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Why are we worn out? Why do we, who start out so passionate, brave, noble, believing, become totally bankrupt by the age of thirty or thirty-five? Why is it that one is extinguished by consumption, another puts a bullet in his head, a third seeks oblivion in vodka, cards, a fourth, in order to stifle fear and anguish, cynically tramples underfoot the portrait of his pure, beautiful youth? Why is it that, once fallen, we do not try to rise, and, having lost one thing, we do not seek another? Why? Anton Chekhov |
| I love the silent hour of night, For blissful dreams may then arise, Revealing to my charmed sight What may not bless my waking eyes. Anne Bronte |
| Mind-Blowing Fun Facts About Life - You can trick your brain into being calm by taking slow, deep breaths. - If you smile at a stranger, there's a high chance they'll smile back. - Writing down your worries before sleeping can help you fall asleep faster. - Playing video games can enhance your problem-solving skills. - Touching something soft while making a decision makes you more empathetic. - Being near water (like the sea or a lake) can reduce stress levels significantly. - The color blue is proven to make people feel calmer and more creative. Unknown |
| You have two choices: you can use your energy to worry; or you can use your energy to believe, enjoy, create, manifest, heal, grow, and glow. The Universe |
| Sometimes, you just can't force the merry and bright. If your heart is hurting this holiday season, now is a good time to be extra kind to yourself. Keep holding on. Unknown |
| A woman who has healed many traumas on her own and still keeps her heart pure, isn't a woman. She's an alchemist. She's magic. Unknown |
| In the depths of winter, the world holds its breath, A hush blankets fields in the stillness of death. The trees stand as skeletons, brittle and bare, Their shadows stretched thin in the frost-laden air. But even in silence, a promise takes hold, A whisper of warmth in the heart of the cold. For beneath the hard earth, life dreams of the sun, Of rivers unbound, and the thaw to come. Then spring will awaken with a jubilant cry, A chorus of green reaching up to the sky. The blossoms will burst in a riot of hue, The air sweet with rain and beginnings anew. When summer arrives, full of golden embrace, The sun paints the heavens with fire and grace. Fields hum with harvest, the forests grow deep, And twilight brings whispers as starlight takes sleep. Then autumn will dress in its robe of decay, A mosaic of amber, a fleeting ballet. The crisp winds will murmur of stories long past, A moment of splendour too precious to last. Through winter’s stark reign, the cycle persists, A dance of renewal, where balance exists. Though each season passes, its spirit remains, An eternal rhythm, in joys and refrains. Kerry Montgomery |
| We must rebel against becoming complacent, drained, hammered by life's demands and uninspired. Continue creating. Keep showing up for yourself and making art, new pathways, new connections, new, non-logical ideas, and fresh dreams. I see you. Victoria Erickson |
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Clearly not an American boomer.