PRECIOUS LIFE Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? – Mary Oliver Life is so precious, And each day is a gift. So enjoy every minute, As it were your last to live. Cherish your loved ones, Hug them tight, Share with them your heart, And your time. Nothing is forever, And life goes so fast, Each minute that passes, Is one you can’t get back. When troubles arrive, And knock you off your feet, Stand up and smile, And remember life it too sweet. Every morning when you wake, decide right from the start, That “Today will be a good day” And let it all in with an open heart. Laura Strickland Never allow anyone to rain on your parade and thus cast a pall of gloom and defeat on the entire day. No talent, no self denial, no brains, no character are required to set up in the fault-finding business. Nothing external can have any power over you unless you permit it. Your time is too precious to be sacrificed in wasted days combating the menial forces of hate, jealously, and envy. Guard your fragile life carefully. Only God can shape a flower, but any foolish person can pull it to pieces. -Og Mandino TEMPLE TALK
The different Upasanas are all aids in the path to the ultimate goal, namely, understanding Reality. Scriptures prescribe Upasana in order to train the mind to concentrate. Upasana is the affair of the individual; there is nothing collective about it. – Sri Chandrasekharendra Saraswati Go not to the temple to put flowers upon the feet of God, First fill your own house with the Fragrance of love…… Go not to the temple to light candles before the altar of God, First remove the darkness of sin from your heart……. Go not to the temple to bow down your head in prayer, First learn to bow in humility before your fellowmen………
Go not to the temple to pray on bended knees, First bend down to lift someone who is downtrodden………………… Go not to the temple to ask for forgiveness for your sins, First forgive from your heart those who have sinned against you. – Rabindranath Tagore Every man is the builder of a temple, called his body, to the god he worships, after a style purely his own, nor can he get off by hammering marble instead. We are all sculptors and painters, and our material is our own fless and blood and bones. Any nobleness begins at once to refine a man’s features, any meanness or sensuality to imbrute them. – Henry David Thoreau, Walden
