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#1867 - Friday, July 23, 2004

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  • Gloria Lee
    Join the Day out of Time/Great Calendar Change! Celebrated annually since 1993, the Day out of Time is a global celebration of Peace Through Culture
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 25, 2004
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      Celebrated annually since 1993, the Day out of Time is a global celebration of
      "Peace Through Culture" promoting the paradigm "Time is Art."

      This year's Day out of Time
      celebration on July 25, White Spectral Mirror
      will be will be
      the largest yet,
      as it is the launchpad for the July 26, 2004 Blue Crystal Storm Year

      Over a quarter of a million people now regularly follow the 13-moon/28-day calendar
      (and tons more have heard of it!)
      and it is now used in over 90 countries - spanning 6 continents
      as the harmonic standard of time,
      replacing the irregular 12-month Gregorian calendar!

      This grand cycle of evolution will culminate winter solstice, December 21, 2012 AD.

      This time we are now in has been called "The Time of Trial on Earth," "Judgement Day," "The Time of Great Purification," "The End of this Creation," "The Quickening," "The End of Time as We Know It," "The Shift of the Ages." It is foretold that the completion of the Precession brings regeneration of Earth, offering awakening to all open, willing hearts. Many peoples spoke of these last days of the Great Cycle, including the: Maya, Hopi, Egyptians, Kabbalists, Essenes, Qero elders of Peru, Navajo, Cherokee, Apache, Iroquois confederacy, Dogon Tribe, and Aborigines.

      #1867 - Friday, July 23, 2004 - Editor: Gloria
      The Self in man and in the sun are one.
      Those who understand this see through the world
      And go beyond the various sheaths
      Of being to realize the unity of life.
      Those who realize that all life is one
      Are at home everywhere and see themselves
      In all beings.

      -Taittiriya Upanishad

      From The Upanishads, translated by Eknath Easwaran, copyright 1987.

      Butterfly byAl Larus: http://www.ferryfee.com/bluesky/Sixteen.htm


      There's a basket full of loaves on your head,
      yet you're begging for crusts of bread from door to door.
      Pay attention to your own head, abandon giddiness.
      Why are you knocking at every other door?
      Go, knock at the door of your own heart.

      ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

      Yek sapad por-e nân torâ bar farq-e sar
      to hami khvâhi lab-e nân dar be-dar
      Dar sar-e khvod pich hel khireh-sari
      raw dar del zan cherâ bar har dari

      -- Mathnawi V: 1073-1074
      Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
      "Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
      Threshold Books, 1996
      (Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra)

      In the stream,
      In the stream,
      Rushing past
      To the dusty world,
      My fleeting form
      Casts no reflection.

      -- from The Zen Poetry of Dogen, Steven Heine

      One of six verses composed in An'yoin Temple in Fukakusa, 1230:

      Drifting pitifully in the whirlwind of birth and death,
      As if wandering in a dream,
      In the midst of illusion I awaken to the true path;
      There is one more matter I must not neglect,
      But I need not bother now,
      As I listen to the sound of the evening rain
      Falling on the roof of my temple retreat
      In the deep grass of Fukakusa.


      Allspirit Inspiration - "A Parable"
      from "Leave Her Alone" by Megan McKenna:

        Once upon a time a young man sought out an old wise woman, whom some
      said was a saint. The hut was almost empty, with only simple
      necessities and a cherished possession or two. As they sat together
      peace soothed the visitor. They spent time in silence together and
      then he asked the burning question of his heart: "Do you know where I
      can find God?" She looked at him with interest and didn't answer for a
      moment. Then she said, "That's not as easy question. I need to think
      on it so I can answer you clearly. Can you come back tomorrow after
      I've prayed?" Immediately the young man nodded his assent. And then
      the old woman added, "Would you bring me a glass of milk when you come?"
              The night could not pass quickly enough for the young man, and
      he was back at the hut, with his glass of milk as requested, right on
      time. He was welcomed in, and they sat together in silence again. As
      he waited, not really with any patience, the old woman poured the milk
      into her begging bowl. Then she stirred it with her fingers, swirling
      it around and around, lifting it with her fingers. Of course, the milk
      ran through her fingers, and she frowned as it fell back into the
      bowl. She did this over and over and over again, never looking up at him.
              He was impatient and wanted his answer. He watched, wondering
      what in the world she was doing with the milk. But she kept at
      stirring the milk, lifting it and looking at her hand after it had run
      down her fingers and back into the bowl. Finally the young man
      couldn't stand it anymore and blurted out, "Please, what are you
      doing? What are you looking for?"
              She looked up at him and said, "I had heard that there was
      butter milk. I'm looking for the butter, but I can't seem to find it."
      The young man almost burst out laughing. He was quick to correct her,
      saying, "No, no. It's not like that at all. You don't understand. The
      butter isn't in the milk. It's not separate from it. You have to
      convert it. You have to make it into yogurt and then churn it to make
      the butter come out."
              She beamed at him. "Very good! You do understand. And you have
      the answer to your question." He looked at her dumbly,
      uncomprehending. And she drank the milk in her begging bowl. "I
      believe, " she said, "it is time for you to go home. Go and churn the
      milk of your life, of your heart and soul and your relationships, and
      you will find God!Remember - keep stirring, lifting, swirling,
      converting, and transforming. God's there, hidden in your life, not
      separate from it, or from you."
      from "A Book of Psalms" by Stephen Mitchell:

      Psalm 93

      God acts within every moment
         and creates the world with each breath.
      He speaks from the center of the universe,
         in the silence beyond all thought.
      Mightier than the crash of a thunderstorm,
         mightier than the roar of the sea,
      is God's voice silently speaking
         in the depths of the listening heart.

      MillionPaths - Thus Spake Ramana - 52.
      52. Knowing the Self is being the Self, and being means existence - one's own existence - which no one denies, anymore than one denies one's eyes, although one cannot see them. The trouble lies with your desire to objectify the Self, in the same way as you objectify your eyes, when you place a mirror before them. You have been so accustomed to objectify that you lost the knowledge of yourself, simply because the Self cannot be objectified. Who is to know the Self? Can the insentient body or mind know it? All the time you speak and think of your "I", "I", "I", yet when questioned you deny knowledge of it. You are the Self, yet you ask as to how to know the Self!

       Yellow Petal by Al Larus: http://www.ferryfee.com/bluesky/Seventeen.htm
      Working Together
      We shape our self
      to fit this world

      and by the world
      are shaped again.

      The visible
      and the invisible

      working together
      in common cause,

      to produce
      the miraculous.

      I am thinking of the way
      the intangible air

      passed at speed
      round a shaped wing

      holds our weight.

      So may we, in this life

      to those elements
      we have yet to see

      or imagine,
      and look for the true

      shape of our own self,
      by forming it well

      to the great
      intangibles about us.

      -- from The House of Belonging, David Whyte



      It is Not Enough

      It is not enough to know.
      It is not enough to follow
      the inward road conversing in secret.

      It is not enough to see straight ahead,
      to gaze at the unborn
      thinking the silence belongs to you.

      It is not enough to hear
      even the tiniest edge of rain.

      You must go to the place
      where everything waits,
      there, when you finally rest,
      even one word will do,
      one word or the palm of your hand
      turning outward
      in the gesture of gift.

      And now we are truly afraid
      to find the great silence
      asking so little.

      One word, one word only.

      -- from Where Many Rivers Meet, David Whyte


      A land not mine, still
      A land not mine, still
      forever memorable,
      the waters of its ocean
      chill and fresh.

      Sand on the bottom whiter than chalk,
      and the air drunk, like wine,
      late sun lays bare
      the rosy limbs of the pinetrees.

      Sunset in the ethereal waves:
      I cannot tell if the day
      is ending, or the world, or if
      the secret of secrets is inside me again.

      About Anna Akhmatova


      -- from Women in Praise of the Sacred, ed. Jane Hirshfield


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