Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

#4531 - Monday, March 5, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee

Expand Messages
  • Gloria Lee
    #4531 - Monday, March 5, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee The Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights It suddenly struck me that that tiny
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 5, 2012
    • 0 Attachment
      #4531 - Monday, March 5, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee
      The Nonduality Highlights -
      http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights  
       
       
       
      "It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put
      up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I
      didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small."
       
      — Neil Armstrong
       

       
      'Where? Where can I enter the way? How? How can I study? '
       
      Kyosei asked: 'What is the noise outside?'
       
      'That’s the voice of the raindrops, that’s the rain.' the student said.
       
      'Enter from there.' Kyosei replied.
       
      .
       
      .
       
      .
       
      .
       
      .
       
      As he listened,
       
      Mindlessly,
       
      The eavesdrops entered him.
       
      .
       
      .
       
      Waka on Kyosei's raindrop sound
       

       
      Revival
      by Luci Shaw
       
      March. I am beginning
      to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings
      the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost
      where the moles have nosed up their
      cold castings, and the ground cover
      in shadow under the cedars hasn't softened
      for months, fogs layering their slow, complicated ice
      around foliage and stem
      night by night,
       
      but as the light lengthens, preacher
      of good news, evangelizing leaves and branches,
      his large gestures beckon green
      out of gray. Pinpricks of coral bursting
      from the cotoneasters. A single bee
      finding the white heather. Eager lemon-yellow
      aconites glowing, low to the ground like
      little uplifted faces. A crocus shooting up
      a purple hand here, there, as I stand
      on my doorstep, my own face drinking in heat
      and light like a bud welcoming resurrection,
      and my hand up, too, ready to sign on
      for conversion.
       

      from What the Light Was Like. © Word Farm, 2010. 
       
      photo by Alan Larus
       

       
      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 quarreling?
      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
       

       
       
      Beautys Way
       
      Is it me, close to home?
      Is it me by blooming blossom blown?
       
      Am I dreaming called to surface now?
      The seed of day is sown
       
      Everyday from start, every day
      a darkness hides the Heart
      Say this flowing stream is beautys way
      Exactly like the first, every drop is thirst
      and darkness hides the Heart
       
      So born to no avail, mind will never fail
      life goes like a breeze
      While beauty true is waiting,
       just to seize
       

      Close to home, and loosing me
      By knowing  bluebells, dandelions and the honey bee
       This garden came afloat on a mighty sea
       
      The planets and the stars
      The mountains and the slopes,
      all inside the boat, mankind and its hopes
       
      Take to the wings of being, like golden gull above
      Seer in seeing, singer of love
      I am the way,  I am the call,  I am
       
       I am I am
       
      I
       
       
      - Alan Larus
       
       
      Go to link for original presentation with more photos
      and music.
       

       
       
      "And suddenly, I looked at the bull. He had this innocence that all animals have
      in their eyes, and he looked at me with this pleading. It was like a cry for
      justice, deep down inside of me. I describe it as being like a prayer - because if
      one confesses, it is hoped, that one is forgiven. I felt like the worst shit on
      earth."
       
      This photo shows the collapse of Torrero Alvaro Munera, as he realized in the
      middle of the his last fight... the injustice to the animal. From that day forward
      he became an opponent of bullfights.
      Ed Note: This story checked out, most references in Spanish, and he does now
      work with campaign to stop bullfighting. Story via Facebook.
       

    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.