“Surely the day will come when color means nothing more than the skin tone, when religion is seen uniquely as a way to speak one’s soul; when birth places have the weight of a throw of the dice and all men are born free, when understanding breeds love and brotherhood.”
Josephine Baker, dancer, singer, actress and civil rights activist, born on this day in 1906
“The magic of story is everywhere acclaimed as healing and transforming. The power of story to change us and bring us to the brink of self-forgetfulness and wonder is a gift beyond measure. However, if we truly believe in the power of story, it is important that we find appropriate stories for our condition and that they are told at times when we are most receptive to (and therefore most respectful of) their power. We each participate in a greater story than appears in any book, film, or recording: the story that is telling us is more important than the story we are telling. It is unwritten and sometimes unheard by us, but it runs throughout our lives with an authoritative voice that we need to listen for. It is in periods of receptive silence and listening that this story becomes apparent.”
“After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on – have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear – what remains? Nature remains.”
“Spirituality is not to be learned by flight from the world, by running away from things, or by turning solitary and going apart from the world. Rather, we must learn an inner solitude wherever or with whomsoever we may be. We must learn to penetrate things and find God there.”
“Effortlessly, Love flows from God into humans, Like a bird Who rivers the air Without moving her wings. Thus we move in His world One in body and soul, Though outwardly separate in form. As the Source strikes the note, Humanity sings — The Holy Spirit is our harpist, And all strings Which are touched in Love Must sound.”
“Melangell sails the Irish sea to the wilds of Wales, flees a marriage and seeks time alone among a storm of hawthorn, feeds on hazelnuts and dandelions, gathers lady’s mantle each morning to sip their dew, plunges her hands in the river, freezing and fresh, sleeps on moss in the cave-close stone, delights at birdsong, seeks the sacred in hunger and rain. One warm day, her quiet disrupted, hot breath of men and hounds approach, jaws wide. Teeth gleam, foam sputters, tails swish as they scrabble for a hare with brown legs bounding, a great roar of wet fur and whiskers – the hare leaps into the folds of Melangell’s cloak. Defiant stands the saint, draws a circle around herself. Dogs and men can go no further. Melangell strokes the hare’s ears, soothes his clanging heart, whispers “you are safe now” as howls recede on the wind and the valley becomes sanctuary. You can still glimpse it on sun-sparkled days when bluebells sway and oak leaves rustle from squirrel-scurry-scamper and you take the soft hare of your life into your arms, whisper into those long ears blessings all down her trembling length and remind her that she too no longer needs to run.”
“Master of the Universe, grant me the ability to be alone. May it be my custom to go outdoors each day among the trees and grass, among all growing things. And there may I be alone in prayer, to talk with my Creator, to express everything in my heart. And may all the foliage of the field awake at my coming, to send the power of their life into the words of my prayer, so that my prayer and speech are made whole through the spirit of all growing things.”
“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well…
Do not follow where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and make a trail.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, philosopher, poet, Unitarian minister and Transcendentalist, born on this day in 1803