Quotes About Awakening

I don't sleep much. It takes me a long time to fall asleep. I'm a bit of an insomniac but, when I fall asleep, I don't ever want to wake up.

I like breakfast-time better than any other moment in the day. No dust has settled on one's mind then, and it presents a clear mirror to the rays of things.

If there's any possibility for enlightenment, it's right now, not at some future time. Now is the time.

You've gotten drunk on so many kinds of wine. Taste this. It won't make you wild. It's fire. Give up, if you don't understand by this time that your living is firewood.

When the two that share destiny part and reunite, beyond the frame of time, the ceased clock will awake and start to tick once again.

When the truth get's buried deep beneath a thousand years of sleep, time demands a turnaround.. And once again the truth is found.

Her speculations on the future are full of buoyant hope - so were mine once. I shudder to think of her being awakened like me to a sense of their delusive vanity.

God might awaken that heart, supine and stupefied with self-indulgence, and remove the film of sensual darkness from his eyes, but I could not.

T]here is a certain kind of child who awakens from a book as from an abyssal sleep, swimming heavily up through layers of consciousness toward a reality that seems less real than the dream-state that has been left behind. I was such a child.

I think spring is inside me. I feel spring awakening, I feel it in my entire body and soul. I have to force myself to act normally. I'm in a state of utter confusion, don't know what to read, what to write, what to do. I only know that I'm longing for something...

I believe that it's spring within me, I feel that spring is awakening, I feel it in my whole body and soul.

And that almost everyone was struggling to wake up, to be loved, and not feel so afraid all the time. That's what the cars, degrees, booze, and drugs were about.

Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you to soften, can wake you up.

We can pray for a shot at having a life in which we are present and awake and paying attention and being kind to ourselves. We can pray, "Hello? Is there anyone there?" We can pray, "Am I too far gone, or can you help me get out of my isolated self-obsession?" We can say anything to God. It's all prayer.

Becoming a writer is about becoming conscious.

But where do we even start on the daily walk of restoration and awakening? We start where we are. We find God in our human lives, and that includes the suffering. I get thirsty people glasses of water, even if that thirsty person is just me.

Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you soften, can wake you up.

The point was to lean toward goodness, to resist less, to pray for our enemies. The point was to have a spiritual awakening of any sort that would help us live more often in kind awareness.

The movement of grace toward gratitude brings us from the package of self-obsessed madness to a spiritual awakening. Gratitude is peace.

But where do we even start on the daily walk of restoration and awakening? We start where we are.

Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you soften, can wake you up. But publishing won't do any of those things; you'll never get in that way.

Sometimes we have to get cancer or have a heart attack to stop the train of wired meaninglessness, to stop faking or stuffing it all back down.

Then Mason made an astonishing comment. He said to the girl, adamantly, in his slightly garbled and mumbly way, "You know, I used to have brain cancer. I was in a coma, and then I was here again." I had to close my eyes at the beauty of his understanding—that he was here again. He had woken up, as we are all called to do. I said, "You are a miracle.

And then, some morning in the second week, the mind wakes, comes to life again. Not in a city sense—no—but beach-wise. It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach. One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor. Perhaps a channeled whelk, a moon shell, or even an argonaut.