Ambitiose sed Ineptim
Posted: February 4, 2014 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: Ambition, Bliss, blogging, Body Image, compassion, cycling, Digital Art, exercise, family, fitness, food, free range, freshly pressed, friends, gluten free, happiness, hatha, health, hipster, hope, Identity, kettlebell, kindness, life, love, lululemon, marathon, meditation, motivation, musings, natural, nature, Omaha, paleo, passion, perspective, pilates, Power Yoga, recovery, running, Spirituality, trail running, whole foods, writing, yoga, Zen 6 CommentsPlease don’t preach at me—I feel bad enough already-
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As anyone who strives to share wisdom and knowledge with others—how often do we command others without first ensuring our own understanding, without first eradicating our own insecurities and tension(s)?
How many of us can honestly answer yes to the following question: Have I done the work that I’m asking this person to do? And more importantly: Am I myself, able to go where they want to go?
No one is perfect, and in fact, our limitations often open the door to understanding and compassion, as well as to the ability to overcome the very faulty practices and beliefs that we are currently dealing with. Although in order to share the wisdom of these past lessons, we have to actually learn these lessons. We have to transcended the obstacles, not merely recognize that they exist.
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Daily Meditation:
We can’t rest on our laurels of intention, we must be willing, and able, to be the example …
In My Craft or Sullen Art
Posted: January 30, 2014 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: Ambition, blogging, compassion, Dylan Thomas, exercise, family, free range, freshly pressed, friends, happiness, health, kindness, life, love, lululemon, marathon, meditation, motivation, musings, natural, nature, Omaha, paleo, passion, perspective, pilates, Poetry, Prose, running, singing, trail running, walking, yoga, Zen 6 Comments…
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
CultFit 