Friday, January 27, 2012

A Rare Lunch -- 2nd Helping

Here's another discussion note from my rare lunch the other day.

This note had some words from Richard Rohr.

He wrote one of my favorite books of 2011, called Falling Upward.

It's about a concept he calls the two halves of life, which may or may not be a literal thing.

Sooner or later Rohr says we all end up moving from the first to second half of life and, when we do, we have big choices in terms of how best to live.

To get a feel for how Richard Rohr can make people think and feel about their lives, here are the discussion notes with his words handed to me during A Rare Lunch with my friend the other day,

1. Life is difficult.
2. I am not in control.
3. I am not that important.
4. My life is not about me.
5. I am going to die.

That last line's a bugger.

Kind of like a frank invitation that lay open on my kitchen table all week asking if I'm up for living right now.


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a book idea: Love, Your Mother

Friday, January 20, 2012

A Rare Lunch

A meeting the other day covered rare material for a business lunch.

A sample of the discussion notes handed to me included these words from writer Paula D'Arcy,

This I Know To Be True

I am certain that everything is a gift.

I am certain that we are entitled to nothing.

I am certain that the wells for pain and joy are not separate.

I am certain that bitterness and healing are a choice.

I am certain that my running from darkness leads to greater darkness.

I am certain that darkness is held by the light.

I am certain that “in You we live and move and have our being” is the truth.

Hoping to have rare lunches like these more often in 2012.


twitter tjmorin

a book idea: Love, Your Mother

Friday, January 13, 2012

Textured Life

Those words are from New York Times scribe David Carr in the excellent picture Page One.

He was referring to his life and if you've followed his story, you'd agree. It is textured.

Just like everyone else.

Seems like Someone or something or we or all of the above or some of the above are forever shaking the can, rattling that anxious little precious bead of ours deep within and spraying on a fine coat of life day after day after day.

Mostly without much examination.

Sooner or later it ends up one battered mix or another of textured life.

And with each fine coat there's been a choice of how it's primed.

Fear or trust.

Addicted or free.

Despair or hope.

Greed or charity.

Brooding or giddy.

Hate or love.

Tartuffe or humble.

Indifferent or grateful.

Resentful or forgiving.

Veiled or authentic.

Self or souls.

There's no running or hiding from this. Each life lived is textured.

The project is knowing how each day is ours to prime.


twitter tjmorin

Reading suggestion Love, Your Mother