Almost All My Middle-aged And

Welcoming Imperfection Is The Way To Accomplish What Perfectionism Promises But Never Delivers. It Gives Us Our Best Performance And Genuine Acceptance In The Family Of Human -- And By That I Mean Imperfect -- Beings.

Recurrent Floods Of Sadness And Anger Gradually Wash Away The Rubble Of The Defunct Relationship, Leaving Only The Bits Of Treasure: The Remembered Moments Of Real Communion, A New Understanding Of Your Own Mistakes, A Clear Picture Of The Dysfunctions You Will Never Tolerate Again.

It's Only By Starting In A Place Of Peace That We Find Our Purpose And Power.

Anything You're Trying To Will Is Focused On The Future; It's Always Associated With Some Sort Of Anxiety That Makes The Present Moment Somewhat Uncomfortable.

The Knowledge Of Your Destiny Is Available To You, Well Before It Actually Happens, As A Message Streaming Continuously From Your Heart To Your Brain, Written In The Language Of Longing.