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Nondual Highlights Issue #2551, Saturday, August 12, 2006
That's all you have to do - just abide in that
If you know how to be with that stillness without
anything else then that stillness is no longer just a
that stillness is the Buddha Mind, it is the luminous
In that stillness you are going to discover your true
The discovery of your true nature is the true
liberation, is the
bodhi, is the great awakening.
- Tulku Thubten Rinpoche, posted to DailyDharma
Develop the witness attitude and you will
find in your own experience that detachment
brings control. The state of witnessing is
full of power, there is nothing passive about it.
- Nisargadatta Maharaj, I Am That, posted to AlongTheWay
Silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute.
In the depth of my soul there is
A wordless song - a song that lives
In the seed of my heart.
It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment;
it engulfs my affection
In a transparent cloak and flows,
But not upon my lips.
- Khalil Gibran: Song of the Soul, posted to Mystic_Spirit
The Ninth Month
You watch the sensuous movements of the veil.
Do you know there's a Chinese girl behind it
whose face you can't see?
You see a reflection of the real moon
in all the stones that lie at your feet.
You're a leaf scattered by an invisible wind.
Don't you know something's moving you?
Unless some thought stirs that wind, you don't stir.
If the wind isn't still, you're not.
Constellations, planets, your inmost states
are like camels in a row. You're the last.
Curl up and drink in the blood
like a child in heaven's womb.
You feel a pain in the sphere of your heart,
but when you lift your head it's gone.
Your ninth month is Shams' face,
you, who have been trusted with the secret of both worlds.
O heart, be patient in this blood
until the ninth month.
- Rumi, Love is a Stranger, version by Kabir Helminski, posted to Sunlight
in the green field
were spinning and tossing
the white ribbons
of their songs
into the air.
I had nothing
better to do
I mean this
a long time ago,
an old couple
opened their door
to two strangers
it soon appeared,
not men at all,
It is my favorite story-
how the old couple
had almost nothing to give
but their willingness
to be attentive-
but for this alone
the gods loved them
and blessed them-
when they rose
out of their mortal bodies,
like a million particles of water
from a fountain,
swept into all the corners
of the cottage,
and the old couple,
shaken with understanding,
but still they asked for nothing
but the difficult life
which they had already.
And the gods smiled, as they vanished,
clapping their great wings.
Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
whatever it was I said
I would be doing-
I was standing
at the edge of the field-
I was hurrying
through my own soul,
opening its dark doors-
I was leaning out;
I was listening.
- Mary Oliver