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#2656 - Wednesday, November 29, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee

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    The Fist -- Mary Oliver#2656 - Wednesday, November 29, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee The Nondual Highlights The Fist There are days when the sun goes down like a
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      The Fist -- Mary Oliver
      #2656 - Wednesday, November 29, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee


      The Nondual Highlights
       
       
       
       
       
      The Fist
       
      There are days
      when the sun goes down
      like a fist,
      though of course
       
      if you see anything
      in the heavens this way
      you had better get
       
      your eyes checked
      or, better still,
      your diminished spirit.
      The heavens
       
      have no fist,
      or wouldn't they have been
      shaking it
      for a thousand years now,
       
      and even
      longer than that,
      at the dull, brutish
      ways of mankind -
       
      heaven's own
      creation?
      Instead: such patience!
      Such willingness
       
      to let us continue!
      To hear,
      little by little,
      the voices -
       
      only, so far, in
      pockets of the world -
      suggesting the possibilities
       
      of peace?
       
      Keep looking.
      Behold, how the fist opens
      with invitation.
       
      ~ Mary Oliver ~
       
       
      (Thirst)

       
       
      Web archive of Panhala postings: www.panhala.net/Archive/Index.html
       
       

       
       
       
      'Peace of mind is such an elusive prize.' 
       
      'There is only one way to be totally at ease in every 
        condition of life. I will repeat that in different 
        words. There is a certain state of mind which
        gives  you complete command of everything that
        happens to  you.' 
       
      'You make us eager to know what it is.' 
       
      'It is a state of mind in which you never need to
        prove  you are right.'" 
       
      --Vernon Howard
       
       

       
       
      The near enemies are qualities that arise in the
      mind and masquerade as genuine spiritual
      realization, when in fact they are only an imitation,
      serving to separate us from true feeling rather than
      connecting us to it.
       
      The near enemy of loving-kindness is attachment. At
      first, attachment may feel like love, but as it grows
      it becomes more clearly the opposite, characterized
      by clinging, controlling and fear.
       
      The near enemy of compassion is pity, and this also
      separates us. Pity feels sorry for that poor person
      over here, as if he were somehow different from
      us.
       
      The near enemy of sympathetic joy (the joy in the
      happiness of others) is comparison, which looks to
      see if we have more of, the same as, or less than
      another.
       
      The near enemy of equanimity is indifference. True
      equanimity is balance in the midst of experience,
      whereas indifference is withdrawal and not caring,
      based on fear.
       
      If we do not recognize and understand the near
      enemies, they will deaden our spiritual practice. The
      compartments they make cannot shield us for long
      from the pain and unpredictability of life, but they
      will surely stifle the joy and open connectedness of
      true relationships.
       
      --Jack Kornfield, in A Path with Heart

       

       
       
      Good Evening, Friends!

      This afternoon at the nutrition shop where I work,
      a middle-aged woman approached me, nominally in
      search of some supplement to help assuage
      traumatic stress. She said she was drawn to
      working with natural remedies. I inquired first into
      the source of the discomfort.
       
      She informed me that it was her daughter who had
      been abducted and found later, raped and
      murdered. It apparently had been a big local story
      just before I moved to this area a year ago. As she
      spoke, we both tried to hold back tears, but
      unsuccessfully. She had just been notified that her
      son was now terminal with leukemia, and she was on
      her way to Colorado to be with him. During the time
      his sister had been missing, he developed the
      disease, and then let it take him down when her
      body was found. He is angry at the world, and wants
      out. Meanwhile, her husband is collapsing, can't
      deal with it anymore.
       
      I asked what kind of support she was receiving, and
      she said that everyone has been so kind, and they
      were working with the police chaplain. She
      expressed faith in re-uniting with her family in
      heaven. She shared that what has emerged from all
      this is the realization of how fragile life is, and
      how the love we share with each other is all that
      really matters. We considered these notions, and
      finally agreed that trying to figure things out just
      adds more stress, but were able to settle on an
      herbal formula that could help sooth her husband
      in his sleepless despair.
       
      I praised her for her efforts in remaining sane in
      the midst of this, and as we looked each other in
      the eye for one long moment, I could have pointed
      and said, "Here, here it is right here", but there
      was really no need to say it, it was already plain and
      clear.

      LoveAlways

      Bob O'Hearn on Garden Mystics
       
       

       
       
      Last year, I admired wines. This,
      I'm wandering inside the red world.
       
      Last year, I gazed at the fire.
      This year I'm burnt kabob.
       
      Thirst drove me down to the water
      where I drank the moon's reflection.
       
      Now I am a lion staring up totally
      lost in love with the thing itself.
       
      Don't ask questions about longing.
      Look in my face.
       
      Soul drunk, body ruined, these two
      sit helpless in a wrecked wagon.
      Neither knows how to fix it.
       
      And my heart, I'd say it was more
      like a donkey sunk in a mudhole,
      struggling and miring deeper.
       
      But listen to me: for one moment,
      quit being sad. Hear blessings
      dropping their blossoms
      around you.
       
      God.
       
      ~ Rumi
       
      Mazie Lane on Garden Mystics
       
       

       
      Alan Larus photos
       
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