Here are two bits I've read this week I especially loved:
I like to think of the mind as a room. In that room, we keep all of our usual ideas about life, God, what's possible and what's not. The room has a door. That door is ever so slightly ajar, and outside we can see a great deal of dazzling light. Out there in the dazzling light are a lot of new ideas that we consider too far-out for us, and so we keep them there. The ideas we are comfortable with are in the room with us. The other ideas are out, and we keep them out.
My grandmother knew what a painful life had taught her: success or failure, the truth of a life really has little to do with its quality. The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight. The capacity for delight is the gift of paying attention.
This morning, in my morning pages, I brainstormed some ways to bring the book I'm writing to a more satisfying ending than what I've managed to come up with so far. I think I may have done just that. And, I also had the most amazing moment related to a completed manuscript I have that will make it oh-so-much better. Of course, it will require a complete re-write, but I was sort of looking at that probability anyway.
OT (but not so much): Because of a sore ankle, I've been trying a little yoga in the morning. Trust me, I'm horrible at yoga. I can't get through (yet) an entire session, and the moves I do get through are horrible imitations of what the instructor is doing. But still, I work at it a little. And even with my feeble attempts, I've noticed I'm a bit more limber each time, and I'm sitting up a little more straight at my desk. I might have to practice my poor yoga moves in the middle of the day!
CR: Dying for Justice by L.J. Sellers.
It's all better with friends.