#4588 - Thursday, May 3, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee
- #4588 - Thursday, May 3, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee
The Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlightsAnother teleseminar? Really?Then I had a brainstorm. Or more of a question, really. Who are we teachers,
anyway, I asked myself. Beyond the images that we endeavor to project, what is
life really like for us?What happens when we step off the stage? When the workshop is over and we
return to our own daily existence?What I envisioned were teachers being willing to share, quite frankly, what they’re
working through right now. What’s their edge? What’s still messy and unclear for
them? What may become a teaching story down the road, but right now is their own
teachingwhatweneedtolearn.comHere's an opportunity to listen for free this summer to folk like Ram Dass, Terry
Patten, Guy Finley, Tama Kieves, Sally Kempton, Isaac Shapiro, Krista Tippett,
Reggie Ray, Diane Musho Hamilton, and Byron Katie.SPONSORED by Sounds True"At any moment, we are either giving humanity the gift of our clarity or our
confusion. And that clarity or confusion is affecting the humanity around us, the
world around us. It is manifesting. It is taking form."~ Adyashanti"In the end it’s all very simple. Either we give ourselves to Silence or we don’t."~ Adyashanti....well past midnight....sitting still in the garden....listening to the wind sweep the
marine layer past the near full moonlight....nightbirds singing all the while this
enchantment....the eucalyptus gently rustles....and in this silence, one can hear....even
the flowers breathe~Susan Holdenphoto by Alan LarusFor a moment I saw a beautiful moving river.
Then a vast water with no means of crossing it.For a moment, I saw a bush full of opening buds.
Then no roses, no thorns, nothing.For a moment I saw a busy cooking fire.
Then no hearth, no smoke, no flame.I saw the great mother of kings, Kunti.
Then, the next moment, sitting here, is
the helpless old aunt of the potter's wife.~ Lalla
14th Century North Indian mysticWabi-Sabi – the Japanese aesthetic of beautyWe live in a world where new is good – perfection is strived for – and young is
beauty. We thought however that we would share with you today a beautiful
aesthetic that the Japanese believe in – it is the principal of Wabi-Sabi. In a
nutshell, wabi-sabi is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and
accepting the natural cycle of growth. It is simple, uncluttered and it values
authenticity above all else. Wabi-Sabi is about flea markets instead of big box
stores and malls; it’s about aging wood not laminate. The principals of wabi-sabi
celebrate crack and crevices and believe that it is a sign that loving has left
behind.It is so easy to discard what isn’t new and forget what has aged – but stop and look
closely next time at a pot that isn’t perfect – a flower that isn’t fully standing tall
– or the aged face of the people around you – they all have a story to tell.I said Oh no! Help me!
And the Oh no! became a rope let down in my well.
I've climbed out to stand here in the sun.
One moment I was at the bottom of a dark, fearful narrowness,
and the next,
I am not contained by the universe.
If every tip of every hair on me could speak,
I still couldn't say my gratitude.
In the middle of these streets and gardens,
I stand and say and say again,
And it's all I say,
I wish everyone could know what I know.
~ RumiWhat's In The Temple?
In the quiet spaces of my mind a thought lies still, but ready to spring.
It begs me to open the door so it can walk about.
The poets speak in obscure terms pointing madly at the unsayable.
The sages say nothing, but walk ahead patting their thigh calling for us to follow.
The monk sits pen in hand poised to explain the cloud of unknowing.
The seeker seeks, just around the corner from the truth.
If she stands still it will catch up with her.
Pause with us here a while.
Put your ear to the wall of your heart.
Listen for the whisper of knowing there.
Love will touch you if you are very still.
If I say the word God, people run away.
They've been frightened--sat on 'till the spirit cried "uncle."
Now they play hide and seek with somebody they can't name.
They know he's out there looking for them, and they want to be found,
But there is all this stuff in the way.
I can't talk about God and make any sense,
And I can't not talk about God and make any sense.
So we talk about the weather, and we are talking about God.
I miss the old temples where you could hang out with God.
Still, we have pet pounds where you can feel love draped in warm fur,
And sense the whole tragedy of life and death.
You see there the consequences of carelessness,
And you feel there the yapping urgency of life that wants to be lived.
The only things lacking are the frankincense and myrrh.
We don't build many temples anymore.
Maybe we learned that the sacred can't be contained.
Or maybe it can't be sustained inside a building.
It's the spirit that lives on.
If you had a temple in the secret spaces of your heart,
What would you worship there?
What would you bring to sacrifice?
What would be behind the curtain in the holy of holies?
Go there now.
~ Tom Barrett
(Keeping in Touch)Web version: www.panhala.net/Archive/In_the_Temple.html