Each day, and the living of it, has to be a conscious creation in which discipline and order are relieved with some play and pure foolishness.
May SartonRead
I would like to believe when I die that I have given myself away like a tree that sows seed every spring and never counts the loss, because it is not loss, it is adding to future life. It is the tree's way of being. Strongly rooted perhaps, but spilling out its treasure on the wind.
Interpretation
The quote expresses the idea of selflessness and contributing to others without counting personal loss.
May Sarton reflects on the beauty of giving oneself to others, much like a tree that releases seeds every spring. She suggests that true fulfillment comes from selfless acts that nurture future life and growth, emphasizing that what may seem like loss is actually a contribution to the cycle of life. The tree's natural tendency to spread its seeds symbolizes how individuals can enrich the lives of others, embodying a sense of purpose and connection to the world.
In practice
In a speech about community service, one might use this quote to inspire volunteers.
Each day, and the living of it, has to be a conscious creation in which discipline and order are relieved with some play and pure foolishness.
Pain can make a whole winter bright, like fever, force us to live deep and hard.
She became for me an island of light, fun, wisdom where I could run with my discoveries and torments and hopes at any time of day and find welcome.
Wrinkles here and there seem unimportant compared to the Gestalt of the whole person I have become in this past year.
Here life goes on, even and monotonous on the surface, full of lightning, of summits and of despair, in its depths. We have now arrived at a stage in life so rich in new perceptions that cannot be transmitted to those at another stage - one feels at the same time full of so much gentleness and so much despair - the enigma of this life grows, grows, drowns one and crushes one, then all of a sudden in a supreme moment of light one becomes aware of the sacred.
I think of the trees and how simply they let go, let fall the riches of a season, how without grief (it seems) they can let go and go deep into their roots for renewal and sleep.... Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.
It just goes to show, if you try to ruin someone's life, it only gets better. You just don't get to be a part of it.
I am older than everyone I ever knew. All my dogs are dead. Half a dozen cats, parakeets... all gone.
As you travel though life, offer good wishes to each being you meet.
We are each given a block of marble when we begin a lifetime, and the tools to shape it into sculpture. We can drag it behind us untouched, we can pound it to gravel, we can shape it into glory. Examples from every other life are left for us to see, lifeworks finished and unfinished, guiding and warning. Near the end our sculpture is nearly finished, and we can smooth and polish what we started years before. We can make our progress then, but to do it we must see past the appearances of age.
I cannot face the idea of life without work. What would one do when ideas failed or words refused to come? It is impossible not to shudder at the thought.
It has been my face. It's got older still, or course, but less, comparatively, than it would otherwise have done. It's scored with deep, dry wrinkles, the skin is cracked. But my face hasn't collapsed, as some with fine feature have done. It's kept the same contours, but its substance has been laid waste. I have a face laid waste.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.