Home

Advertisement

Customize

Moonlight · in · a · Dewdrop


Grasping nothing, Discarding nothing

Recent Entries · Archive · Friends · User Info

* * *
http://1x.com/OEfullSize/30017-fullsize.jpg "As a warrior proceeds on the path, he or she may go through phases of intense fear. Frequently, such fear comes out of nowhere. It just happens; it just hits you. It may cause you to question everything in yourself: everything you have studied, everything you have learned and understood, as well as your general life situation....Fear arises in this way many times on the warrior's path. It is a hallmark of your progress on the path. Just as you are about to give birth to further confidence, that breakthrough is preceded by a sense of utter fear.When this occurs in your life, you should examine the nature of fear. This is not based on asking logical questions about fear: "Why am I afraid?" It is simply looking at the state of fear or panic that is taking place in you. Just look at it." ~ Chogyam Trungpa ~
* * *
http://www.freekidscoloringandcrafts.com/dumbo66.jpg You see Dumbo always could fly but he needed the feather to convice himself he could.
* * *
http://1x.com/OEfullSize/29988-fullsize.jpg God and all the scientists of the world had a meeting and a competition. Whatever item that God made, the scientists reproduced it identically out of some material. The scientists were able to reproduce things with no problem. Finally, God made man out of dust and challenged the scientists. The scientists started to pick up dust… God said, “Wait! Make it out of your dust, not mine!” :)
* * *
http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/image/0902/m42_hst_big.jpg

My Master once entered a phase
That whenever I would see him
He would say,

"Hafiz,
How did you ever become a pregnant woman?"

And I would reply,

"Dear Attar,
You must be speaking the truth,
But all of what you say is a mystery to me."

Many months passed by in his blessed company.
But one day I lost my patience
Upon hearing that odd refrain
And blurted out,

"Stop calling me a pregnant woman!"

And Attar replied,
"Someday, my sweet Hafiz,
All the nonsense in your brain will dry up
Like a stagnant pool of water
Beneath the sun,

Though if you want to know the Truth
I can so clearly see that God has made love with you
And the whole universe is germinating
Inside your belly

And wonderful words,
Such enlightening words
Will take birth from you

And be cradled against thousands
Of hearts."

~ Hafiz ~
Tags:
* * *
http://1x.com/OEfullSize/25764-fullsize.jpg

To live requires energy and fearlessness, but we are brought up in a
pleasure-hunting human race, and pain is something to be afraid of,
to be driven away completely, to protect oneself from.

But it is the pain and pleasure
- the duality -
together that make the whole,
the wholeness of life.

The more sensitive you are and the more you live from the depth of your being,
the more vulnerable you are to life.

The more sensitive you are and the more capable of loving human beings,
the more you will be hurt; there is more sorrow, there is more pain.

Psychological hurts, pain and sorrow
accompany the sensitivity, intelligence and love.
Love and sorrow go together.

So, if there is physical or psychological pain, you live with it -
not out of despair, not out of self-pity, not out of any weakness.
You live with it because it is part of life, it is an expression of life.

~ Vimala Thakar ~
* * *
"If only we knew
as the carver knew, how the flaws
in the wood led his searching chisel to the very core,

we would smile, too
and not need faces immobilized
by fear and the weight of things undone.

When we fight with our failing
we ignore the entrance to the shrine itself
and wrestle with the guardian, fierce figure on the side of good."

~David Whyte~

*

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.


~ Wendell Berry ~

*

So, when the shoe fits
The foot is forgotten,
When the belt fits
The belly is forgotten,
When the heart is right
"For" and "against" are forgotten.

No drives no compulsions,
No needs, no attractions:
Then your affairs
Are under control.
You are a free man.

Easy is right. Begin right
And you are easy.
Continue easy and you are right.
The right way to go easy
Is to forget the right way
And forget that the going is easy.

~ Zhuang Zi ~

*

life is a garden,
not a road

we enter and exit
through the same gate

wandering,
where we go matters less
than what we notice

~ Bokonon ~

*

Happiness is the great work,
Though every heart must first become
A student

To one
Who really knows
About Love.

~ Hafiz ~
* * *




Use your mind. Remember. Observe.
You are not different from others.
Most of their experiences are valid for you too.
Think clearly and deeply,
go into the structure of your desires
and their ramifications.
They are a most important part of your mental
and emotional make-up
and powerfully affect your actions.
Remember, you cannot abandon what you do not know.
To go beyond yourself, you must know yourself.


~Nisargadatta Maharaj~



Tags:
* * *
ViewMore FromRelated VideosCommentsShareSendFavoriteTwitterFacebook


This song just touched my heart deeply, because it is word to word, exactly, and I mean literally, my experience.


Аквариум - Сокол



Если долго плакать
Возле мутных стекол,
Высоко в небе
Появится сокол.
Появится сокол
Высоко над тучей,
В это время важно
Не упустить случай,

Увидеть его крылья,
Увидеть его перья
И вдруг удивиться -
А кто это теперь я?
Почему внизу туча,
А надо мной ясно?
Видимо, я плакал
Совсем не напрасно,

Видимо, вот оно -
Пришло мое время,
А внизу медленно
Бредет мое племя

А мне лететь выше,
А мне лететь в солнце
И все-таки вспомнить,
Что внизу оконце
С мутными стеклами,
В которые бьются
Милые мои.
Сгореть и вернуться.

Если долго плакать...

*


I have tried to translate it into English...

Aquarium - Falcon


If you cry long enough
Beside the foggy windows,
High in the sky
Shall appear a falcon.
A falcon shall appear
High above the cloud,
At that time it is essential
Not to let the chance slip,


To see his wings,
To see his feathers
And to suddenly wonder-
Who am I now?
Why is the cloud below me,
Yet up above all is clear?
Apparently, I have cried
Not in vain at all,

Apparently, here it is -
My time has come
While down below slowly
Plods my tribe

But I shall fly higher,
I shall fly towards the sun
And nevertheless remember,
That down below there's a small window
with a foggy glass,
Which my dear ones,
are trying to break into.
To burn and to return.

If you cry long enough...

*
* * *
Waiting for the bus.

So many people passing by, standing, driving. There are old ladies with big scarfs, and toddlers holding their parents' hand. There are trees singing quietly, birds flying by playfully, and cats with mysterious smiles. There are buildings and streetlights, cars and buses, sidewalks and benches. And there is also 'myself'.

This becoming aware of the spaces between everything, is only the becoming aware of no spaces...

This little me is so fragile...just like everyone else...Like a flower... Like an autumn leaf, being blown with the wind. Like a raindrop on the way to the puddle on the ground.
Yet suddenly this fragility turns into Love.

The 'no-spaces' awareness takes over, and there Everything is just beautiful...

Everything is Love...
* * *
A friend sent me this joke just a few minutes ago:




An English woman was planning a trip to India.

In one of the towns that she was to visit, she was booked to stay in a small guest house owned by the local schoolmaster. She was concerned as to whether the guest house had a suitable toilet. She wrote to the schoolmaster inquiring about the facilities like Western Closet 'WC'.

The school master, not having heard the term, asked the local priest if he knew the meaning of WC. Together they pondered possible meanings of the letters. The priest,naturally biased in favour of matters related to religion, convinced the schoolmaster that the lady wanted to know about the local church, which they called Western Chapel .

So the schoolmaster wrote the following reply:



Dear Madam,





I take great pleasure in informing you that the WC is located 9 miles from the house in the middle of a grove of

pine trees, surrounded by lovely grounds. It is capable of holding 229 people and is open on Sundays and Thursdays. This is an unfortunate situation especially if you are in the habit of going daily. As many people are expected on each of these two days, I suggest you arrive early. Those who do not often have to remain standing throughout. It may be of some interest to you that my friend's daughter was married in the WC as it was there that she met her husband. It was a wonderful event. There were 10 people in every seat.

It was wonderful to see the expressions on their faces. My friend's wife, sadly, has been ill and unable to go recently. It has been almost a year since she went last and this pains her greatly.

You will be pleased to know that many people carry their lunch and make a day of it. Others prefer to wait till the last minute and arrive just in time. I would recommend your ladyship plan to go on a Thursday as there is an organ accompaniment. The acoustics are excellent and even the most delicate sounds can be heard everywhere.


The newest addition is a bell which rings every time a person enters. Funds are being collected to provide plush seats for all since many feel it is long needed. I look forward to escorting you there myself and seating you in a place where you can be seen by all.

With deepest regards,
Schoolmaster.




The woman fainted reading the reply……
Tags:
* * *
* * *
these are not
raindrops

these are my
Tears

falling

moist and heavy

this is not
the wind

this is the
sound of

my Heart

ripped open

or is it
ripe and open

like a bright red
ripened pomegranate
on a tree branch

burst open

nothing to hold in
the little crimson drops

falling

one
by
one
by
one

death
by
birth
by
life

* * *

She rose up and went before you

She carved a path for you to follow

She drank from your sun
and dried her tears in the wind

She has ploughed the fields of confusion,
and scaled ineffable mountains

She like a bird has left her sanctuary,
but her season of return has past

She holds the dreams of a generation in her soul

She understands the whispers of the trees
and memorizes the tales from the sea

She

is a composer of a million love songs
is the mother of hope and sacrifice

Step by step

Every lesson learned

Along the dusty road



( Denyse Anyogu)



 



* * *
You've got a journey to make
There's your horizon to chase
So go far beyond where we stand
No matter the distance
I'm holding your hand


Sail your sea
Meet your storm

All I want is to be your harbor
The light in me
Will guide you home

All I want is to be your harbor




Tags:
* * *

S  i m p l y    
o


C
    O
         M
              P
        v   u   L  n  e  r  a  B  l  e
               E                  R
           T                    E         a       r     S               e
        E                         A                          m      l
     L                         T                                    i
Y                                 H   e  a  r  t                       
                                                                              
                       
N                     
       a            
             k
                    e
E   x  p  o s e  D



W
* * *
* * *
* * *

I opened my eyes and everything was white...only soft white light....
All white...
No sound, no smell, touch, no taste, no body.

There was no "me", there was no body.
I could move-knowing that I was moving, but it did not feel as moving the body.

Then gradually, sound returned, and some sensation of movement.
Got up, the white was flickering now, there were blurs.

I was waking up within the dream- this is what I kept telling myself.
"This is a dream and I am waking up" 

Waking up.

I moved my hands in front of me seeing only thin pink-brown blurs through the whiteness...
They looked like careless brush strokes of a water color painting. 

I was being painted, created, manifested as I was waking up.
I was being born a new.

Moving forward, gradually beginning to see, hear, touch...

I awoke.

* * *
Tags:
* * *

http://16.media.tumblr.com/ZbJpErqW2n0q2z6qbZh7ttkvo1_400.jpg


A warrior must cultivate the feeling that he has everything needed for the extravagant journey that is his life.
What counts for a warrior is being alive.
Life in itself is sufficient, self-explanatory and complete.
Therefore, one may say without being presumptuous that the experience of experiences is being alive.

- Carlos Castaneda

* * *

The notion of being willing to make mistakes is just the general sense that you are no longer hopeful, that you are no longer hoping to achieve complete perfection.
You are confronted with all kinds of factors -- poverty, biasedness, aggression, passion, and trying to measure yourself -- and all those situations are the opposite of being willing to make mistakes. You don't want to make mistakes; therefore you want to stick with your biasedness; you want to stick with your poverty.
You want to make sure that  everything goes right. ...You don't want to make mistakes; you are hoping for something good.
Whereas if you abandon hope, you have no idea what you are going to get in your life. Still, whatever comes is within the context of warriorship in any case.

From "Outrageousness", Chogyam Trungpa

* * *

And some beautruthfulness from E.E Cummings:



follow no path
all paths lead where

truth is here

*

it's so damn sweet when Anybody—
…makes you feel
…for once
(imag
-ine) You


*

unbeingdead isn't beingalive

* * *
http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs25/f/2008/114/a/4/a435ad3d5f4cae3f5998ea1207a1c237.jpg


The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.


~ Oriah the mountain dreamer~



Tags:
* * *
Strange night...tossing and turning in my bed, not sleeping yet not completely awake. In a state of of neither here nor there.
Having a conversation, without words, with music, images, sounds rising through my mind- explaining life, happiness... That kept me busy all night long.
But I did it... somehow, the code was cracked.

When the birds sang their first notes, I fell into a short period of sleep. In the dream I was in a forest of a kingdom.
Jumping and flying around like Hanuman.
The huge golden lion, standing at the center, high above everyone.
They all tried to gain his secret power, for hundreds of years. Perhaps more.

The king was eager to be the first to get the power...Yet only with me standing there in front of the golden lion, it cracked open easily and within it were giant black-silver tubes. A mechanism of some sort...
I was not after any powers, or secrets.
I just knew without knowing. Acted without acting.

Morning came effortlessly. A journey was completed. A journey began.
Tags:
* * *

Previous

Advertisement

Customize