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#4227 - Thursday, April 21, 2011 - Editor: Gloria Lee

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  • Gloria Lee
    #4227 - Thursday, April 21, 2011 - Editor: Gloria Lee The Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights Enlightenment is not about words
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      #4227 - Thursday, April 21, 2011 - Editor: Gloria Lee
      The Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights
       
       
       
       
      Enlightenment is not about words and
      thoughts and concepts which can be
      doubted.  Enlightenment is always Here.

      By "Here" I don't mean this present space.
      Here is somewhere within where mind
      cannot reach.  Presence is always Here
      and you are always That.  This Here is
      not the opposite of "there."  This Here is
      nowhere, it is your Heart.  When mind is
      still all comes back to the Heart.  All the
      cosmos is but a speck in your Heart.

      Turn mind over into This Here and it is
      lost.  Then only Light, Wisdom and Love
      remain and This you are not different or
      apart from.


                                          - Papaji

      by Along The Way
       

       
       
      I love Jesus, who said to us:
      heaven and earth will pass away.
      When heaven and earth have passed away,
      my word will still remain.
      What was your word, Jesus?
      Love? Forgiveness? Affection?
      All your words were
      one word: Wakeup.
       
      ~ Antonio Machado ~ 
       
       
      (Translated by Robert Bly, in
      The Soul Is Here For Its Own Joy)
       
       
       

       
      Ninth Duino Elegy
      (excerpt for Earth Day)
       
      Praise the world to the angel: leave the unsayable aside.
      Your exalted feelings do not move him.
      In the universe, where he feels feelings, you are a beginner.
      Therefore show him what is ordinary, what has been
      shaped from generation to generation, shaped by hand and eye.
      Tell him of things.  He will stand still in astonishment,
      the way you stood by the ropemaker in Rome
      or beside the potter on the Nile.
      Show him how happy a thing can be, how innocent and ours,
      how even a lament takes pure form,
      serves as a thing, dies as a thing,
      while the violin, blessing it, fades.
       
      And the things, even as they pass,
      understand that we praise them.
      Transient, they are trusting us
      to save them - us, the most transient of all.
      As if they wanted in our invisible hearts
      to be transformed
      into - oh, endlessly - into us.
       
      Earth, isn't this what you want?  To arise in us, invisible?
      Is it not your dream, to enter us so wholly
      there's nothing left outside us to see?
      What, if not transformation,
      is your deepest purpose?  Earth, my love,
      I want that too.  Believe me,
      no more of your springtimes are needed
      to win me over - even one flower
      is more than enough.  Before I was named
      I belonged to you.  I seek no other law
      but yours, and know I can trust
      the death you will bring.
       
      ~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~

       
       
      (In Praise of Mortality, trans. and edited Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)
       
       

       
       
      READING BUDDHIST CLASSICS WITH ZHAO
      AT HIS TEMPLE IN THE EARLY MORNING

      I clean my teeth in water drawn from a cold well;
      And while I brush my clothes, I purify my mind;
      Then, slowly turning pages in the Tree-Leaf Book,
      I recite, along the path to the eastern shelter.
      ...The world has forgotten the true fountain of this teaching
      And people enslave themselves to miracles and fables.
      Under the given words I want the essential meaning,
      I look for the simplest way to sow and reap my nature.
      Here in the quiet of the priest's templecourtyard,
      Mosses add their climbing colour to the thick bamboo;
      And now comes the sun, out of mist and fog,
      And pines that seem to be new-bathed;
      And everything is gone from me, speech goes, and reading,
      Leaving the single unison.
       
       
      Liu Zongyuan
      773–819
       
       
      by Alan Larus
       

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