Morning holds a special dignity of her own. Awakening in the quiet sanctity of her arms, listen as life begins to stir. In his book, “Eternal Echoes” John O’Donouhue encourages us to greet each day in the ancient tradition of a prayerful intention by taking a
moment to welcome her arrival.

Increasingly, I find myself distracted, multi-tasking, half-heartedly
present. When we do this, O’Donohue cautions we are holding back and avoiding the
truth of a situation, diminishing the person before us, our friendships and the
possibilities of our experiences. John reminds us that the most precious gift
we can offer is the gift of ourselves.

John gifts us with this prayerful poem by Fernando Pessoa.

Soft moon_n

To Be Great Be Entire


To be great, be entire:

O what is yours nothing

Exaggerate or exclude

Be whole in each thing. Put all that you are

Into the least you do

Like that on each place the whole moon

Shines for she lives aloft.

                                                                              By-Fernando Pessoa

 

Contributed by ~liz Sorensen Wessel

Above  image by ~liz

4 responses to “Days 151-152 The Greatest Gift”

  1. Woody Wessel Avatar
    Woody Wessel

    Nice painting.

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  2. Erie Chapman Foundation Avatar

    It seems so unlikely that you would be “half-heartededly” present, Liz. Only a full-hearted person can paint black into purple, dot it with stars, and fill it with a complete moon.

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  3. Cheri Cancelliere Avatar
    Cheri Cancelliere

    “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Ps 19:1). Thank you for the wonderful reflection, Liz, and for sharing the work of your hands. I try to spend time in my garden each morning just as the sun is rising. It is a time of hope, a time to begin anew, a time to center our lives and choose love once more.

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  4. ~liz Avatar
    ~liz

    “Now she realized that she was not peering at a so-dark-blue-it-looked-black ocean, but rather she was looking straight through miles of incredibly clear water at something enormous and black in its nethermost depths. Maybe it was the bottom–so deep that not even light could touch it.
    And yet, down in those impossible depths, she thought she could see tiny lights sparkling. She stared uncertainly at the tiny glimmerings. They seemed almost like scattered grains of sand lit from within; in some places they clustered like colonies, faint and twinkling.
    Like stars…”
    ― Fuyumi Ono
    Thanks for your comments
    ~liz

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