Love Is Effortless Attention.

Who You Really Are, Your True Nature, Is No More Tied To The Kind Of Person You've Been Than The Wind Is Tied To The Skies Through Which It Moves. Your Past Is Just That, The Past, A Place Within Your Psyche With No More Reality To It Than A Picture Of A Castle On A Postcard Is Made From Stone. You Have A Destination Far Beyond Where You Find Yourself Standing Today.

Real Prayer, The Soul-transformi Ng Kind, Is Self-discontinu Ity. It Is A Conscious Act Of Self-suspension Arising From The Wish For Something New To Occur.

Once Something Has Outlived Its Usefulness In One Area Of Life, Its Purpose For Being In Existence Is No Longer The Same. The Leaf That Captures A Stream Of Sunlight, And Then Transfers Its Energy To The Tree, Serves One Purpose In The Spring And Summer, And Another Completely Different One Through The Fall And Winter.

Self-pity Is The Campsite Of Self-defeat; It Is A Dark Refuge For Those Parts Of Us That Would Rather Wallow In What Cannot Be Than Dare To Explore What Is Possible.

A Crisis Is A Close Encounter Of The Third Kind.