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Sacred Wandering: Growing Your Faith In The Dark

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Dana Arcuri

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“ہڈ کا احاطہ کرتا ہے، ہاتھ بندھے ہوئے پیچھے کی طرف. پلیٹ تبدیل کرنے پر تلخ ہارگمن کی گند میں ہوا ہوا ہوا وقت کونسا ہے؟ ڈاکٹر کاپی جج واہارڈن یا کوئی نہیں؟ میں اپنے آپ کو تہھانے بادل میں ناپسند کرتا ہوں جہاں گندگی کی نمک پسینہ کی تاریخ بند ہے رسی پہلے سب سے تیز ہے اس کے بعد کمزور جکڑے ہوئے، کٹوری کی گونج کے ساتھ جہاں پرندوں اور مکھیوں نے ان کی زوال کو دوبارہ ڈالا میں اپنا اضافہ دوبارہ بناتا ہوں بڑھتی ہوئی واحد ہے. الفاظ کے دانو سے غیر جن کے پاؤں برباد شدہ کائنات کو پسند کرتے ہیں ہر وقت زندہ رکھنے کے لئے میں نے کبھی جھاڑیوں کا سامنا نہیں کیا ان لوگوں کا ایک خاندان جو موت کے لئے جنم دیا جاتا ہے.”

LoveLifeDeathEmotionsDissentProtests
Book:প্রিয় পচিশ - কবিতার বই
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“A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. ... What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.”

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Book:Song of Myself
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“We see only that which we are. I like to think of it in terms of energy. Imagine having a hundred different electrical outlets on your chest. Each outlet represents a different quality. The qualities we acknowledge and embrace have cover plates over them. They are safe: no electricity runs through them. But the qualities that are not okay with us, which we have not yet owned, do have a charge. So when others come along who act out one of these qualities they plug right into us. For example, if we deny or are uncomfortable with our anger, we will attract angry people into our lives. We will suppress our own angry feelings and judge people whom we see as angry. Since we lie to ourselves about our own internal feelings, the only way we can find them is to see them in others. Other people mirror back our hidden emotions and feelings, which allows us to recognize and reclaim them.”

EmotionsProjectionMirroring
Book:The Dark Side of the Light Chasers: Reclaiming Your Power, Creativity, Brilliance, and Dreams
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