Deep Inspirational Drawings With Quotes

If you stand right at the edge of the night sky, some place where one o’clock leaves to meet two, the breeze will carry your words up to the stars. And they’ll swallow your secrets until its time to hand them over to the truths in the sky- the ones that draw maps in the black. They carve their answers into the backs of my hands, the grooves of the words running deep in my palms.

The well from which we draw our love to give to other people, should never be only as deep as the well wherein resides the love we have already received in our lives. The cycle must be broken. The former well must be abandoned and we must create a love in our hearts for others, from the bricks and the mortar of our own visions. Our raw materials must come not only from what we received; but our raw materials must come from what we envision to create. From your desires and your visions— your bricks and mortar should materialize. And if your former well is completely empty and dry— so what— you don't owe it to your past, to the people who hurt you, to make that emptiness and that void, your place for drawing water from!

You know that feeling of invincibility you sometimes get, especially when young and testing yourself - well that could be because actually know deep down that we are indeed eternal. We come into this world to live a life, to experience it, from somewhere else, some other plane, but we are programmed by all around us to deny or forget this - until one day we may remember again. That feeling of blissful reconnection with our source can be invoked through nature, beautiful writing or art or music, any detailed craft or work of discovery or personal dedication, meditation or other mentally balancing practice, or even through religious experience if there is a pure communion (not a pretence of it). But we should not yearn to return too soon, we should accept that we have come here for the duration of each life, and revel in the chance to learn and grow on this splendid planet. We can draw a deep sense of being-ness. peace, and love from this connection, which will sustain us through any trial. Once nurtured, this becomes stronger than any other connection, so of course our relationships here are most joyful when they allow us the personal freedom to spend time developing and celebrating that connection. Our deepest friendships form with those we can share such time and experiences with - discussing, meditating, immersing ourselves in nature, or creating our music, art, written or other works. Our journeys here are voyages of discovery, opening out the wonders within and all around. What better companions could we have than those who are able to fully share in such delights with us?

A Great Teacher is like a fountain; she draws from the still, deep waters of personal growth and professional knowledge to serve others from her abundant overflow.

Sometimes there is a sadness, That even tears cannot speak. My heart alone knows the pain, A pain so sharp and deep. Why then do I hold on? Why do I follow where it leads? Ah, perhaps because it draws me closer, It carries me where it is sweet.

Midnight Steel When Love’s steel draws near it doth but conspire, And pierces she the hearts of all she holds and so desires. Come thou, dear Love, to sleep, rest in your arms and dream but deep. Help me to love all of my days, so that on sweet earth I may stay. —Valkyrie Kari, Musings in the Night

Work hard. Work dirty. Choose your favourite spade and dig a small, deep hole; located deep in the forest or a desolate area of the desert or tundra. Then bury your cellphone and then find a hobby. Actually, 'hobby' is not a weighty enough word to represent what I am trying to get across. Let's use 'discipline' instead. If you engage in a discipline or do something with your hands, instead of kill time on your phone device, then you have something to show for your time when you're done. Cook, play music, sew, carve, shit - bedazzle! Or, maybe not bedazzle... The arrhythmic is quite simple, instead of playing draw something, fucking draw something! Take the cleverness you apply to words with friends and utilise it to make some kick ass cornbread, corn with friends - try that game. I'm here to tell you that we've been duped on a societal level. My favourite writer, Wendell Berry writes on this topic with great eloquence, he posits that we've been sold a bill of goods claiming that work is bad. That sweating and working especially if soil or saw dust is involved are beneath us. Our population especially the urbanites, has largely forgotten that working at a labour that one loves is actually a privilege.

The Lord needs men and women who can talk with confidence about what they believe. Men and women who aren't afraid to wrestle with tough questions. Men and women who can talk to children, youth, and each other about everything from the Church's teachings about marriage to other issues that can cause confusion and threaten faith. We of all people should be comfortable discussing any topic, any issue, any doctrine with anyone, because we can draw from a deep reservoir of revealed truth. We have so many places to turn for answers—to the Lord, to the scriptures, to prophets, seers, and revelators, and to a host of other inspired resources.

Certainty is an unrealistic and unattainable ideal. We need to have pastors who are schooled in apologetics and engaged intellectually with our culture so as to shepherd their flock amidst the wolves. People who simply ride the roller coaster of emotional experience are cheating themselves out of a deeper and richer Christian faith by neglecting the intellectual side of that faith. They know little of the riches of deep understanding of Christian truth, of the confidence inspired by the discovery that one’s faith is logical and fits the facts of experience, and of the stability brought to one’s life by the conviction that one’s faith is objectively true. God could not possibly have intended that reason should be the faculty to lead us to faith, for faith cannot hang indefinitely in suspense while reason cautiously weighs and reweighs arguments. The Scriptures teach, on the contrary, that the way to God is by means of the heart, not by means of the intellect. When a person refuses to come to Christ, it is never just because of lack of evidence or because of intellectual difficulties: at root, he refuses to come because he willingly ignores and rejects the drawing of God’s Spirit on his heart. unbelief is at root a spiritual, not an intellectual, problem. Sometimes an unbeliever will throw up an intellectual smoke screen so that he can avoid personal, existential involvement with the gospel. In such a case, further argumentation may be futile and counterproductive, and we need to be sensitive to moments when apologetics is and is not appropriate. A person who knows that Christianity is true on the basis of the witness of the Spirit may also have a sound apologetic which reinforces or confirms for him the Spirit’s witness, but it does not serve as the basis of his belief. As long as reason is a minister of the Christian faith, Christians should employ it. It should not surprise us if most people find our apologetic unconvincing. But that does not mean that our apologetic is ineffective; it may only mean that many people are closed-minded. Without a divine lawgiver, there can be no objective right and wrong, only our culturally and personally relative, subjective judgments. This means that it is impossible to condemn war, oppression, or crime as evil. Nor can one praise brotherhood, equality, and love as good. For in a universe without God, good and evil do not exist—there is only the bare valueless fact of existence, and there is no one to say that you are right and I am wrong. No atheist or agnostic really lives consistently with his worldview. In some way he affirms meaning, value, or purpose without an adequate basis. It is our job to discover those areas and lovingly show him where those beliefs are groundless. We are witnesses to a mighty struggle for the mind and soul of America in our day, and Christians cannot be indifferent to it. If moral values are gradually discovered, not invented, then our gradual and fallible apprehension of the moral realm no more undermines the objective reality of that realm than our gradual, fallible apprehension of the physical world undermines the objectivity of that realm. God has given evidence sufficiently clear for those with an open heart, but sufficiently vague so as not to compel those whose hearts are closed. Because of the need for instruction and personal devotion, these writings must have been copied many times, which increases the chances of preserving the original text. In fact, no other ancient work is available in so many copies and languages, and yet all these various versions agree in content. The text has also remained unmarred by heretical additions. The abundance of manuscripts over a wide geographical distribution demonstrates that the text has been transmitted with only trifling discrepancies.

The idea that we all contain an Inner Child who has been suppressed by our society, the belief that we should cultivate this Inner Child as our true self and that we can depend upon it to release our creativity, seems an overreductive statement of an insight expressed by many wise and thoughtful people—among them Jesus: “Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.” Some mystics and many great artists, aware of drawing on their childhood as a deep source of inspiration, have spoken of the need to maintain an unbroken inner connection between the child and the adult in one’s own inward life. But to reduce this to the idea that we can open a mental door from which our imprisoned Inner Child will pop out and teach us how to sing, dance, paint, think, pray, cook, love, etc. . . . ?

I would like to see us grow in developing a deep understanding of the need for healing as an abolitionist practice. Many of us come to this work with our own wounds--whether from childhood trauma, racism, homophobia, or the violence of police and prisons. In fact, many of us draw energy and inspiration from these wounds and the anger they create. But we are also drained by these traumas. Or find ourselves neglecting our bodies and spirits in the same ways that we may have been neglected in the past. As a result, our movement can be very 'head' oriented--talking, planning, thinking, writing--and not body and emotion oriented. This work doesn't have to be individualistic or separate from movement work; we can include it all in our movement spaces and make it a collective activity, just like the community recovery movement. But a movement against a violent and violating phenomenon like the PIC cannot hope to be successful if we don't directly address and heal the effects of that violence.

The Advent of Karna Now the feats of arm are ended, and the closing hour draws nigh, Music's voice is hushed in silence, and dispersing crowds pass by, Hark! Like welkin-shaking thunder wakes a deep and deadly sound, Clank and din of warlike weapons burst upon the tented ground! Are the solid mountains splitting, is it bursting of the earth, Is it tempest's pealing accent whence the lightning takes its birth? Thoughts like these alarm the people for the sound is dread and high, To the gate of the arena turns the crowd with anxious eye! Gathered round preceptor Drona, Pandu's sons in armour bright, Like the five-starred constellation round the radiant Queen of Night, Gathered round the proud Duryodhan, dreaded for his exploits done, All his brave and warlike brothers and preceptor Drona's son, So the gods encircled Indra, thunder-wielding, fierce and bold, When he scattered Danu's children in the misty days of old! Pale, before the unknown warrior, gathered nations part in twain, Conqueror of hostile cities, lofty Karna treads the plain! In his golden mail accoutred and his rings of yellow gold, Like a moving cliff in stature, arméd comes the chieftain bold! Pritha, yet unwedded, bore him, peerless archer on the earth, Portion of the solar radiance, for the Sun inspired his birth! Like a tusker in his fury, like a lion in his ire, Like the sun in noontide radiance, like the all-consuming fire! Lion-like in build and muscle, stately as a golden palm, Blessed with every very manly virtue, peerless warrior proud and calm! With his looks serene and lofty field of war the chief surveyed, Scarce to Kripa or to Drona honour and obeisance made! Still the panic-stricken people viewed him with unmoving gaze, Who may be this unknown warrior, questioned they in hushed amaze! Then in voice of pealing thunder spake fair Pritha's eldest son Unto Arjun, Pritha's youngest, each, alas! to each unknown! “All thy feats of weapons, Arjun, done with vain and needless boast, These and greater I accomplish—witness be this mighty host!” Thus spake proud and peerless Karna in his accents deep and loud, And as moved by sudden impulse leaped in joy the listening crowd! And a gleam of mighty transport glows in proud Duryodhan's heart, Flames of wrath and jealous anger from the eyes of Arjun start! Drona gave the word, and Karna, Pritha's war-beloving son, With his sword and with his arrows did the feats by Arjun done!

Ruth Price is a Pennsylvania native and devoted mother of four. After her youngest set off for college, she decided it was time to pursue her childhood dream to become a fiction writer. Drawing inspiration from her faith, her husband and love of her life Harold, and deep interest in Amish culture that stemmed from a childhood summer spent with her family on a Lancaster farm, Ruth began to pen the stories that had always jabbered away in her mind. Ruth believes that art at its best channels a higher good, and while she doesn’t always reach that ideal, she hopes that her readers are entertained and inspired by her stories.

Health in Breathing Deep Breathing. Many cases of lung trouble and of other afflictions are due to improper breathing, or rather to persons allowing themselves to fall into bad habits of breathing. Nature intends that a certain amount of oxygen must come from the air we breathe. In a natural, joyous life, nature will cause anyone to breathe in an abundance of this oxygen. But artificial habits of life, and especially despondency and work that requires much stooping or bending over, are apt to produce an apathy of the nerves and muscles that control breathing, and hence an insufficient supply of the health-giving oxygen. The remedy in such cases is easy and in everyone's hands. Moreover, it costs nothing but a slight effort, continued long enough until a correct habit is formed. How to Breathe. The most important item in breathing is that it shall be deep and rhythmic, that is, that inspiration and expiration shall be of equal length. Watch a person asleep and note his breathing: it is as regular and rhythmic as the swish of the waves on the shore, as regular as the ticking of the clock. That is the natural way; when consciousness stops controlling it, the breathing becomes natural. If, then, you are seeking health and vigor, imitate the natural. Breathing Exercise. Of marvelous value is the deep breathing exercise, which should be taken just as regular as the morning ablution. The best place is somewhere where one can get fresh air, preferably air that the sun has shone on. Then bending back the shoulders, throwing forward the chest and upward the chin, inhale slowly just as much air as the lungs will hold. Hold in this air while you count ten. Exhale it slowly Repeat this four or five times. Then, after a moment’s rest, empty the lungs to the utmost, then draw in all the air possible, and when the lungs seem full, draw in just a little more, pack the lungs, as it were, and hold the breath while you count twenty slowly. Then exhale. You will find this a wonderfully invigorating and health preserving exercise.

Every day, in this earthly life, there are ups and downs, deep emotional valleys and steep mountains to overcome. We have not yet learned to travel the straight and narrow road of Understanding. We still coast and veer off the path we travel. A sudden change of attitude or a jump back into a dark habitual mood always deters us from moving toward the light. How much easier does it seem to reach back to the old and outgrown thought habits of the past? But it is this light, or moment of ‘seeing with the mental eye’, that inspires us to keep moving and to get back on the road to eternal bliss - again and again. This glimpse of the Truth that all is good and all is mental, and that we are part of this Universal goodness with its wonderful effects, is what keeps us going. We instinctively know the Truth when we keep our minds open to all possibilities. Inspiration comes in many forms. A wonderful reminder of a past experience, a certain smell reminding you of a pleasant encounter, the sound of a song that triggers loving feelings, looking at nature and its wondrous bounty, or the birth of a baby are just a few examples of new hope and a fresh want for living. A new desire for a better tomorrow is born every second and readily available to you. Indeed, desire is the starting point of all achievement, but most of all it is the starting point of imagination and the active spark or beginning of all creation. Your desire is a spark in your consciousness pressing for expression. Life is unfolding itself. Life always presses for manifestation and progress. It is an ever-changing ongoing process. Like water, life flows. With this in mind I make sure that my motivation is pure, and comes from within the chambers of my loving heart. The Universe with its vast ocean of pure possibilities is ready and willing to provide, and I draw from this unlimited Universal gift. Knowing that God is close and ever-present is all the daily inspiration I need to keep moving forward. Seeing the sunrise in the early morning hours reminds me that I have another chance to change my course; and I will travel happily toward my ultimate goal, which is perfect Understanding of the Allness of Good.

Love for perishing souls inspired Abraham’s prayer. While he loathed the sins of that corrupt city, he desired that the sinners might be saved. His deep interest for Sodom shows the anxiety that we should feel for the impenitent. We should cherish hatred of sin, but pity and love for the sinner. All around us are souls going down to ruin as hopeless, as terrible, as that which befell Sodom. Every day the probation of some is closing. Every hour some are passing beyond the reach of mercy. And where are the voices of warning and entreaty to bid the sinner flee from this fearful doom? Where are the hands stretched out to draw him back from death? Where are those who with humility and persevering faith are pleading with God for him?

Anyone seeking to draw closer to God needs to curb the horizontal and ascend to God vertically,’ he said. ‘And this means giving oneself fully to God – with all one’s heart, body, mind and soul. There mustn’t be any dark corners.’ Skimming the surface wasn’t an option, he stressed. ‘People often tend to merely skate around the edges of religion, but what they really need is to plunge into its depths like deep-sea divers looking for treasures. Too many people nowadays make selective choices from various faiths – the New Age approach, but never embrace any one of them fully,’ said Nasr. It was true, so many people didn’t believe in organised religion but liked to take the best from every religion or spiritual teaching. ‘The most direct means of communication with God,’ he concluded, ‘are prayer and dhikr.

As it turns out, this desire to be loved and to belong is not unique to emotionally needy writers spoiled by their parents. It is inherent to us all. It helps make us human. You'll find evidence of this in Brene Brown's research. She has spent the last twenty years studying the characteristics of people who, regardless of life circumstances, exhibit resilience. Using a qualitative research method known as grounded theory research, Brown conducted thousands of interviews with hundreds of people spanning all sorts of cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds to conclude that "a deep sense of love and belonging is an irreducible need for all women, men, and children." "We are biologically, cognitively, physically, and spiritually wired to love, to be loved, and to belong," Brown writes in The Gifts of Imperfection. "When those needs are not met, we don't function as we are meant to. We break. We fall apart. We hurt others. We get sick." Her research concluded that the key to connection is no mystery: "I realized that only one thing separated the men and women who felt a deep sense of love and belonging from the people who seemed to be struggling for it. That one thing was the belief in their worthiness. If we want to fully experience love and belonging, we must believe that we are worthy of love and belonging." In fact, Brown defines wholehearted living as "a way of engaging with the world from a place of worthiness." It's important to note that Brown uncovered these findings while researching the corrosive effects of shame. Shame is the ultimate connection killer, for it tells us that our flaws make us unworthy of love. Like many researchers and psychologists, Brown draws a distinction between shame and guilt, noting that the former focuses on being while the latter focuses on behavior. While guilt says, "I did something bad," shame says, "I am bad." Studies suggest a healthy dose of guilt can actually inspire us to make healthier choices, but shame, as a rule, proves counterproductive. For people of faith, and especially for Christians, this research raises some important questions. Does any claim to our inherent worthiness contradict religious teaching and the witness of our sacred texts? Can we deal honestly with our sins without internalizing shame? Does our belief system require that we see ourselves as nothing more than loathsome insects, deserving only to be swept by tsunami waves into the fires of hell? Or can we, too, engage the world from a place of worthiness? Many of us have been talked out of that hope by a parent, a Sunday school teacher, a pastor, or perhaps even our very own fragile selves. In some way or another, many of us have become convinced that we will never be worthy of love- because of our sin, because of our humanity, and because of something that happened in a mysterious garden a long time ago.

Her face and the garden Her face is like a summer garden, By divine beauty tended and by grace never forsaken, There bloom roses many, and lilies too, And I keep looking at it, for in spell bound state what else can I do, Yesterday she was a garden of roses, Last year she was the entire spring, where once in bloom, the beauty’s flower never closes, This year she has transformed into a garden blooming with new flowers, Daisies, daffodils, and sunflowers standing like beauty’s radiant towers, Rendered more radiant in the never ending splendour of her eyes, And the garden of beautiful roses growing all over her, even time defies, While I watch the garden of beauty grow over her face, My heart beats assume a new and lovely pace, That draw my mind into this world of endless beauty, And I know not whether it obeys my heart’s yearnings or it too has grown fond of her pure serenity, The summer has found a permanent residence in her face, infact within her, Because I still see the roses blooming over her face although it is late November, And when sometimes she brushes her hair with her fingers, The roses peek from her face to feel her finger tips and their magical wonders, And when she rests her eyelids upon her eyes, The pollen dust of million flowers, upon her waiting eyelashes, a perfect sheen applies, That neither sparkles nor glows, But in the garden of her face it simply in its splendour grows, And when the winter sun gets tired and retires finally, The lilies apply the mask of radiance on her tenderly, While the violets and narcissus seep deep into her brow, And what a wonder she is to look at now, A beauty with no end, where waves of summer flow interminably, As she rests her head on the pillow and closes her eyes slowly, The morning glory turns into the night glory, And then begins our own love story, Where the lovely and winding creepers grow all over us, over her and over me too, Finally the garden of beauty grows all over us, and now it shall be so, no matter what you do, I in the garden of her beauty where flowers bloom everywhere, And then my heart confesses, “Irma, let us hide in this garden somewhere, To be never found by time, and never felt by any season, Because finally we have found love in each other that defies every reason,” And this is how it has been for many years now, I and my every feeling of love sinking deep into her beauty’s eternal brow!

Prayer is like watering a garden, Teresa said. At first, we have to draw water from a deep well by hand. It’s hard work, and it seems to take forever. Later, as we get to know God better, it’s as if a stream springs up in our garden. We don’t have to strain to drag water up from the dark pit of our hearts. Instead, it bubbles up in us.

It was when I was in just such deep misery that I felt my energies revive, and I said to myself: In spite of everything I shall rise again; I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing. And from that moment everything has seemed transformed for me; and now I have started, and my pencil has become a little more docile with every day.' In this way, with a dramatic flourish and a hinted resurrection simile, Van Gogh announced his new vocation to Theo.

A memoir in which the author shares his impressive journey of emigrating to the United States to escape a difficult life in an impoverished Nigerian village. Born into an extremely poor family in Nigeria, ‘Deji Ayoade had early memories of wanting to come to America to do better for himself. For years, he dreamed about having a bright future in the United States. At seven, he promised his mother that one day he would be a doctor in America and take her and his siblings away from their dangerous and impoverished existence. By the age of thirty-three, ‘Deji had been in the United States for five years and was living his dream. He had earned a master’s degree, married and had a child, been recruited into the Navy, and become a US citizen. He makes good on the promise to his mother and brings her, his sister, and his sister’s baby to the United States. UNDERGROUND: A Memoir of Hope, Faith, and the American Dream is a well-structured, compelling memoir written by a determined man with big dreams, ambitious goals, and the strength to never lose sight of where he is headed. Commitment, intelligence, and drive contribute to his fulfilling what he deems to be his purpose in life. His accomplishments in the armed services are nothing short of admirable. Ayoade draws readers into the 1980s culture of the poorer regions of Nigeria with vivid descriptions of the sights, sounds, and smells of areas in which they lived. His credible recreation of scenes reveals insight into the civilization that had considerable influence on him. Family dynamics also play a significant role in Ayoade’s life. His recollection of his father’s contradictory behaviors both confuse and enlighten him. His fond memories of his grandmother—the family member he trusted the most—are heartfelt and touching. While coming to the United States offers many positive experiences for Ayoade, it doesn’t come without problems, and one that the author talks about with deep emotion and candidness is racism. Thoughtful in the way he acknowledges possible differences of perspectives, he describes how it feels to be looked at differently. One scene in particular demonstrates just how prejudiced and insensitive people can be when it comes to racial biases. Ayoade writes from the heart with emotion and honesty that demonstrate his passion for what he does in life. His ability to weave together a cohesive story from so many disparate fragments is remarkable. His religious faith and commitment to never-ending improvement for himself are inspiring and a basis for being a role model for others. UNDERGROUND: A Memoir of Hope, Faith, and the American Dream–author ‘Deji Ayoade’s reflections on overcoming enormous obstacles and emigrating from Nigeria to the United States–is candid, heartwarming, and inspirational.

Reach down deep and draw a line. Continue thinking, walking tall. The problem's theirs, never mine. The insanity of it all.

In a letter she wrote to Alfred Stieglitz in November of 1909, she says, “I’ve just finished a big job for very little cash! A set of designs for a pack of Tarot cards 80 designs. I shall send some over—of the original drawings—as some people may like them!” Today this note strikes a chord that’s both sweet and sour. The thirty-one-year-old writing it had no inkling how renowned her images would become after they were published in 1910. The Rider-Waite tarot deck, as it came to be called (after Waite and the publisher, William Rider & Son), is now arguably the most successful and recognizable deck ever made, and it is the number-one-selling deck in America and England. Her complex, symbolic artwork has been a source of inspiration and deep meaning to card readers for more than a hundred years, not to mention its numberless appearances on everything from T-shirts to coffee mugs to haute couture dresses by Dior and Alexander McQueen.

There are so many small moments, or as I call them, little things, that have inspired and continue to inspire me as a teacher. I draw so much inspiration from the many inquisitive and creative minds as well as the infinite amount of questions posed by children. They ask us questions we do not have the answers to. Children remind me how each and every single day is filled with so much to discover about the world and ultimately about ourselves. A butterfly or an ant becomes a marvelous creature that we wonder in awe at or even pretend to be by flying or crawling together. Children make me dig deep and model how to treat and take care of one another, our environment, and ourselves. Children teach me what taking care of each other looks like and what sticking together like peanut butter and jelly is all about, especially during the most challenging of times. We breathe together, we talk and work out problems together, and we move together. In the midst of it all, we meet one another where we are and support one another to where we are going. Each and every day I am filled and inspired by our children. For that, my heart and my brain are full with love and memories.

You see this, O my lovely? This is yours,' he said. 'This street, this path, is yours to walk. If you follow it, it will you into the labyrinth of London's underworld, where you truly belong. All you need to do is embrace the Pale Dreamer. Let her deep into your soul. Let her take away all the doubt, the solitude, the fear you store as Paige Mahoney, and turn it into riches. Let her draw out the gift that lies dormant within you. Do this,' he said, 'and you will make me a fine mollisher.