Living in the Moment

A JOURNEY TO AWAKENING

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There is some kind of a sweet innocence in being human- in not having to be just happy or just sad- in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time.
 C. JoyBell C. (via purplebuddhaproject)

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So tonight I reach for my journal again. This is the first time I’ve done this since I came to Italy. What I write in my journal is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up, and I’m scared they will never leave. I say that I don’t want to take the drugs anymore, but I’m frightened I will have to. I am terrified that I will never really pull my life together.
In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing on the page:

I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long. I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and Braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship—the lending of a hand from
me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace—reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City. I walked into an office building one afternoon in a hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glance of myself in a security mirror’s reflection. In that moment, my brain did an odd thing—it fired off this split-second message: “Hey! You know her! That’s a friend of yours!” And I actually ran forward toward my own reflection with a smile, ready to welcome that girl whose name I had lost but whose face was so familiar. In a flash instant of course, I realized my mistake and laughed in embarrassment at my almost doglike confusion over how a mirror works. But for some reason that incident comes to mind again tonight during my sadness in Rome, and I find myself writing this comforting reminder at the bottom of the page.

Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a FRIEND…

I fell asleep holding my notebook pressed against my chest, open to this most recent assurance. In the morning when I wake up, I can still smell a faint trace of depression’s lingering smoke, but he himself is nowhere to be seen. Somewhere during the night, he got up and left. And his buddy loneliness beat it, too.

Elizabeth Gilbert (via purplebuddhaproject)

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uncgarchives:

The Woman’s College Faculty’s “10 Most Appealing” from 1955. Only eight are pictured (perhaps because the camera just couldn’t handle the awesome of having all 10 in one photo).
From left to right: Harold Altman, Dr. Martin Roeder, Lee H. Paul, Dr. John Opper, Michael Casey, Leonard Samuels, Rene Hardre, David Davis. Not pictured: Robert Watson and Randall Jarrell.

uncgarchives:

The Woman’s College Faculty’s “10 Most Appealing” from 1955. Only eight are pictured (perhaps because the camera just couldn’t handle the awesome of having all 10 in one photo).

From left to right: Harold Altman, Dr. Martin Roeder, Lee H. Paul, Dr. John Opper, Michael Casey, Leonard Samuels, Rene Hardre, David Davis. Not pictured: Robert Watson and Randall Jarrell.

Filed under uncg

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Prayer is a relationship; half the job is mine. If I want transformation, but can’t even be bothered to articulate what, exactly, I’m aiming for, how will it ever occur? Half the benefit of prayer is in the asking itself, in the offering of a clearly posed and well-considered intention. If you don’t have this, all your pleas and desires are boneless, floppy, inert; they swirl at your feet in a cold fog and never lift.
Elizabeth Gilbert (via purplebuddhaproject)

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