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Highlights, Sat, Sept 11

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  • umbada@xx.xxxxxxxxx.xxxxxxxxxxx.xxxxx)
    Hello: A lot of useful talk on computer stuff, but none of it was brought here. What we do have a few fine items! --Jerry
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 12, 1999
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      Hello: A lot of useful talk on computer stuff, but none of
      it was brought here. What we do have a few fine items!


      --Jerry
      ______________________________________________________________________

      "One of the ways you'll know that you are excluding people
      is that what you discovered in the training will begin to be
      jargon for you.
      You'll use terms used in the training and they won't create
      anything for anybody; in fact, they'll be a kind of
      battering ram. . .
      Don't get caught in jargon. It doesn't work. It doesn't
      communicate.
      It belittles you, it belittles the beauty of the training,
      and it belittles the person with whom you use it. Jargon
      just plain doesn't work."


      "When you can use words you heard in the training to create
      new possibilities for people, to bring forth new
      distinctions for someone, that is wonderful. But remember,
      you did not "get" the training.
      There's nothing to get in the training. The training--and
      that includes the language of the training--only lives in
      the moment that you bring it forth."

      -- Werner Erhard (qtd. from alt.fan.landmark)

      --contributed by Petros
      _____________________________________________________________________

      I've had more 'spiritual' activity in three months here in
      L.A. than I had in many years living in Phoenix. (I put
      the word in quotes because it sounds silly to quantify so.)
      On the negative side, the traffic and 'haze' (to put it
      politely) is driving me out of my mind. I fantasize of
      driving away to Alaska or Montana, which I might do next
      month.
      If I can only get out of L.A. I'll be halfway there . . .

      --Petros
      _______________________________________________________________________

      While I was at the supermarket, I became aware of an
      overwhelming desire to eat Sushi. Now, my mind has labelled
      me 'a vegetarian' for quite a long time, so I never eat
      fish. When this desire came, the first response of the mind
      was: "No, no, you can't have that, you are a vegetarian".
      The counter response immediately was: "Vegetarian? I am a
      vegetarian? Says who? Who are you to decide for me who I
      am?

      I had Sushi today.

      With love,

      Mira
      *Mirror*
      __________________________________________________________________


      "I say to you children Learn to close the door Softly
      Murderously Learn to close the door To the room You do not
      return to You must not hope to arrive Without exile

      The future is a world that tries to live without the engine
      of the heart.
      And we, being young only once, see it, for we see an
      enormous string attached to the puppets of the world. The
      string stretches out undiminished before us like a fat man
      climbing a light year.
      And the string is the future and we cannot help but see it.
      The string.
      In Germany, the string begins, the string continues, passing
      through a large oven, as big as a house, that reeks faintly
      of gas. The string is coiled around a factory that makes
      walls in Berlin.
      In America, the string ties itself into colored words that
      say, 'You can't eat here. You can't sleep here. You can't
      marry my sister.' In Canada, the string is woven up in
      Tuberculosis-infected blankets that the Hudson Bay Company
      passes out to Indians.
      In the courts of the land, the string is a lynch rope that
      keeps the mice from seeing the cat.
      In South America, the string is a highway that mows down the
      grass that hides tiny statues made out of wind and night.
      In South America, the string is a ribbon that rich people
      cut that lets the first car drive across the broken bodies
      of dying animals, dying dreams.
      In Spain, the string is a cure for venereal disease the
      natives call the INQUISITION. Everyone the string touches
      is ultimately cured when the grass grows back over their
      bodies.
      In Florida, the string is a roll of tickets to the alligator
      farm where the last of the Seminoles lives off tips tourists
      give him, when he puts his head inside the alligator's
      jaws. He puts his head inside and prays the alligator will
      swallow.
      How can we not see the string?
      In Nebraska, the string is a rosary an Catholic priest ties
      to a dead Indian baby. In Nebraska, the string is a rosary
      that builds two churches for every Indian child, with the
      financial support of a God who ultimately says, 'I can't see
      your face in my mind.' Stretched before us are the visual
      puppets of the future, a world gone mad, dancing on string.
      And the string colors all that we see, all that we pretend
      to feel.
      And the string touches all things. Beauty and death and
      hate and love are all knots on the endless surface of the
      string. All of it is there from the cruelty of children to
      the kindness of men who kill cattle with hammers in
      slaughterhouses.


      You and I, and all those who run with us, all of us who run,
      soon to be dead.
      Dead.
      I am a killer on the highway of an L.A. night. I want to
      hold beautiful girls in my arms, and when I touch them, my
      hands will touch them the way a sniper caresses the
      trigger."


      ... Craig Kee Strete, from "Burn Down The Night."


      --contributed by Tim G.

      ________________________________________________________________________
      Hi! I'm passing this along because it's just so great, and
      great poetry is implicitly nondual. IMHO ...

      phil


      LAUGHING SONG

      When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
      And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
      When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
      And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

      when the meadows laugh with lively green,
      And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
      When Mary and Susan and Emily
      With their sweet round mouths sing "Ha, ha he!"

      When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
      Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
      Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
      To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha, ha, he!"

      _____________________________________________________________________
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