Archive for May, 2012

Birth is worth.

The molten bold in souls is gold.

Knowledge wears a beautiful patina.

The wise place an extreme value on not knowing.

Human worth is beyond gender, wealth, appearance, and club member.

Aloneness can’t do any ciphers, subtract our worth, diminish girth.

Anchor decisions sticker worth but the wise reprice their own stuff.

Good lies in the direction of valuing what we haven’t.

Love forges a good; hate forges a hood.

What they did to you doesn’t define you.

Wisdom stops asking “why” and turn its faces to the good found in the present.

Other’s opinions don’t price us.

Within the you of the you of the very definitive and superlative you resides your you.

Love yourself; not too much.

Self-esteem in the extreme may turn into mean.

You already love yourself in that you feed, shelter and cloth yourself; love others just like that.

Overly scaffolding our students may raise their self-esteem and lower their self-discernment

The self-esteem movement has raised a generation blind to their own incompetence.

Overpraise undermines.

Trellis yourself and others with love.

The foolish student wants only A’s, but wise students value being corrected.

We were once anxious to prove we were better than animals, now we are wondering if we are better than machines.

Be specific, personal, authentic and brief with compliments.

To tell someone they are a hard worker
is better than telling them they are smart; you are telling them they are in control.

Compliment when it is deserved; correct when it is timely, and remain quiet when others are revealing themselves.

To love ourselves is a baby step toward loving others.

Never give a madman an army.

When nations go insane, war begins its reign.

Horrible inventions will never resolve former horrors.

The machine gun; it was simply a new means to rip to pieces our own flesh and blood.

A thousand souls cannot dance on the head of a poppy; neither can the human mind comprehend the loss of  millions of lives.

When we begin to think that it is heroic to kill, we have begun to tip off the edge of civilization.

When we use the word necessary with the word war, we teeter on the brink.

We ever under-estimate the demonic destruction of our addiction to violence.

Hostility is a slow cook; war is a fast burn.

Horror over there, normal over here.

Nationalism is a form of self-hatred; it leads us to despise those who are just like us.

Because war museums lack the dead, they ever understate the horror.

Thin glass, level shelves and straight pegs will do nothing to further prevent concussed brains.

There are choices; Monet painted water lilies while the world machine gunned itself to death.

War museums no end; we’ll do it all again.

The greatest adventure is in what lies behind what lies ahead.

The thrilling unknown lies just below the bone.

The next adventure is just one risk away.

Fools hide at home; the wise charge into the hippodrome.

The good are always traveling into the dangerous terrain of the other.

Adventure lies on the other side of obedience.

The ultimate adventure begins when we sit still, fold our hands and close our eyes.

The wildest ride begins where control ends.

Faith leaves home with bright eyes.

The thrilling hunt almost beats the heart-pounding find.

One cannot even begin to understand home until one leaves it.

When I am no longer ruled by what you think, I go over the falls and plummet into freedom.

Fear hides; love jumps into plain sight.

It is a fool’s errand to play it safe too much.

 

Past good, the future better, the present best.

The past is premium grade rocket fuel.

The damaging past that we can’t forget, we disarm by forgiving.

The present is made out of our past memories and our future hopes.

We dig up the past in order to try to understand the present.

The past is like an old house; it’s always under reconstruction.

The past is always spoken of in the imperfect tense.

The past is remembered best by our ears, eyes and noses.

The past is a like a symphony orchestra that refuses to stop playing.

What happened in the past is now my choice.

When I cry over some else’s past I begin to recover from mine.

The past refuses to pass passively.

Was is, until we change it.

We know we have crossed over into maturity when we stop fighting with the people crossing with us.

Progress — it’s finding your people.

A gap in time is a road sign.

The good life has some pool rules: “No running, children; no diving, fools.”

A wise life is like an expensive wine — it’s waits.

The wise know their limits; the mature know when to move beyond them.

Maturity exists in knowing who to choose — and who to run like hell from.

No sea crossings are a match; no lives come from the same batch.

Lonely spaces lie between our origins and our destinations.

Finding our mate is the end; losing our mate is the beginning.