When your heart's gratitude comes to the fore, when you become all gratitude, this gratitude is like a flow, a flow of consciousness. When your consciousness is flowing, feel that this gratitude-flow is like a river that is watering the root of the tree and the tree itself. It is always through gratitude that your consciousness-river will grow and water the perfection-tree inside you.
There comes a time for healingno matter how broken you are right now;no matter how heavy your heart is right now.There comes a time when you will go outsideand let the sun shine on your faceand let the wind touch your hairand you will not be tired by just simply being awake.There comes a time when you will be happy to be alive againand that day you will appreciate your own beingbecause now you know the other side.Now you know the opposite.Now you know what it__ like to not be sure if you really are; whoyou really are;if you simply are, anymore.And that daywill be the beginning of everything.
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There comes a time for healingno matter how broken you are right now;no matter how heavy your heart is right now.There comes a time when you will go outsideand let the sun shine on your faceand let the wind touch your hairand you will not be tired by just simply being awake.There comes a time when you will be happy to be alive againand that day you will appreciate your own beingbecause now you know the other side.Now you know the opposite.Now you know what it__ like to not be sure if you really are; whoyou really are;if you simply are, anymore.And that daywill be the beginning of everything.
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Missing HomeSometimes when we may experience a feeling of nostalgia, and a longing for our Home, it does not really mean that our Home is somewhere out there in the stars. It means that we start remembering our own divine Self. We miss, it and we want to be reconnected to what is truly ours. We always can, at any moment, turn to our hearts. When we raise the feeling of gratitude and appreciation for who we are, we know we are at Home.
The Universe is alive, conscious, and aware.
Be the celebrators, celebrate! Already there is too much__he flowers have bloomed, the birds are singing, the sun is there in the sky__elebrate it! You are breathing and you are alive and you have consciousness, celebrate it!
Are you what is called a lucky man? Well, you are sad every day. Each day has its great grief or its little care. Yesterday you were trembling for the health of one who is dear to you, today you fear for your own; tomorrow it will be an anxiety about money, the next day the slanders of a calumniator, the day after the misfortune of a friend; then the weather, then something broken or lost, then a pleasure for which you are reproached by your conscience or your vertebral column; another time, the course of public affairs. Not to mention heartaches. And so on. One cloud is dissipated, another gathers. Hardly one day in a hundred of unbroken joy and sunshine. And you are of that small number who are lucky! As for other men, stagnant night is upon them.
This is the real Madame. I can see why she hides herself in accents and gems and exotic perfumes. I can see why she's grown to hate anything to do with love. She isn't evil or corrupt the way that Vaughn is. She's broken. Only broken.