1. Day 356 2.17.2013

    Day 356
    2.17.2013

  2. Day 355 2.16.203

    Day 355
    2.16.203

  3. Day 354 2.15.2012

    Day 354
    2.15.2012

  4. Day 353 2.14.2013

    Day 353
    2.14.2013

  5. Day 352 2.13.2013

    Day 352
    2.13.2013

  6. Day 351 2.13.2013

    Day 351
    2.13.2013

  7. Day 350 2.11.2013

    Day 350
    2.11.2013

  8. Day 349 2.10.2013

    Day 349
    2.10.2013

  9. Day 348 2.9.2013

    Day 348
    2.9.2013

  10. Day 347 2.8.2013

    Day 347
    2.8.2013

  11. Day 346 2.7.2013

    Day 346
    2.7.2013

  12. This being human is a guest house.
    Every morning a new arrival.
    A joy, a depression, a meanness,
    some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
    Welcome and entertain them all
    Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
    who violently sweep your house
    empty of it’s furniture,
    still, treat each guest honorably.
    He may be clearing you out
    for some new delight.
    The dark thought the shame, the malice,
    meet them at the door laughing,
    and invite them in.
    Be grateful for whoever comes,
    because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
    —Rumi

  13. Day 345 2.6.2013

    Day 345
    2.6.2013

  14. The Snowfall is So Silent
    translated by Robert Bly

    The snowfall is so silent,
    so slow,
    bit by bit, with delicacy
    it settles down on the earth
    and covers over the fields.
    The silent snow comes down
    white and weightless;
    snowfall makes no noise,
    falls as forgetting falls,
    flake after flake.
    It covers the fields gently
    while frost attacks them
    with its sudden flashes of white;
    covers everything with its pure
    and silent covering;
    not one thing on the ground
    anywhere escapes it.
    And wherever it falls it stays,
    content and gay,
    for snow does not slip off
    as rain does,
    but it stays and sinks in.
    The flakes are skyflowers,
    pale lilies from the clouds,
    that wither on earth.
    They come down blossoming
    but then so quickly
    they are gone;
    they bloom only on the peak,
    above the mountains,
    and make the earth feel heavier
    when they die inside.
    Snow, delicate snow,
    that falls with such lightness
    on the head,
    on the feelings,
    come and cover over the sadness
    that lies always in my reason.

  15. Day 344 2.5.2013

    Day 344
    2.5.2013

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