- Seasons of the Soul
- The Poetic Guidance and Spiritual Wisdom of Herman Hesse
- Michael And Stormie Omartian - Seasons Of The Soul (Vinyl, LP, Album) | Discogs
For over two decades I have been living on the edge of a very lively forest, and I have observed and felt the ebb and flow of nature in detail, her cycles, and the natural powers that comes with each season to enhance our four bodies. This knowledge, known as Solar Astrology, greatly assists me in manifesting my goals and the understanding of my personal responsibility and relationship to the world. Evidence in stone has been left all over this planet for us to learn from, and shows us how the Mayans, Egyptians, Nordics, Celtics, and other ancient civilizations worshipped nature, the sun, the stars, and the moon.
I started to make these and other connections through my study of art, design, Raja Yoga, and by travelling to many ancient civilizations to see these very stones left behind.https://oseruaritov.ml/satellite/
Seasons of the Soul
Whether we are conscious of it or not, all that is present around us significantly influences our psyche: the environment, weather, people, world events, solar and planetary systems. We can move with the ebb and flow, rather than try to swim upstream and against the flow, costing us energy, time, money, stress, failure and conflict.
Every soul goes through seasons, just like the seasons within a calendar year. Winter, spring, summer, and fall are all seasons of the soul that we encounter. While one person may be in a time of spiritual spring with newness and growth, another may be in a spiritual season of fall where they are starting to prepare for some of the difficulties that may lie ahead.
And others may be in a winter where things are silent, challenging, or possibly even painful. Spend time this week focusing on that awareness.
The Poetic Guidance and Spiritual Wisdom of Herman Hesse
Maybe you or someone you lead is encountering spiritual frustration, challenges, or roadblocks in their life, and they cannot hear the voice of God. Just look at the flowers that come back each year. Hostas, Lilies, etc. The fields draw near the clouds. Even heaven bows to the solid ground. A rhythmic, subtle song sates the space, swells, sways, and soaks the night in sorrow as if a lone violin were delving deep into dark, secret yearnings transforming fiery torment into tone while touching here and there a homeless heart, which found no words for its deep longings.
What neither words nor music could express the wind and rain intone with quiet strength.
Bursting with Blossoms The peachtree is bursting with blossoms. Some will ripen as fruit. Ideas too break open like buds of blossoms, at least a hundred every day— Let them unfold and roam as they wish! There must be time for play and innocence in life and room for boundless blossoms.
The world would otherwise be too small and our life not a delight. A brisk morning breeze blows through the valley. The chestnuts crack hard, tumbling from the trees. They burst open, moist, brown as if full of joy.
Autumn takes hold of my life. Gales split and tore my leaves.
- The Seasons of the Soul by Hermann Hesse.
- Seasons of the Soul.
- Chesapeake Legacy: Book 2 of the Chesapeake Series.
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My branches are shaking—did I bear fruit? My flowers of love bore the fruit of suffering.
Michael And Stormie Omartian - Seasons Of The Soul (Vinyl, LP, Album) | Discogs
My flowers of faith bore the fruit of hate. The wind rattles my brittle branches, but I laugh. I still stand strong in the storm. What do I care about bearing fruit, about achieving goals? God lives in me, God dies in me, God suffers in my soul: that is enough purpose. Right or wrong, flower or fruit, nothing but names, it is all the same. They burst open, I too break open, burnished with joy. Pruned Oak Oh oak tree, how they have pruned you. Now you stand odd and strangely shaped! You were hacked a hundred times until you had nothing left but spite and will!
I am like you, so many insults and humiliations could not shatter my link with life. And every day I raise my head beyond countless insults toward new light. What in me was once gentle, sweet, and tender this world has ridiculed to death. But my true self cannot be murdered.