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#3723 - Monday, November 23, 2009

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  • markwotter704
    Archived issues of the NDHighlights are available online: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm Nonduality Highlights: Issue
    Message 1 of 1 , Nov 23, 2009
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      Archived issues of the NDHighlights are available online: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm

      Nonduality Highlights: Issue #3723, Monday, November 23, 2009





      There's a great space in which this moment takes place, There's a great silence that is listening to the thoughts.

      - Adyashanti, posted to Mystic_Spirit




      When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of the still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

      - Wendell Berry




      SQUIRRELLY

      When I was younger my idea
      of how to spend
      a sweltering summer afternoon
      was to sit cross-legged under a tree
      with my back against the trunk
      reading a poetry book
      in the shade catching
      whatever breeze there was

      But the squirrels had other ideas
      When one thought
      I had hung around long enough
      it would start eating acorns
      right above me
      dropping the inedible parts
      on me & my book so I would
      move to another tree

      There the same thing would happen
      until I had used up all the trees
      & it was time to go home
      Telling a friend about this recently
      he said I had it all wrong
      The squirrels weren't telling me to move
      just letting me know another being was present
      & that I should read the poetry aloud

      - Steve Toth, posted to Distillation




      You are the music while the music lasts.

      - T.S. Eliot




      Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?

      Don't call this world adorable, or useful, that's not it.
      It's frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
      The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
      The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.

      But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white
      feet of the trees
      whose mouths open.
      Doesn't the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?
      Haven't the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,
      until at last, now, they shine
      in your own yard?

      Don't call this world an explanation, or even an education.

      When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
      outward, to the mountains so solidly there
      in a white-capped ring, or was he looking

      to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
      that was also there,
      beautiful as a thumb
      curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
      little love-ring,

      as he whirled,
      oh jug of breath,
      in the garden of dust?

      -Mary Oliver, from Why I Wake Early




      The Naked Sun

      Those who live in Union become pregnant
      with the feelings and words of invisible forms!
      Their amazed mouths open.
      Their eyes withdraw.

      Children are born of the illumination.
      We say "born," but that's not right.
      It only points to a new understanding.

      Be quiet and let the Master of Speech talk.
      Don't try to dress up your own nightingale-song
      to sell to this Rose!
      Be all ear.

      This pregnancy!
      So subtle and delicious,
      the way ice in July reminds us of winter,
      the way fruit in January tells of summer generosity.
      That's how the naked Sun
      embraces all the orchard-brides at once.

      - Rumi, Mathnawi VI, 1810-1822, version by Coleman Barks from This Longing, posted to Sunlight




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