Archived issues of the NDHighlights are available online: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm Nonduality Highlights IssueMessage 1 of 1 , Feb 16View SourceArchived issues of the NDHighlights are available online: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm
Nonduality Highlights Issue #4845, Saturday, February 16, 2013
When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.
- Madeleine L'Engle
Deeply understanding and accepting that life and living is based on change, whether one likes it or not, is a great step ahead.
- Ramesh Balsekar, posted to ANetofJewels
A mouse and a frog meet every morning on the riverbank.
They sit in a nook of the ground and talk.
Each morning, the second they see each other,
they open easily, telling stories and dreams and secrets,
empty of any fear or suspicious holding back.
To watch, and listen to those two
is to understand how, as it's written,
sometimes when two beings come together,
Jesus becomes visible.
The mouse starts laughing out a story he hasn't thought of
in five years, and the telling might take five years!
There's no blocking the speechflow-river-running-
all-carrying momentum that true intimacy is.
Bitterness doesn't have a chance
with those two.
The God-messenger, Khidr, touches a roasted fish.
It leaps off the grill back into the water.
Friend sits by Friend, and the tablets appear.
They read the mysteries
off each other's foreheads.
But one day the mouse complains, There are times
when I want sohbet, and you're out in the water,
jumping around where you can't hear me.
We meet at this appointed time,
but the text says, Lovers pray constantly.
Once a day, once a week, five times an hour,
is not enough. Fish like we are
need the ocean around us!
Do camel bells say, Let's meet back here Thursday night?
Ridiculous. They jingle
talking while the camel walks.
Do you pay regular visits to yourself?
Don't argue or answer rationally.
Let us die,
and dying, reply.
- Rumi, version by Colman Barks, from Whoever Brought Me Here Will Have To Take Me Back, posted to SufiMystic
A man who moves with the earth will necessarily experience days and nights. He who stays with the sun will know no darkness. My world is not yours. As I see it, you all are on a stage performing. There is no reality about your comings and goings. And your problems are so unreal!
- Nisargadatta Maharaj, posted to ANetofJewels
Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?
Don't call this world adorable, or useful, that's not it.
It's frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.
But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white
feet of the trees
whose mouths open.
Doesn't the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?
Haven't the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,
until at last, now, they shine
in your own yard?
Don't call this world an explanation, or even an education.
When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
outward, to the mountains so solidly there
in a white-capped ring, or was he looking
to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
that was also there,
beautiful as a thumb
curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
as he whirled,
oh jug of breath,
in the garden of dust?
- Mary Oliver from Why I Wake Early
What To Remember When Waking
In that first
to which you wake,
to this life
from the other
there is a small
into the new day
What you can plan
is too small
for you to live.
What you can live
will make plans
for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.
To be human
is to become visible
what is hidden
as a gift to others.
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
You are not
a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not
amidst other accidents
you were invited
from another and greater
than the one
you have just emerged.
Now, looking through
the slanting light
of the morning
that can be,
calls you to your
one love? What shape
waits in the seed
of you to grow
against a future sky?
Is it waiting
in the fertile sea?
In the trees
beyond the house?
In the life
you can imagine
In the open
on the waiting desk?
~ David Whyte from The House of Belonging