Everyone sleeps, except lovers, who stay awake, telling stories to God
I wasn't eating. I wasn't sleeping. All I was doing was cocaine. I stayed awake for about two weeks, locked in my bedroom. I went down from a 142 pounds to 110 pounds.
When you're wide awake say it for goodness sake, it's gonna be a great day.
If you are living the dream, how do you know if you are asleep or awake?
Wide awake to the presence of God, I realized I had been so focused on asking why a good God allowed bad things to happen that I was missing out on the nearness of God all along. In becoming preoccupied with the why, I was missing the who.
Look to your experience in dreams to know how you will fare in death. Look to your experience of sleep to discover whether or not you are truly awake.
I work out with my trainer or do an hour of pilates at 6 or 7AM. I'm done by the time my household is awake.
Inwardly you are God, outwardly you are a person. Instead of thinking you are just a person, that appearance, you can awake to the power behind you, the safety within you, the source of inspiration and guidance at the heart of your human life. This enables you to be yourself even more so.
There is not a day that goes by that does not include a conversation with God. There is not a day that goes by that does not contain signs. There are many days that go by on which we do not hear the conversation, do not see the signs. So stay awake.
If you tell yourself a sad story, the body reacts to that. And if you tell yourself a self-aggrandizing story, the body feels puffed up, confident. But when you realize it’s all stories, there can be a vast waking up out of the mind, out of the dream. You don’t awaken, what has eternally been awake realizes itself. That which is eternally awake is what you are.
How extraordinary it is to be here at all. Awareness of death can jolt us awake to the sensuality of existence. Breath is no longer a routine inhalation of air but a quivering intake of life. The eye is quickened to the play of light and shade and color, the ear to the intricate medley of sound. This is where the meditation leads. Stay with it; rest with it. Notice how distraction is a flight from this, an escape from awe to worry and plans.
When I wake up, I'll go through emails on my iPhone - the junk email. At that point, my brain isn't usually awake enough to handle anything more than that.
It feels great to wake up feeling healthy, awake and alert. I love waking up in the morning, taking a deep breath, reading the newspaper and going to the gym - as opposed to carrying a hangover right until lunch. That's horrible. It is nice to let off steam once in a while, but I find myself less involved with people in that sense. I like staying at home, reading a book, having a chat with my wife, a quiet dinner and going to bed early. I don't want to drink half a bottle of whisky and look 50 the next day. I have become an anti-drinking, anti-smoking agent.
I've been asked repeatedly what the 'key' to acting is, and as far as I'm concerned, the main thing is to keep the audience awake.
Personally I like going places where I don't speak the language, don't know anybody, don't know my way around and don't have any delusions that I'm in control. Disoriented, even frightened, I feel alive, awake in ways I never am at home.
Reach me a gentian, give me a torch! Let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of a flower down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark.
If the vessel of our soul is still tossed with winds and storms, let us awake the Lord, who reposes in it, and He will quickly calm the sea.
When I wasn't lying awake thinking and planning and fighting over that furious pennant race, I was dreaming restless dreams about it.
My ritual it's kind of an involuntary ritual. I lie awake the night before, worrying about award ceremony. Try and think of something to write in case I actually get up there. I write it at the very last minute like either in the car on the way to the ceremony or, you know, in the bathroom before the show starts. It's all of jumbled mess written on a napkin or a piece of toilet paper. That's my good luck ritual. It's just like being in college waiting for the last minute to do everything.
How can you see something that isn't there?" yawned the Humbug, who wasn't fully awake yet. "Sometimes, it's much simpler than seeing things that are,"he said. "For instance, if something is there, you can only see it with your eyes open, but if it isn't there, you can see it just as well with your eyes closed. That's why imaginary things are often easier to see than real ones." "Then where is Reality?" barked Tock. "Right here,"cried Alec, waving his arms.
The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive.
Or maybe...just maybe this whole process is our training wheels towards something bigger. If we can reflect and know our lives, we might stay awake and shape our futures.
Always eyes watching you and the voice enveloping you. Asleep or awake, indoors or out of doors, in the bath or bed- no escape. Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimeters in your skull.
When you are old you can look back and see yourself when you are young. It is almost like looking down from heaven. And you see yourself as a young woman, just a big girl really, half awake to the world. You see yourself happy, holding in your arms a good, decent, gentle, beloved young man with the blood keen in his veins, who before long is going to disappear, just disappear, into a storm of hate and flying metal and fire. And you just don't know it.
When the rose is gone and the garden faded you will no longer hear the nightingale's song. The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. If love withholds its strengthening care, the lover is left like a bird without care, the lover is left like a bird without wings. How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent? Love wills that this Word be brought forth.
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