Quotes About Awakening

El camino espiritual es, pues, simplemente el viaje de vivir cada cual su vida.

A new kind of American—a new kind of thinker and a new kind of citizen—needs to arise now. And quickly. We the People, We the Problem For too many decades, Americans have been chronically distracted by less important things, not bothering to engage in serious self-examination.

In a world gone mad, we can choose to be sane. In order to move ourselves, and our civilization, into the next phase of our evolutionary journey, it's time for all of us to awaken.

what shakes us to our core is what shakes us awake.

That is why a new American revolution is a revolution of consciousness, and a new American politics is a politics of love.

As a performer, I wanted to be the loudest, most persistent alarm clock I could be, because there didn't seem like any other way to snap society out of its Christianity- and media-induced coma.

Leaving here is like waking from a trance.

And on that walk he said to me, John, you might as well know now what you're sure to learn sometime. This is a backwater - you must be aware of that already. Leaving here is like waking from a trance.

Desde que el barco empezó a surcar las aguas azul plata del mar Caribe, Roger sintió en la sangre que su sexo, dormido en estos últimos meses de enfermedades, preocupaciones y gran trabajo físico y mental, volvía a despertar y a llenarle la cabeza de fantasías y deseos. En su diario resumió su estado de ánimo con tres palabras: "ardo de nuevo

we preach with the goal of spurring believers on in their maturity in Christ and of awakening nonbelievers to their need for the Savior.

I began to think that there was something awesome about my timing. How was it that, at the exact moment of my stopping, such incredible things were happening? It took me longer than I am prepared to admit to realize that such things were always happening. It was only that I was finally paying attention.

Simply speaking, they showed him that he could be kind. In his years of spiritual searching he had perfected all kinds of esoteric talents. He could take his mind into spheres of nothingness, go for days and weeks without eating, and rend his flesh with the best of them, but he was still operating with barely disguised contempt, not benevolence, toward himself and his world. When the enlightened Buddha told his admirer that he was awake, it was this basic kindness he was pointing to.

Everything in the garden became suddenly vivid as if some general membrane had been peeled away.

At this instant, Alessandro was electrified, as if lightning had struck the telephone wire or Saint Elmo's fire had filled the room, for part of the dream that he could not recall had come back to him with full force.

Is it possible that, with each inhalation, we take in the world and awaken our soul? And with each exhalation, do we free ourselves of the world, which inevitably entangles us? Is this how we fill up and empty a hundred times a day, always seeking the gift of the two breaths? Perhaps this is the work of being.

Whatever our path, whatever the color or grain of our days, whatever riddles we must solve to stay alive, the secret of life somehow always has to do with the awakening and freeing of what has been asleep.

LOVING IS THE practice ground for everything. By loving, we awaken the heart, sending care into the world through our hands. At the same time, suffering keeps breaking what can be broken until we reach what is unbreakable. It keeps undoing what can't last until we are standing on what will last.

From even the deepest slumber you wake with a jolt—older, closer to death, and wiser, grateful for breath.

I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again. I woke at intervals until, by that September when Father went down the river, the intervals of waking tipped the scales, and I was more often awake than not. I noticed this process of waking, and predicted with terrifying logic that one of these years not far away I would be awake continuously and never slip back, and never be free of myself again.

From even the deepest slumber you wake with a jolt - older, closer to death, and wise, grateful for breath.

Dark and sweet, the elixir of love is in her mouth. The more I drink, the more I remember all the things we've never done. I was a ghost until I touched you. Never swallowed mortal food until I tasted you, never understood the spoken word until I found your tongue. I've been a sleepwalker, sad somnambula, hands outstretched to strike the solid thing that could awaken me to life at last. I have only ever stood here under this lamp, against your body, I've missed you all my life.

Byrn speaks and I understand him without effort, his words as clear as spring water. / Ask a favour of the plover, he says. Borrow her eyes. / Then I am flying through the air, and the flying is his song, and I am / the flying, and his words are golden ribbons scrolling about me, bearing / me along. I see the plover's wing and I am the plover. Suspended. / Above the moor. There is no longer any I, only All. / Simple. Vast. Unknown. / All to be forgot on waking, like dew on a spiderweb.

The more I drink, the more I remember all the things we've never done. I was a ghost until I touched you. Never swallowed mortal food until I tasted you, never understood the spoken word until I found your tongue. I've been a sleep-walker, sad somnambula, hands outstretched to strike the solid thing that could awaken me to life at last. I have only ever stood here under this lamp, against your body, I've missed you all my life.

This shift from automatic living to awakening parallels Carl Jung's Individuation, Dada Bhagwan's Self-realization, Dr. Abraham Mazlow's Self-Actualization, G.I. Gurdjieff's Self-Work and other related approaches to differentiating the innate being from the unconscious complexes we have mistaken for identity.