The Home of my dream

A gentle butterfly was never like that from the very beginning. Something happened when a caterpillar was playing on a green leaf. There was this transformation that took place and gone was the caterpillar after a fearful but temporary death-experience in that seemingly gluey cocoon. Being buried for sometime, something crept out slowly and afte a long stretch of unfolding wings came freedom, a butterfly flew out into the celestial sky. The tranformation is like a metamorphosis. Being buried from old self and finally renewed into a new image of freedom.

If you observe a happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden, or looking for a dinosaur eggs in the Gobi desert.  He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar button that has rolled under the radiator.  He will be striving for it as if it were a goal in itself, nor will he be seeking for it amog the nebulous wastes of metaphysics.

To find happiness we must seek for it in a focus outside ourselves.

[W. Beran Wolfe] 

Posted in Self Reflection