Bella Vespira Quotes

What is love really, but two imperfect people staring at their reflection and loving what they see...because someone chose to stand beside them.

Did you not enjoy the fragrant flowers on the trails edge,The cool, crisp drink from the glistening pools at sunset,The song birds that filled the time as you experienced all that I Am, and all that I Am not?Did the dewy raindrops glisten on the gardens giving you a different memory of familiar landscapes?Did the rainbow fill your skies and force a pause of wonder in the midst of your journey?

What is it about the Heavens that draws us to look up? For generations, centuries, (millennia?) it seems we are drawn to look up for answers, comfort in times of despair, with pleas for help, when we are in need of grace, and to give thanks.

Has anyone angered or hurt you lately? Perhaps they are suffering themselves. Have you seen or partaken in unspeakable harms, and inconceivable hurts? Perhaps, forgiving oneself is essential in our life in grace. Know you are loved and cherished beyond our earthly capacity, the failures in your own life is not a reflection of your value and worth, but that grace qualifies you... makes you whole and worthy. Cherished. A hidden treasure.

IThe epiphany in this thought is that we simply cannot and do not create in isolation. As I paint my blank canvas others leave their mark on my masterpiece. Many have added colors and textures I knew not existed, greatly improving my creation..and yet...and yet... There are those who have punctured the fine leather and scraped at the rainbows of my mind ... creating stormy patches where there were once colors beaming from the page.

The epiphany in this thought is that we simply cannot and do not create in isolation. As I paint my blank canvas others leave their mark on my masterpiece. Many have added colors and textures I knew not existed, greatly improving my creation..and yet...and yet... There are those who have punctured the fine leather and scraped at the rainbows of my mind ... creating stormy patches where there were once colors beaming from the page.