spirit

Sometimes you have to look past a person__ mistakes to see God__ presence.

The universe and all creation are there for you to connect your spirit to and you are special part of the whole. If you can sense the wonder of the vast infinite and eternal universe, your spirit will be lifted to great heights and you will tap the source of your life energy.

Awakening your spiritual self is like having a second childhood with faulty parents, broken bones and proverbial brussel sprouts.

There are those of poor spirit and there are those of great spirit. None are without it but the flame flickers pretty low in some cases. The majority of people seem to be nothing but a little flickering flame. You know that when you match them against an individual who is all fire, all radiance. Those in whom the flame of the spirit runs high are extraordinary examples of human beings.

Spirit is a tangible substance.

The challenge of elucidating living processes -- including consciousness and all its baggage which we bundle together as 'the human spirit' -- is only one example of a challenge where hard work is paying off and science does not need to accept the false explanations peddled by religions.

The simple truth is that love is a part of who we are, not something that others "give" to us if we're worthy of it. We're taught that if we just find that right person, and that person "falls in love" with us, everything will be fine. We're not taught about recognizing the love that is a part of our spirits, the love that we radiate when we recognize the beauty and need in all the people that surround us. Love is ours to share, at all moments and in all situations, but for some reason we fear doing so.

..Imam Ali [A]..'However knows himself (his soul or spirit) knows [or has known] his Lord

Let me tell you something, honey. When your boobs fall south and that pretty skin of yours looks like you__e been tanning in a nuclear war zone, you__l see what I mean about independence. When the looks are gone, all you__e got left is your spirit, and ya gotta use it until you lose it. That and the occasional sponge bath from Francisco, but soon his ass will be just as wrinkly as mine. Beauty fades, but a strong will keeps ya young and springy.-Miss Velma

What are we artists for? We are for showing you what you've wandered for to find the home of your spirit...

Every great man is an idol, an oracle of inquiry. Don't aspire to know the former, but aspire to know the diety in his soul.

Art is the conscious making of numinous phenomena. Many objects are just objects - inert, merely utilitarian. Many events are inconsequential, too banal to add anything to our experience of life. This is unfortunate, as one cannot grow except by having one__ spirit greatly stirred; and the spirit cannot be greatly stirred by spiritless things. Much of our very life is dead. For primitive man, this was not so. He made his own possessions, and shaped and decorated them with the aim of making them not merely useful, but powerful. He tried to infuse his weapons with the nature of the tiger, his cooking pots with the life of growing things; and he succeeded. Appearance, material, history, context, rarity - perhaps rarity most of all - combine to create, magically, the quality of soul. But we modern demiurges are prolific copyists; we give few things souls of their own. Locomotives, with their close resemblance to beasts, may be the great exception; but in nearly all else with which today__ poor humans are filling the world, I see a quelling of the numinous, an ashening of the fire of life. We are making an inert world; we are building a cemetery. And on the tombs, to remind us of life, we lay wreaths of poetry and bouquets of painting. You expressed this very condition, when you said that art beautifies life. No longer integral, the numinous has become optional, a luxury - one of which you, my dear friend, are fond, however unconsciously. You adorn yourself with the same instincts as the primitive who puts a frightening mask of clay and feathers on his head, and you comport yourself in an uncommonly calculated way - as do I. We thus make numinous phenomena of ourselves. No mean trick - to make oneself a rarity, in this overpopulated age.

When you love yourself, you love your spirit, so everyone can feel it, because everyone is a spiritual being.

I used to walk out, at night, to the breakwater which divides the end of the harbor form the broad moor of the salt marsh. There was nothing to block the wind that had picked up speed and vigor from its Atlantic crossing. I__ study the stars in their brilliant blazing, the diaphanous swath of the milk Way, the distant glow of Boston backlighting the clouds on the horizon as if they__ been drawn there in smudgy charcoal. I felt, perhaps for the first time, particularly American, embedded in American history, here at the nation__ slender tip. Here our westering impulse, having flooded the continent and turned back, finds itself face to face with the originating Atlantic, November__ chill, salt expanses, what Hart Crane called the __nfettered leewardings,_ here at the end of the world.

Food for the ego is poison for the soul.

Trapped, cutting herself against the jagged edges of her emotions, she was a prisoner of her own spirit.

When life throws you curve balls, become a curve ball hitter.

I have come to differentiate not at all between what is spiritual and the rest of life. There is only Life, all of it is good and the more I am aware of this in every moment, the more my spirit comes alive.