Best 19 quotes of Cristen Rodgers on MyQuotes

At times there will be fire; this we can't avoid. But it's up to us to decide whether it will consume or it will purify.

Be careful not to laugh at the Phoenix when she goes up in flames, or you'll be left in the dust when she grows her new wings and flies swiftly away.

Be still my hand and let the words write themselves upon my heart. Be still my heart and let your pages be filled in silence.

Don’t be afraid to get high. Take the chance whenever it presents itself and get high on passion, on poetry, music, and art. Get drunk on nature, on silence, on the sunrise and sunset, on sensuality and sex. Get lit on the moon and lost in the stars. Sip with equal ardor the divine and the mundane alike. Let your inhibitions go. Drop the defenses. Live in the moment, with no motes to cross and no walls to scale before you can allow yourself to become lost - lost in your senses, in your heart, in the world, in your mind. If you want to make the most of this life, you have to feel it fully, to inhale it deeply, to drink with abandon. You can’t be afraid to get high.

I look into your eyes and I’m sure that some divine artist dipped her brush in the same soul and used it to paint us both.

I love letting my soul soar on a summer breeze, or getting entranced by the rhythm of the sea. It carries you off on its currents until you’re completely lost and then drops you back on the shores of reality with salt on your cheeks and grains of dreams running through your fingers like sand. It’s almost an occasional necessity – I guess because when you get completely, fantastically, dizzyingly lost you’re temporarily suspended between what has been and what could be. In those first moments when you come back up for air, or when you float back down to the ground, you’re living in the land of possibility, where you understand that reality can stretch just as far as you’re willing to dream.

I promise from now on to always make time for at least one more. One more chapter before I turn out the light and float off to sleep. One more kiss before I sink into this sea of words and search for meaning to bring back up with me. One more stretch and one more wiggle of my toes before I jump out of bed; and one more moment in meditation before I re-emerge. One more full, deep breath and one more look at the sunset. One more touch, one more smile, one more moment of stillness, of gratitude, of simplicity, of love. From now on, I’ll always make room for one more because you never know when one more is all you’ll ever have.

I release ribbons of gratitude to flow back upon the path I have walked as it stretches out behind me, so they brush past everyone whose path crossed my own. May they feel the brief kiss of remembrance within their hearts, there and then gone again, passing like a spring breeze, so that they suddenly know the things they have done for others, in so many ways big and small, seen and unseen alike, somewhere are known and treasured.

Maybe the moon just lost herself gazing too long at the brilliance of the sun and that’s how she got her glow. And maybe we’re made of the same mysterious sort of magic that makes us magnify and mirror whatever we look at the most.

My mind is the sun, and my heart is the moon. In the sky between them, there I am. Cristen Rodgers

Oh, of course I stumble. There are times when I’m confidently skipping along and then I trip over my own poorly-placed steps and fall face first into the thickets. But I think there’s a sort of beauty in falling. Each time I fall, I’m reminded that I’m still human, that I’m still learning, that there will always be more lessons, growth, and discovery up ahead. So, although I have times when I’m weak, when I’m critical of myself, or I lose hope, I wouldn’t give them up for the world. I cherish them – because it’s the risk of falling that makes life a grand adventure rather than just a guided tour.

Oh sure, I appreciate physical beauty too. I can get excited about the primped and pruned outer shell; I can swoon over bright feathers, striking poses, and perfected prose as much as the next person. But in truth, I much prefer indulging my ethereal sense to those lesser ones – that inner sense that picks up on a deeper and far more exhilarating kind of beauty. That kind of beauty that presents itself slowly, slipping out one layer, one moment, one expression at a time as you really get to know someone. That’s what really gets me going. That’s the only kind that truly satisfies me – the kind of beauty that shines from within. The kind that speaks, not to the eyes, but that reflects back to them after first touching the heart.

Sometimes the purpose of the rose is simply to draw attention to the rose.

Sometimes what’s dead must be burned away to make room for new life. Sometimes you just have to step back and let the brittle bits ignite - but once those flames begin to dance their caustic dance, don’t you dare look the other way. Don’t close your eyes. Watch closely and let that image seer itself forever on your mind. Remember what it looked like in the midst of the soot, the smoke, and the haze. Remember, so you don’t repeat the same conditions that required such a blaze.

Summer rushes in on the heels of spring, eager to take her turn; and then she dances with wild abandon. But the time soon comes when she gratefully falls, exhausted and sated, into the auburn arms of autumn.

There's no lie in his smile, no veil 'cross his eyes. He breathes fire too hot for a plastic disguise.

The universe is a deep, still body of water in which we all swim. Every move that we make creates a ripple that echoes across reality – and the deeper that we swim, the more force those waves carry and the farther they may span.

We are all gardeners, planting seeds of intention and watering them with attention in every moment of every day.

We are all the authors of our own fates; but we have gotten so lost in the technicalities of forming letters and stringing words together that we've forgotten what it really means to write.