because you deserve something better than that and it’s just like creating space for some bigger and much better things waiting for you in your life ahead is how Shubbanshu Tiwari explained clearing the path for new possibility. Precisely, what might be bigger and better can not come to be until what was has been let go.

I am grateful for what Ray Bradbury said: Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it. It’s like boats. You keep your motor on so you can steer with the current. And when you hear the sound of the waterfall coming nearer and nearer, tidy up the boat, put on your best tie and hat, and smoke a cigar right up till the moment you go over. That’s a triumph.

Well written Mr. Bradbury! I am grateful that your words are exactly what I needed to read this morning. My past is at peace (at least much more so than ever). I gratefully have hope for the future that the best of my life lies in front of me. Full power ahead.

…Love is easy, falling in love is even easier,
but letting that love go, is the most difficult thing
you’ll ever have to do. Some of us never let it go
and sometimes it takes a while to realize what you want.
But your heart will always have the right answer in the end.
You just have to figure out what it’s telling you.
Marie Coulson

The Only Point of Certainty

Romantical%20LovePreviously mentioned here is a book I began work on in 2008; a fictional love story titled “A Year From Wednesday”.  There is so much deep feeling of all types included I stopped work due to sheer emotional exhaustion. Although over half done, I could not get past that barrier until now. Inspiration is back with my own life as the backdrop for my renewed desire to move forward. In gathering my thoughts to get my heart and mind in tune to continue, time has been spent reading on line. The following is from an insightful article that came into my view this morning.

Love is a light that allows people to see things that are not seen by others. Romantic love is a deep emotional, sexual and spiritual recognition and regard for the value of another person and relationship. Romantic love can generate many powerful feelings. It can provide a profound ecstasy, and a deep suffering when frustrated.

It is a profound longing. A desire that is difficult to extinguish. Romantic love is not something that must crumble when faced with practical realities. Romantic love is not something just for youth.

Most people never learn how to sustain a loving relationship. The reason is simple. Nobody showed them. The mere fact that a man and woman feel love toward each other does not guarantee they will be able to create a joyful and rewarding life. Love does not automatically teach a person communication skills. Love does not teach a person how to resolve a conflict. Love does not teach people how to weave their love into the rest of their life.

Romantic love is a powerful way to express our capacity to love and to be loved. It is a way to focus our energy, our curiosity, and our desire for adventure. Romantic love is a source of pleasure and inspiration and is worth pursuing. Romantic love is a blessing of life. Romantic love confirms our lovable and capable nature.

Romantic love is based on shared sight and is shaped by happiness. Immature love is based on shared blindness, and is merely a fortress against pain. Romantic love is a sanctuary, and a source of nourishment and energy. Sometimes romantic love is the only point of certainty, and the only thing that is solid and real in the midst of chaos and ambiguity. Michael Grayson Conner, Psy.D, http://www.oregoncounseling.org/articlespapers/documents/romaticlovemc.htm

For the desire to get back to work on the beautiful love story I began spinning into a book long ago I am very grateful.  Motivation has come when I did not expect it and the richness of the inspiration is powerful beyond any I’ve had. This will be the year I finish “A Year From Wednesday”!

True love cannot be found where it truly does not exist,
Nor can it be hidden where it truly does.
Unknown

Love Letter to a Book

EBBWhen first coming into view, I knew I had to have you. You were taller than most and your slim profile caused you to stand out. Even on the surface you appeared to be different from the others. Your delicate manner only made me desire you all the more. Visible gold initials identifying you gave me a hint of what you might be about. My initial impression was rewarded. You were be far beyond my first thoughts. I could not resist taking take you home with me.

Had I not titled this piece as being about a book it would be easy to surmise I had been recently smitten by a chance meeting of a lovely woman. The “lady” I met is the most beautiful copy of “Sonnets to the Portuguese” I have ever seen found yesterday at my favorite used book store. The photo above is an engraving from the book.

The “Sonnets…” were love poems written by Elizabeth Barrett in 1845-1846 for Robert Browning while they were carrying on their mostly secret courtship. Initially she was hesitant to publish the poems, feeling that they were too personal. However, once married her husband insisted that they were the best sequence of English-language sonnets since Shakespeare’s time and urged her to publish them. To offer the couple some privacy, she decided that she would publish them as supposed translations of foreign sonnets eventually settling on “Portuguese” (after Robert’s nickname for Elizabeth of “my little Portuguese”).

The forty-third “Sonnet to the Portuguese” begins “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…” and is one of the most famous poems in the world and has been very popular since first published in 1850. Last night looking through the book I was struck by a previously over looked “Sonnet” that has been added to my personal favorites; Number 20.

Beloved, my Beloved, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sate alone here in the snow
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice … but, link by link,
Went counting all my chains, as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand … why, thus I drink
Of life’s great cup of wonder! Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech,—nor ever cull
Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull,
Who cannot guess God’s presence out of sight.

 OR A modernized version interpretation

My darling, my love, when I think
That you were in the world a year ago,
While I sat by myself, out here in the cold,
Seeing no sign of you, just silence;
I never heard your voice. I just went over all my reasons
For being always sad, cementing them
Till it seemed they could never lift, no matter
What you tried…But then I tasted joy,
All the joy that life could give!
I couldn’t see then, that I would ever experience
Thrills like this, brought on by you–your words,
Some sense of you I never saw before now!
I must be as dull as an unbeliever,
Who can’t feel that God is here, though He is out of sight.

I have a Nook, thanks to my son and love it. When I travel the little marvel saves me from having to carry the weight of books. However, there is nothing like the look, smell, texture and quality of a real book. I fear in time reading from a book will mostly be forgotten, but I hope there will be a few diehards who relish the full experience of a book as I do. I am grateful for the joy reading has always brought me and for my love of books, most especially, the poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning that moves me down to the core of my being.

Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings,
and making music with them.
   Dennis Gabor

Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure…

MilitaryXmasReadily I admit I fought through watery eyes to get this retyped here. Though I did not serve in the military, I have known many good men and women who did. While the poem was written specifically by a Marine for Marines, I have placed it here as a tribute to all military men and women, past and present. I honor and thank you. By your efforts I am able to celebrate Christmas quietly and without fear.

“Merry Christmas, My Friend”
T’was the night Before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree,
No stockings by the mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen,
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I heard stories about them, I had to see more
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read,
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

With that he rolled over, drifted into sleep
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still
I noticed he shivered from the cold nights chill.
I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over and in a voice clean and pure,
said, “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and good night.

Although attributed to many and often amended, what I have included here is the original poem in its original form written by James M. Schmidt in 1986. In December 2002, he set the record straight about the poem’s origin when he wrote “The true story is that while a Lance Corporal serving as Battalion Counter Sniper at the Marine Barracks 8th and I, Washington, DC, under Commandant P.X. Kelly and Battalion Commander D.J. Myers, I wrote this poem to hang on the door of the Gym in BEQ. When Colonel Myers came upon it, he read it and immediately had copies sent to each department at the Barracks and promptly dismissed the entire battalion early for Christmas leave. The poem was placed that day in the Marine Corps Gazette, distributed worldwide and later submitted to Leatherneck Magazine”.

Please share this blog with others in honor of our veterans and soldiers.

From the bitter cold winter at Valley Forge,
to the mountains of Afghanistan and the deserts of Iraq,
our soldiers have courageously answered when called,
gone where ordered, and defended our nation with honor.
Solomon Ortiz

No Money and No Home

11Being the fifth car back from the traffic light I could not see her once my car came to a stop. But as I was pulling up into my position to wait for red to become green on the traffic light the woman’s handmade sign was easy to read except the bottom portion her hands holding it obscured: “Homeless Family, needs money for gas…”

I feel for such people who have swallowed their pride to become beggars on a street corner, but have conflicting thoughts about how legitimate their need is and how they will use the money. After all I have read and heard, I am always suspicious.

In the past I have responded to a signs like “No Money, Need Food” by offering to take a beggar to a restaurant and buy them a meal, but I have never had any takers. They simply wanted money and nothing else. It’s estimated the average sign bearer working a busy intersection takes in $100 to $300 per day if they are dedicated. Pan-handling this way five weekdays out of ten and taking in $100 per day would net $13,000 tax-free per year. Working the same amount and getting $300 a day would equal three times that or $39,000. Treated like a real “job” where every other week was not taken “off” these amounts would double.

On-line there are numerous pages of panhandling hints like this:

1- Swallow your pride. You’re going to have to suck it up and be humble.
2- Remember what you’re offering. People give you money because it makes them feel good.
3- Clean up. Before you begin, make an effort to look presentable.
4- Make a sign. A simple sign tells your story—it’s advertising, plain and simple.
5- Find a suitable location. The more traffic you can get, the better.
6- Smile and greet people courteously. You’d be surprised how far a smile will go.
7- Ask for money directly and softly.
8- Remember the regulars. Remember people who give you money regularly.
9- Thank everybody. If someone gives you money, show your appreciation.
10- Offer a small token of thanks. Something cheap and easy, even a painted bottle cap will do.

Yesterday, just before the light changed, the woman holding the “Homeless Family…” sign came into view as she walked to an older SUV parked nearby and spoke to a child in the passenger front seat. The boy looked to be 10 or 12 and I could not help but wonder what he was learning from watching his Mother beg for money. Will the experience entice him to do the same thing and believe he can live without working? Or will it give him strength and determination to try and never be in the same situation.

Red became green and as I passed by the corner the woman was just arriving back at her corner position from talking to her son. The woman and boy remained in my thoughts on and off through out the day with me wondering what their real situation was and what sort of Christmas they might have. In my youth I was never homeless and hungry only because friends took me in for a few weeks while I got back on my feet. I am grateful to them to this day for their help and for what I was taught by having no money and no home.

These are people who never, ever would have
imagined themselves being homeless. Ever!
If you really talk to a large cross-section of people,
you realize that they’re not that different
from us or our uncles or our aunts.
It’s like we know these people.
Linda Murphy

This Is Your Life

this is your lifeFrom the holstee.com website: In the heat of the recession in May 2009, brothers Mike and Dave and their partner, Fabian started Holstee. Having just quit our jobs without a plan or idea of how we would spend our days, we were filled with a ton of raw energy, emotion, and ideas – a feeling that we never wanted to forget. So the first thing Holstee’s three founders did was sit together on the steps of Union Square and write down exactly what was on their minds and the tips of their tongues. It was a reminder of what we live for. The result became known as the “Holstee Manifesto”. A message that has since been shared over 500,000 times and viewed over 60 million times online. http://shop.holstee.com/pages/about#the-manifesto

7635735176_b25d94097b_b

As I have spent almost two years now surfing the ‘Net looking for thought-starters for G.M.G., I have come to realize the large number of people who have posted material on-line that is truly inspiration. Case in point, “The Holstee Manifesto” that I have seen before but never stopped to take in and ‘taste each word’ until this morning. I am grateful the thoughts just above came across my path as part of the start of my first day of a “stay-cation” this week!

It is good to love many things,
for therein lies the true strength,
and whosoever loves much performs much,
and can accomplish much,
and what is done in love is well done.
Vincent van Gogh

Falling Over and Over Again

Sufey 02Love.
Love is kind.
Love is unconditional.
Love needs no reason.
Love hugs you tight when you cry.
Love squeezes your hand because it feels good.
Love sings to you.
Love touches you.
Love paints you pictures.
Love is colorful.
Love sparkles.
Love is speechless.
Love listens.
Love is patient.
Love is here.
Love always comes home.
Love can’t stop kissing you.
Love makes your insides melt like cacao left too close to the stove by accident.
Love leaves you little notes everywhere.
Love listens.
Love makes you hot ginger tea.
Love carries you over puddles.
Love doesn’t mind the rain.
Love gets lost in the mountains with you but it’s okay because
Love > fear.
Love shows up on your doorstep. With roses. And cucumbers.
Love warms you up when you’re cold.
Love spoons.
Love heals.
Love wins.
Love is a warrior.
Love survives.
Love grows.
Love lasts.
Love stares up at the stars and wonders where you fell from.
Love lingers a moment longer.
Love breathes you in.
Love shows up to yoga class because you’re there and
Love is wherever you are.
Love makes you vegan avocado milkshakes.
Love makes you scream in bed.
Love is innocent.
Love is funny.
Love is playful.
Love is a glimmer of light in the black.
Love thinks you’re perfect.
Love is you.
Love is me.
Love is.
Love.

This blog is blessed with two or three new people subscribing most days. If the subscriber has a Facebook page or website I often check it out to keep handle on who reads my stuff. The poem above by Sufey Suryananadi grabbed my attention as did the title description of her Facebook page “Endless gratitude for this glorious world!” She goes on to say:

I get high on life every day, and I’m so grateful for the opportunity to share my bliss with you! I was raised as the oldest of five in a family overflowing with love. Coming home was always my favorite time of day because my baby brothers would whoop out my name, tumble overtop tables, smother me in pure glee and knock me off my feet into an epically entangled mess of uncontrollable laughter.

Demographically, I’m an eighteen-year-old Canadian girl. I’ve lived in Singapore, Bangkok, Hong Kong, Vancouver, Maui, Beijing, Ann Arbor, Prince George, Las Cruces, and traveled extensively across Asia, North America, and a teensy weensy bit of Europe. Wanderlust drives my soul, and it has brought me a life brimming full of endless adventure and a deep appreciation for the beauty in the world.

I’ve waltzed with old ladies in the parks of Shanghai, taught yoga in the ancient ruins of Nanjing, played tag with the street-children of Cebu, busked with steel drummers in Honolulu, flown kites with farmers in Wenzhou, and in doing so, my life has grown rich with simple pleasures.

Academically, I’m a 4th year Bachelors of Health Sciences student, majoring in Biomedical Studies and minoring in all things artsy and fun (like theatre, sculpture, photography and dance). Professionally, I’m a student of the universe… and humbled teacher of yoga, piano, figure skating, debate, public speaking, cross-country skiing, and wellness. I’m a certified 200-hr Registered Yoga Teacher (RYT) through Yoga Alliance with my Grade 10 Piano Practical from the Royal Conservatory of Music (RCM).

It’s not uncommon to find that what people put up on Facebook is somewhere between inaccurate and fabrication. I don’t think that is the case with Sufey. Her energy and love of life seems radiant, sincere and true. I am glad. Knowing of a young person who loves life as she professes pulls my spirit up higher. To read how well lived her young life is reminds this middle aged guy to be grateful, love people and live life fully everyday. Thanks Sufey. https://www.facebook.com/sufey

I tell you this because
it’s basically the story of my life:
falling over and over again…
and laughing myself silly
while clambering back up!
Sufey Suryananadi

Love Versus Fear

Light_vs__Dark_by_environautLOVE IS UNCONDITIONAL (fear is conditional)

LOVE IS STRONG (fear is weak)

LOVE RELEASES (fear obligates)

LOVE SURRENDERS (fear binds)

LOVE IS HONEST (fear is deceitful)

LOVE TRUSTS (fear suspects)

LOVE ALLOWS (fear dictates)

LOVE GIVES (fear resists)

LOVE FORGIVES (fear blames)

LOVE IS COMPASSIONATE (fear pities)

LOVE CHOOSES (fear avoids)

LOVE IS KIND (fear is angry)

LOVE IGNITES (fear incites)

LOVE EMBRACES (fear repudiates)

LOVE CREATES (fear negates)

LOVE HEALS (fear hurts)

LOVE IS MAGIC (fear is superstitious)

LOVE ENERGIZES (fear saps)

LOVE IS AN ELIXIR (fear is a poison)

LOVE INSPIRES (fear worries)

LOVE DESIRES (fear Joneses)

LOVE IS PATIENT (fear is nervous)

LOVE IS BRAVE (fear is afraid)

LOVE IS RELAXED (fear is pressured)

LOVE IS BLIND (fear is judgmental)

LOVE RESPECTS (fear disregards)

LOVE ACCEPTS (fear rejects)

LOVE DREAMS (fear schemes)

LOVE WANTS TO PLAY (fear needs to control)

LOVE ENJOYS (fear suffers)

LOVE FREES (fear imprisons)

LOVE BELIEVES (fear deceives)

LOVE “WANTS” (fear “needs”)

LOVE versus fear: what do you feel?

“Love Versus Fear” by storyteller and filmmaker Sarah Nean Bruce
http://tinybuddha.com/blog/love-versus-fear/
http://www.sarahneanbruce.com/

On occasion it is the simple that makes the deepest impression. Reading the statement “LOVE versus fear: what do you feel?” painted itself into my memory. The question and the statements before it will be handy to recall when I need help centering and sorting my feelings. My gratitude goes to Ms. Bruce for her uncomplicated list of what love is and what is only fear pretending to be something it’s not.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.
Marianne Williamson