Quotes About Transition

La muerte no es más que una transición de esta vida a otra existencia donde ya no hay dolor ni angustia.

Cuando se aprende la lección, el dolor desaparece.

Cómo saben estos gansos cuándo es el momento de volar hacia el sol? ¿Quién les anuncia las estaciones? ¿Cómo sabemos los seres humanos cuándo es el momento de hacer otra cosa? ¿Cómo sabemos cuándo ponernos en marcha? Seguro que a nosotros nos ocurre igual que a las aves migratorias; hay una voz interior, si estamos dispuestos a escucharla, que nos dice con toda certeza cuándo adentrarnos en lo desconocido.

una vez que hemos hecho todo el trabajo que nos ha sido encomendado al enviarnos a la Tierra, se nos permite desprendernos del cuerpo, que nos aprisiona el alma como el capullo envuelve a la mariposa, y...» bueno, entonces la persona tiene la más maravillosa experiencia de su vida.

en la muerte no hay dolor, miedo, ansiedad ni pena. Sólo se siente el agrado y la serenidad de una transformación en mariposa.

La muerte es sólo un paso más hacia la forma de vida en otra frecuencia» y «El instante de la muerte es una experiencia única, bella, liberadora, que se vive sin temor y sin angustia».

acknowledging all that has been lost and learning to live with that loss. It would be too soon for Keith to be able to accept this situation. He can acknowledge the reality of the loss

La única manera como podemos encontrar la paz es dejar que el pasado sea el pasado.

Tu ser querido fue fuerte para pasar por todo lo que pasó mientras combatía la enfermedad. Y fue todavía más fuerte cuando finalmente se dejó ir hacia lo desconocido, muriendo con fuerza, no con debilidad.

Si uno se toma el tiempo de sentarse junto a la cabecera de la cama de los moribundos, ellos son los que nos informan sobre las etapas del morir.

My mother-in-law's last night on earth, a fox crossed our path in Branford, Connecticut, as we left the hospice. We knew somehow that it was her, as I now know the ravenous hawk came to take Ficre. Do I believe that? Yes, I do. Poetic logic is my logic. I do not believe she was a fox. But I believe the fox was a harbinger. I believe that it was a strange enough occurrence that it should be heeded. Zememesh Berhe, the quick, red fox, soon passed from this life to the next.

A new self reveals itself when the old carapace has shed and died, as though we live in exoskeletons with something truer underneath.

Everything was told! Then we could begin something new.

I felt myself trapped in line for a ride I was not nearly ready for, looking back but moving forward in the only direction I could go.

I remove my wedding rings and put them in the jewelry box. So many others have done this. I am not the only one. I am not the only one. But here, I am the only one.

The seasons tell us, everything in organic life tells us, that there is no holding on; still, we try to do just that. Sometimes, though, we learn the kind of wisdom that celebrates the open hand.

Well, I've said it often enough to others: there are times when you have to hurt badly in order to move. Otherwise, you'll stay in a place you've outgrown.

I think people see death as the hunter, but it's just the ticket taker, the timekeeper. It's the sound of a record playing in the background.

You know...it's like you live your life opening doors. One after the other. You open a door onto a hallway, which leads to another door, which leads to another hallway. But then one day you open a door and it's to a closet. It doesn't go anywhere.

Never think winter will last when spring is equally inevitable.

For everything there truly is a season; if his life's work has not taught him that, it has taught him nothing. The birth of spring, the fullness of summer, the push of glory in the fall, the quiet of winter.

This is life, uh? We lose something here; we get something there. The trick is to stop looking in the old place to find the new thing.

This is not a novel about a woman leaving home, but rather a human being finding her way back.

His mother said, Oh, it's miserable to love, Johnny, I'm sorry to tell you so. Miserable for me, anyway, because I feel it too hard. And what happens then? What do you think? You go from the lovely direct to the pain - you can't help it.