For they are the moments when something new has entered into us, something unknown; our feelings grow mute in shy perplexity, everything in us withdraws, a stillness comes, and the new, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it and is silent.
And this is why it is so important to be lonely and attentive when one is sad: because the apparently uneventful and stark moment at which our future sets foot in us is so much closer to life than that other noisy and fortuitous point of time at which it happens to us as if from outside
It seems that the article mixes sadness and solitude. While sadness encourages the desire to be in solitude, yet the latter by itself is an amazing thing. My solo rides are mostly an exercise in solitude. Its a form of meditation amidst nature.
In his travels, he’s run into the generous and the unkind. One summer day, a motorist yelled, “Hey, fool, Christmas is in December!” At the next traffic light, a boy called from a bus window, asking if he could have a trumpet for Christmas.
A feel-good read – warms the heart. The quote above the highlights the two of many kind of people we meet in the journey of life – the unkind and the hopeful.
One of the biggest factors in creating sleep rituals is comfort. “It’s about this descent into sleep and getting into a comfortable place, and you will start to replicate that night after night,”
Sleep is always a fascination topic for me to read about, probably because I sleep very little and other that I can sleep anytime anywhere. Once I remember sleeping standing in a public bus in Delhi going from Noida to other end of the city.
I’ve always loved the moment when the bars on my phone disappear. When I’m out of range entirely, floating along in a kayak, time grows elastic. I stare down into that other kingdom below me, at the minnows darting through the duckweed, and feel deeply free — no one’s watching; no one knows where I am.
I think people have lost the ability to be present with themselves. There’s nothing wrong with sitting on your deck looking at the hills.
There is a certain kind of freedom in leaving it all behind, though temporary… experiencing a deep solitude.
Who has not felt the urge to throw a loaf of bread and a pound of tea in an old sack and jump over the back fence.
Stories about mafia are always fun. However this one does not make the cut. Thought the author is making a point that the mafia still exists and runs the show, it could have been woven in a more interesting manner.