Radiant Soul Quotes

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; — This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"— here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" — Merely this, and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice: Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore — Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; — 'Tis the wind and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door — Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore — Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning— little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore.

This first glance of a soul which does not yet know itself is like dawn in the heavens; it is the awakening of something radiant and unknown.

The poor man shuddered, overflowed with an angelic joy; he declared in his transport that this would last through life; he said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being.

There was no God in his heart, he knew; his ideas were still in riot; there was ever the pain of memory; the regret for his lost youth-yet the waters of disillusion had left a deposit on his soul, responsibility and a love of life, the faint stirring of old ambitions and unrealized dreams...... And he could not tell why the struggle was worth while, why he had determined to use to the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed... He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky. I know myself," he cried, "but that is all.

For ages you have come and gone courting this delusion. For ages you have run from the pain and forfeited the ecstasy. So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul. Although you appear in earthly form Your essence is pure Consciousness. You are the fearless guardian of Divine Light. So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul. When you lose all sense of self the bonds of a thousand chains will vanish. Lose yourself completely, Return to the root of the root of your own soul. You descended from Adam, by the pure Word of God, but you turned your sight to the empty show of this world. Alas, how can you be satisfied with so little? So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul. Why are you so enchanted by this world when a mine of gold lies within you? Open your eyes and come --- Return to the root of the root of your own soul. You were born from the rays of God's Majesty when the stars were in their perfect place. How long will you suffer from the blows of a nonexistent hand? So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul. You are a ruby encased in granite. How long will you decieve Us with this outer show? O friend, We can see the truth in your eyes! So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul. After one moment with that glorious Friend you became loving, radiant, and ecstatic. Your eyes were sweet and full of fire. Come, return to the root of the root of your own soul. Shams-e Tabriz, the King of the Tavern has handed you an eternal cup, And God in all His glory is pouring the wine. So come! Drink! Return to the root of the root of your own soul. Soul of all souls, life of all life - you are That. Seen and unseen, moving and unmoving - you are That. The road that leads to the City is endless; Go without head and feet and you'll already be there. What else could you be? - you are That.

He said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being." Jean Valjean about Cossette

A man once asked Rumi, "Why is it you talk so much about silence?" His answer: "The radiant one inside me has never said a word.

The intimate space of your personal life should be reserved for amazing, beautiful, radiant souls — good, wholesome and loving people.

You know how it is when two souls meet in a burst of ecstatic volubility, with hearts tickling to hear and to tell, to know everything, to reveal everything, the shared reverence for the other's otherness, a feeling of solitude radiantly snapped by full *contact* - all that?

She might be a little introverted, livelier of movement than of conversation, neither bashful nor forward, with a soul that seemed submerged, but in a radiant moistness. Opalescent on the surface but translucent in her depths…

What does it mean when a man falls in love with a radiant face across the room? It may mean that he has some soul work to do. His soul is the issue. Instead of pursuing the woman and trying to get her alone, away from her husband, he needs to go alone himself, perhaps to a mountain cabin, for three months, write poetry, canoe down a river, and dream. That would save some women a lot of trouble.

Looking for Your Face From the beginning of my life I have been looking for your face but today I have seen it Today I have seen the charm, the beauty, the unfathomable grace of the face that I was looking for Today I have found you and those who laughed and scorned me yesterday are sorry that they were not looking as I did I am bewildered by the magnificence of your beauty and wish to see you with a hundred eyes My heart has burned with passion and has searched forever for this wondrous beauty that I now behold I am ashamed to call this love human and afraid of God to call it divine Your fragrant breath like the morning breeze has come to the stillness of the garden You have breathed new life into me I have become your sunshine and also your shadow My soul is screaming in ecstasy Every fiber of my being is in love with you Your effulgence has lit a fire in my heart and you have made radiant for me the earth and sky My arrow of love has arrived at the target I am in the house of mercy and my heart is a place of prayer

...within the souls of the awkward and the overlooked often burns something radiant.

That beautiful day passed just as the saddest ones do, since the most radiant of days has a tomorrow.

The soul gropes in search of a soul, and finds it. And that soul, found and proven, is a woman. A hand sustains you, it is hers; lips lightly touch your forehead, they are her lips; you hear breathing near you, it is she. To have her wholly, from her devotion to her pity, never to be left alone, to have that sweet shyness as, to lean on that unbending reed, to touch, Providence with your hands and be able to grasp it in your arms; God made palpable, what transport! The heart, that dark celestial flower, bursts into a mysterious bloom. You would not give up that shade for all the light in the world! The angel soul is there, forever there; if she goes away, it is only to return; she fades away in a dream and reappears in reality. You feel an approaching warmth, she is there. You overflow with serenity, gaiety, and ecstasy; you are radiant in your darkness. And the thousand little cares! The trifles that are enormous in this void. The most ineffable accents of the womanly voice used to comfort you, and replacing for you the vanished universe! You are caressed through the soul. You see nothing but you feel yourself adored. It is paradise of darkness.

All of my works are steps on my journey, a struggle for truth that I have waged with pen, canvas, and materials. Overhead is a distant, radiant star, and the more I stretch to reach it, the further it recedes. But by the power of my spirit and my single-hearted pursuit of the path, I have clawed my way through the labyrinthine confusion of the world of people in an unstinting effort to approach even one step closer to the realm of the soul.

Consider the stars. Among them are no passions, no wars. They know neither love nor hatred. Did man but emulate the stars, would not his soul become clear and radiant as they are? But man's spirit draws him like a moth to the ephemera of this world, and in their heat he is consumed entire.

The sheath that held her soul had assumed significance - that was all. She was a sun, radiant, growing, gathering light and storing it - then after an eternity pouring it forth in a glance, the fragment of a sentence, to that part of him that cherished all beauty and all illusion.

Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.

Seek to share joy with others, or to make somebody else happy, and you will find your own soul radiant with the joy you wished for another.

It’s yummy to love yourself. It feels good. When you truly love yourself, you are radiant, charismatic and irresistible to your SoulMate.

I Dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride- Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride Ah, less-less bright The stars of night Than the eyes of the radiant girl! And never a flake That the vapor can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl- Can vie compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl Now Doubt-now Pain Come never again, For her soul gives me sigh for sigh, And all day long Shine, bright and strong, Astarte within the sky, While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye- While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.

He remembered a story Madrigal had told him once: the human tale of the golem. It was a thing shaped of clay in the form of a man, brought to life by carving the symbol aleph into its brow. Aleph was the first symbol of an ancestral human alphabet, and the first letter of the Hebrew word truth; it was the beginning. Watching Karou rise to her feet, radiant in a fall of lapis hai, in a woven dress the colour of tangerines, with a loop of silver beads at her throat and a look of joy and relief and... love... on her beautiful face, Akiva knew that she was his aleph, his truth and beginning. His soul.

Everything changed when I met the girl. She penetrated a corner of my soul that had been kept sealed and even I didn't know was there. With her gestures, the scent of her skin, her sudden, intense glances that filled me with overwhelming tenderness, with her dependence that was a kind of unthinking, absolute acceptance, she could rescue me instantly from my confusions and obsessions, my discouragement and failure, or my simple daily routine, and leave me inside a radiant circle made of throbbing energy and powerful certainty, like the effects of an unknown drug that produces unconditional happiness.

I love the prairie! So often I have seen the dawn come and the light flood over the land and everything turn radiant at once, that word "good" so profoundly affirmed in my soul that I am amazed I should be allowed to witness such a thing. There may have been a more wonderful first moment "when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy," but for all I know to the contrary, they still do sing and shout, and they certainly might well. Here on the prairie there is nothing to distract attention from the evening and the morning, nothing on the horizon to abbreviate or to delay. Mountains would seem an impertinence from that point of view.

A vibrant body, a radiant mind, a loving heart, and an honorable life.

Patience is not the indiscriminate acceptance of any sort of evil: "It is not the one who does not flee from evil who is patient but rather the one who does not let himself thereby be drawn into disordered sadness." To be patient means not to allow the serenity and discernmet of one's soul to be taken away. Patience, then, is not the tear-streaked mirror of a "broken" life (as one might almost think, to judge from what is frequently shown and praised under this term) but rather is the radiant essence of final freedom from harm. Patience is, as Hildegard of Bingen states, "the pillar that is weakened by nothing.

Her soul died that night under a radiant silver moon in the spring of 1918 on the side of a blood-spattered trench. Around her lay the mangled dead and the dying. Her body was untouched, her heart beat calmly, the blood coursed as ever through her veins. But looking deep into those emotionless eyes one wondered if they had suffered much before the soul had left them. Her face held an expression of resignation, as though she had ceased to hope that the end might come.

It is painful—there is no denying it—to interpret radiant things from the shadow-side, and thus in a measure reduce them to their origins in dreary filth. But it seems to me to be an imperfection in things of beauty, and a weakness in man, if an explanation from the shadow-side has a destructive effect.

Your lust reveals your real desire to unite with the feminine, to penetrate as deeply as possible, to receive her delicious light as radiant food for your masculine soul, and to give her your entirety, losing yourself in the giving, so that you are both liberated beyond your selves in the explosion of your gifts.

You are radiant this evening. You are absolutely breathtaking.

He said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being." -Jean Valjean about Cossette-

You think you are about to possess what men have hopelessly yearned for throughout the ages: the soul of an innocent, trusting, dependent child inside the opulent body of a radiantly lovely woman.

For Emerson, the value and distinction of transcendentalism was very much akin to this swerving and rolling away from acute definition. All the world is taken in through the eye, to reach the soul, where it becomes more, representative of a realm deeper than appearances: a realm ideal and sublime, the deep stillness that is, whose whole proclamation is the silence and the lack of material instance in which, patiently and radiantly, the universe exists.

Throughout the month of May, every night, in that poor, wild garden, under that shrubbery, each day, more perfumed and dense, two human beings composed of every chastity and every innocence, every flowing with all the felicities of Heaven, closer to archangels than men, pure, honest, intoxicated, radiant, glowed for each other in the darkness. It seemed to Cosette that Marius had a crown, and to Marius that Cosette had a halo. They touched, they gazed at each other, they clasped hands, they pressed close together, but there was a distance they did not pass. Not that they respected it; they were ignorant of it. Marius felt a barrier, Cosette’s purity, and Cosette felt a support, Marius’ loyalty. The first kiss was also the last. Since then, Marius had not gone beyond touching Cosette’s hand, or her scarf, or her curls, with his lips. Cosette was to him a perfume, not a woman. He breathed her. She refused nothing, and he asked nothing. Cosette was happy, and Marius was satisfied. They were living in that ravishing condition that might be called the dazzling of one soul by another. It was that ineffable first embrace of two virginities within the ideal. Two swans meeting on the Jung Frau.

Amory, sorry for them, was still not sorry for himself - art, politics, religion, whatever his medium should be, he knew he was safe now, free from all hysteria - he could accept what was acceptable, roam, grow, rebel, sleep deep through many nights... There was no God in his heart, he knew; his ideas were still in riot; there was ever the pain of memory; the regret for his lost youth - yet the waters of disillusion had left a deposit on his soul, responsibility and a love of life, the faint stirring of old ambitions and unrealized dreams... And he could not tell why the struggle was worth while, why he had determined to use to the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed... He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky. "I know myself," he cried, "but that is all.

Men and women are learning animals. If you do not see what they have learned, you're blind. They are creatures ever changing, ever improving, ever expanding their vision and the capacity of their hearts. You are not fair to them when you speak of this as the most bloody century; you are not seeing the light that shines ever more radiantly on account of the darkness; you are not. seeing the evolution of the human soul!… …True, what you say about war. Yes, and the cries of the dying, I too have heard them; we have all heard them, through all the decades; and even now, the world is shocked by daily reports of armed conflict. But it is the outcry against these horrors which is the light I speak of; it's the attitudes which were never possible in the past. It is the intolerance of thinking men and women in power who for the first time in the history of the human race truly want to put an end to injustice in all forms. -- Marius to Akasha (The Vampire Chronicles)

Oh, right, I keep forgetting, for lots and lots of people in the world, the notion of “falling in love” has (of all things) sexual connotations. No, that’s not what I think is happening. For me, what falling in love means is different. It’s a matter of suddenly, globally, “knowing” that another person represents your only access to some vitally transmissible truth or radiantly heightened mode of perception, and that if you lose the thread of this intimacy, both your soul and your whole world might subsist forever in some desert-like state of ontological impoverishment.

When we quiet our mind and open our heart we uncover our natural, radiant being flowing with all of Creation.

God has set within you a femininity that is powerful and tender, fierce and alluring.

Our route toward spiritual evolution is radiantly clear. We all have our own unique individual journey to walk toward enlightenment. Living on the brink of evolutionary change means that new ground is being broken and new consciousness is being raised. Truth is of the essence – we have no dogma, no set formula, no prescribed rules, no false standards to follow. All we have is the truth within our souls. I believe most of us want to follow the light, the path of healing and not destroying our earth, but we don't have the courage, the lion heart, to follow our individual truth toward enlightenment. Giving in to our fears, we bury our “gold” beneath the false value systems of our societies, and we attempt to comfort ourselves with the notion that we have no power or responsibility for what is happening to our world. The reality is that, potentially, we all have the power of light – the White Lion – within us. The very first step is to overcome our fears. Thereafter, our hearts will lead the way.

You are radiant.” “Yes, she is.” Daniel. She turned to him. His blond hair and violet eyes, the strong cut of his shoulders, the full lips that had brought her back to life a thousand times. They had loved each other even longer than Luce had realized. Their love had been strong since the early days of Heaven. Their relationship spanned the entire story of existence. She knew where she’d first met Daniel on Earth-right here, on the singled fields of Troy while the angels were falling-but there was an earlier story. A different beginning to their love. When? How had it happened? She searched for the answer in his eyes-but she knew she wouldn’t find it there. She had to look back in her own soul. She closed her eyes.

Men flock to you because you’re stunning,” he whispered. Tears, unwanted tears, filled my eyes and I blinked them back. “But me…” His hands slid from my cheeks and into my hair, pushing it from my face and clearing a path for my tears. “I see the beauty that lies beneath all the horror, Dove. I see the brilliance of your soul.” My throat hurt, my heart beating so hard I was scared I was going to drop to my knees before him. “And it’s so fucking radiant that it’s blinding.

The young man was sincerely but placidly in love. He delighted in the radiant good looks of his betrothed, in her health, her horsemanship, her grace and quickness at games, and the shy interest in books and ideas that she was beginning to develop under his guidance. She was straightforward, loyal, and brave; she had a sense of humour (chiefly proved by her laughing at his jokes); and he suspected, in the depths of her innocently-gazing soul, a glow of feeling that it would be a joy to waken. But when he had gone the brief round of her he returned discouraged by the thought that all this frankness and innocence were only an artificial product. Untrained human nature was not frank and innocent; it was full of the twists and defences of an instinctive guile. And he felt himself oppressed by this creation of factitious purity, so cunningly manufactured by a conspiracy of mothers and aunts and grandmothers and long-dead ancestresses, because it was supposed to be what he wanted, what he had a right to, in order that he might exercise his lordly pleasure in smashing it like an image made of snow.

Out of the deep sophistication of Anthony an understanding formed, nothing atavistic or obscure, indeed scarcely physical at all, an understanding remembered from the romancings of many generations of minds that as she talked and caught his eyes and turned her lovely head, she moved him as he had never been moved before. The sheath that held her soul had assumed significance- that was all. She was a sun, radiant, growing, gathering light and storing it- then after an eternity pouring it forth in a glance, the fragment of a sentence, to that part of him that cherished all beauty and all illusion.

There was the union of his soul with Gloria's, whose radiant fire and freshness was the living material of which the dead beauty of books was made.

Unselfish and noble actions are the most radiant pages in the biography of souls.

Woman is the crown of creation - the most intricate, dazzling creature on earth. She has a crucial role to play, a destiny of her own.

There is a radiance hidden in your heart that the world desperately needs.

Once we were starlight Two halves of a whole Fiery atoms And radiant soul A celestial collision Separation unplanned Our heaven shattered As we fell to the sand

Radiant souls recognize the light in one another; stay true to who you are, and those meant for you will find you in time.

I like to hope that Rumi's poems, even in translation, carry the essence of the transforming friendship of Rumi and Shams, that the sun can reappear, whole and radiant in any one of us at any moment.

Hymn At morn- at noon- at twilight dim- Maria! thou hast heard my hymn! In joy and woe- in good and ill- Mother of God, be with me still! When the hours flew brightly by, And not a cloud obscured the sky, My soul, lest it should truant be, Thy grace did guide to thine and thee; Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast Darkly my Present and my Past, Let my Future radiant shine With sweet hopes of thee and thine!

Breathe and Be Reborn Into the Lightness Of your Heart and Inner Truths. Speak... in the Silence of Dreams, Knowing the words Bring the peace into your Soul. Radiant the Love that is your True Self and Again... Be Reborn.

There is a theory that when a planet, like our earth for example, has manifested every form of life, when it has fulfilled itself to the point of exhaustion, it crumbles to bits and is dispersed like star dust throughout the universe. It does not roll on like a dead moon, but explodes, and in the space of a few minutes, there is not a trace of it visible in the heavens. In marine life we have a similar effect. it is called implosion. When an amphibian accustomed to the black depths rises above a certain level, when the pressure to which it adapts itself is lifted, the body bursts inwardly. Are we not familiar with this spectacle in the human being also? The norsemen who went berserk, the malay who runs amuck—are these not examples of implosion and explosion? When the cup is full it runs over. but when the cup and that which it contains are one substance, what then? There are moments when the elixir of life rises to such overbrimming splendor that the soul spills over. In the seraphic smile of the madonnas the soul is seen to flood the psyche. The moon of the face becomes full; the equation is perfect. A minute, a half minute, a second later, the miracle has passed. something intangible, something inexplicable, was given out—and received. In the life of a human being it may happen that the moon never comes to the full. In the life of some human beings it would seem, indeed, that the only mysterious phenomenon observable is that of perpetual eclipse. In the case of those afflicted with genius, whatever the form it may take, we are almost frightened to observe that there is nothing but a continuous waxing and waning of the moon. Rarer still are the anomalous ones who, having come to the full, are so terrified by the wonder of it that they spend the rest of their lives endeavoring to stifle that which gave them birth and being. The war of the mind is the story of the soul-split. When the moon was at full there were those who could not accept the dim death of diminution; they tried to hang full-blown in the zenith of their own heaven. They tried to arrest the action of the law which was manifesting itself through them, through their own birth and death, in fulfillment and transfiguration. Caught between the tides they were sundered; the soul departed the body, leaving the simulacrum of a divided self to fight it out in the mind. Blasted by their own radiance they live forever the futile quest of beauty, truth and harmony. Depossessed of their own effulgence they seek to possess the soul and spirit of those to whom they are attracted. They catch every beam of light; they reflect with every facet of their hungry being. instantly illumined, When the light is directed towards them, they are also speedily extinguished. The more intense the light which is cast upon them the more dazzling—and blinding—they appear. Especially dangerous are they to the radiant ones; it is always towards these bright and inexhaustible luminaries that they are most passionately drawn…

Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!— prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us— by that God we both adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore

Why, you know, I said, that the eyes, when a person directs them towards objects on which the light of day is no longer shining, but the moon and stars only, see dimly, and are nearly blind; they seem to have no clearness of vision in them? Very true. But when they are directed towards objects on which the sun shines, they see clearly and there is sight in them? Certainly. And the soul is like the eye: when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence? Just so.

The sheath that held her soul had assumed significance—that was all. She was a sun, radiant, growing, gathering light and storing it—then after an eternity pouring it forth in a glance, the fragment of a sentence, to that part of him that cherished all beauty and all illusion. CHAPTER

To his Own Beloved Self The Author Dedicates These Lines" Six. Ponderous. The chimes of a clock. “Render unto Caesar ... render unto God...” But where’s someone like me to dock? Where’11 I find a lair? Were I like the ocean of oceans little, on the tiptoes of waves I’d rise, I’d strain, a tide, to caress the moon. Where to find someone to love of my size, the sky too small for her to fit in? Were I poor as a multimillionaire, it’d still be tough. What’s money for the soul? – thief insatiable. The gold of all the Californias isn’t enough for my desires’ riotous horde. I wish I were tongue-tied, like Dante or Petrarch, able to fire a woman’s heart, reduce it to ashes with verse-filled pages! My words and my love form a triumphal arch: through it, in all their splendour, leaving no trace, will pass the inamoratas of all the ages! Were I as quiet as thunder, how I’d wail and whine! One groan of mine would start the world’s crumbling cloister shivering. And if I’d end up by roaring with all of its power of lungs and more – the comets, distressed, would wring their hands and from the sky’s roof leap in a fever. If I were dim as the sun, night I’d drill with the rays of my eyes, and also all by my lonesome, radiant self build up the earth’s shriveled bosom. On I’ll pass, dragging my huge love behind me. On what feverish night, deliria-ridden, by what Goliaths was I begot – I, so big and by no one needed?

I've just come to my room, Livy darling, I guess this was the memorable night of my life. By George, I never was so stirred since I was born. I heard four speeches which I can never forget... one by that splendid old soul, Col. Bob Ingersoll, — oh, it was just the supremest combination of English words that was ever put together since the world began... How handsome he looked, as he stood on that table, in the midst of those 500 shouting men, and poured the molten silver from his lips! What an organ is human speech when it is played by a master! How pale those speeches are in print, but how radiant, how full of color, how blinding they were in the delivery! It was a great night, a memorable night. I doubt if America has seen anything quite equal to it. I am well satisfied I shall not live to see its equal again... Bob Ingersoll’s music will sing through my memory always as the divinest that ever enchanted my ears. And I shall always see him, as he stood that night on a dinner-table, under the flash of lights and banners, in the midst of seven hundred frantic shouters, the most beautiful human creature that ever lived... You should have seen that vast house rise to its feet; you should have heard the hurricane that followed. That's the only test! People might shout, clap their hands, stamp, wave their napkins, but none but the master can make them get up on their feet. {Twain's letter to his wife, Livy, about friend Robert Ingersoll's incredible speech at 'The Grand Banquet', considered to be one of the greatest oratory performances of all time}

Face each day with radiant, nurturing love, confidence, a bright vision and creativity with enduring determination and strength matched with a breathing courage as you happily embrace your responsibility and growth in many areas of life. Combine your energy and joy, your passion and vision in creating a brighter day.

He said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being." He said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being." -Jean Valjean about Cossette-

A vision of the Shining One swirling into our world, a monstrous, glorious flaming pillar of incarnate, eternal Evil--of people passing through its radiant embrace into that hideous, unearthly life-in-death which I had seen enfold the sacrifices--of armies trembling into dancing atoms of diamond dust beneath the green ray's rhythmic death--of cities rushing out into space upon the wings of that other demoniac force which Olaf had watched at work--of a haunted world through which the assassins of the Dweller's court stole invisible, carrying with them every passion of hell--of the rallying to the Thing of every sinister soul and of the weak and the unbalanced, mystics and carnivores of humanity alike; for well I knew that, once loosed, not any nation could hold the devil-god for long and that swiftly its blight would spread!

It was clear and frosty. A dark, starlit heaven looked down on the black roofs and the dirty, dusky streets. Only by looking up at the sky could Pierre distance himself from the disgusting squalor of all earthly things as compared with the heights to which his soul had now been taken. As he drove into the Arbat a vast firmament of darkness and stars opened out before Pierre's eyes. And there in the middle, high above Prechistensky Boulevard, amidst a scattering of stars on every side but catching the eye through its closeness to the earth, its pure white light and the long uplift of its tail, shone the comet, the huge, brilliant comet of 1812, that popular harbinger of untold horrors and the end of the world. But this bright comet with its long, shiny tail held no fears for Pierre. Quite the reverse: Pierre's eyes glittered with tears of rapture as he gazed up at this radiant star, which must have traced its parabola through infinite space at speeds unimaginable and now suddenly seemed to have picked its spot in the black sky and impaled itself like an arrow piercing the earth, and stuck there, with its strong upthrusting tail and its brilliant display of whiteness amidst the infinity of scintillating stars. This heavenly body seemed perfectly attuned to Pierre's newly melted heart, as it gathered reassurance and blossomed into new life.

On emerging from that black and deformed thing which is called the galleys, the Bishop had hurt his soul, as too vivid a light would have hurt his eyes on emerging from the dark. The future life, the possible life which offered itself to him henceforth, all pure and radiant, filled him with tremors and anxiety. He no longer knew where he really was. Like

Live so radiant & free that the sun longs to come sit at your feet to bask in the mentorship of your soul’s experiential gift.

Unselfish and noble acts are the most radiant epochs of the biography of souls.

I'm a wanderer, a lost soul a bright fire in midst of sea a free spirit with a radiant heart a glorious Knight with beautiful scars.

May we have: A heart as pure as a crystal, A mind as radiant as the sun, A soul as vast as the universe, A spirit as powerful as God and one with God.

The darkness you inevitably succumb to is afraid of how radiant your soul truly is.

I am a living soul dwelling on a planet that is afloat in a universe radiant with life. I feel so small and at the same time so uniquely privileged to partake in that inconceivable mystery.

This first glance of a soul which does not yet know itself is like the dawn in the sky. It is the awakening of something radiant and unknown. Nothing can express the dangerous chasm of this unlooked-for gleam which suddenly suffuses adorable mysteries, and which is made up of all the innocence of the present, and of all the passion of the future. It is a kind of irresolute lovingness which is revealed by chance, and which is waiting. It is a snare which Innocence unconsciously spreads, and in which she catches hearts without intending to, and without knowing it.

Stretching my arms out wide, I absorb the sun’s radiant energy and my soul soars very high. I am flying freely like a bird, fluttering my feathered wings, which beat with renewed hope. [Flying Free]

I like to hope that Rumi's poems, even in translation, carry the essence of the transforming friendship of Rumi and Shams, that the sun can reappear, whole and radiant in any one of us at any moment.

How gaily and lightly these people I met carried their radiant heads, and swung themselves through life as through a ball-room! There was no sorrow in a single look I met, no burden on any shoulder, perhaps not even a clouded thought, not a little hidden pain in any of the happy souls. And I, walking in the very midst of these people, young and newly-fledged as I was, had already forgotten the very look of happiness. I hugged these thoughts to myself as I went on, and found that a great injustice had been done me. Why had the last months pressed so strangely hard on me? I failed to recognize my own happy temperament, and I met with the most singular annoyances from all quarters. I could not sit down on a bench by myself or set my foot any place without being assailed by insignificant accidents, miserable details, that forced their way into my imagination and scattered my powers to all the four winds. A dog that dashed by me, a yellow rose in a man's buttonhole, had the power to set my thoughts vibrating and occupy me for a length of time.

The memory of an absent being grows bright in the darkness of the heart; the more it has disappeared the more radiant it is; the despairing and gloomy soul sees that light in its horizon; star of the interior night.

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.

Alexander looked her over up and down. Tatiana exuded a porous, evanescent, yet everlasting warmth; her very presence, her satin face in his palm made his back hurt less. Her radiant eyes, her flushed cheeks, her slightly parted loving lips…Alexander stared at her, his eyes wide open, his soul wide open, his adoring heart hurting exquisitely. “You are an angel sent from heaven, aren’t you?” An electric smile lit up her face. “And you don’t know the half of it,” she whispered. “You don’t know what your Tania has been cooking up here.” In her delight she nearly squealed. “What have you been cooking up? No, don’t sit up. I want to feel your face.” “Shura, I can’t. I’m practically on top of you. We need to be very careful.” The smile faded an octave. “Dimitri walks around here all the time. Walks in, out, checks on you, leaves, comes back. What’s he worried about? He was quite surprised to find me here.” “He’s not the only one. How did you get here?” “All part of my plan, Alexander.” “What plan is this, Tatiana?” She whispered, “To be with you when I die of old age.” “Oh, that plan.

This was the feeling that Ms. Hempel couldn't shake: a conviction that she spent her days among people at the age when they are most purely themselves. How could she not be depleted when she came home, having been exposed for hours, without protection, to all those thrumming radiant selves? Here they were, just old enough to have discovered their souls, but not yet dulled by the ordinary act of survival, not yet practiced in dissembling.

The laws of nature are sublime, but there is a moral sublimity before which the highest intelligences must kneel and adore. The laws by which the winds blow, and the tides of the ocean, like a vast clepsydra, measure, with inimitable exactness, the hours of ever-flowing time; the laws by which the planets roll, and the sun vivifies and paints; the laws which preside over the subtle combinations of chemistry, and the amazing velocities of electricity; the laws of germination and production in the vegetable and animal worlds, — all these, radiant with eternal beauty as they are, and exalted above all the objects of sense, still wane and pale before the Moral Glories that apparel the universe in their celestial light. The heart can put on charms which no beauty of known things, nor imagination of the unknown, can aspire to emulate. Virtue shines in native colors, purer and brighter than pearl, or diamond, or prism, can reflect. Arabian gardens in their bloom can exhale no such sweetness as charity diffuses. Beneficence is godlike, and he who does most good to his fellow-man is the Master of Masters, and has learned the Art of Arts. Enrich and embellish the universe as you will, it is only a fit temple for the heart that loves truth with a supreme love. Inanimate vastness excites wonder; knowledge kindles admiration, but love enraptures the soul. Scientific truth is marvellous, but moral truth is divine; and whoever breathes its air and walks by its light, has found the lost paradise. For him, a new heaven and a new earth have already been created. His home is the sanctuary of God, the Holy of Holies.

Each note, each scale, and each strain expires at the appointed time; and at the end of the soul's experience here the finale comes; but the impression remains, as a concert in a dream, before the radiant vision of the consciousness.

Life is paradoxical, but it is enough for me. Ridiculous conflicts and inconsistencies admittedly congeal into what I term the self. Personal growth commences by honing in on the troubling personal issues. I am my only enemy. A radiant soul strives for self-enrichment by passionately pursuing the serious tasks and delights of living including expressing empathy for other people. I will explore the world and attempt to eliminate the perversions of my own egocentric being.

Narcissus knew only too well what a charming golden bird had flown to him. This hermit soon sensed a kindred soul in Goldmund, in spite of their apparent contrasts. Narcissus was dark and spare; Goldmund, a radiant youth. Narcissus was analytical, a thinker; Goldmund, a dreamer with the soul of a child. But something they had in common bridged these contrasts: both were refined; both were different from the others because of obvious gifts and signs; both bore the special mark of fate.

Jean Valjean felt his heart melt within him with delight, at all these sparks of a tenderness so exclusive, so wholly satisfied with himself alone. The poor man trembled, inundated with angelic joy; he declared to himself ecstatically that this would last all their lives; he told himself that he really had not suffered sufficiently to merit so radiant a bliss, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted him to be loved thus, he, a wretch, by that innocent being.

His heart trembled; his breath came faster and a wild spirit passed over his limbs as though he was soaring sunward. His heart trembled in an ecstasy of fear and his soul was in flight. His soul was soaring in an air beyond the world and the body he knew was purified in a breath and delivered of incertitude and made radiant and commingled with the element of the spirit. An ecstasy of flight made radiant his eyes and wild his breath and tremulous and wild and radiant his windswept limbs.

From a yogic perspective, good health starts within. All yogic practices help to keep your skin healthy and radiant. The beauty industry spends a lot of money projecting a certain image of beauty that causes you to feel inadequate if you do not match up to this ideal. From a yogic view you foster your inner beauty through the natural care of your body. The yogi sees their physical body as a temple that houses your soul. True beauty is the reflection of your inner self radiating and touching others

From golden showers of the ancient skies, On the first day, and the eternal snow of stars, You once unfastened giant calyxes For the young earth still innocent of scars: Young gladioli with the necks of swans, Laurels divine, of exiled souls the dream, Vermilion as the modesty of dawns Trod by the footsteps of the seraphim; The hyacinth, the myrtle gleaming bright, And, like the flesh of woman, the cruel rose, Hérodiade blooming in the garden light, She that from wild and radiant blood arose! And made the sobbing whiteness of the lily That skims a sea of sighs, and as it wends Through the blue incense of horizons, palely Toward the weeping moon in dreams ascends! Hosanna on the lute and in the censers, Lady, and of our purgatorial groves! Through heavenly evenings let the echoes answer, Sparkling haloes, glances of rapturous love! Mother, who in your strong and righteous bosom, Formed calyxes balancing the future flask, Capacious flowers with the deadly balsam For the weary poet withering on the husk.

The universe is but a tenement of all things visible. Darkness and day the passing guests of Time. Life slips away, a dream of little joy and mean content. Ah! wise the old philosophers who sought To lengthen their long sunsets among flowers, By stealing the young night's unsullied hours And the dim moments with sweet burdens fraught. And now Spring beckons me with verdant hand, And Nature's wealth of eloquence doth win Forth to the fragrant-bowered nectarine, Where my dear friends abide, a careless band. There meet my gentle, matchless brothers, there I come, the obscure poet, all unfit To wear the radiant jewelry of wit, And in their golden presence cloud the air. And while the thrill of meeting lingers, soon As the first courtly words, the feast is spread, While, couched on flowers 'mid wine-cups flashing red, We drink deep draughts unto The Lady Moon. Then as without the touch of verse divine There is no outlet for the pent-up soul, 'Twas ruled that he who quaffed no fancy's bowl Should drain the "Golden Valley" cups of wine

When Nureyev appeared in San Francisco not long ago there were quite a few ballet fans who flew all the way from New York to see him. The mystics would point out how fruitless it is to go to see important people when our first priority is to see ourselves. We think we know Tom, Dick and Harry, but we really know everyone, including ourselves, only on the surface level. If we could see our real Self coming down the street, we would wonder who this beautiful, radiant, magnificent creature could be. We would not be able to take our eyes off him.

I'd finally crossed my arms and said, "Are you going to do this forever? Seriously? You're just going to sit there and stare at me and give me nothing? What's your favorite color, Rosabelle? Can you tell me your favorite color? Or is that some kind of highly protected trade secret you can't speak into the world for fear of inciting a new world war?" and then she laughed at me, and then I had a stroke. I actually felt the blood drain from my face. My hands went hot, then clammy. It was a soft, musical sound of delight I'd never heard from her. Hell, I'd never even seen her smile before. She was still smiling when she looked at me after that, the gentle expression lin- gering on her face. My fucking soul left my body. I'd always thought she was gorgeous, but I had no idea what I was missing. The way her eyes lit up, the way her nose wrinkled. She's been eating more every day, looking healthier, growing only more radiant. "Wow," I'd whispered, gaping at her like an idiot discovering his hands for the first time. And then, realizing I'd said the word out loud, I reached inside myself and put my fist through my brain.

I am going to her; and you, darling child, shall come to us;' and never stirred or spoke again; but continued that rapt, radiant gaze, till his pulse imperceptibly stopped, and his soul departed. None could have noticed the exact minute of his death, it was so entirely without struggle.

I am going to her; and you, darling child, shall come to us;' and never stirred or spoke again; but continued that rapt, radiant gaze, till his pulse imperceptibly stopped, and his soul departed. None could have noticed the exact minute of his death, it was so entirely without struggle.

Is there not in every human soul, was there not in the particular soul of Jean Valjean, a primitive spark, a divine element, incorruptible in this world, immortal in the next, which can be developed by good, kindled, lit up, and made resplendently radiant, and which evil can never entirely extinguish.

Embrace your unique form, let your eccentricity spill over, and in doing so, illuminate the canvas of life with the radiant glow of your wonderfully weird essence. For it is in this celebration of oddities that we find the true masterpiece—the art of shining in our beautifully, artistically weird light.

On emerging from that black and deformed thing which is called the galleys, the Bishop had hurt his soul, as too vivid a light would have hurt his eyes on emerging from the dark. The future life, the possible life which offered itself to him henceforth, all pure and radiant, filled him with tremors and anxiety.

When they kissed, it was sure and deep, and the more she had, the more Tunuva wanted. Esbar drew her nails all the way down her spine. Tunuva groaned at the flare of smarting pleasure, the fire-tipped arrow it sent to her depths. While Esbar nipped at her ear, her jaw, Tunuva grasped her hair in answer, needing to hold all of her, draw this woman close enough to knit the sinew of their souls. She wanted to make love, slow and tender, and she wanted to be seized in passion - two sacred wants, as pressing as thirst, as radiant as the fruit. Though the war had come for them at last, there was still this. There would always be this.

Look to the stars, my child, and know, The heavens speak of what you’re shown. More precious than the diamonds bright, More costly than the purest light. Your worth is far beyond the earth, Crowned in splendor before your birth. Lift your eyes to skies afar, And remember, child, just who you are. The Master’s hand, with skill untold, Has shaped your heart of pure red-gold. Strength and beauty, love refined, In you His perfect craft combined. The One who lit the stars aflame, Is He who softly calls your name. His mighty hands designed your soul, A radiant mystery to unfold. Endowed with worth from Heaven’s throne, You are His child, His very own Soli Deo Gloria

And the soul is like the eye: when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence?

Though parted our two loving souls combine, For mine is all your own and yours is mine. Two riddles to the world we represent, One answer each the other's deep lament. But if our parting severs us in two, One radiant light envelops me and you, As from another world - though blocked and barred What there is one, down here is forced apart. Yet if despairing bodies separate, Souls freely wander and communicate.

You know those particular stand out beauties you see once in a blue moon walking by themselves down the high street on a Saturday afternoon or sitting on a park bench all alone during their lunch break in the middle of summer, who immediately catch your eye, looking utterly bored out of their minds and just begging for some single handsome stranger to come and distract them away for twenty minutes or so from their mundane and repetitive daily worlds. That special girl who right away tugged so hard on your heart strings that your blood turned to ice and your soul melted to its very core because you knew she was completely your type without even having spoken to her. All you had to go on was a gut feeling and that special crazy something about her that spoke to every inch of your fibre and being and said this girl is the one for you, my friend, if you would only step up to the damn plate, put all your fears of public rejection, humiliation and inhibitions behind you and gather the courage, will power and determination to go and get her. That rare, radiant and beautiful Angel who caught a glimpse of you, too, and smiled back at you in turn while you were within their proximity but, alas, you had absolutely nothing to say to them in that moment. Nothing. No simple magic words, no charming chat up line, just a blank frozen mind and a stuttering tongue. But in reality, just to say one word, utter one stupid, tiny, silly little insignificant syllable would surely have been a million times better than saying nothing at all and living a life full of regret of not acting in the moment. And then poof, just like that, she's gone forever, out of sight, but never out of your mind.

Chopin étude. At first, she rushed, hit the wrong keys, could not get the rhythm right, but she continued, and as the music unwound like a silken rope from a magic skein, she entered that kingdom that art created, between reality and the possibility of other realities, between harsh life and shining beauty, between death and the possibility of eternity, that radiant realm that nourished her soul and made her understand why she lived.

Oh, what riches live in a sunny soul! Take joy with you; cling to her, no matter where you go or what you do. It is your lubricating oil which would prevent the jars, the discords, and shut out the sorrows of life. What a heritage is a smiling face,—to be able to fling out sunshine everywhere one goes, to scatter the shadows and to lighten sorrowing hearts; to have the power to send cheer into despairing souls through a sunny and radiant disposition!

Ione II. 'TWAS in the radiant summer weather, When God looked, smiling, from the sky; And we went wand'ring much together By wood and lane, Ione and I, Attracted by the subtle tie Of common thoughts and common tastes, Of eyes whose vision saw the same, And freely granted beauty's claim Where others found but worthless wastes. We paused to hear the far bells ringing Across the distance, sweet and clear. We listened to the wild bird's singing The song he meant for his mate's ear, And deemed our chance to do so dear. We loved to watch the warrior Sun, With flaming shield and flaunting crest, Go striding down the gory West, When Day's long fight was fought and won. And life became a different story; Where'er I looked, I saw new light. Earth's self assumed a greater glory, Mine eyes were cleared to fuller sight. Then first I saw the need and might Of that fair band, the singing throng, Who, gifted with the skill divine, Take up the threads of life, spun fine, And weave them into soulful song. They sung for me, whose passion pressing My soul, found vent in song nor line. They bore the burden of expressing All that I felt, with art's design, And every word of theirs was mine. I read them to Ione, ofttimes, By hill and shore, beneath fair skies, And she looked deeply in mine eyes, And knew my love spoke through their rhymes. Her life was like the stream that floweth, And mine was like the waiting sea; Her love was like the flower that bloweth, And mine was like the searching bee — I found her sweetness all for me. God plied him in the mint of time, And coined for us a golden day, And rolled it ringing down life's way With love's sweet music in its chime. And God unclasped the Book of Ages, And laid it open to our sight; Upon the dimness of its pages, So long consigned to rayless night, He shed the glory of his light. We read them well, we read them long, And ever thrilling did we see That love ruled all humanity, — The master passion, pure and strong.

SCRIPTURE READING: EPHESIANS 4:1–15 KEY VERSES: EPHESIANS 4:14–15 That [you] . . . speaking the truth in love, may grow up in all things into Him who is the head—Christ. The pattern Jesus gave us to live by is one of love. Paul wrote, “I . . . implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love” (Eph. 4:1–2 NASB). As a believer, live each day in such a way that your life honors the Lord, who saved you through His mercy and grace. This means to live in a “manner worthy” of your calling. How did Jesus call you? Did He come to you with a list of demands, requiring you to fulfill each one before He would consider caring for you? No. He came to you in love. Redemptive love brought Him to earth so that you might receive eternal salvation. Love was all the motivation He needed to be crucified at Calvary. His love watches over you, protects you, plans your future, and encourages you not to give up in times of sorrow and discouragement. You will spend eternity in the radiant goodness and greatness of His blessings, all because He chooses to love you. Love that is from God is humble and gentle. It loves with the surety of Christ. Someone today is hurting because he thinks God could not possibly love him. You know the truth about His love; will you tell him? Thank You, Lord, that I know the truth about Your love. Help me to share it with others. (SEEKING HIS FACE)

True, I have caught in drawing-rooms now and again a quick exchange of glances, but how colorless it all is! Love, as we imagined it, a world of wonders, of glorious dreams, of charming realities, of sorrows that waken sympathy, and smiles that make sunshine, does not exist. The bewitching words, the constant interchange of happiness, the misery of absence, the flood of joy at the presence of the beloved one — where are they? What soil produces these radiant flowers of the soul? Which is wrong? We or the world?

Gratitude grows from the soil of letting go and surrender. It is only possible to surrender when we are humble enough to acknowledge the authority of the Divine over our life and everything in it. We lean on the immense and unlimited resources of Life. We become lighter, brighter, and more radiant. The never-ending problems and worries of life recede into the background and often disappear. Our being is filled with the loveliness of everything good and a knowing that good is naturally drawn to us and wishes to make its home within the walls of our garden.

In the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. In the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title. Do not lose your knowledge that man’s proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads. Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it’s yours. “But to win it requires your total dedication and a total break with the world of your past, with the doctrine that man is a sacrificial animal who exists for the pleasure of others. Fight for the value of your person. Fight for the virtue of your pride. Fight for the essence of that which is man: for his sovereign rational mind. Fight with the radiant certainty and the absolute rectitude of knowing that yours is the Morality of Life and that yours is the battle for any achievement, any value, any grandeur, any goodness, any joy that has ever existed on this earth. “You will win when you are ready to pronounce the oath I have taken at the start of my battle—and for those who wish to know the day of my return, I shall now repeat it to the hearing of the world: “I swear—by my life and my love of it—that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.

Look to the stars, my child, and know, The heavens speak of what you’re shown. More precious than the diamonds bright, More costly than the purest light. Your worth is far beyond the earth, Crowned in splendor before your birth. Lift your eyes to skies afar, And remember, child, just who you are. The Master’s hand, with skill untold, Has shaped your heart of pure red-gold. Strength and beauty, love refined, In you His perfect craft combined. The One who lit the stars aflame, Is He who softly calls your name. His mighty hands designed your soul, A radiant mystery to unfold. Endowed with worth from Heaven’s throne, You are His child, His very own.

Is there any more cruel inadvertence or ordeal in na­ture Picture the tragedy of that longing, the inac­cessible so nearly attained, the transparent fatality, the impossible with not a visible obstacle! . . . It would be insoluble, like our own tragedy upon this earth, were it not that an unex­pected element is mingled with it. Did the males foresee the disillusion to which they would be sub­jected? One thing is certain, that they have locked up in their hearts a bubble of air, even as we lock up in our souls a thought of desperate deliverance. It is as though they hesitated for a moment; then, with a magnificent effort, the finest, the most supernatural that I know of in the annals of the insects and the flowers, in order to rise to happiness they deliberately break the bond that attaches them to life. They tear themselves from their peduncle and, with an incomparable flight, amid pearly beads of glad­ness, their petals dart up and break the surface of the water. Wounded to death, but radiant and free, they float for a moment beside their heedless brides and the union is accom­plished, whereupon the victims drift away to perish, while the wife, already a mother, closes her corolla, in which lives their last breath, rolls up her spiral and descends to the depths, there to ripen the fruit of the heroic kiss.

Between the Pedestals of Night and Morning Between red death and radiant desire With not one sound of triumph or of warning Stands the great sentry on the Bridge of Fire. O transient soul, thy thought with dreams adorning, Cast down the laurel, and unstring the lyre: the wheels of Time are turning, turning, turning, The slow stream channels deep and doth not tire. Gods on their bridge above Whispering lies and love Shall mock your passage down the sunless river Which, rolling all it streams, shall take you, king of dreams, Unthroned and unapproachable for ever To where the kings who dreamed of old Whiten in habitations monumental cold.

THE BOOK OF A MONK’S LIFE I live my life in circles that grow wide And endlessly unroll, I may not reach the last, but on I glide Strong pinioned toward my goal. About the old tower, dark against the sky, The beat of my wings hums, I circle about God, sweep far and high On through milleniums. Am I a bird that skims the clouds along, Or am I a wild storm, or a great song? Many have painted her. But there was one Who drew his radiant colours from the sun. My God is dark- like woven texture flowing, A hundred drinking roots, all intertwined; I only know that from His warmth I'm growing. More I know not: my roots lie hidden deep My branches only are swayed by the wind. Dost thou not see, before thee stands my soul In silence wrapt my Springtime's prayer to pray? But when thy glance rests on me then my whole Being quickens and blooms like trees in May. When thou art dreaming then I am thy Dream, But when thou art awake I am thy Will Potent with splendour, radiant and sublime, Expanding like far space star-lit and still Into the distant mystic realm of Time. I love my life's dark hours In which my senses quicken and grow deep, While, as from faint incense of faded flowers Or letters old, I magically steep Myself in days gone by: again I give Myself unto the past:- again I live. Out of my dark hours wisdom dawns apace, Infinite Life unrolls its boundless space ... Then I am shaken as a sweeping storm Shakes a ripe tree that grows above a grave ' Round whose cold clay the roots twine fast and warm- And Youth's fair visions that glowed bright and brave, Dreams that were closely cherished and for long, Are lost once more in sadness and in song.

Father, thank you for giving us a new birth in spite of our sin and rebellion. Lord, part of us longs to be holy and sinless, but there is much in us that still cherishes our sin and clings to it. Please help us to hate our sin and run from it. As you draw us toward heaven, open our eyes and help us to see how offensive our sin is to you, and how damaging it is to us. When we are dazzled by the alluring temptations of sexual and nonsexual sins, teach us that you are the only feast that satisfies our souls deeply and permanently. Fill us with awe and wonder that you give us the radiant robes of your Son’s perfection to wear, and carry us to a place of high honor for his glory. Thank you that you have begun a good work in us that nothing can stop, and that one day we will stand before you in the bliss of sinless perfection as Christ’s beautiful bride. We give thanks for this in Jesus’ name, amen.

Like a seed buried underground, my heart was dormant, surrounded by darkness, waiting for the nourishment of love. Then you came along, like water, quenching my thirst, and bringing warmth to my soul. With every moment we share, I feel the warmth spreading, awakening my heart, and giving me the strength to break through the soil of doubt and fear. In the midst of my heart, a garden of love began to bloom, and with every petal that unfurls, I feel myself rising above the ground, reaching for the sun, and radiating the beauty that was hidden within me. You are the sunshine that illuminates my path, the gentle rain that soothes my soul, and the fertile soil that allows me to grow. With you by my side, I am no longer the seed buried in darkness, but a radiant flower, blooming with love, hope, and joy. Together, let us tend to this garden of our hearts, nurturing it with kindness, compassion, and understanding, and watch as our love continues to flourish.

I am a child of the everlasting King. I am forgiven. I am a warrior. I am cloaked in righteous armor. I was made for adventure. I was built for battle. I am part of a larger story. My true and lasting affirmation comes only from my King. I am unique above all creation--planned and perfect in design. I have been created for a glorious destiny. All my ways are established by you, my King, and I walk in them. My life and actions are real, authentic, and without compromise. I am quickened and made alive through the power of your Spirit. My whole life is before me. I am a shining gift from God to this lost world. I know my name, I understand my calling, and I am worthy to walk in it. I am strong, brave, and courageous in the face of my enemies. Whatever is good, whatever is pure, whatever is true, dwell on these things. My sins are scattered as far as the east is from the west. I am a good husband to my wife. I am a good father to my daughters. The past is over, and the future glimmers with radiant light. I will look to the new day, the dawning of hope. I will step forward with the truth before me and will no longer look on the day that is gone. The past is over; the future has begun.

When your mind parts from your body, the visions of pure reality will shine forth, shimmering like a summer mirage on the plains. They are subtle yet clear; distinctly experienced, they will fill you with fear and anxiety. Do not be fearful or afraid of them! Do not be anxious! They are the glowing radiance of your reality so recognize them as such! A great roar of noise will reverberate forth from within the light, like the sound of a thousand crashes of thunder rumbling at the same time. This is the natural sound of your reality so do not be fearful or afraid of it! Do not be anxious! You now have an astral body generated by the energy of your habitual tendencies, not a physical one of flesh and blood. No matter what sounds, dazzling colors, or radiant luminosity occur, they cannot hurt you or cause your death. Just recognize them as your own projections and all will be well. Know that this is the reality phase of death. No matter what religious practices you did during your life, if you have not received these instructions and do not recognize these experiences to be your own projections, then you will be terrified by the luminosity, alarmed by the sounds and frightened by the dazzling colors. If you don't comprehend the essential point of this instruction, you will wander lost in cyclical existence, no having understood the luminosity, the sounds, and dazzling colors for what they are.

The crowd as silent,holding their breaths.Hot wind rustled in the trees as the ax gleamed in the sun.Luce could feel that the end was coming,but why? Why had her soul dragged her here? What insight abouther past,or the curse, could she possibly gain from having her head cut off? Then Daniel dropped the ax to the ground. "What are you doing?" Luce asked. Daniel didn't answer.He rolled back his shoulders, turned his face toward the sky, and flung out her arms. Zotz stepped forward to interfere,but when he touched Daniel's shoulder,he screamed and recoiled as if he'd been burned. And then- Daniel's white wings unfurled from his shoulders.As they extended fully from his sides,huge and shockingly bright against the parched brown landscape, they sent twenty Mayans hurtling backward. Shouts rang out around the cenote: "What is he?" "The boy is winged!" "He is a god! Sent to us by Chaat!" Luce thrashed against the ropes binding her wrists and her ankles.She needed to run to Daniel.She tried to move toward him,until- Until she couldn't move anymore. Daniel's wings were so bright they were almost unbearable. Only, now it wasn't just Daniel's wings that were glowing. It was...all of him. His entire body shone.As if he'd swallowed the sun. Music filled the air.No,not music, but a single harmonious chord.Deafening and unending,glorious and frightening. Luce had heard it before...somewhere. In the cemetery at Sword&Cross, the last night she'd been there,the night Daniel had fought Cam,and Luce hadn't been allowed to watch.The night Miss Sophia had dragged her away and Penn had died and nothing had ever been the same.It had begun with that very same chord,and it was coming out of Daniel.He was lit up so brightly,his body actually hummed. She swayed where she stood,unable to take her eyes away.An intense wave of heat stroked her skin. Behind Luce,someone cried out.The cry was followed by another,and then another,and then a whole chorus of voices crying out. Something was burning.It was acrid and choking and turned her stomach instantly. Then,in the corner of her vision,there was an explosion of flame, right where Zotz had been standing a moment before. The boom knocked her backward,and she turned away from the burning brightness of Daniel,coughing on the black ash and bitter smoke. Hanhau was gone,the ground where she'd stood scorched black.The gap-toothed man was hiding his face,trying hard not to look at Daniel's radiance.But it was irresistible.Luce watched as the man peeked between his fingers and burst into a pillar of flame. All around the cenote,the Mayans stared at Daniel.And one by one,his brilliance set them ablaze.Soon a bright ring of fire lit up the jungle,lit up everyone but Luce. "Ix Cuat!" Daniel reached for her. His glow made Luce scream out in pain,but even as she felt as if she were on the verge of asphyxiation, the words tumbled from her mouth. "You're glorious." "Don't look at me," he pleaded. "When a mortal sees an angel's true essence, then-you can see what happened to the others.I can't let you leave me again so soon.Always so soon-" "I'm still here," Luce insisted. "You're still-" He was crying. "Can you see me? The true me?" "I can see you." And for just a fraction of a second,she could.Her vision cleared.His glow was still radiant but not so blinding.She could see his soul. It was white-hot and immaculate,and it looked-there was no other way to say it-like Daniel. And it felt like coming home.A rush of unparalleled joy spread through Luce.Somewhere in the back of her mind,a bell of recognition chimed. She'd seen him like this before. Hadn't she? As her mind strained to draw upon the past she couldn't quite touch,the light of him began to overwhelm her. "No!" she cried,feeling the fire sear her heart and her body shake free of something.

Pilgrimage is premised on the idea that the sacred is not entirely immaterial, but that there is a geography of spiritual power. Pilgrimage walks a delicate line between the spiritual and the material in its emphasis on the story and its setting though the search is for spirituality, it is pursued in terms of the most material details of where the Buddha was born or where Christ died, where the relics are or the holy water flows. Or perhaps it reconciles the spiritual and the material, for to go on pilgrimage is to make the body and its actions express the desires and beliefs of the soul. Pilgrimage unites belief with action, thinking with doing, and it makes sense that this harmony is achieved when the sacred has material presence and location. Protestants, as well as the occasional Buddhist and Jew, have objected to pilgrimages as a kind of icon worship and asserted that the spiritual should be sought within as something wholly immaterial, rather than out in the world. There is a symbiosis between journey and arrival in Christian pilgrimage, as there is in mountaineering. To travel without arriving would be as incomplete as to arrive without having traveled. To walk there is to earn it, through laboriousness and through the transformation that comes during a journey. Pilgrimages make it possible to move physically, through the exertions of one's body, step by step, toward those intangible spiritual goals that are otherwise so hard to grasp. We are eternally perplexed by how to move toward forgiveness or healing or truth, but we know how to walk from here to there, however arduous the jour ney. Too, we tend to imagine life as a journey, and going on an actual expedition takes hold of that image and makes it concrete, acts it out with the body and the imagination in a world whose geography has become spiritualized. The walker toiling along a road toward some distant place is one of the most compelling and universal images of what it means to be human, depicting the individual as small and solitary in a large world, reliant on the strength of body and will. In pilgrim age, the journey is radiant with hope that arrival at the tangible destination will bring spiritual benefits with it. The pilgrim has achieved a story of his or her ow and in this way too becomes part of the religion made up of stories of travel and transformation.

The reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion of a single being even to God, that is love. (...) What a void in the absence of the being who, by herself alone fills the world! Oh! how true it is that the beloved being becomes God. One could comprehend that God might be jealous of this had not God the Father of all evidently made creation for the soul, and the soul for love.(...)God is behind everything, but everything hides God. Things are black, creatures are opaque. To love a being is to render that being transparent. Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the attitude of the body may be, the soul is on its knees. Parted lovers beguile absence by a thousand chimerical devices, which possess, however, a reality of their own. They are prevented from seeing each other, they cannot write to each other; they discover a multitude of mysterious means to correspond. They send each other the song of the birds, the perfume of the flowers, the smiles of children, the light of the sun, the sighings of the breeze, the rays of stars, all creation. And why not? All the works of God are made to serve love. Love is sufficiently potent to charge all nature with its messages. Oh Spring! Thou art a letter that I write to her. The future belongs to hearts even more than it does to minds. Love, that is the only thing that can occupy and fill eternity. In the infinite, the inexhaustible is requisite. Love participates of the soul itself. It is of the same nature. Like it, it is the divine spark; like it, it is incorruptible, indivisible, imperishable. It is a point of fire that exists within us, which is immortal and infinite, which nothing can confine, and which nothing can extinguish. We feel it burning even to the very marrow of our bones, and we see it beaming in the very depths of heaven. Oh Love! Adorations! voluptuousness of two minds which understand each other, of two hearts which exchange with each other, of two glances which penetrate each other! You will come to me, will you not, bliss! strolls by twos in the solitudes! Blessed and radiant days! I have sometimes dreamed that from time to time hours detached themselves from the lives of the angels and came here below to traverse the destinies of men. God can add nothing to the happiness of those who love, except to give them endless duration. After a life of love, an eternity of love is, in fact, an augmentation; but to increase in intensity even the ineffable felicity which love bestows on the soul even in this world, is impossible, even to God. God is the plenitude of heaven; love is the plenitude of man.

always close my books with my 10 Commandments for Looking Young and Feeling Great. 1. Thou shalt love thyself. Self-love is essential to survival. There is no successful, authentic relationship with others without self-love. We cannot water the land from a dry well. Self-love is not selfish or self-indulgent. We have to take care of our needs first so we can give to others from abundance. 2. Thou shalt take responsibility for thine own health and well-being. If you want to be healthy, have more energy, and feel great, you must take the time to learn what is involved and apply it to your own life. You have to watch what goes into your mouth, how much exercise and physical activity you get, and what thoughts you’re thinking throughout the day. 3. Thou shalt sleep. Sleep and rest is the body’s way of recharging the system. Sleep is the easiest yet most underrated activity for healing the body. Lack of sleep definitely saps your glow and instantly ages you, giving you puffy red eyes with dark circles under them. 4.Thou shalt detoxify and cleanse the body. Detoxifying the body means ridding the body of wastes and toxins so that you can speed up weight loss and restore great health. Releasing toxins releases weight. 5. Thou shalt remember that a healthy body is a sexy body. Real women’s bodies look beautiful! A healthy body is a beautiful body. It’s about getting healthy and having style and confidence and wearing clothes that match your body type. 6. Thou shalt eat healthy, natural, whole foods. Healthy eating can turn back the hands of time and return the body to a more youthful state. When you eat natural foods, you simply look and feel better. You keep the body clean at the cellular level and look radiant despite your age. Eating healthy should be part of your “beauty regimen.” 7. Thou shalt embrace healthy aging. The goal is not to stop the aging process but to embrace it. Healthy aging is staying healthy as you age, which is looking and feeling great despite your age. 8. Thou shalt commit to a lifestyle change. Losing weight permanently requires a commitment to changes . . . in your thinking, your lifestyle, your mind-set. It requires gaining knowledge and making permanent changes in your life for the better! 9. Thou shalt embrace the journey. This is a journey that will change your life; it’s not a diet but a lifestyle! Be kind and supportive to yourself. Learn to applaud yourself for the smallest accomplishment. And when you slip up sometimes, know that it is okay; it is called being human. 10. Thou shalt live, love, and laugh. Laughter is still good for the soul. Live your life with passion! Never give up on your dreams! And most important . . . love! Remember that love never fails! Now that you have experienced the power of healthy living, be sure to share your success story with others and help them to reclaim their health and vitality.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; — This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"— here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" — Merely this, and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice: Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore — Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; — 'Tis the wind and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door — Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore — Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning— little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore.

She , Soul-Seer, Healer of hearts Soother of Hurts Keeper of Mystical Keys Her eyes gazing at the ethers The Moon her wise counsel The Sun her radiant protector The Stars her Angels The grounding earth her energies The still waters her depth Her tongue the fire of the holy spirit Her will symmetrically aligned As with laws of ancient lands She that foretold secrets Unlocking Mysteries of untold Sagas Taking measure of legends from Kings and queens High Priestess , Warrior, Gypsy Queen She that sits enthroned waiting She, no Man’s slave , Kings have bowed to her Queens harken her advise No ordinary Mortal will do for her Only her immortal beloved half They were both forged in blood , dust and bone Their Hearts sealed as one by their sire For Immortals are not born but created Made in God’s eternal Twinflame fire ~ JC © 2020

The gift of yourself is a tapestry woven with the threads of authenticity, compassion, and purpose. It is a radiant offering that transcends the boundaries of time and space, igniting hearts and inspiring souls. In a world yearning for connection, your truest essence becomes a beacon of light, guiding others to embrace their own uniqueness and find solace in shared humanity. Embrace the power within you, for in the gift of yourself lies the transformative potential to heal, to create, and to leave an indelible mark upon the tapestry of existence.

The Impossible Banquet by Stewart Stafford Awakened by a stinging sun, Radiant wings of flame and gold, I breathe in dawn’s virgin hopes, With icy shards of doubting cold. Am I not my parents' child? Lost my way on a freedom roam, Invitation to a tempting feast, Over family, love, and home. Trapped within the world's crosshairs, Locked down with time to burn, Casting runestones, but too late, For visible escape, I yearn. An obsessive lady by my side, A judge of karma infernal, She took my life with her own hand, Bequeathing a wound eternal. Tomorrow’s hopes are now a ghost, No merciful release to illuminate, I wish to scrub away the past, A vain rebirth to change my fate. But I’m caught in the Reaper's maw, I weep for you who procrastinate, Sold my soul on Devil's Bridge, Then dragged through a fiery gate. Hope, community, society crash, Towering feats of grotesquery, You may not grieve for me who's gone, Time's cruel critic is all you see. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

In the realm of spiritual philosophy, where the sacred and the mundane converge, where the mystical dances with the ordinary, there exists an enchanting archetype that beckons us to explore the depths of our souls—the Divine Rabbit. This ethereal creature, a symbol of fertility, rebirth, and spiritual illumination, invites us to embark on a profound journey of self-discovery and transcendence. The Divine Rabbit, with its gentle countenance and nimble grace, embodies the essence of the divine feminine, representing the nurturing and creative aspects of existence. It is a messenger of the cosmic forces, whispering ancient wisdom and guiding us towards the realization of our true nature. With each hop, it traverses the sacred landscapes of our consciousness, leaving in its wake the seeds of transformation and spiritual awakening. This mystical creature, adorned with the symbols of abundance and growth, teaches us the profound truth that spirituality is not confined to lofty realms or esoteric knowledge, but is deeply rooted in the tapestry of our everyday lives. The Divine Rabbit invites us to cultivate a sense of presence and mindfulness, to embrace the magic of the present moment, and to recognize that every breath we take is an opportunity for divine communion. In the Divine Rabbit, we find a profound reflection of our own spiritual journey. Like the rabbit, we too navigate the maze of existence, encountering both obstacles and opportunities along the way. The Divine Rabbit reminds us to approach these challenges with grace, agility, and an unwavering trust in the divine plan. It teaches us that even in the face of adversity, we possess the innate resilience to overcome, to rise above our limitations, and to embrace the boundless potential that resides within us. The Divine Rabbit also serves as a catalyst for profound transformation and rebirth. Just as the rabbit sheds its old fur to make way for new growth, we too are called to release the layers of conditioning, limiting beliefs, and attachments that no longer serve our highest good. The Divine Rabbit encourages us to step into the fullness of our authentic selves, to embrace our innate gifts and talents, and to allow the light of our divine essence to illuminate the world around us. Moreover, the Divine Rabbit invites us to honor the interconnectedness of all beings and the sacredness of every living creature. It teaches us to tread lightly upon the Earth, recognizing that our actions have far-reaching consequences. The Divine Rabbit reminds us of the importance of compassion, kindness, and love towards all beings, for in their eyes, we catch a glimpse of the divine spark that resides within us all. As we embark on our spiritual journey, let us heed the wisdom of the Divine Rabbit. Let us cultivate a sense of wonder and curiosity, allowing ourselves to be guided by the synchronicities and signs that pepper our path. Let us embrace the cycles of life and honor the sacredness of both beginnings and endings. And above all, let us remember that within the heart of the Divine Rabbit resides the eternal flame of our own divine essence, waiting to be kindled and expressed in all its radiant glory. May we follow the path of the Divine Rabbit, awakening to the depths of our being, embracing our divine nature, and embodying the transformative power of love, compassion, and spiritual illumination. In doing so, we dance in harmony with the rhythm of the universe, honoring the sacredness of life, and fulfilling our highest purpose.

The radiant clarity that comes with daily sunrise and sunset meditations changes your energy field and vibration. I call it a soul practice.

Giants in Jeans Sonnet 20 Who’s the saint, who’s the tyrant, Is not determined by the show of strength. Real mark of human character, Lies in your gentleness radiant. The strongest souls on earth, Keep their strength hidden unless needed, Whereas the shallow and the entitled, Walk around trotting over the hearts of the helpless. Turning the other cheek to the oppressor, May work in a world of fairies. In our primitive world of organic apes, Turning the other cheek means aiding inhumanities. Love is the only answer, there is no question, But it is a lover's duty to stand up to oppression.

Does man only possess immortality? The great words: ‘Behold, I make all things new’ are certainly related not to man only, but to all creation, to every creature. We have already said that the spirit of animals, even the smallest part of it, cannot be mortal, for it is from the Holy Spirit….In the new Jerusalem, the new universe, there will be a place for the animals, too….Eternal life for [non-human] creatures will be only quiet happiness and enjoyment of the new radiant nature full of light, in communication with man, who will no longer torture and exterminate it.

True transformation begins when we courageously peel away the layers of falsehood, revealing the radiant core of our authentic selves beneath.

Within The Self, where sight and soul entwine; through the prism of perception, you find your line. Your soul is powerful, and radiant, there, in the light of your ego’s flame. So what if you let it glow with essence, pure, devoid of shame!?

Where vision’s depth and spirit’s breath converge, a cosmos where reality and dreams diverge, in every spectrum, life’s quantum strings vibrate, in soul’s vast universe, where thoughts create. A dance of light reveals the shades of your internal day, in ego’s fire, some truths may turn to gray, yet essence pure, in radiant array. In the interplay of shadow and gleam, you find the heart of your chosen dream.

In the garden of the soul, self-love blooms as the most precious flower, nourishing every aspect of our being with its radiant petals, and illuminating the path to true joy and fulfilment.

I have seen, there, In the moonlit space of self, where the ego glides, Its silvery essence, a mirror upon life’s tides. Shaped by the ebb and flow of journey’s dance, Reflecting beliefs, in life’s intricate, ever-changing stance. This luminary, a learned guide in identity’s play, Casts shadows, illusions in its luminous display. A sculptor, artful, in societal norms it trusts, Chiseling character with life’s whims and cultural dust. The ego, in its carnival, spins tales so keen, Crafting who we ought to be in expectations unseen. In costumes of roles and societal dreams it dresses, Creating our outward selves in myriad, intricate presses. In stark contrast, behold the inner sun, our essence so bright, A steadfast flame, in the core of our being, burning with pure light. Unfiltered, unwavering, unlike the moon’s fickle gleam, A constant force, our authentic self, a deep, untouched stream. This essence, our unchanging truth, in the heart it resides, A whisper of eternity, beyond masks, where true self abides. Beyond roles, beyond transient ego’s elaborate dance, Lies this truth, unswayed by the external world’s fleeting glance. In the quest for self, twixt these luminaries, discernment is key, Traversing the self’s tangle, understanding what must be. Though ego’s voice echoes loud, in desires and fears it plays, It’s the essence’s silent light that guides through life’s stormy bays. Through recognition, understanding, transformation’s alchemy begins, Turning life unexamined into enlightened existence’s wins. A celestial voyage, within us, between sun and moon’s embrace, Ego teaches, grows us, in our worldly place. The essence, radiant and wise, to eternity connects, Offering authenticity, a path that perfects. Yin and yang, in our existence, they intertwine, In their dance, our soul’s rhythm, in harmony, divine. In moon’s reflection and sun’s light, a balance we find, Understanding their interplay, the rhythm of humankind.

Observer: “In our being, where the tangible meets the intangible, there lies a duality as ancient as time itself - the ego and the essence. These twin forces, ever-present and perpetually intertwined, are the sun and moon of our inner universe, each holding sway over the landscape of our spirit in a dance as old as the stars.” Sun: “I am the essence, the unwavering light within. A constant, unfiltered sun, burning at the core of our being. Untouched by the transient world, I am the eternal truth in your heart, the perpetual whisper of your authentic self.” Moon: “And I, the ego, mirror the silver luminescence of experience. Shaped by the ebb and flow of life’s tides, I reflect the lessons, beliefs, and identities formed through your journey. In me, the tales of your identity are woven through societal norms and cultural echoes, ever-evolving and dynamic.” Sun: “Unlike you, who waxes and wanes, I am a perpetual beacon. I am solid, the silent guide amidst the storms of life, illuminating the path to enlightenment. I am the light that shines beyond all darkness, the eternal truth within.” Moon: “True, I may dance in shadows, casting illusions, but through my reflective glow, I bring lessons, growth, and an understanding of our place in the material world. My phases are a reminder of life’s impermanence and the transformative power of introspection and self-inquiry.” Sun: “It is in recognizing our dual nature that the process of transformation begins. From the unexamined to the enlightened existence, I offer wisdom, authenticity, and a connection to the eternal. Understanding the self is the key to liberation.” Moon: “Together, we form the yin and yang of existence. My reflective lessons and your radiant wisdom define the human experience. In understanding our dance, one finds the rhythm of their soul, a balance between action and introspection, between the material world and the spiritual journey.” Sun: “The journey of self is thus a celestial voyage between us. Embracing both my luminescence and your reflection leads to harmony, living attuned to the eternal rhythm of light and shadow.

The art of aligning the ego with the essence emerges as a sacred endeavor, a pursuit as delicate as it is profound. It is in this harmonizing of the internal celestial bodies – the luminous ego and the radiant essence – that one finds the symphony of the soul, a melody of harmony echoing through the corridors of our being.

the rational being he is born able to create, but must create by choice—that the first precondition of self-esteem is that radiant selfishness of soul which desires the best in all things, in values of matter and spirit, a soul that seeks above all else to achieve its own moral perfection, valuing nothing higher than itself

patches, she is radiantly beautiful, the very picture of a healthy octopus and a diligent mother. She fluffs the

Why do I write? Anything that I look through my own creative mind, as profoundly or sea dim as it goes, I get comfortable with its meaning and write it. I want to communicate my words to individuals as they can feel my feelings for this malicious world we live inside. Nothing is radiant what I compose, it will be dim and extremely honest like H.P. Lovecraft set to his own particular tone. Everything that I write will have a repulsiveness, have a misfortune, have a consummation that will be obscurely glad however totally unnerving that is valid with regards to this presence. Fiction to me will have sentiments within them that will make your internal soul jump inside its sea and see the art of what it can bring into this presence.

At evening Father became an aged man; in dark rooms Mother's countenance turned to stone and the curse of the degenerate race weighed upon the youth. At times he remembered his childhood filled with sickness, terrors and darkness, secretive games in the starlit garden, or that he fed the rats in the twilit yard. Out of a blue mirror stepped the slender form of his sister and he fled as if dead into the dark. At night his mouth broke open like a red fruit and the stars grew bright above his speechless sorrow. His dreams filled the ancient house of his forefathers. At evening he loved to walk across the derelict graveyard, or he perused the corpses in a dusky death-chamber, the green spots of decay upon their lovely hands. By the convent gate he begged for a piece of bread; the shadow of a black horse sprang out of the darkness and startled him. When he lay in his cool bed, he was overcome by indescribable tears. But there was nobody who might have laid a hand on his brow. When autumn came he walked, a visionary, in brown meadows. O, the hours of wild ecstasy, the evenings by the green stream, the hunts. O, the soul that softly sang the song of the withered reed; fiery piety. Silent and long he gazed into the starry eyes of the toad, felt with thrilling hands the coolness of ancient stone and invoked the time-honoured legend of the blue spring. O, the silver fishes and the fruit that fell from crippled trees. The chiming chords of his footsteps filled him with pride and contempt for mankind. Along his homeward path he came upon a deserted castle. Ruined gods stood in the garden sorrowfully at eventide. Yet to him it seemed: here I have lived forgotten years. An organ chorale filled him with the thrill of God. But he spent his days in a dark cave, lied and stole and hid himself, a flaming wolf, from his mother's white countenance. O, that hour when he sank low with stony mouth in the starlit garden, the shadow of the murderer fell upon him. With scarlet brow he entered the moor and the wrath of God chastised his metal shoulders; O, the birches in the storm, the dark creatures that shunned his deranged paths. Hatred scorched his heart, rapture, when he did violence to the silent child in the fresh green summer garden, recognized in the radiant his deranged countenance. Woe, that evening by the window, when a horrid skeleton, Death, emerged from scarlet flowers. O, you towers and bells; and the shadows of night fell as stone upon him.

And my shadow touched hers as though in an embrace. Then, as if taken with a fleeting thought, I stepped over to the window and laid the rose I had just broken off in Maria's lap. I then slid silently away, as though I feared being caught in the act. How often was this little course of events, which seemed so significant to me, repeated! I scarcely know. To me it is as if I had laid a thousand roses in the ailing Maria's lap, as if our shadows had embraced innumerable times. Never once did Maria mention this episode; yet from the gleam in her great radiant eyes, I sensed that she was happy about it. Perhaps these hours, when we two sat together and in silence enjoyed a great, tranquil, deep joy, were so beautiful that I felt no need for any that were more beautiful still. My old uncle quietly left us to ourselves. One day, however, as I sat by him amongst all the resplendent flowers over which great golden butterflies hovered dreamily, he spoke to me in a quiet, thoughtful voice: 'Your soul is drawn to suffering, my boy.' And therewith he laid his hand upon my head as though wishing to add something more. Yet he remained silent. Perhaps he didn't know either what he had awakened in me by this, and what was mightily stirred to life in me from that day. One day, as I again stepped over to the window where Maria sat as usual, I saw that her face had turned pale and rigid in death. Sunbeams darted across her bright, delicate form; her untied golden hair fluttered in the wind and it seemed to me as if no illness had carried her off but that she had died without visible cause - an enigma. I placed the last rose in her hand. She took it with her to the grave. Soon after Maria's death I left for the city. But the memory of those tranquil days filled with sunshine have remained alive in me, more alive perhaps than the noisome present. I shall never again see the little town at the bottom of the valley - yes, I am loath to return to it again. I believe I should be unable to do so, even though I am at times seized by a deep yearning for those ever youthful things of the past. For I know that I should only look in vain for that which is lost without trace; I would no longer find there what lives on in my memory alone - just like the here and now- and what would that bring me but endless torment.

तपाईहरु सुद्द, तेजस्वी, आनन्दित, सुखी खुशी स्वोरुप्को हुनुहुन्छ तेसैकारन्ले पतित भएर कु मार्गी नबन्नुहोस। सफल बन्न चाहने व्यक्तिहरुले निरन्तर प्रयेंत्नासिल बन्नुहोस, येश कृति चाहाने ब्यकिहरुले सतकर्म जस्तै येग्गे, पूजा, पितृ परमात्मा भक्ति तर्पण समाज सेवा, राष्ट्र तथा पररास्ट्रको बिकाश प्राणी तथा महिला पुरुष हरुको बिकाश गर्नुहोस। जो व्यक्तिहरुले भगवान गुरु, ज्ञानी ध्यानी पण्डित, सच्चा साधु सन्त हरुको निन्दा तथा आलोचना गर्दछन उनीहरुले बिना कारण बिबिध दुख कस्ट तथा आर्थिक अभाब भोग्दछन येध्धेपी सबै प्राणी हरुलाई समान रुपमा हेर्नुहोस र महिला तथा पुरुष हरु धनि गरिब जो जस्तो भए पनि सर सहयोग, एक अर्का प्रति मन संमान गर्नुहोस। सधै सत्य बोल्नुहोस, केहि प्राप्त गर्न चाहाने हरुले सत बुद्दि र सत बिचारधाराको साथमा दिर्घकालिन उद्देस्य, लक्ष्य, योजना बनाएर अन्तस्करणमा बिकाश र पालनको प्रमुख लक्ष्यको साथमा धर्म अर्थ काम मोक्ष्यको उद्देस्य साथ धर्म को लागि मन्दिर येग्गे, दान, क्षेमा, धारण अर्थको लागि उद्योग, काम को लागि येग्ये सामाजिक कार्य र मोक्ष्य को लागि उल्लेखित सबै सत कार्य गर्दै गर्नुहोस र सफल बन्नुहोस -श्रीओम Your consciousness and soul are pure, radiant, happy, blissful. People who want to be successful should be constantly striving, those who want famous should do good deeds like donations, presidency the nations, Yagge, Pooja, Pitru Paramatma Bhakti Tarpan, social service, development of nation and foreign country, development of men and women. People who condemn and criticize the Lord Guru, the wise meditative Pandit, the true saints, suffer various hardships and financial hardships without any reason even though look at all creatures equally, men and women, rich and poor alike, help each other, respect each other. Always speak the truth, those who want to achieve something with honest wisdom and honest thinking by making long term goals, objectives, plans, eyesight, power of sight, faculty of sight , power of seeing, powers of observation, perception, field of vision, creativity, creative power, inventiveness, innovation, inspiration, intuition, perceptiveness insight vision. With the main goal of development and upbringing in the conscience, Dharma means work for the purpose of salvation and be success – Shreeom

Of the Elder Zosima it was said by many that in admitting for so many years into his presence all those who came to him in order to confess their hearts and who thirsted for counsel and healing discourse, he had taken into his soul so many revelations, griefs and unbosomings that in the end he had acquired a perspicacity of such subtle depth as made the first glance at the face of a stranger who had come to him sufficient for him to be able to guess correctly the reason for his arrival, the object of his need, and even the nature of the torment that was racking his conscience, and that he would astonish, embarrass and sometimes almost frighten the newcomer by such intimacy with his secret before the latter had even uttered a word. In this context, however, Alyosha nearly always observed that many, indeed practically all of those who came to the Elder for the first time in order to have a private talk with him made their entrances in fear and trembling, but always came out radiant and joyful, and the blackest of countenances turned to happy ones. Alyosha was also singularly impressed by the fact that the Elder was in no wise stern; on the contrary, there was unfailingly what almost amounted to gaiety in his demeanour. The monks used to say of him that he formed close soul-attachments precisely to those who were more sinful, and that those who were most sinful, those too were most beloved by him. Of the monks there were some, even towards the very end of the Elder’s life, who were his haters and enviers, but they were by this time growing few, and they kept silent, though there were among their number several persons very famous and important in the monastery, as for example one of the most ancient cenobites, a great observer of the vow of silence and an exceptional faster. But all the same it was now beyond question that the vast majority had taken the side of the Elder Zosima, and of these there were very many who positively loved him with all their hearts, ardently and sincerely; some were even attached to him with a kind of fanaticism. They used to say openly, though not quite out loud, that he was a saint, that of this there was no longer any doubt and, foreseeing his imminent decease, went in expectation from the departed of immediate miracles and great glory in the very nearest future for the monastery.

They were here to catch a glimpse of the kaleidoscope of color within their souls. To examine closely the beauty that lurks inside all of us but is rarely seen. They were here to explore the radiant spectrum of their inner selves, to uncover a magical primal strength inherited from their ancestors. They sought treasures buried in caves that many feared to enter.

she just smiled at him, a wide, radiant grin that pierced his skin and traveled straight to his soul.

If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and man's highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must live, we must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on this scrap of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, in the Whole," said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky. Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening to Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. Pierre became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew felt as if the sound of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre's words, whispering: "It is true, believe it." He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at Pierre's face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his superior friend. "Yes, if it only were so!" said Prince Andrew. "However, it is time to get on," he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up at the sky to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since Austerlitz saw that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on that battlefield; and something that had long been slumbering, something that was best within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and youthful, in his soul. It vanished as soon as he returned to the customary conditions of his life, but he knew that this feeling which he did not know how to develop existed within him. His meeting with Pierre formed an epoch in Prince Andrew's life. Though outwardly he continued to live in the same old way, inwardly he began a new life.

Hector, Sometimes I can’t believe that a soul as radiant as yours houses so much pain. But don’t they say that the best among us are those who have been hurt but choose to be kind anyway?

Shine your light, you will inspire others to radiant their inner light.

Sight, he says, differs from the other senses, since it requires not only the eye and the object, but also light. We see clearly objects on which the sun shines: in twilight we see confusedly, and in pitch-darkness not at all. Now the world of ideas is what we see when the object is illumined by the sun, while the world of passing things is a confused twilight world. The eye is compared to the soul, and the sun, as the source of light, to truth or goodness. The soul is like an eye: when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence…. Now what imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower is what I would have you term the idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause of science.

During one trip, Brian’s soul took Bill’s to Heaven. Here’s how Bill described it: We walked through an enormous building similar to the Greek Parthenon. We passed angels that had radiant, golden auras who seemed to be filling out records. We then went out the back and there were children playing by a stream and waterfall. Everything was crystals and gems. The water was so clear, it seemed as if it wasn’t even there. There was also the most beautiful singing, and it wasn’t outside of me so that I was “listening” to it, but it was inside me and around me at the same time. I could not tell you a direction it was coming from, but it made me feel totally safe and at peace. Brian went on to show Bill that there are different levels in Heaven, and said that the purpose of our existence on earth is to try to live a life that brings us closer to the next level and God, who is at the highest. Brian has also explained that he was an old soul that had lived in the physical world many times and reached a very high level. It’s at these higher levels that you can interact more easily with earth, which is why Bill thinks Brian can take him on these journeys at all. I see Bill and Regina for yearly sessions, and Brian has told me that he recently went to Jesus and asked if he could have a new responsibility--to help some children cross over, rather than having God send an angel. He said that the angels were so big and the children so small that the kids were sometimes frightened of the angels. Spirit told me that Jesus laughed and gave Brian the job. Okay, so I totally realize that last part doesn’t have anything to do with what God or Heaven looks like, but I wanted to share it with you anyway, because I thought it was really neat.

can result in a resurrection of life for many souls and a recapture of that radiant wonder which should accompany faith in Christ, that wonder which has all but fled the Church of God in our day.

Take stock of your reflection. Dot the eyes (i's) Cross the tees (t's). Securely seal the foundation to its perfection. This reflection cannot be seen in the mirror. It's your deep, inner, spiritual self..your soul. When have you examined and looked at your reflection? When have you touched it up to reveal a brighter, better, more radiant you? Take time to reflect on the inner person, your true reflection.

Decorate your life and home to represent the vivid hues of your radiant soul. Share your brilliance.

he could not remember ever having seen a woman as beautiful. It was as though he had scattered a pile of dead, brittle leaves and uncovered a blue lotus in full bloom, radiant and hypnotic against the decay. But he felt no urge to move any closer to her. His fingers did not itch to touch her; his mouth, gone dry at the sight of her, did not seek the moisture of her lips. This woman, dressed in a tight, black skirt, a black, mesh-sleeved blouse, and studded choker around her throat, with teased, brown hair framing her light brown face, was like a vision granted to him by one of the gods he had read of in his books. A vision he saw in his soul—if, indeed, he had one—and not with his eyes. It was not lust that held him. No, something deep within him, something that he fought to put words to and could not, knew her. Some fragment of a dream . . . maybe some vague resemblance to a picture I’ve seen online, or in a magazine.

You are not your pain. You are not your choices, either good or bad. You are not your body, no matter how beautiful, healthy or strong it may be. You are not your emotions, ebbing and flowing, going in and out like the tide. You are your soul, a radiant body of light, eternal, of God, one with all that is, unbreakable, unstoppable, all-knowing, all-seeing, all-feeling, all-hearing and forever alive to your purpose.

It cannot be otherwise, for it is bitterly disheartening to see that which your inmost soul believes to be right and true, to see this Truth reviled and struck in the face by the meanest camp follower in the victorious army, to hear her called vile names, while you can do nothing at all except to love her even more faithfully, kneel to her in your heart with even deeper adoration, and see her beautiful face as radiantly beautiful as ever and as full of majesty, shining with the same immortal light, no matter how much dust is whirled up around her white forehead, no matter how thickly the poisonous fog closes around her halo. It is bitterly disheartening, and your soul suffers injury inevitably, for it is so easy to hate until your heart is weary, or to draw around you the cold shadows of contempt, or to be dulled by pain and let the world go its own way.-- Of course, if there is that within you which makes you not choose the easiest way nor evade the whole matter, but walk upright with all your faculties tense and all your sympathies wide awake, taking the blows and stings of defeat as the scourge falls on your back again and again, and still keep your bleeding hope from dropping, while you listen for the distant rumblings that presage revolution, and look for the faint, distant dawn that some day-- some time, perhaps ... If you have that within you!--but don't try it, Lyhne. Imagine what the life of such a man must be, if he is to be true to himself.

Athena, Demeter, Andromeda, Cassiopeia ~ dearest thoughtful Svetlana, your glorious angelic light outshines the entire goddess pantheon of Mount Olympus, , your radiant splendor surpasses the luminous sunsets of a thousand distant worlds, , in all my galactic travels you are the only star whose elegant sway has the power to swing me into orbit, , may our cosmic dance last forever, , may our mutual tidal gravity eternally signal our telepathic presence in each others soulful wandering lives

A Twice-Born person pays attention when the soul pokes its head through the clouds of a half-lived life. Whether through choice or calamity, the Twice-Born person goes into the woods, loses the straight way, makes mistakes, suffers loss, and confronts that which needs to change within himself in order to live a more genuine and radiant life. But

You don’t shine in the light, so why keep running from what makes you gloriously radiant? To deny darkness within you is to deny the magical sparkly intuitive rain-bow of light that lives and moves inside your essence. One does not exist without the other. Stop running from that part of your soul and start letting your star-light glitter!

A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which are only accessible to our reason in their most elementary forms—it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man. I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves. An individual who should survive his physical death is also beyond my comprehension, nor do I wish it otherwise; such notions are for the fears or absurd egoism of feeble souls. Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of life, and the inkling of the marvellous structure of reality, together with the single-hearted endeavour to comprehend a portion, be it never so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature.11

That first gaze of a soul which does not, as yet, know itself, is like the dawn in the sky. It is the awakening of something radiant and strange. Nothing can give any idea of the dangerous charm of that unexpected gleam, which flashes suddenly and vaguely forth from adorable shadows, and which is composed of all the innocence of the present, and of all the passion of the future. It is a sort of undecided tenderness which reveals itself by chance, and which waits. It is a snare which the innocent maiden sets unknown to herself, and in which she captures hearts without either wishing or knowing it. It is a virgin looking like a woman

WANT YOU TO EXPERIENCE the riches of your salvation: the Joy of being loved constantly and perfectly. You make a practice of judging yourself, based on how you look or behave or feel. If you like what you see in the mirror, you feel a bit more worthy of My Love. When things are going smoothly and your performance seems adequate, you find it easier to believe you are My beloved child. When you feel discouraged, you tend to look inward so you can correct whatever is wrong. Instead of trying to “fix” yourself, fix your gaze on Me, the Lover of your soul. Rather than using your energy to judge yourself, redirect it to praising Me. Remember that I see you clothed in My righteousness, radiant in My perfect Love. In order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. —EPHESIANS 2:7–8 Therefore, holy brothers, who share in the heavenly calling, fix your thoughts on Jesus, the apostle and high priest whom we confess. —HEBREWS 3:1 Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. —PSALM 34:5

The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship. Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make him known. They speak without a sound or word; their voice is never heard. Yet their message has gone throughout the earth, and their words to all the world. God has made a home in the heavens for the sun. It bursts forth like a radiant bridegroom after his wedding. It rejoices like a great athlete eager to run the race. The sun rises at one end of the heavens and follows its course to the other end. Nothing can hide from its heat. The instructions of the LORD are perfect, reviving the soul. The decrees of the LORD are trustworthy, making wise the simple. The commandments of the LORD are right, bringing joy to the heart. The commands of the LORD are clear, giving insight for living. Reverence for the LORD is pure, lasting forever. The laws of the LORD are true; each one is fair. They are more desirable than gold, even the finest gold. They are sweeter than honey, even honey dripping from the comb. They are a warning to your servant, a great reward for those who obey them. How can I know all the sins lurking in my heart? Cleanse me from these hidden faults. Keep your servant from deliberate sins! Don’t let them control me. Then I will be free of guilt and innocent of great sin. May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart    be pleasing to you, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.

I can’t hear you, people! Make some noise if you want a good show. How about death? Do you wanna see lots and lots of death tonight?” I took in the applause, the hollering, the hammering feet, basking in it. Then my arm shot up, pointing one finger to the ceiling. The guard-tower window exploded. A man plummeted from the tower, slamming on the concrete floor behind me with a splat like someone stomping on a tomato. He’d been torn open from throat to groin, his chest a ragged ruin of splintered, wrenched-back ribs and mangled organs. His dead eyes were still open, jaw wrenched wide in terror. Then came the rain. The second sniper, one piece at a time. Hands. Feet. Arms, wrenched off at the elbows. His severed head bounced like a basketball as it hit the concrete, rolling across the floor and coming to a stop next to Warden Lancaster’s Italian leather shoe. A horrified silence fell across the room. The guards looked at one another, uncertain, hands on their guns but not sure if they should draw. Lancaster stared down at the severed head, frozen like a deer in the headlights. “Well,” I said, “you’re about to get everything you asked for. What do you think, Warden? Is this good and messy enough for you? Wouldn’t want you to think I ‘pussied out’ again.” His gaze snapped toward me. He took a halting step back, away from the carnage. “How? How did you—” A third body dove from the shattered window. Not in a guard’s uniform, but a billowing white leather coat. She landed as graceful as a raptor, absorbing the impact with one knee and the outstretched fingers of a single hand, and slowly rose to her full willowy height. Her eyes blazed like molten copper, as radiant as her twist of scarlet hair. “If anyone in this room believes themselves to be a righteous soul,” Caitlin said, “I suggest you kneel down and pray. If nobody answers…then you belong to me.

Earth angels are radiant souls. I have found that many children who come back to the earth and live for only a short period of time are not only old souls, but also earth angels, here to spread their light to others. These children are well beyond their years on many levels of intelligence, creativity, and personal interaction. They have a natural inclination to draw people to them because of their light. Ellie was such a being—a perfect example of an angel walking upon the earth. Many earth angels have spent most of their time in higher spiritual realms, occasionally coming to earth to assist someone in their soul group. Although they are part of the human experience, they often feel an overwhelming sense that they don’t belong here.

Perhaps a Once-Born person awakens one morning and feels the beckoning finger of fate loosening disturbing questions: “Is this all there is to life? Will I always feel the same? Do I not have some purpose to fulfill, some greater kindness to give, some inner freedom to taste?” And then he gets out of bed and dresses for work, and he doesn’t attend to the soul’s questions. The next morning, and all the next mornings, he lives as if the soul was a figment of a flighty imagination. This inattention makes him confused, or numb, or sad, or angry. A Twice-Born person pays attention when the soul pokes its head through the clouds of a half-lived life. Whether through choice or calamity, the Twice-Born person goes into the woods, loses the straight way, makes mistakes, suffers loss, and confronts that which needs to change within himself in order to live a more genuine and radiant life.

As noted before, bare attention is impartial, nonjudgmental, and open. It is also deeply interested, like a child with a new toy. The key phrase from the Buddhist literature is that it requires “not clinging and not condemning,” an attitude that Cage demonstrated with regard to the car alarms, that Winnicott described in his “good enough mothering” notion, that Freud counseled for the psychoanalyst at work, and that meditation practitioners must develop toward their own psychic, emotional, and physical sufferings. The most revealing thing about a first meditation retreat (after seeing how out of control our minds are) is how the experience of pain gives way to one of peacefulness if it is consistently and dispassionately attended to for a sufficient time. Once the reactions to the pain—the horror, outrage, fear, tension, and so on—are separated out from the pure sensation, the sensation at some point will stop hurting. The psychoanalyst Michael Eigen, in a paper entitled “Stones in a Stream,” describes his own first mystical experience in just these characteristic terms: I remember once being in emotional agony on a bus in my 20’s. I doubled over into my pain and focused on it with blind intensity. As I sat there in this wretched state, I was amazed when the pain turned to redness, then blackness (a kind of blanking out), then light, as if a vagina in my soul opened, and there was radiant light. The pain did not vanish, but my attention was held by the light. I felt amazed, uplifted, stunned into awareness of wider existence. Of course I did not want the light to go away, and was a bit fearful that it would, but above all was reverence, respect: it could last as long as it liked, and come and go as it pleased. It was an unforgettable moment. Life can never be quite the same after such experiences.9 This kind of experience can truly come as a revelation. When we see that staying with a pain from which we habitually recoil can lead to such a transformation, it makes us question one of our basic assumptions: that we must reject that which does not feel good. Instead, we discover, even pain can be interesting.

Atrocity! Irene was there, too near! I was not a few feet but a few inches away from her! I became completely terrified in a different way when the overexcited Tkoukrian (appallingly!) groaned inside me: “Oh! She’s the one I want! And you too, you want her! That’s your princess, whose picture I’ve seen in my head! She’s so much more beautiful and more thrilling than her pale reflection tarnished by your dull and worthless soul! Let’s go get her!” I desperately held him back. Kmôhoûn threatened to make me scream so loudly that I would wake up all the guards. I did not want to—I would not surrender! But something revolting happened. My body obeyed my sinister enemy more than me. And, despite my agony and my fury, it was obvious that the lousy machine also wanted to take me to Irene. And it was the machine that enslaved my soul, changed it as it pleased and made it a Tkoukrian soul! My princess! I did not see her like before, radiant with the beauty of dreams. I imagined her in lewd positions—I caught myself thinking: deliciously lewd! And many other frightening words came to mind.

Beth asked me to choose a soul to sup, and I picked a radiant bloom, one whose eyes had followed us across the room, one who wanted us to have him.

Meditation on Wilderness In the evening’s orange and umber light, There comes vagrant ducks skidding on the pond. Together they veer inward to the reeds. The forest—aspen, oak, and pine—recedes, And the sky is smudged on the ridge beyond. There is more in my soul than in my sight. I would move to the other side of sound; I would be among the bears, keeping still, Not watching, waiting instead. I would dream, And in that old bewilderment would seem Whole in a beyond of dreams, primal will Drawn to the center of this dark surround. The sacred here emerges and abides. The day burns down, the hours dissolve in time; The bears parade the deeper continent As silences pervade the firmament, And wind wavers on the radiant rime. Here is the house where wilderness resides.

Caspian Marks was the sun, too. He was the person who was bright and beaming, lightened up the world of everyone around him, even those who did not truly regard him; because he was always there, and his warmth was always constant. He outshined everyone without ever trying. Had no competition that could compete with his luminescence and energy. His heart was grand and his soul was the most radiant thing about him—he made sure of it. His eyes, they even shined, too. And others would, without a doubt, if not already, revolve their life around him. Their world would turn... because of him; he’d help them spin it. They would go on and have the ability to, because of him; he’d help them through it. Caspian Marks... he was the sun.

When I look in his eyes, I see the stars. I see the stars and how they gleam so bright with so much... purpose. His eyes, Doncia, his eyes... they call for me. They call for me to come home and to find peace in where I belong.” I paused. “Caspian Marks makes me feel at home. He and his star-brimmed, radiant eyes and stardust permeated soul, I think, is my home.

When my strength fails, and darkness invades my soul, Your Name is the sun whose rays give light and also warmth, and under their influence the soul becomes more beautiful and radiant, taking its splendor from Your Name.

Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Raheem Consider the Sun in its radiant brightness. And the Moon as she reflects. Consider the day as it reveals the world and the night as it veils it darkly. Consider the sky and its wondrous structure and the earth and all its expanse. Consider the sky and its wondrous structure and the earth and all its expanse. Consider the human soul and the order and proportion given to it and how it is imbued with moral failings as well as with consciousness of God. Truly, the one who purifies it shall reach a happy state and the one who corrupts it shall truly be lost. [Surah ash-Shams 91:1-10]

I myself immured myself, O Lord, walling myself off from Your grace. And I did not dare to poke my head outside, for You are like a fearsome wind. I built shacks and shanties in my soul and was afraid that You would demolish them. But You have not demolished them in order to leave me homeless, but have done so in order to take me into a palace more spacious and radiant than the star-filled universe.

I love the prairie! So often I have seen the dawn come and the light flood over the land and everything turn radiant at once, that word "good" so profoundly affirmed in my soul that I am amazed I should be allowed to witness such a thing.

Embrace the power of silence, where purposeful steps echo with a symphony of meaning. Forge a sacred circle united by unwavering support and shared values, propelling each other to extraordinary heights. Amidst life's pursuit of serenity, let resounding prayers shake the heavens, fueled by the cadence of your soul's passion. Within the depths of your heart, unleash boundless joy, igniting a radiant blaze that transforms every endeavor into awe-inspiring feats, leaving the world breathless and forever inspired.

Did you ever look back? To the times where things are easy. Its beautiful. Roses are red, as the sun shone its light on a crispy meadowed leaves. All the laughter and joy, memories of long lost innocence and naive optimism. Its another day in paradise. Have you ever wondered about the future? People grow apart, life gets lonely with your mind playing chase with you. Its daunting. Violets might not be blue, but I certainly do. Like the cold wind that freezes you in your track as you venture the dark, soulless night in this city of stars. Is this really the life in paradise? I walk alone on a crowded street, can't shake my loneliness in these busy madness. But the dawn did come, enlightening lost souls in its radiant crimson light. Like a fire rekindled to ignite this young body of an old soul. Its another day in paradise, and youre hoping to see it coming. And when the time comes, it will be nothing like you've ever seen.

As you navigate the landscape of your life, may you learn to trust this quiet, inner companion, who sees beyond the surface of things and knows the way home. May you find comfort in the knowledge that your soul is a constant presence, a shelter from the storms, a place where you are seen and known in your fullest, most radiant self.

May you awaken each day with a heart attuned to the sacred rhythms of your becoming, a heart that knows how to listen for the quiet, steady whisper of growth that lies hidden beneath the surface of your daily life. As the butterfly emerges from its cocoon, transformed and radiant, so too may you honor the tender and intricate process by which your soul unfolds, ever towards the light of its true essence.

Haring became familiar enough with the Soul Artists community that he was able to correct misconceptions when he began giving interviews to some downtown writers: “The stereotyped idea of a graffiti writer is a Black or Puerto Rican kid from the ghetto. It’s not really

May your heart remain open, soft enough to let joy in, and brave enough to let it go when it must. For in the letting go, you honor its true nature—a fleeting, radiant presence that comes to awaken you to the fullness of life. And may you always remember that joy, in its purest form, is a sign of the soul’s aliveness, a quiet affirmation that, no matter how heavy the world may seem, there is always light to be found within you.

This is the India of which I speak - the India which, as I said, is to me the Holy Land. For those who, though born for this life in a Western land and clad in a Western body, can yet look back to earlier incarnations in which they drank the milk of spiritual wisdom from the breast of their true mother - they must feel ever the magic of her immemorial past, must dwell ever under the spell of her deathless fascination; for they are bound to India by all the sacred memories of their past; and with her, too, are bound up all the radiant hopes of their future, a future which they know they will share with her who is their true mother in the soul-life.

I see the beauty that lies beneath all the horror, Dove. I see the brilliance of your soul.” My throat hurt, my heart beating so hard I was scared I was going to drop to my knees before him. “And it’s so fucking radiant that it’s blinding.

The ego suffers By resisting pain. The Soul learns By metabolizing it. The ego believes It will die. The Soul knows It returns to Eternal Reality. The ego ages in linear time. The Soul becomes radiant- And wise. The ego is isolated and feels alone. The Soul knows it is part Of something much Bigger. The ego lives stressed. The Soul relaxes into life. The ego is addicted to drama To grow more of itself. The Soul lives with peace of mind. The ego may know that enlightenment Is not real but keeps trying to grasp it. The Soul knows that a new enlightenment Comes with each lesson Of each problem that life brings us. The ego suffers. The Soul celebrates. ego and Soul have one thing in common: When they are in action They grow more of themselves. It’s our choice Every single time.

The bright moon reflects your radiant face Your snowcapped cheekbones supply water of grace My heavy heart desires an audience with your face Come forward or must return, your command I will embrace. Nobody for good measures girded your fields Such trades no one in their right mind would chase. Our dormant fate will never awake, unless You wash its face and shout brace, brace! Send a bouquet of your face with morning breeze Perhaps inhaling your scent, your fields we envision & trace. May you live fulfilled and long, O wine-bearer of this feast Though our cup was never filled from your jug or your vase. My heart is reckless, please, let Beloved know Beware my friend, my soul your soul replace. O God, when will my fate and desires hand in hand Bring me to my Beloved hair, in one place? Step above the ground, when you decide to pass us by On this path lie bloody, the martyrs of human race. Hafiz says a prayer, listen, and say amen May your sweet wine daily pour upon my lips and my face. O breeze tell us about the inhabitants of city of Yazd May the heads of unworthy roll as a ball in your polo race. Though we are far from friends, kinship is near We praise your goodness and majestic mace. O Majesty, may we be touched by your grace I kiss and touch the ground that is your base

Before you know it, you are bound to Prakriti by her twisted, three-stranded rope; you begin to believe that what happens in Prakriti unconsciously – birth, death, pain, pleasure, desire, anger – is real, that it is all done by you, felt by you, made to happen by you. Or that they are all happening to you. Both are not true.’ ‘A three-stranded rope?’ Arjuna frowned. ‘What do You mean, Lord?’ ‘Know this, Mahabahu,’ said Krishna. ‘Goodness (Sattva), Rajas (passion) and Tamas (dullness) are the three strands of Nature’s rope, which bind down the soul. Rajas is part of Nature’s creative side – birth, energy, movement, change, action, the season of spring. Tamas is part of Nature’s destructive side – death, decay, inertia, heaviness, winter. Sattva is the state in between – harmony, wholesomeness, lucidity, stillness, summer. ‘Of these, Sattva, pure and good, can illuminate your soul in its shining light, but even Sattva is a golden shackle. Once you enjoy that happy state of Sattva – good health, knowledge, harmony and peace – you get attached to it, not willing to let it go, yearning for it when it is gone, as it will. ‘Rajas springs from desire, yearning, dissatisfaction with the way things are. It prompts you to action, and once you act, it attaches you to the result of your action, makes you want a particular outcome, makes you happy when you get it, unhappy when you don’t. Beware, Kaunteya, for Rajas binds your soul tight. ‘Tamas is born of ignorance - it confuses, deludes, makes you negligent. It binds your soul to indolence, sleep, sloth, laziness. ‘The power of goodness makes slaves of the happy, makes them constantly hunger for peace and harmony. Passion enslaves the doers, traps them in an unending cycle of wanting something and then acting to get it. Dullness enslaves the careless and negligent, who never want to leave that torpid state of ignorance and lethargy.’ Too true, mused Arjuna. No wonder human life was so full of torment. ‘Goodness, passion and dullness are present in all beings, Arjuna,’ Krishna went on, ‘combined in different ways, constantly in motion, rising and falling, one following the other. They are all present in you; they are your nature. Sometimes goodness prevails over the other two, making you feel calm, radiant, happy, at peace, fulfilled; sometimes passion prevails, making you feel restless, greedy, impatient, excited, excitable, full of energy. At other times, dullness prevails, which destroys clear thinking – anger, fear, grief, confusion arise in this state.

I remember the long, sleepy mornings I spent at your side, watching the light shift through the stained glass. I remember those uncomfortable patent leather shoes, the rise and the fall of the minister's voice, the pungent odor of floor wax. I remember the look on your face during services, elated, confident, as radiant as a bride. You would follow every word of the sermon, nodding in agreement like a student in class. You sang the hymns with gusto, your voice sweet, but out of tune. Church was coal for the furnace of your mind... ...Back then it bothered me that I did not share your conviction, I could not revel along with you. You prayed often, sitting with your face towards the sun, eyes closed... ...It gave me a squirmy feeling. Even then I was in my father's camp, all the way. The bible stories were silly, Sunday school was a bore, the sermons contradicted each other. Sitting in the quiet sundrenched church I felt nothing. No power, no release. The hymns left my soul unmoved.

I remember the long, sleepy mornings I spent at your side, watching the light shift through the stained glass. I remember those uncomfortable patent leather shoes. The rise and fall of the minister's voice. The pungent odor of floor wax. I remember the look on your face during services—elated, confident, as radiant as a bride. You would follow every word of the sermon, nodding in agreement like a student in class. You sang the hymns with gusto, your voice sweet but out of tune. Church was coal for the furnace of your mind... ...Back then, it bothered me that I did not share your conviction. I could not revel along with you. You prayed often, sitting with your face towards the sun, eyes closed... ...It gave me a squirmy feeling. Even then, I was in my father's camp all the way. The bible stories were silly. Sunday school was a bore. The sermons contradicted each other. Sitting in the quiet, sun-drenched church, I felt nothing, no power, no release. The hymns left my soul unmoved.

All the world is taken in through the eye, to reach the soul, where it becomes more, representative of a realm deeper than appearances: a realm ideal and sublime, the deep stillness that is, whose whole proclamation is the silence and the lack of material instance in which, patiently and radiantly, the universe exists.

When the glow in the mountains lights your soul When you find yourself looking at the splendour of the clouds or a bird in flight Pause and Drop a Pin When the movement of wind on the water lulls you into a timeless peace When the setting sun holds you in its golden light Pause and Drop a Pin When life shrinks you down When you lose your way and cold winds make you pull your jacket tightly over your chest When you feel darkness enter your mind and hope seems out of reach Remember all the sacred places that invited you into yourself Remember the vast expanse of all those pins A little piece of you lives in those corners. Don't let your heart shrink or your world grow small. Relax into your expansive and most radiant heart We don't end at our own skin; we will always exist everywhere we have dropped a pin.

It is the Tibetan Buddhist view that all living beings, including animals, experience this radiant light just at the moment of true death. This experience occurs regardless of the particular faith or religious beliefs of the person involved. There is a certain amount of corroboration for this in the reports of those in the West and elsewhere who have returned from near-death experiences. However, one should be cautious in equating the two experiences since, from a Buddhist point of view, such individuals have not truly died. Perhaps they are just experiencing the phenomena described earlier that precede actual death. Death itself is said to have occurred only when blood and lymph begin to trickle from the nostrils of the corpse.

The easiest time to practice the path of renunciation is at the point of death. Then the illusion of solid reality has melted away, and the habitual memory patterns of the dying person have not yet arisen to confuse him or her with their dreamlike spectres of a solid world in which they can immerse themselves and lose their way once more. This point, when the subtle mind encounters radiant light, is a moment of greatest opportunity. All connection with the previous life has been completely cut off and the mind of the dying person is, for a brief while only, naked and free.

These two aspects of your awareness: unformed emptiness and radiant vibrancy are indivisible in their presence. They form the embodiment of reality as enlightenment. This indivisible radiance and emptiness of your awareness is present as a mass of luminosity. Herein there is no birth or death, for this is the awakened state of unchanging light. To know just this is enough. Knowing this pure aspect of your awareness is to know yourself as an enlightened being; for you thus to behold your own awareness is to establish yourself in the realized mind state of enlightenment.

Your belly may be empty and opportunities flicker dimly, but let your cheeks glow fat with the fortune of life.

Migration Crows assemble in the bare elm above our house. Restless, staring: like souls who want back in life. —And who wouldn’t want again the hot bath after hard work, with soft canyons of splitting foam; or the glass of spring water cold at the mouth? To be startled by beauty—drops of bright blood on the snow. To be radiant. All morning the crows watch me in the garden putting in the early onions. Their bodies look oiled. Back in, back in, they shake the wooden rattles.

What he had just seen was no longer the ingenuous and simple eye of a child; it was a mysterious gulf which had half opened, then abruptly closed again. There comes a day when the young girl glances in this manner. Woe to him who chances to be there! That first gaze of a soul which does not, as yet, know itself, is like the dawn in the sky. It is the awakening of something radiant and strange. Nothing can give any idea of the Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 1199 dangerous charm of that unexpected gleam, which flashes suddenly and vaguely forth from adorable shadows, and which is composed of all the innocence of the present, and of all the passion of the future. It is a sort of undecided tenderness which reveals itself by chance, and which waits. It is a snare which the innocent maiden sets unknown to herself, and in which she captures hearts without either wishing or knowing it. It is a virgin looking like a woman. It is rare that a profound revery does not spring from that glance, where it falls. All purities and all candors meet in that celestial and fatal gleam which, more than all the bestplanned tender glances of coquettes, possesses the magic power of causing the sudden blossoming, in the depths of the soul, of that sombre flower, impregnated with perfume and with poison, which is called love.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 2 Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. 3 They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. 4 Yet their voice[b] goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun. 5 It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, like a champion rejoicing to run his course. 6 It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is deprived of its warmth. 7 The law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul. The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple. 8 The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart. The commands of the Lord are radiant, giving light to the eyes. 9 The fear of the Lord is pure, enduring forever. The decrees of the Lord are firm, and all of them are righteous. 10 They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the honeycomb. 11 By them your servant is warned; in keeping them there is great reward. 12 But who can discern their own errors? Forgive my hidden faults. 13 Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then I will be blameless, innocent of great transgression. 14 May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.

This process can be chaotic, intense, and rock the spirit and body to its core. There may be moments of ecstasy beyond what we ever imagined possible, visions that lift our soul, an elimination of everything we ever believed was true, and the unfolding of great challenges and blessings. For a few, this happens simply, as a calm and radiant seeing that penetrates the small self, dissolves the seeker, and accepts life as it is. This feels like seeing something obvious that had been strangely overlooked.

As we prepare ourselves to celebrate Christ's birth, we might do well to ask how he is our Lord, that is, the purpose of our life. To call him Lord is to claim him as our ruler and to take our direction from him. But following Jesus is about more than obedience. If he is our purpose, he is our center of gravity, the radiant love whose beauty draws us to itself as the fulfillment of our longing and the perfection of our nature.

By wearing armor, we keep the pain inside, close to our hearts. We think we’re protecting ourselves with it, keeping more pain from attacking our vulnerable souls. But the opposite is true.

To pray,” he continued, “is so beautiful. It means looking to heaven and to our heart. We know that we have a good Father who is God.” Looking to heaven and to our heart. This brief definition of the meaning of prayer sums up the mind of the new pope, which moves from the most sublime things—heaven, the eternal, the absolute, the true, the good, the beautiful—to the most simple, down-to-earth things—the things in the human heart. The first is the realm that transcends all that we do, the realm that is not yet here but that we long for, hope for. The second is the realm of our most intimate privacy, the core of our being, the source of our identity, and of our hopes. And for Pope Francis, prayer connects these two realms. The furthest out, and the furthest in. And to pray, to bring about this “communion” between what is furthest out and furthest in, is radiant, he tells us. It is an aesthetic judgment. To pray, he is telling us, before it is good, or true, or effective, or powerful, is “beautiful.” And he says this because he knows the human heart, the human soul, is made to be drawn toward the beautiful, as a sunflower turns toward the sun, following it from dawn until dusk.