Let me begin with saying that I also hate goodbyes. I just recalled a memory of us, three kids, my brother, sister and I being left at grandparents for summer holiday and how I cried when our parents left.
I think I especially hate goodbyes to the good things. It's funny how easily we get used…
Let me begin with saying that I also hate goodbyes. I just recalled a memory of us, three kids, my brother, sister and I being left at grandparents for summer holiday and how I cried when our parents left.
I think I especially hate goodbyes to the good things. It's funny how easily we get used to the good things and then if somehow life takes them away we are left with a hole in our hearts.
I'd love to leave you here a translation of poem Stufen, by Herman Hesse
Hi Ally,
Thank you for another beautiful essay.
Let me begin with saying that I also hate goodbyes. I just recalled a memory of us, three kids, my brother, sister and I being left at grandparents for summer holiday and how I cried when our parents left.
I think I especially hate goodbyes to the good things. It's funny how easily we get used to the good things and then if somehow life takes them away we are left with a hole in our hearts.
I'd love to leave you here a translation of poem Stufen, by Herman Hesse
Stages
As every flower fades and as all youth
Departs, so life at every stage,
So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,
Blooms in its day and may not last forever.
Since life may summon us at every age
Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor,
Be ready bravely and without remorse
To find new light that old ties cannot give.
In all beginnings dwells a magic force
For guarding us and helping us to live.
Serenely let us move to distant places
And let no sentiments of home detain us.
The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us
But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.
If we accept a home of our own making,
Familiar habit makes for indolence.
We must prepare for parting and leave-taking
Or else remain the slaves of permanence.
Even the hour of our death may send
Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,
And life may summon us to newer races.
So be it, heart: bid farewell without end.
Enjoy Potrugal and thank you for being here 🥰
Namaste
🙏
I love that and shall return the favor - the always-stunning Mary Oliver:
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it
go,
to let it go.
Mary Oliver
In Blackwater Woods
Kills me every time.
Love from Portugal!
Oh I love this one Ally, thank you and may you and all around you in Portugal have a beautiful time together. 🥰