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#4588 - Thursday, May 3, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee

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  • Gloria Lee
    #4588 - Thursday, May 3, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee The Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights Another teleseminar? Really? Then I
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      #4588 - Thursday, May 3, 2012 - Editor: Gloria Lee
      The Nonduality Highlights -
      http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights  
       
       
       
      Another 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
      work?
       
      http://teachingwhatweneedtolearn.com/
      teachingwhatweneedtolearn.com
       
      Here'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 Holden
       
      photo by Alan Larus
       
       
       
      For 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 mystic
       
       
       
       
      Wabi-Sabi – the Japanese aesthetic of beauty
       
      We 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.

      ~ Rumi
       
       
       
      What'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.
      Buildings crumble.
      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)
       
       
       
       
       
       
       
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