ryyan daniel

Vandweller | Coffee Roaster | Yogi | Theologian | __________ I want to love hard. I want unabashed passion for everything I do. I want to dream big, but then live even bigger. I want my actions to follow my words, and my words to follow my heart. I want to fill my life with simple pleasures - loose leaf tea, folk music, cardigans, well-written literature, indie films, And I want to share these pleasures with the simple people I call my friends. I want to travel the world and soak the culture into my skin. I want to be a whistleblower for peace. I want to use my rights to stand up for the rights of others. I want callused hands and dirty nails to show that I’m alive. I want to do everything I do in the name of love so that when I come to die, I won’t discover that I had not lived. Because I’ve realized that to truly live is to truly love.

[ryydaniel]

Silence A day of silence Can be a pilgrimage in itself. A Day of Silence Can help you listen To the Soul play Its marvelous lute and drum. Is not most talking A crazed defense of a crumbling fort? I thought we came here To surrender to Silence, To yield to Light and Happiness, To Dance within In celebration of Love's Victory!

Hafiz

[ryydaniel]

I know the voice of depression Still calls to you. I know those habits that can ruin your life Still send their invitations. But you are with the Friend now And look so much stronger. You can stay that way And even bloom! Keep squeezing drops of the Sun From your prayers and work and music And from your companions' beautiful laughter. Keep squeezing drops of the Sun From the sacred hands and glance of your Beloved And, my dear, From the most insignificant movements Of your own holy body. Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins That may buy you just a moment of pleasure, But then drag you for days Like a broken man Behind a farting camel. You are with the Friend now. Learn what actions of yours delight Him, What actions of yours bring freedom And Love. Whenever you say God's name, dear pilgrim, My ears wish my head was missing So they could finally kiss each other And applaud all your nourishing wisdom! O keep squeezing drops of the Sun From your prayers and work and music And from your companions' beautiful laughter And from the most insignificant movements Of your own holy body. Now, sweet one, Be wise. Cast all your votes for Dancing!

Hafiz

[ryydaniel]

I know the way you can get When you have not had a drink of Love: Your face hardens, Your sweet muscles cramp. Children become concerned About a strange look that appears in your eyes Which even begins to worry your own mirror And nose. Squirrels and birds sense your sadness And call an important conference in a tall tree. They decide which secret code to chant To help your mind and soul. Even angels fear that brand of madness That arrays itself against the world And throws sharp stones and spears into The innocent And into one's self. O I know the way you can get If you have not been drinking Love: You might rip apart Every sentence your friends and teachers say, Looking for hidden clauses. You might weigh every word on a scale Like a dead fish. You might pull out a ruler to measure From every angle in your darkness The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once Trusted. I know the way you can get If you have not had a drink from Love's Hands. That is why all the Great Ones speak of The vital need To keep remembering God, So you will come to know and see Him As being so Playful And Wanting, Just Wanting to help. That is why Hafiz says: Bring your cup near me. For all I care about Is quenching your thirst for freedom! All a Sane man can ever care about Is giving Love!

Hafiz

[ryydaniel]

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Gabor Mate

[ryydaniel]

This guy is integrating marxism, psychology, and the body. 

[ryydaniel]

Addiction & Capitalism

[ryydaniel]

Martin Pretchel — Grief and Praise Part 1

[ryydaniel]

Martin Pretchel — Grief and Praise Part 2

[ryydaniel]

Martin Pretchel Grief and Praise Part 3

[ryydaniel]

Jaap van der Wal is a phenomenological embryologist who is …

Podcast

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[poems-and-words]

Book of the day: The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

Get the FREE Kindle Reading App

[ryydaniel]

But Dad was no longer breathing. That was what had happened to him, the connection with the air had been broken, now it pushed against him like any other object, a log, a gasoline can, a sofa. He no longer poached air, because that is what you do when you breathe, you trespass, again and again you trespass on the world.

Karl Ove Knausgaard

[ryydaniel]