And give money to all street musicians.
My mother was pulling my leg on that one. I have collected so much gift-wrapped trash over the years from people who copped out and hurriedly bought a little plastic cheapie to give under the protective flag of good thoughts. I tell you, it is the gift that counts. Or rather, people who think good thoughts give good gifts. It ought to be a rule – the Brass Rule of Gift Exchange.
The pig was so earnest. So sincere. So very “there.” The pig brought gravity and mythic import to this well-worn fairy tale.
We are as different from one another on the inside of our heads as we appear to be different from one another on the outside of our heads.
I have never liked the phrase that says we’re just made of dust and return to dust. We are energy, which is interchangeable with light. We are fire and water and earth. We are air and atoms and quarks. Moreover, we are dreams, hopes, and fears held together by wisdom and driven apart by folly. So much more than dust. The biblical verse should say, “Miracle thou art and to Mystery returneth.
There are far worse things to drop on people than Crayolas.
If you only make it up, you never have to live it down.
We can do no great things; only small things with great love.
Moths and butterflies are not the same thing. Moths sneak around in the dark munching your sweater and are ugly. Butterflies hand out with flowers in the daytime and are pretty. Never mind any facts or what silkworm moths are responsible for, or what poisonous butterflies do.
Out of the mouths of babes may come gems of wisdom, but also garbage.
Why is there Something instead of Nothing?
What counts is not what I do, but how I think about myself while I’m doing it.
Circumstances, luck, mutual need, affection and time played a part. No relationships were made in heaven. They were made because living things were looking for good company. And when you found good company, you valued it deeply and were responsible for its up-keep and well-being.
It Was on Fire When I Lay Down on It.
As long as life exists, something always happens next. There are always consequences – always sequels.
To get through this life and see it realistically poses a problem. There is a dark, evil, hopeless side to life that includes suffering, death, and ultimate oblivion as our earth falls into a dying sun. Nothing really matters. On the other hand, the best side of our humanity finds us determined to make life as meaningful as possible NOW; to defy our fate. Everything matters. Everything.
If it is not worth doing, it is worth not doing it well.
Sometimes I think of all the times in this sweet life when I must have missed the affection I was being given. A friend calls this “standing knee-deep in the river and dying of thirst.
Peace is not something you wish for; it’s something you make, something you do, something you are, and something you give away!
This is not just storytelling. It is the sharing of personal mythology. It’s how we all make sense out of our lives and give its events significance. It parallels the mythmaking of the human race. It is the ritual of remembrance.