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Friday, March 21, 2003

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  • Gloria Lee
    ... Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the men of old; seek what they sought. - Basho _____________________________________________________ Issue
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 22, 2003
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      "Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the men of old;
      seek what they sought."  - Basho
       

      _____________________________________________________
       
      Issue 1378 - Friday, March 21, 2003 - Editor: Gloria Lee
      _______________________________________________________
       
       
      I am, O Anxious One
      Rainer Maria Rilke


      I am, O Anxious One. Don't you hear my voice
      surging forth with all my earthly feelings?
      They yearn so high, that they have sprouted wings
      and whitely fly in circles round your face.
      My soul, dressed in silence, rises up
      and stands alone before you: can't you see?
      don't you know that my prayer is growing ripe
      upon your vision as upon a tree?
      If you are the dreamer, I am what you dream.
      But when you want to wake, I am your wish,
      and I grow strong with all magnificence
      and turn myself into a star's vast silence
      above the strange and distant city, Time.
       
      Gill Eardly Allspirit
       
      ~~~~

       
      Interesting article on tantric and taoist alchemical practices:

      http://www.healingtaousa.com/cgi-bin/articles.pl?rm=mode2&articleid=35
       
      By Marcos Lacerda SufiMystic
       
      ~~~~
       
      Gems from Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj's Conversations


      "There are always moments when one feels empty and estranged.  Such moments
      are most desirable, for it means the soul has cast its moorings and is
      sailing for distant places.  This is detachment--when the old is over and
      the new has not yet come.  If you are afraid the state may be distressing,
      but there is really nothing to be afraid of.  Remember the instruction:
      Whatever you come across--go beyond."
      ~~~~
       


      "Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold,

      Death’s great black wing scrapes the air,

      Misery gnaws to the bone.

      Why then do we not despair?

       

      By day, from the surrounding woods,

      Cherries blow summer into town;

      At night the deep transparent skies

      Glitter with new galaxies.

       

      And the miraculous comes so close

      To the ruined, dirty houses-

      Something not known to anyone at all,

      But wild in our breast for centuries."

       
       ~ Akhmatova

      From the book, "Poems of Akhmatova,” published by Mariner Books
      By  Khorov Kelley Daily Dharma
      ~~~~
       
       AS USUAL
      Lyn Kozma

      At the dentist's office, teeth are being drilled.
      Police patrol their designated streets.
      We are Instructed to have a good day
      by cashiers at each market place.
      Radios blare, horns honk. Balloons burst,
      clocks chime, classes convene. Trucks thunder
      down highways. Traffic lights blink on and off.

      Birds soar below shifting clouds. The surge
      of life beneath dead grasses waits to be reborn.
      A benign sun stares, swinging low
      in a bland sky. Snow melts, tides rise and fall,
      winds move lingering leaves. Flickers appear
      and depart from feeders. Willows wave
      languidly, refusing to change the color of their hair.

      And half the world away missiles rise
      swiftly in desert air. Bombs fall
      with bruising regularity. Skies explode
      altering landscapes forever. Sanity recedes,
      hatreds flare. The cycle has come round
      again, sending the world awry.

      And I am sick with longing
      for something elusive
      called love.

      From "We Speak for Peace" 
      Edited by Ruth Harried Jacobs Ph.D

      By Gill Eardley on SufiMystic
       
      ~~~~
       
       
         Gently I weep for my mind,
         caught in its illusion of ownership.

         Mind, you're not who you think you are.
         You are dancing over a pit.

         Soon you'll fall through,
         and these things you've valued
         and collected will be left behind.

         My sweet dear, do you understand this,
         and if you do, how does your food taste?

         Naked Song
         Lalla
       
      By Jan Sultan  SufiMystic
       
      ~~~~

      You will see then that
      both your body and mind,
      together with the mountains,
      rivers, space, and earth
      of the outward world,
      are all within the
      wonderful, illumined, and true Mind.

      - Surangama Sutra

      ~~~~


      Our teaching has been handed down by the ancient buddhas; we do
      not speak of meditation or spiritual progress, only the arrival at the
      knowledge and vision of buddhahood. Mind itself is buddha; mind,
      buddha, sentient beings, enlightenment, affliction, are all different
      names for the same thing. You should know that your own mind’s
      aware essence is neither finite nor eternal, by nature neither defiled nor
      pure. It is still and complete; it is the same in ordinary people and
      saints, responding effectively without patterns, apart from mind,
      intellect, and discriminating consciousness. 

      - Shih-t’ou (700-790) 

      ~~~

      Stephen King 

      Speech destroys the functions of love, I think that's a hell of a thing for
      a writer to say, but I believe it to be true. If you speak to tell a deer that
      you mean it no harm it glides away with a single flip of its tail. The word
      is the harm...Love has teeth, they bite, the wounds never close. No
      words, no combination of words can close those lovebites. It's the
      other way around, that's the joke. If the wounds dry up, the words die
      with them. 

      - from The Body, a short story in the novel Different Seasons 


      ~~~~

      If you want to freely live or die, go or stay, to take off or put on your
      clothes, then right now recognize the one who is listening to my
      discourse. That one is without form, without characteristics, without
      root, without source, and without any dwelling place, yet is brisk and
      very alive. As for all manifold responsive activities, the place where
      they are carried on is, in fact, no place. Therefore, when you look for
      that one, it retreats farther and farther, when you seek that, it turns more
      and more the other way: this is called the “Mystery.” 

      - Lin-chi (d.866)

      ~~~~


      Just don’t seek from another
      Or you’ll be far estranged from self.
      I now go on alone
      Meeting it everywhere
      It now is just what I am
      I now am not it.
      You must comprehend in this way
      To merge with thusness.

      - Dongshan Liangjie (807-869)

      ~~~~

       

      A friend of seclusion arrives at my gate
      we greet and pardon our lack of decorum
      a white mane gathered in back
      a monk’s robe worn untied
      embers of leaves at the end of the night
      howl of a gibbon announcing the dawn
      sitting on cushions wrapped in quilts
      words forgotten finally we meet
                                          
                                  - Stonehouse, 28

      ~~~~


      Lo, I am with you always
      , means when you look for God,
      God is in the look of your eyes,
      in the thought of looking, nearer to you than yourself,
      or things that have happened to you.
      There's no need to go outside.
      Be melting snow.
      Wash yourself of yourself.

      A white flower grows in quietness.
      Let your tongue become that flower.
                                                      - Jelaluddin Rumi

       

      ~~~~

      (a poem by Hafiz, 1320 c.e to 1389)

      I have learned so much from God
      That I can no longer call myself
      a Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Jew.
      The Truth has shared so much of Itself with me
      That I can no longer call myself
      a man, a woman, an angel, or even a pure soul.
      Love has befriended Hafiz.
      It has turned me to ash and freed me
      Of every concept and image my mind has ever known.

      ~~~~~

      My left eye is nearly blind.
      No words have ever been read with it.
      Not that the eye is virgin – thirty years ago
      it was punctured by glass.  In everything
      it sees a pastel mist.  The poster of Chief Joseph
      could be King Kong, Hong Kong, or a naked lady riding
      a donkey into Salinas, Kansas.  A war atrocity.
      This eye is the perfect art critic.  This eye
      is a perfect lover saying bodies don’t matter,
      it is the voice.  This eye can make a light bulb
      into the moon when it chooses.  Once a year I open
      it to the full moon out in the pasture and yell,
      white light white light. 

                            ~~  from Returning to Earth

      The Shape of the Journey:  New and Collected Poemsby Jim Harrison


      It certainly wasn't fish who discovered water
      or birds the air. Men built houses in part
      out of embarrassment by the stars
      and raised their children on trivialities
      because they had butchered the god within themselves.
      The politician standing on the church steps thrives
      within the grandeur of this stupidity,
      a burnt out lamp who never imagined the sun.

      The Shape of the Journey:  New and Collected Poemsby Jim Harrison

      ~~~~

      A fish cannot drown in water,
      A bird does not fall in air.
      In the fire of creation,
      Gold doesn't vanish: the fire brightens.
      Each creature God made
      Must live in its own true nature;
      How could I resist my nature,
      That lives for oneness with God?
                             

      ~ Mechthild of Magdeburg,13th-century Christian mystic

       

      Awaken Me

      O sweet and loving God,
      When I stay asleep too long,
      Oblivious to all your blessings,
      Then, please, wake me up,
      And sing to me your joyful song.
      It is a song without noise or notes.
      It is a song of love beyond words,
      Of faith beyond the power of human telling.
      I can hear it in my soul,
      When you awaken me to your presence.
      ~ Mechthild of Magdeburg (c.1210-1280)


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