emotional landscapes

The cold has arrived in full force, the air is damp, and that's how I know it's officially writing season. And wooly sweater & socks season. I turn the kitchen into my workspace, not least because the oven is usually on and radiating warmth, since it's also baking and roasting season, and begin jotting down my obviously profound thoughts in-between binging on HGTV (mainly House Hunters: International) and homemade hot chocolate. Sometimes just the plain baker's chocolate because I'm lazy and have developed a taste for "dead chocolate," as I once used to call it. It also feels like a good time to edit the virtual pile of photos I've been hoarding, and finally get around to some of those other neglected creative endeavors that seemed less interesting than summer's physical activities. I always start to feel strangely homesick for Ireland around this time too (I suspect it's the crumby weather and 'scholarly' history buried deep within my ancestral memory), except this time I genuinely am, after having finally made the voyage last December. I keep having little fits of anxiety, like I should be preparing for the next round of red-eyes and left-side-of-the-road adventure in challenging weather (nevermind the preparing for an outdoor wedding), but we're going to stay stateside this season. The driving will be usual, and the climate might be warmer (or colder, depending on the direction we head), and I look forward to the adventure of celebrating our first year as one, but Ireland will always be on my heart. It always has been, but now more than ever.

Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude.

My friends, suppose there is someone on a long journey who falls sick. He is alone, completely exhausted, and not near any village. He falls into despair, knowing that he will die before completing his journey. If at that point, someone comes along and sees this man’s situation, she immediately takes the man’s hand and leads him to the next village, where she takes care of him, treats his illness, and makes sure he has everything he needs by way of clothes, medicine, and food. Because of this compassion and loving kindness, the man’s life is saved. Just so, my friends, when you see someone whose words and bodily actions are not kind, and in whose heart there is nothing that can be called kindness, give rise to this thought: ‘Someone whose words and bodily actions are not kind and in whose heart is nothing that can be called kindness, is someone who is undergoing great suffering. Unless he meets a good spiritual friend, there will be no chance for him to transform and go to realms of happiness.’ Thinking like this, you will be able to open your heart with love and compassion toward that person. You will be able to put an end to your anger and help that person. Someone who is wise should practice like this.