The river is now. This moment. This breath between us. The space between your heartbeats. The moment before you blink. The instant a thought flashes through your mind. It is everything that is around us. Life. Energy. Flowing, endlessly flowing, carrying you from then. . . to now. . . to tomorrow. Listen: you can hear the music of it. Of the passage of time.
Life isn't measured in minutes, but in heartbeats.
I measure the moment in the heartbeats I skip
The truth is, we live in deeds, not days; in actions and thoughts and feelings, not heartbeats.
We each have a finite number of heartbeats, a finite amount of time. But we have enough heartbeats and enough time to do what is important.
Walking through a crowd, the village is aglow. Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats, under coats. Everybody here wanted something more. Searching for a sound we hadn't heard before. And it said, 'Welcome to New York,' It's been waiting for you. It's a new soundtrack, I could dance to this beat forevermore. The lights are so bright, but they never blind me.
There are people we meet in life who miss being important to us by inches, days, or heartbeats. Another place or time or a different emotional frame of mind and we would willingly fall into their arms; gladly take up their challenge or invitation. But as it is, we encounter them when we are discontent or content and they are not. Whatever they are, we are not and vice versa. Two trains going in different directions that pass for a few powerful moments at full speed, blasting noise and wind but then they are gone. Whatever serious chemistry might have been possible if, isn’t.
Perhaps the Wilderness we fear is the pause between our own heartbeats, the silence that reminds us we live by grace.
I believe that every human has a finite number of heartbeats. I don't intend to waste any of mine running around doing exercises.
There is no other closeness in human life like the closeness between a mother and her baby - chronologically, physically, and spiritually they are just a few heartbeats away from being the same person.
I didn't mean to send love letters, but that is what they became. On their way to you, my words turned into heartbeats on the page.
If you will practice being fictional for a while, you will understand that fictional characters are sometimes more real than people with bodies and heartbeats.
