What I see when I get a moment to pause and make a little sense of the world
Living alone can be deeply rewarding and deeply challenging. It is not for everyone. It is not for those who romanticize its offerings of freedom and focus, but excise its menacing visitations of loneliness and alienation. It is not for those who find silence shattering.
from Pocket https://bit.ly/3J1233p
via IFTTT
The matter that we know — the stuff we can see and touch — comprises a mere 5% of the universe. All the rest is dark matter. We can’t see it, can’t touch it, can’t discern what it is made of or how it came to be.
from Pocket https://bit.ly/3mXnz15
via IFTTT
There is an ineffable comfort that our non-human companions bless upon our lives — those beings whose daily task it is to “bite every sorrow until it fled” — and with their loss comes an ineffable species of grief.
from Pocket https://bit.ly/415ABrt
via IFTTT
There is a reason we call our creative endowments gifts — they come to us unbidden from an impartial universe, dealt by the unfeeling hand of chance.
from Pocket https://bit.ly/42JJE35
via IFTTT
May Sarton (May 3, 1912–July 16, 1995) was thirty-three when she left Cambridge for Santa Fe. She had just lived through a World War and a long period of personal turmoil that had syphoned her creative vitality — a kind of deadening she had not experienced before.
from Pocket https://bit.ly/3Z22FuR
via IFTTT
This world is radiant with beauty. This world is also capable of bone-chilling brutality and the small, corrosive daily cruelties that salt our days with sorrow.
from Pocket https://bit.ly/3WCNY0A
via IFTTT
“A great deal of poetic work has arisen from various despairs,” wrote Lou Andreas-Salomé, the first woman psychoanalyst, in a consolatory letter to the poet Rainer Maria Rilke as he was wrestling with depression, nearly a century before psychologists came to study the nonlinear relationship bet
from Pocket https://bit.ly/3oTmKDW
via IFTTT
Front Porch Reflections 