One day, I heard the sound before I saw it, rain fell
darkening the sidewalk.

Sitting close to the center, not very high in the branches,
I heard it hitting the high leaves, and I was happy,

watching it happen without it happening to me.

Marie Howe, from The Copper Beech in “What The Living Do: Poems”
(via adrasteiax)

i was looking out towards the changing trees and the falling leaves, wondering how many covered your car since you got here, and working up the honesty to tell you how i feel.

– “i don’t think i’m getting any better.”

– “let’s go for a walk.” 

and we did…. or so i remember

lighthearted-science:

“You are not your conditioning. Mind was conditioned. The belief ‘I am this body/mind’, ‘I am this body’ gave rise to a sense of secondary identity. Previous to this identity, there’s only the feeling ‘I am’ which is how consciousness experiences and knows itself in a living form. It feels ‘I AM’. It is consciousness. ‘I’ is consciousness, not person.”

— Mooji

01sentencereviews:

“I always feel like I’m struggling to become someone else. Like I’m trying to find a new place, grab hold of a new life, a new personality. I guess it’s part of growing up, yet it’s also an attempt to reinvent myself. By becoming a different me, I could free myself of everything. I seriously believed I could escape myself–as long as I made the effort. But I always hit a dead end. No matter where I go, I still end up me. What’s missing never changes. The scenery may change, but I’m still the same old incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that I can never satisfy. I guess that lack itself is as close as I’ll ever come to defining myself.”

— Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
(via dieworten)