The Good Fight is the one we Fight because our heart asks it of
us.The Good Fight is the one that’s fought in the name of our dreams.
When we are young our dreams first explode inside us with all of their
force, we are very courageous, but we haven’t yet learned how to Fight.
With great effort, we learn how to Fight, but by then we no longer have
the courage to go into combat. So we turn against ourselves and do
battle within. We become our own worst enemy. We say that our dreams
were childish, or too difficult to realize, or the result or our not
having known enough about life. We kill our dreams because we are
afraid to Fight the Good Fight.
“The first symptom of the process of killing our dreams is lack of
time. The busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough
to do everything. Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no
attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They
complain constantly that the day is too short. The Truth is, they are
afraid to Fight the Good Fight
“The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our
certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we
begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so
little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence,
and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the
sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the
warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the
hearts of those engaged in the battle. For them, neither victory nor
defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are Fighting the
Good Fight.
“And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is
peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and
we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give. In that
state we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies
of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are
surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out
of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has
happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams-we have
refused to Fight the Good Fight.
“When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a period
of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to
infect our entire being. We become cruel to those around us, and then
we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves.
“What we sought to avoid in combat-disappointment and defeat-came upon
us because of our cowardice. And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make
it difficult to breath, and we actually seek death. It’s death that
frees us from out certainties, from our work, and from that terrible
peace of Sunday afternoons.”
in “The Pilgrimage”(1987)
Saturday, 23 March 2013
Beauty exists not in sameness
Beauty exists not in sameness but in difference.
Who could imagine a giraffe without its long neck or a cactus without its spines?
The irregularity of the mountain peaks that surround us is what makes them so imposing. If we tried to make them all the same, they would no longer command our respect.
It is the imperfect that astonishes and attracts us.
When we look at a cedar tree, we don’t think: ‘The branches should be all the same length.’
We think: ‘How strong it is.’
When we see a snake, we never say: ‘He is crawling along the ground, while I am walking with head erect.’
We think: ‘He might be small, but his skin is colourful, his movements elegant, and he is more powerful than me.’
When the camel crosses the desert and takes us to the place we want to reach, we never say: ‘He’s humpbacked and has ugly teeth.’
We think: ‘He deserves my love for his loyalty and help. Without him, I would never be able to explore the world.’
A sunset is always more beautiful when it is covered with irregularly shaped clouds, because only then can it reflect the many colours out of which dreams and poetry are made.
Pity those who think: ‘I am not beautiful. That’s why Love has not knocked at my door.’
In fact, Love did knock, but when they opened the door, they weren’t prepared to welcome Love in.
Who could imagine a giraffe without its long neck or a cactus without its spines?
The irregularity of the mountain peaks that surround us is what makes them so imposing. If we tried to make them all the same, they would no longer command our respect.
It is the imperfect that astonishes and attracts us.
When we look at a cedar tree, we don’t think: ‘The branches should be all the same length.’
We think: ‘How strong it is.’
When we see a snake, we never say: ‘He is crawling along the ground, while I am walking with head erect.’
We think: ‘He might be small, but his skin is colourful, his movements elegant, and he is more powerful than me.’
When the camel crosses the desert and takes us to the place we want to reach, we never say: ‘He’s humpbacked and has ugly teeth.’
We think: ‘He deserves my love for his loyalty and help. Without him, I would never be able to explore the world.’
A sunset is always more beautiful when it is covered with irregularly shaped clouds, because only then can it reflect the many colours out of which dreams and poetry are made.
Pity those who think: ‘I am not beautiful. That’s why Love has not knocked at my door.’
In fact, Love did knock, but when they opened the door, they weren’t prepared to welcome Love in.
They were too busy trying to make themselves beautiful first, when, in fact, they were fine as they were.
They were trying to imitate others, when Love was looking for something original.
They were trying to reflect what came from outside, forgetting that the brightest light comes from within.
They were trying to imitate others, when Love was looking for something original.
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