“Remember
that the Happiest people
are not those getting more,
but those Giving more.”
– H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
We have
always
had a close and Caring
Connection
to our Loving Creator.
.
And such awareness,
unlocks something
within
that allows us to express
what dwells deep
in our Human Heart.
Written with the Heart,
the Story
of your precious Life
has an immense amount of Beauty
within it.
Allow the True you
to come out,
and show the World
what is on the
inside.
.
It is
Beautiful.
Enjoy
your Morning coffee
with the Birds in the Trees,
singing the Songs
of their Hearts.
.
Just you
and the Birds,
and the Lord that Created
Everything
you hear and feel
and see,
Everything
that is
or will be.
If the precious People
of our Beautiful World
could really comprehend
how amazing it is,
we would really
Thank our Lord
for this Life.
The Beautiful Expression
of His Love,
is a Natural Balm
that soothes the ragged edges
of our tattered
Humanity.
There is something so Powerful
about the Love of God
you have known
all your Life.
His Love
is absolutely Perfect,
and so Gracious.
And,
it is Simply
Beautiful.
His Love
captures the Essence
and the Genius
of who we are.
You
are a Masterpiece
of His Elegance
and Love.
.
You
are brought to the limits
of Perfection
by our God,
who IS
Love.
Love
gives us a glimpse
into our reason for
Being.
.
We can see the Leaves
of the Trees,
blowing in the wind
of a soft, subtle breeze,
and no sadness.
Their Seasons come
and they go,
so quickly,
and so slow.
.
And they do not wonder,
what will the Future
bring.
As you wait
for answers to Prayer,
remember,
it is not for us
to know how or when
the answer will deliver us
from the bondage
of our thoughts,
but to wait in Faith,
and Trust,
and Thank the Lord
for His never ending
Love.
Thank the LORD
for all the challenges
of Life.
.
Everything
that we have endured,
all that we have been through,
has made us stronger,
so that we may weather
whatever comes.
Start the day
and Pray.
You touch so many
precious Lives,
and will continue to touch them.
Continue
to Bless
everyone.
You deserve
to be told
how Beautiful you are,
again and again.
Silence
is very powerful.
You always share,
the most Beautiful messages,
through your Loving Eyes,
and your
silent way.
There is
a New Birth
of Sincerity,
in the simplicity
of a Smile,
and in a
Sacred Moment
of Silence.
While listening
to the soft, echoing sounds
of Nature,
close your eyes,
feel the Peace,
the calm,
and relax.
What a Blessing
to bestow upon yourself,
to just listen
and go far away in the mind,
to a Time when Children
were we,
exploring a Wilderness of want and need,
in Happiness and Joy
with friends and Family.
Say Prayers
for everyone Living,
and Beyond.
Your Family,
the Family of Man,
is Blessed by our Lord
with success, health , Love and
Happiness,
Wisdom and awareness and Miracles,
in every Day of Life.
.The Lord’s Wish
for you,
is Peace
with Oneself,
Peace with all others,
and Peace with the
Universe.
There are Miracles
in every stage
of Life,
in every Day of Living.
Awareness
of the Miraculous Love
of God
touches the Soul,
and brings you back
to Childhood.
As we Truly grow up,
we grow younger,
in Love
and in our Hearts.
.
As we are transported
back to Childhood,
in our Love
and our Longing to be,
we discover
that this is our Home.
.
Young in Heart
and young in Love.
We are Children
of God.
THANK YOU
FOR WHO YOU ARE
IN YOUR HEART.
..
Goodnight.
It is not that we have a short time to live,
but that we waste most of it –
a classic reading from Seneca’s
‘On the Shortness of Life’
On the Shortness of Life is an essay written by Seneca, a roman statesman and Stoic philosopher, to his father-in-law Paulinus. In this passage Seneca responds to the common complaint that life is too short. He argues that life is long if one manages their time well, and that most people waste the majority of their time on pointless pursuits.
On the Shortness of Life
The following reading is from chapters 1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 11, 14, and 18 of Seneca’s On the Shortness of Life translated by John W. Basore.
The majority of mortals, Paulinus, complain bitterly of the spitefulness of Nature, because we are born for a brief span of life, because even this space that has been granted to us rushes by so speedily and so swiftly that all save a very few find life at an end just when they are getting ready to live.
It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested. But when it is squandered in luxury and carelessness, when it is devoted to no good end, forced at last by the ultimate necessity we perceive that it has passed away before we were aware that it was passing. So it is – the Life we receive is not short, but we make it so, nor do we have any lack of it, but are wasteful of it.
Just as great and princely wealth is scattered in a moment when it comes into the hands of a bad owner, while wealth however limited, if it is entrusted to a good guardian, increases by use, so our Life is amply long for him who orders it properly.
Why do we complain of Nature? She has shown herself kindly; Life, if you know how to use it, is long. But one man is possessed by an avarice that is insatiable, another by a toilsome devotion to tasks that are useless; one man is besotted with wine, another is paralyzed by sloth; one man is exhausted by an ambition that always hangs upon the decision of others, another, driven on by the greed of the trader, is led over all lands and all seas by the hope of gain; some are tormented by a passion for war and are always either bent upon inflicting danger upon others or concerned about their own; some there are who are worn out by voluntary servitude in a thankless attendance upon the great; many are kept busy either in the pursuit of other men’s fortune or in complaining of their own; many, following no fixed aim, shifting and inconstant and dissatisfied, are plunged by their fickleness into plans that are ever new; some have no fixed principle by which to direct their course, but Fate takes them unawares while they loll and yawn – so surely does it happen that I cannot doubt the truth of that utterance which the greatest of poets delivered with all the seeming of an oracle:
“The part of Life we really Live is small.”
For all the rest of existence is not Life,
but merely Time.
Though all the brilliant intellects of the ages were to concentrate upon this one theme, never could they adequately express their wonder at this dense darkness of the Human mind.
.
Men do not suffer anyone to seize their estates, and they rush to stones and arms if there is even the slightest dispute about the limit of their lands, yet they allow others to trespass upon their life – nay, they themselves even lead in those who will eventually possess it. No one is to be found who is willing to distribute his money, yet among how many does each one of us distribute his Life! In guarding their fortune men are often closefisted, yet, when it comes to the matter of wasting time, in the case of the one thing in which it is right to be miserly, they show themselves most prodigal.
And so I should like to lay hold upon someone from the company of older men and say: “I see that you have reached the farthest limit of human life, you are pressing hard upon your hundredth year, or are even beyond it; come now, recall your Life and make a reckoning. Consider how much of your time was taken up with a moneylender, how much with a patron, how much with a client, how much in wrangling with your wife, how much in punishing your slaves, how much in rushing about the city on social duties. Add the diseases which we have caused by our own acts, add, too, the time that has lain idle and unused; you will see that you have fewer years to your credit than you count. Look back in memory and consider when you ever had a fixed plan, how few days have passed as you had intended, when you were ever at your own disposal, when your face ever wore its natural expression, when your mind was ever unperturbed, what work you have achieved in so long a Life, how many have robbed you of Life when you were not aware of what you were losing, how much was taken up in useless sorrow, in foolish joy, in greedy desire, in the allurements of society, how little of yourself was left to you; you will perceive that you are dying before your season!”
What, then, is the reason of this? You Live as if you were destined to Live forever, no thought of your frailty ever enters your head, of how much time has already gone by you take no heed. You squander time as if you drew from a full and abundant supply, though all the while that day which you bestow on some person or thing is perhaps your last.
You have all the fears of mortals and all the desires of immortals.
You will hear many men saying: “After my fiftieth year I shall retire into leisure, my sixtieth year shall release me from public duties.” And what guarantee, Pray, have you that your Life will last longer? Who will suffer your course to be just as you plan it?
.
Are you not ashamed to reserve for yourself only the remnant of Life, and to set apart for Wisdom only that time which cannot be devoted to any business? How late it is to begin to Live just when we must cease to Live! What foolish forgetfulness of mortality to postpone wholesome plans to the fiftieth and sixtieth year, and to intend to begin life at a point to which few have attained!
It takes the whole of Life to learn how to Live, and – what will perhaps make you wonder more – it takes the whole of Life to learn how to die.
Many very great men, having laid aside all their encumbrances, having renounced riches, business, and pleasures, have made it their one aim up to the very end of life to know how to live; yet the greater number of them have departed from life confessing that they did not yet know – still less do those others know. Believe me, it takes a great man and one who has risen far above human weaknesses not to allow any of his time to be filched from him, and it follows that the Life of such a man is very long because he has devoted wholly to himself whatever time he has had. None of it lay neglected and idle; none of it was under the control of another, for, guarding it most grudgingly, he found nothing that was worthy to be taken in exchange for his time. And so that man had time enough, but those who have been robbed of much of their Life by the public, have necessarily had too little of it.And so there is no reason for you to think that any man has lived long because he has grey hairs or wrinkles; he has not lived long – he has existed long.
For what if you should think that that man had had a long voyage who had been caught by a fierce storm as soon as he left harbour, and, swept hither and thither by a succession of winds that raged from different quarters, had been driven in a circle around the same course? Not much voyaging did he have, but much tossing about.
I am often filled with wonder when I see some men demanding the time of others and those from whom they ask it most indulgent. Both of them fix their eyes on the object of the request for time, neither of them on the time itself; just as if what is asked were nothing, what is given, nothing.
Men trifle with the most precious thing in the world; but they are blind to it because it is an incorporeal thing, because it does not come beneath the sight of the eyes, and for this reason it is counted a very cheap thing – nay, of almost no value at all. Men set very great store by pensions and doles, and for these they hire out their labor or service or effort.
But no one sets a value on Time; all use it lavishly as if it cost nothing. But see how these same people clasp the knees of physicians if they fall ill and the danger of death draws nearer, see how ready they are, if threatened with capital punishment, to spend all their possessions in order to Live!
So great is the inconsistency of their feelings. But if each one could have the number of his future years set before him as is possible in the case of the years that have passed, how alarmed those would be who saw only a few remaining, how sparing of them would they be! And yet it is easy to dispense an amount that is assured, no matter how small it may be; but that must be guarded more carefully which will fail you know not when.Decrepit old men beg in their Prayers for the addition of a few more years; they pretend that they are younger than they are; they comfort themselves with a falsehood, and are as pleased to deceive themselves as if they deceived Fate at the same time. But when at last some infirmity has reminded them of their mortality, in what terror do they die, feeling that they are being dragged out of life, and not merely leaving it. They cry out that they have been fools, because they have not really lived, and that they will live henceforth in leisure if only they escape from this illness; then at last they reflect how uselessly they have striven for things which they did not enjoy, and how all their toil has gone for nothing. But for those whose life is passed remote from all business, why should it not be ample? None of it is assigned to another, none of it is scattered in this direction and that, none of it is committed to Fortune, none of it perishes from neglect, none is subtracted by wasteful giving, none of it is unused; the whole of it, so to speak, yields income. And so, however small the amount of it, it is abundantly sufficient, and therefore, whenever his last day shall come, the wise man will not hesitate to go to meet death with steady step.
Of all men they alone are at leisure who take time for Philosophy, they alone really Live; for they are not content to be good guardians of their own lifetime only. They annex every age to their own; all the years that have gone before them are an addition to their store. Unless we are most ungrateful, all those men, glorious fashioners of holy thoughts, were born for us; for us they have prepared a way of life.
By other men’s labors we are led to the sight of things most Beautiful that have been wrested from darkness and brought into Light; from no age are we shut out, we have access to all ages, and if it is our wish, by greatness of mind, to pass beyond the narrow limits of Human weakness, there is a great stretch of Time through which we may roam. We may argue with Socrates, we may doubt with Carneades, find peace with Epicurus, overcome Human nature with the Stoics, exceed it with the Cynics. The Life of the philosopher, therefore, has wide range, and he is not confined by the same bounds that shut others in. He alone is freed from the limitations of the Human race; all ages serve him as if a god.
Has some time passed by? This he embraces by recollection. Is time present? This he uses. Is it still to come? This he anticipates. He makes his Life long by combining all times into one.
And so, my dearest Paulinus, tear yourself away from the crowd, and, too much storm-tossed for the time you have lived, at length withdraw into a peaceful harbor. Think of how many waves you have encountered, how many storms, on the one hand, you have sustained in private life, how many, on the other, you have brought upon yourself in public life; long enough has your virtue been displayed in laborious and unceasing proofs – try how it will behave in leisure. The greater part of your life, certainly the better part of it, has been given to the state; take now some part of your time for yourself as well. And I do not summon you to slothful or idle inaction, or to drown all your native energy in slumbers and the pleasures that are dear to the crowd. That is not to rest; you will find far greater works than all those you have hitherto performed so energetically, to occupy you in the midst of your release and retirement.
Further Reading
You can find the full text of On the Shortness of Life on Amazon or read it online.
If you want to learn more about Stoicism, check out this collection of beginner-friendly articles, videos, and podcasts on Stoicism.
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“He who opens a school door,
closes a prison.“
– Victor Hugo
I wish you all
Peace.
Hang on
to your Faith.
You will get there.
.The most Precious Gift
is Life.
You
are Forever in my
Heart.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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