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Guru In The Glass: A Mysterious Encounter While Dying To Live The Unlived Life

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Curtis Tyrone Jones

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“I had no problem being on my own. My grandfather had raised me to depend on myself. My problems came when I tried to fit myself into someone else’s life, especially when that meant giving up a part of myself in the process. So I waited until I didn’t have to. Until it felt like someone fit effortlessly. Or maybe that’s too easy - maybe it’s more accurate to say that what was required to be with Owen didn’t feel like effort. It felt like details.”

PatienceIndependenceSingleSoul MatesSinglenessPerfect Match
Book:The Last Thing He Told Me
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“My expectations were pretty conventional regarding opening, operating, and ultimately closing my small store. I certainly didn't expect much emotion, nor did I expect that the faces, voices and stories would stay with me a lifetime, but they will. In reality, I ran the scale of emotions. Every significant interaction changed me. Though you can say that about most anything in life, these moments combined were, for me, truly "life-changing." My lifetime of annoyingly repetitive prayers was for exactly what I was to receive by operating that little store. I had an about-face with confidence, and although my patience will probably never be perfect, it went from a two to maybe a seven?”

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Book:Adventures in Small Business: The surprising humor and realities in owning and running a small retail store.
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“I fully confess unto the Lord God that it has been rash enough, if not even impudent, in me to have dared compose a treatise on Patience, for practising which I am all unfit, being a man of no goodness; whereas it were becoming that such as have addressed themselves to the demonstration and commendation of some particular thing, should themselves first be conspicuous in the practice of that thing, and should regulate the constancy of their commonishing by the authority of their personal conduct, for fear their words blush at the deficiency of their deeds.”

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Author:Tertullian
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“Things could change, Gabe," Jonas went on. "Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors. And grandparents," he added, staring through the dimness toward the ceiling of his sleepingroom. "And everybody would have the memories." "You know the memories," he whispered, turning toward the crib. Garbriel's breathing was even and deep. Jonas liked having him there, though he felt guilty about the secret. Each night he gave memories to Gabriel: memories of boat rides and picnics in the sun; memories of soft rainfall against windowpanes; memories of dancing barefoot on a damp lawn. "Gabe?" The newchild stirred slightly in his sleep. Jonas looked over at him. "There could be love," Jonas whispered.”

LoveColorsGabriel
Book:The Giver
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