impulses

We are free when we are not the slave of our impulses, but rather their master. Taking inward distance, we thus become the authors of our own dramas rather than characters in them.

Impulses of intelligence constantly create the body in new forms every second.

I know there are those who are convinced that seeing ego as a problem is an outdated perspective that only adds fuel to the fire, and that simply “accepting” and “making space” for it is the more “enlightened” approach. But I beg to differ. It may sound good in theory, but the ability to recognize ego for what it is, in all its gross and often very subtle manifestations, to “accept” it and simultaneously not act out of it, requires a level of self-mastery that, to be brutally honest, is attained by very few. I have found that for most, transcending what would traditionally be called our “lower impulses” may require the willingness to struggle as if our life depended on it. Because if we want to evolve beyond ego in a way that is truly going to make a difference, it literally does.

Brother stand the pain; Escape the poison of your impulses. The sky will bow to your beauty, if you do. Learn to light the candle. Rise with the sun. Turn away from the cave of your sleeping. That way a thorn expands to a rose. A particular glows with the universal.

Whereas the average individuals "often have not the slightest idea of what they are, of what they want, of what their own opinions are," self-actualizing individuals have "superior awareness of their own impulses, desires, opinions, and subjective reactions in general.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man,  Of moral evil and of good,  Than all the sages can.

The community stagnates without the impulse of the individual. The impulse dies away without the sympathy of the community.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds.

Every one expects to go further than his father went; every one expects to be better than he was born and every generation has one big impulse in its heart - to exceed all the other generations of the past in all the things that make life worth living.

In the bottom of an old pond lived some grubs who could not understand why none of their groups ever came back after crawling up the stem of the lilies to the top of the water. They promised each other that the next one who was called to make the upward climb would return and tell what happened to him. Soon one of them felt an urgent impulse to seek the surface; he rested himself on top of a lily pad and went through a glorious transformation which made him a dragonfly with beautiful wings. In vain he tried to keep him promise. Flying back and forth over the pond, he peered down at his friends below. Then he realized that if they could ever see him they would not recognize such a radiant creature as one of their number. The fact that we cannot see our friends or communicate with them after the transformation, which we call death. is no proof that they cease to exit.