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Friday, October 11, 2002

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  • Gloria Lee
    Highlights #1224 Friday, October 11, 2002 Editor: Gloria Lee Home: AL LARUS from TrueVision all this is the place of no
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 12, 2002
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      Highlights #1224
      Friday, October 11, 2002  
      Editor: Gloria Lee
      AL LARUS
      from TrueVision

      this is the place
      of no choice
      east or west
      slow or fast
      from the pond
      to the sea
      like an eagle in the sky
      watch the dance of all
      along with me

      The Dream Society

      The following is from Dave Mason's Live Journal:

      The Information Age, which opened only a few  decades
      ago with the appearance of the first  commercial
      computers, is already approaching  its end. In the years
      ahead, we will move into  what may be called the Dream
      Society. The future Dream Society will be the fifth
      techno-economic system in which humans have  lived. The
      first - the Hunter-Gatherer Society - gave way to
      Agricultural Society about 10,000  years ago.
      Agricultural Society began yielding  to a third system -
      Industrial Society - about  1750, when steam engines
      began appearing in  England. About 1950, a fourth system
      - the  Information Society - began to take shape, but it
      now appears that the Information Society  will not last
      more than a few decades longer  before yielding to a
      society focused on dreams,  adventure, spirituality, and

      ( Rolf Jensen* )

      * Dr Rolf Jensen is the author of the international
      best-seller "The Dream Society: The Coming Shift from
      Information to Imagination," and director of The
      Copenhagen Institute for Future Studies, Europe's
      largest future-oriented Think Tank.

      more from Rolf . . . . "We - and by we I mean consumers
      in the rich part of the world - stand with one leg in
      the high technology scientific, logical, information
      society, and with the other leg in the Dream Society. In
      this place, the story-teller reigns supreme: The person
      who can appeal to our feeling . . . .

      Example: from an ice cube for your drink to an ice cube
      from the glaciers of Greenland. This ice cube has been
      in storage for several thousand years, and when it
      melts, fresh air from the time that Cleopatra was a
      little girl, is released. Even an ice cube can tell a

      Example: from branded coffee to Single Estate Coffee.
      Coffee that not only comes from Columbia, but from a
      particular coffee farm. It's from the 1998 harvest to
      boot, a harvest which was particularly good because of a
      plentiful rainfall in the month of May.

      . . . . . . . technological progress will bring about
      the automation of the production of goods and data, and
      this advance will naturally be accompanied by a decrease
      in the price of goods and data. The consumer will be
      able to afford to buy items which appeal to the heart,
      will be able to afford to buy stories".  (Rolf Jensen
      "The Dream Society II" from myweb.com/partners)

      perhaps one day, we will be able to buy enlightenment,
      like buying a face-lift or some other cosmetic surgery.


      "Between us, it is not so much the issue of falling in love
       as it is finding another eccentric soul in this world who
      does not find you and your ways strange."
      --Bell Hooks, from "Wounds of Passion: a Writing Life"
      from MillionPaths

      In order to be a hunter you must disrupt the routines of your life. You have
      done  well in hunting. You have learned quickly and now you can see that
      you are like  your prey, easy to predict. 
      You have observed the habits of animals in the desert. They eat and drink
      at  certain places, they nest in specific spots, they leave their tracks in
      specific ways;  in fact, everything they do can be foreseen or reconstructed
      by a good hunter. 
      There are certain animals, however, that are impossible to track. There are
      certain types of deer, for instance, which a fortunate hunter might be able
      to come across, by sheer luck, once in his lifetime. 
      What do you think makes them so difficult to find and so unique? 
      They have no routines. That's what makes them magical. 
      A magical being is a sight to behold. 
      ~~Castaneda - Journey to Ixtlan 
      from Sufi_Poetry

      'One, One, One'

      The lamps are different,
      but the Light is the same.
      So many garish lamps in the dying brain's lamp-shop,
      Forget about them.
      Concentrate on essence, concentrate on Light.
      In lucid bliss, calmly smoking off its own holy fire,
      The Light streams towards you from all things,
      All people, all possible permutation of good, evil, thought, passion.
      The lamps are different,
      But the Light is the same.
      One matter, one energy, one Light, one Light-mind,
      Endlessly emanating all things
      One turning and burning diamond,
      One, one, one.
      Ground yourself, strip yourself down,
      To blind loving silence.
      Stay there, until you see
      You are gazing at the Light
      With its own ageless eyes.

      (Rumi - "The Rumi Collection" - Andrew Harvey"



      "O Son of noble family, (name), listen. 

      Now the pure luminosity of the dharmata is shining before you; recognize it.
      O  son of noble family, at this moment your state of mind is by nature pure 
      emptiness, it does not possess any nature whatever, neither substance or
      quality  such as colour, but it is pure emptiness; this is the dharmata. . . 

      This mind of yours is inseparable luminosity and emptiness in the form of a 
      great mass of light, it has no birth or death, therefore it is the Buddha of 
      Immortal Light. 

      To recognize this is all that is necessary." 

      What exactly this emptiness or luminosity is cannot, by definition, be
      described.  In the Tibetan Book of the Dead the emphasis is on recognizing
      one's true  nature, that which is no-thing in particular but rather the field in
      which all things  arise -- itself being visionless, though producing visions;
      itself being  structureless, though exhibiting structure; itself being
      non-existent, though  producing existence. 

      The clear void light is absolutely paradoxical, since the "I" cannot grasp it,
      nor  can the mind by its subject/object dualism conceive it. 

      read the whole article:



      meet the spiritual chicks

      Thanks, Melony. I'm aware of my own truth-making
      and unmaking. The new Brother Void out today:

      "Mysteries are not necessarily miracles."
      -- James Baldwin
      Life is a confusing mess. You get blindsided by a drunk driver. You
      fall in love when you least expect to. Your firstborn becomes an
      accountant. Things happen that bring you great pain or pleasure and
      change your life forever. To find your bearings amid such chaos, you
      choose to believe that these events happen for a reason. It was meant
      to be, you tell yourself, and this comforts you. But to live
      truthfully, you must forgo this comfort. You must accept that there
      is no cosmic plan -- just a story you tell yourself after the fact.
      As you try to weave each twist and turn of your life into some
      coherent whole, you artfully fashion the meaning you need. Things are
      not meant to be, they are made to mean. 
      Everything happens for a reason I make up.

      Melony, The long and winding road finally
      gives way to... being longer and more winding
      than expected.. John


      It would appear that being a story teller is much more human than being a saint.
      There seems to exist some exclusivity in the doing of it, what other creature can
      make meaning out of their experiences? And yet, most animals do live life as
      innocently as saints.


      We do not need to think about it  ( a cosmic plan existing or not ) .
      The I am/ I am not .... switches of the mind.
      How many do we really need ?


      Jerry wrote:
      There is a lot at the website. I don't know how helpful it is to
      someone who is not in the spiritual game, however. How would people
      explain nonduality to their Uncle Jack? It would make sense to relate
      to a person's experiences and background. Some examples might be

      I remember years ago an episode of 'The Beverly Hillbillies'
      in which Jethro, while on an airline flight, recited a
      riddle to an attractive stewardess, to whom he was
      attracted. He hoped to impress her with his cleverness:

      "This is someone in your family... who is  it?

      It isn't your father
      It isn't your mother
      It isn't your sister 
      It isn't your brother...

      Who is it?"

      "I don't know", replied the stewardess...

      "It's ME!", cried Jethro...

      Of course, that was the correct answer, when
      Jethro was told the riddle... but he did not
      comprehend that the teller of the riddle,
      was not the 'me' in question... he did not see
      that the answer is 'you', when telling the

      Similarly, when 'describing' 'nonduality' to
      someone... which is similar to telling a riddle,
      don't you know... the answer is 'you'...

      ==Gene Poole==

      Now appearing
      as 'other'

      from allspirit


      The piece of coal that wanted to be diamond
      said to the earth: Press me.

      The succulent grape that wanted to be wine
      said to the feet: Crush me.

      The cloud that wanted to be thunder and rain
      said to a facing cloud: Collide with me.

      The mountain that wanted to be level valley
      said to the elements: Erode me.

      The oyster that wanted to produce a pearl
      said to a sand-grain: Irritate me.

      The heart that wanted to be filled with light
      said to the world: Break me.

      So what's the surprise
      at the onslaught, the relentless
      avalanche after avalanche of rose petals
         in the form of insurance payments,
      natural disasters, arthritis,
             heart trouble and death?
      Rose petals big as houses
          propelling through the air at us
      like the shields of Hussars
      which leave us flat on the battlefield dazed,

      but then they assume their
      rose petal shapes again
      piled in drifts around our
      prostrate bodies, so that if our
      prostrate bodies are taken away there'll be
      the perfect outlines of the absolute
           blessings that have
      showered upon us
      like the chalk outlines of forensic

      O our lives cry out to be pressed to
           diamond, call out to be
      crushed to wine, sing out to be made to
      fall as merciful rain all around us,

      our mountains cry out to be worn down
      to passable valleys

      so we can fill those valleys
      with heart's light

      for other travelers
      to see by.

      -- Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore (Abdalhayy@...)



      from DirectApproach

      Nansen's Cat

      Nansen is just an idiot who killed a cat to make a point.

      Just like any other idiot with a point to make.

      Joshu surpassed Nansen his teacher, and thus
        put his sandles on his head and left.

      The students are idiots who assumed that someone must
        be enlightened, felt intimidated by this
        projection of authority, and were frozen
        in awe of the unexpected behavior of their

      The moral of Nansen's demonstration
        is that the unexpected is where truth
        is -- yet it's an absurd demonstration--
        because the unexpected isn't demonstrable.
        Once demonstrated -- it's the "familiar" as in:
        "oh my -- he killed a cat" ...

      There's no need to kill a cat to show the unexpected
        truth -- just open your eyes.
        No need to be a Zen monk to find the
        unexpected -- it's all around ...

      When the observer drops off, the observed drops off,
        and there is no one to comment.  Indeed -- "dropping off"
        is not -- and life and death
        are concepts which drop as well.

      But because life and death are concepts that drop, it
        would be absurd to suggest that no cat was killed,
        or that slicing a cat with a sword doesn't kill anything.
        The idea of "unreality" drops as well.

      The theory of uncertainty has no applicability.

      There is nothing to speculate about, no concept of
        exist or not-exist.

      Yet, this doesn't mean that the day-to-day experiential
        awareness we mistake as life is a total illusion with
        no meaning.  Far from it. 

      One lives "impeccably" to use Don Juan's nice phrase --
        because one doesn't conceptualize
        an existence for oneself or anyone or anything else.

      Joshu behaved impeccably, everyone else in the story
        still had a sense of continuity.  Even Nansen showed
        a subtle sense of continuity -- by making a statement
        to shatter monks' complacency --
        by having something to impart about discontinuity.

      It is a great teaching story!

      Thanks for sharing it!




      We began as a mineral.
      We emerged into plant life,
      And into the animal state,
      And then into being human,
      And always we have forgotten our former states,
      Except in early spring when we
      Slightly recall being green again.
      That's how a young person turns toward a teacher.
      That's how a baby leans toward the breast,
      Without knowing the secret of its desire,
      Yet turning instinctively.

      Humankind is being led along an evolving course,
      Through this migration of intelligences,
      And though we seem to be sleeping,
      There is an inner wakefulness that directs the dream,
      And that will eventually startle us back
      To the truth of who we are.


      from DailyDharma


      An old grave hidden away at the foot of a deserted hill,
      Overrun with rank weeds growing unchecked year after year;
      There is no one left to tend the tomb,
      And only an occasional woodcutter passes by.
      Once I was his pupil, a youth with shaggy hair,
      Learning deeply from him by the Narrow River.
      One morning I set off on my solitary journey
      And the years passed between us in silence.
      Now I have returned to find him at rest here;
      How can I honor his departed spirit?
      I pour a dipper of pure water over his tombstone
      And offer a silent prayer.
      The sun suddenly disappears behind the hill
      And I'm enveloped by the roar of the wind in the pines.
      I try to pull myself away but cannot;
      A flood of tears soaks my sleeves.

      From the website: http://www.ship.edu/~cgboeree/zenpoetry.html

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