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#2962 - Saturday, October 20, 2007

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  • markwotter704
    Archived issues of the NDHighlights are available online: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm Nondual Highlights: Issue #2962,
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 21, 2007
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      Archived issues of the NDHighlights are available online: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm

      Nondual Highlights: Issue #2962, Saturday, October 20, 2007





      Once all of our conditioning is stripped away, the true self is as clear as the brilliant sun. Underneath the layers and layers of conditioning accumulated over the course of a lifetime is a Buddha whose light shines throughout the whole universe. Inside the ego shell of conditioning, a glimmer of that light is actually what brings us to practice to begin with. It is the bodhicitta, the bodhi mind, the mind that says it does't make sense that there should be all this pain and suffering, or that it should be so difficult to just be ourselves the way a tree can just be a tree or a dog can just be a dog. We humans seem to have a complicated time with just simply being human. We fight with each other, kill each other; we bang heads all the time, even with the ones we love.

      From The Eight Gates of Zen, posted to DailyDharma




      Let this that has always been running your life have you. This complete cliff dive in every moment into "I don't know." I don't know where I am, I don't know who I am, I don't know what I am, I don't know what I'm here for. Let yourself be nothing. Just here. Offered. Ahhhh, what a relief.

      This is what is asked of us, over and over and over, to offer our empty hands. To let the things we are holding so tightly just drop. To give it all up, everything, that does not exist in this moment here. All that has happened, that we think we somehow need to do something about, all that we think might happen, or we hope will happen, every sweet dream that we cling to. This is like God's loving strip search, give it all over! Something else wants to live you. And you can feel it.

      - Jeannie Zandi




      One day a sufi sees an empty food sack hanging on a nail.
      He begins to turn and tear his shirt, saying,
      Food for what needs no food!
      A cure for hunger!

      His burning grows and others join him,
      shouting and moaning in the love-fire.

      An idle passerby comments, "It's only an empty sack."

      The sufi says, Leave. You want what we do not want.
      You are not a lover.

      A lover's food is the love of bread,
      not the bread. No one who really loves,
      loves existence.

      Lovers have nothing to do with existence.
      They collect the interest without the capital.

      No wings, yet they fly all over the world. No hands,
      but they carry the polo ball from the field.

      That dervish got a sniff of reality.
      Now he weaves baskets of pure vision.

      Lovers pitch tents on a field of nowhere.
      They are all one color like that field.

      A nursing baby does not know the taste of roasted meat.
      To a spirit the foodless scent is food.

      To an Egyptian, the Nile looks bloody.
      To an Israelite, clear.
      What is a highway to one is disaster to the other.

      - Rumi, Mathnawi III, 3014-30, version by Coleman Barks, from The Essential Rumi, posted to Sunlight




      We are a haystack, the wheat entangled
      with the hay;
      Through the reviving wind, disentangle
      the wheat from the hay,
      Let the sorrow go to the sorrow, the joy
      to the joy,
      Let the mud go to the mud, and the heart
      rise to heaven.

      - Rumi, version by Muriel Maufroy, from Breathing Truth - Quotations from Jalaluddin Rumi, posted to AlongTheWay




      Forget not that the earth delights
      to feel your bare feet
      and the winds long
      to play with your hair.

      - Kahlil Gibran, posted to The_Now2




      Spring Morning

      Where am I going? I don't quite know.
      Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-
      Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-
      Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

      Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
      Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
      Where am I going? The shadows pass,
      Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.

      If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
      You'd sail on water as blue as air,
      And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
      "Doesn't the sky look green today?"

      Where am I going? The high rooks call:
      "It's awful fun to be born at all."
      Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
      "We do have beautiful things to do."

      If you were a bird, and lived on high,
      You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,
      You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
      "That's where I wanted to go today!"

      Where am I going? I don't quite know.
      What does it matter where people go?
      Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-
      Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

      - A.A. Milne, from: When We Were Very Young, posted to The_Now2




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