In the present, all potentials exist simultaneously in the field. When we stay present, when we are “in the moment,” we can move beyond space and time, and we can make any one of those potentials a reality. When we are mired in the past, however, none of those new potentials exist.
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@lightbulb
If you start keeping track of your thoughts and write them down, you’ll find that most of the time, you are either thinking ahead or looking back.
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@lightbulb
Once you’re no longer connected to a body; no longer focused on people, places, or things in your external environment; and beyond linear time, you’re entering the door of the quantum field. You cannot enter as a somebody, you must do so as a nobody. You have to leave the self-centered ego at the door and enter the realm of consciousness as pure consciousness.
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@lightbulb
You are what you are, you are
where you are, and you are who you are because of what you believe about yourself.
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where you are, and you are who you are because of what you believe about yourself.
@lightbulb
نوید بهار
از سادگی من
همین بس
که باورم شد بازگشت تو
وقتی ترانه باران
در یک روزِ ســردِ زمستانی
نوید بهار را می داد....
@lightbulb
از سادگی من
همین بس
که باورم شد بازگشت تو
وقتی ترانه باران
در یک روزِ ســردِ زمستانی
نوید بهار را می داد....
@lightbulb
When Persian belonging was a generous, cosmopolitan belonging | Aeon Essays
https://aeon.co/essays/when-persian-belonging-was-a-generous-cosmopolitan-belonging
https://aeon.co/essays/when-persian-belonging-was-a-generous-cosmopolitan-belonging
Aeon
Being Persian
To be Persian before nationalism was to belong to a generous, plural identity woven through language, kin and manners
A tingling, misty marvel
Blew hither in the night,
And now the little peach-trees
Are clasped in frozen light.
Upon the apple-branches
An icy film is caught,
With trailing threads of gossamer
In pearly patterns wrought.
The autumn sun, in wonder,
Is gayly peering through
This silver-tissued network
Across the frosty blue.
The weather-vane is fire-tipped,
The honeysuckle shows
A dazzling icy splendor,
And crystal is the rose.
Around the eaves are fringes
Of icicles that seem
To mock the summer rainbows
With many-colored gleam.
Along the walk, the pebbles
Are each a precious stone;
The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,
The clover jewel-sown.
Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkle
Fills all the frosty air,
Oh, can it be that darkness
Is ever anywhere!
Blew hither in the night,
And now the little peach-trees
Are clasped in frozen light.
Upon the apple-branches
An icy film is caught,
With trailing threads of gossamer
In pearly patterns wrought.
The autumn sun, in wonder,
Is gayly peering through
This silver-tissued network
Across the frosty blue.
The weather-vane is fire-tipped,
The honeysuckle shows
A dazzling icy splendor,
And crystal is the rose.
Around the eaves are fringes
Of icicles that seem
To mock the summer rainbows
With many-colored gleam.
Along the walk, the pebbles
Are each a precious stone;
The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,
The clover jewel-sown.
Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkle
Fills all the frosty air,
Oh, can it be that darkness
Is ever anywhere!
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Come Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:
O make in me those civil wars to cease;
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind of light,
A rosy garland and a weary head;
And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:
O make in me those civil wars to cease;
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind of light,
A rosy garland and a weary head;
And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.
"پاول کوژینسکی" کارتونیست بزرگ لهستانی میگوید: انسان گرسنه در درجه نخست هدفی جز سیر شدن شکم ندارد و غم نان اجازه نمی‌دهد که انسان به تماشای جهان بنشیند، در زندگی عمیق شود، کتاب بخواند، یاد بگیرد و آگاهی‌اش را بالا برده و به جهان اطراف خود بیاندیشند.
آدمی در نتیجه زندگی فقیرانه پا را فراتر از جهل نمی‌گذارد! به همین دلیل است که گرسنه نگه داشتن اکثریت ملتی، ضامن بقای طبقات حاکمه است. چیزی که با فقر یکجا جمع نمی‌شود، آگاهی است!!
آدمی در نتیجه زندگی فقیرانه پا را فراتر از جهل نمی‌گذارد! به همین دلیل است که گرسنه نگه داشتن اکثریت ملتی، ضامن بقای طبقات حاکمه است. چیزی که با فقر یکجا جمع نمی‌شود، آگاهی است!!
I find no peace, and all my war is done., I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice., I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;, And nought I have, and all the world I season., That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison, And holdeth me not--yet can I scape no wise--, Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,, And yet of death it giveth me occasion., Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain., I desire to perish, and yet I ask health., I love another, and thus I hate myself., I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;, Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,, And my delight is causer of this strife.
@lightbulb
@lightbulb
آن كسی را كه تو می جویی
كی خيال تو به سر دارد
بس كن اين ناله و زاری را
بس كن او يار دگر دارد
@lightbulb
كی خيال تو به سر دارد
بس كن اين ناله و زاری را
بس كن او يار دگر دارد
@lightbulb
Some people hold grudges. It's a survival mechanism, the only benefit to bad experience. But me? I forget all the bad stuff. Until I don't.
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@lightbulb