To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with Spring.
At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me. Close the language-door, and open the love-window. The moon won’t use the door, only the window.
It’s the action, not the fruit of the action, that’s important. You have to do the right thing. It may not be in your power, may not be in your time, that there’ll be any fruit.
Be more humble than a blade of grass, more tolerant than a tree, always offering respect onto others and never expecting any in return.
Prana, the vital breath, is born of Self. Like a person and his shadow, the Self and Prana are inseparable. Prana enters the body at birth, but does not die with the body.
