The heart has its reasons that reason does not know.
Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point.
Blaise Pascal
Category: Soul
Buried Truth
When truth is buried underground it grows, it chokes, it gathers such an explosive force that on the day it bursts out, it blows up everything with it.
Emile Zola
Somewhere Beyond Right and Wrong
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’
doesn’t make any sense.
Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks
My God Is Dark and Silent
Yet, no matter how deeply I go down into myself, my God is dark, and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence. I know that my trunk rose from his warmth, but that’s all, because my branches hardly move at all near the ground, and just wave a little in the wind.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Robert Bly
Seeing With the Heart
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.
Helen Keller
Child of the Wind
I love the pounding of hooves
I love engines that roar
I love the wild music of waves on the shore
And the spiral perfection of a hawk when it soars
Love my sweet woman down to the core
There’s roads and there’s roads
And they call, can’t you hear it?
Roads of the earth
And roads of the spirit
The best roads of all are the ones that aren’t certain
One of those is where you’ll find me
‘Till they drop the big curtain
Hear the wind moan
In the bright diamond sky
These mountains are waiting
Brown-green and dry
I’m too old for the term
But I’ll use it anyway
I’ll be a child of the wind
‘Till the end of my days
Little round planet
In a big universe
Sometimes it looks blessed
Sometimes it looks cursed
Depends on what you look at obviously
But even more it depends on the way that you see
Hear the wind moan
In the bright diamond sky
These mountains are waiting
Brown-green and dry
I’m too old for the term
But I’ll use it anyway
I’ll be a child of the wind
‘Till the end of my days
Bruce Cockburn