#2911 - Sunday, August 26, 2007
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Nondual Highlights: Issue #2911, Sunday, August 26, 2007
Belief, any belief, is based on the sense of insecurity. Only when all belief is given up are you free to know yourself. In self discovery what you find is the Truth - that Truth which is total, self-evident and which needs no outside support or justification.
Fabricating objects in the split-mind is what is called "thinking." But thinking is not man's real nature - it is what prevents us from seeing our real nature. Yet there cannot be any prescriptive method to bring about the cessation of thinking because any such effort would emanate from a "me" that is itself nothing but a product of thought.
- Ramesh Balsakar, posted to ANetofJewels
truth, the real
is what remains
when all beliefs
substitutes for knowing,
like a scaffolding
which is dismounted
once the job is done;
so are beliefs abandoned
in the presence
of the real
yosy, posted to NondualitySalon
To a disciple who was always at his prayers the Master said, "When will you stop leaning on God and stand on your own two feet"?
The disciple was astonished. "But you are the one who taught us to look on God as Father"!
"When will you learn that a father isn't someone you can lean on but someone who rids you of your tendency to lean"?
- Anthony DeMello, posted to The_Now2
All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, also posted to The_Now2
The wonder is that colour came from the colourless:
how is it that colour came to fight the colourless?
Since the rose is born from the thorn, and the thorn
from the rose, why are they quarrelling?
Or is it not really war but divine purpose and artifice,
like the quarrels of merchants?
Or is it neither this nor that? Is it the perplexity?
The treasure must be sought;
this perplexity is the ruin where it is hidden.
- Rumi, translated by Muriel Maufroy, from Breathing Truth - Quotations from Jalaluddin Rumi
Secrets lurk in the brush
Secrets lurk in the brush,
vanish behind tropical leaves,
sweep away their footprints,
and hide like prey in open spaces and light.
Secrets flower in the soft earth of childhood,
born from mind whispers,
those feelings that we're somehow different,
or not good enough, that there's a darkness
born in us, only in us, that we're changelings.
And the secrets tell us,
in that bottom well of mind
where feelings tumble like stones being polished,
that if we betray them, if we tell,
awful things will come in the night,
unspeakable events will happen.
So we hide our secrets in mind boxes,
step carefully around them,
build barricades to protect them,
step out into the world with a cracked smile
to greet the day, and play at being
who we think we are.
We can't know, of course,
as we stumble our way through dim inner trails
pierced with shafts of brilliant sun
and rumbles of thunder,
can't know that we're not cursed,
not alone, not different.
Some of us stumble briefly, others for years,
until love bursts in, shatters the barricades,
slays the dragon of our own making,
until "I" becomes "we,"
and our eyes meet and dance
in these wildflower fields,
now sunlit and free.
- Zen Oleary, posted to DailyDharma