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Friday April 6, 2001

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  • Gloria Lee
    gossip: speaking about someone as if they were separate from you. All are blessed justthis ... Nicely put! Let s start a nondual encyclopedia or dictionary
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 7, 2001
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      gossip: speaking about someone as if they were separate from you.

      All are blessed
      justthis


      Nicely put!  Let's start a 'nondual encyclopedia' or dictionary :-).

      Egotism: Imagining that I exist (as a particular entity).  Gossip
      derives from this.

      Namaste,

      Omkara
       

       

         Here's one for the encyclopedia/dictionary

                nonduality: that which remains when dueling dualists are
           done dancing dueling-dualing duets

          Blessed Be,
           James


      JERRY
       
      "I don't really want to be anyplace." --Bruce Springsteen on the Today Show this morning.
      ~~~
      Well then, how lucky
      for him, that he isn't! ;-)

      Namaste,
      Tim
      ~~~~
      JERRY
      here's some more quotes from bruce springsteen i found doing a quick search:

      You have to let down your defenses, your fears...and that's
      always frightening to do, people don't like to do it, but that's
      where everything lay.

      We have our mythic hero, Gary Cooper, who is capable of pure
      action, where it's either all or nothing, and he looks like he's
      walking over that abyss of anxiety, and he won't fail. Whereas
      the moviegoer, the person watching the movie, is not capable of
      that. There's no real abyss under Gary Cooper, but there is one
      under the guy watching the film! Bringing people out over that
      abyss, helping them and myself to realize where we all "are,"
      helping my audience answer the questions that are there-that's
      what I'm interested in doing with my own work.

      I guess I'm-rock bottom-a concerned, even aroused observer, sort
      of like the main character of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. Not
      that I'm invisible! But Ellison's character doesn't directly
      take on the world. He wants to see the world change, but he's
      mainly a witness, a witness to a lot of blindness.



      TIM & DAN
       
       
      >>--- Daniel Berkow wrote:
      >
      > > And ... what is described is an experience
      > >    remembered and expressed to an audience -
      > >    an important "turning point" for a conceptual
      > >    entity - a moment in which conceptualizable
      > >    experience and nonconceptualizable
      > >    nothingness were/are one.
      >
      Tim
      >So how do these 'conceptual entities' tell the difference...
      between
      >a 'common spiritual experience' and 'Realization'?

      A conceptual entity realizing it's own nothingness
         isn't centered on/in the past, thus, isn't
         thinking of itself as an "itself".  If speaking
         of "an experience had", instantly recognizing
         such speech for what it is -- the past, regardless
         whether construed as "common spiritual experience"
         or "a realization", is "the past".  Realization
         as not of or in the past, will never be spoken of.
         The word "realization" thus is potentially misleading,
          but so will be any word about this.  Words are
          given as "prompts" if useful, and
          when one is not misled, words won't deceive.

         Speech happens as it
         "fits and is with the arising moment",
          not the result of a fixation
          in a past experience.


      >In
      other words: is there not a massive likelihood that 'a conceptual
      >entity'
      (likely, after years of seeking) is going to conclude: "It is
      >finished..." perhaps due to a simple hallucination, or a bad bit
      of
      >potato at dinner?

      What never begins can never be finished.

      What is finished is conceptual.
      A conclusion is conceptual.
      The conceptual entity is finished.
      Its conclusions are finished.
      It doesn't matter what it concludes
         or doesn't conclude, as itself
         is finished.

      >There's more gravy than grave to this whole "Realization" thing :-).
      >But draw your own
      conclusions, of course (just as those foolish,
      >ignorant Zen masters, who
      'live' only as memory and concept).
      >Namaste,
      >
      >Ebenezer Scrooge

      Memory and concept have an extremely
         limited version of life.
      They would never seem to have any
         life if there weren't life beyond concept.
      A true Zen master is not concerned
         with being a Zen master, the
         life is lived, not "in" memory,
         image, concept -- as genuine living is.

      God bless us, every one,
      Tiny Tim



      GLORIA
       
      hi Dan!
       
      Here is some contemporary Zen story, loosely condensed, from a book I read.
       
      The disciple was to send his Zen master, faithful written accounts of how he was doing, as they lived at some distance.
       
      The first month, he wrote, " I feel an expansion of consciousness and experience oneness with the universe."  The master glanced at the note and threw it away.
       
      Next month, he wrote, "I finally discovered that the divine is present in all things."  The master was disappointed.
       
      In his third letter, the disciple wrote, "The mystery of the One and the many has been revealed to my wondering gaze."  The master yawned.
       
      The next letter said, " No one is born, no one lives, and no one dies, for the self is not." The master threw up his hands in despair.
       
      After that, a month passed, then a few more. Finally after a whole year, the master thought it was time to remind him of his promise to keep him informed. The disciple wrote back, "I am simply living my life. And as for spiritual practice, who cares?"  When the master read that he cried, "at last."
       
      Love, Gloria
       
      Still appreciating your "practice" of writing messages!
       

       
      OTTER
       
      Hi all,

      Many of you know me by my last name, but I have a first name too.

      Love,
      Here I Am

      (you can call me here if you like...)
       

      Now and always by this name,
      oh great-hearted one.

      Here
      (andrew)
       

       
      Hey Andrew,

      My heart wouldn't be ANYWHERE near so big, if you weren't in it...

      Love, Here
      ps thanks for being here.


                      
      Hi Here!

      You and I have the same name!

      Love,

      I Am, Here
      ~~~~~
      (arrived via Greg)


       
      Hello...
             For someone so well known you're pretty elusive.
             If I call you here, will you come?
          Love,
          There I Am
      ~~~
      (James) 

       
      Originally submitted by "Gill Eardley" <gilleardley@...>

      *A Lone Lamp*

      Sonome was a well-known poetess and a profound student of Buddhism.  She
      once wrote to Zen master Unko: "To seek neither reality nor falsehood is the
      root source of the Great Way.  Everyone knows this, so even if I seem
      immodest for saying so, I do not think this is anything special.  As
      goings-on in the source of one mind, the willows are green, the flowers are
      red.  Just being as it is, I pass the time reciting verse and composing
      poetry.  If this is useless chatter, then the scriptures are also useless
      chatter.  I dislike anything that stinks of religion, and my daily practice
      is invocation, poetry, and song.  If I go to paradise, that's fine; if I
      fall into hell, that's auspicious."


      *By myself I remember
      not to seek mind;
      the green lamp has already illumined
      my lone lamp heart.
      Whether in clamor or silence,
      I have a clear mirror:
      it thoroughly discerns
      pure hearts among humans.

      It is not something existing,
      that anyone can see and know,
      nor does it not exist:
      such is the lamp of truth.*

         When Sonome was about to pass on, she bade farewell to the world with
      this poem:

      *The sky of the autumn moon
      and the warmth of spring:
      Is it a dream?  Is it real?
      Hail to the Buddha of Infinite Light!*


      from "Zen Antics,"  Thomas Cleary


       
      TIM & DAN
       
      Hi Tim!

      >Thus, there is no conceptual entity at all.  As there never was one
      >(cannot be a "before" or "after"), 'Realization' is
      impossible,
      >strictly speaking... there is nobody to 'Realize'
      anything.
      >What 'Realizes', the 'imaged location'?  Awareness? 
      "Realization" as
      >a concept is an assertion.  As an 'event', it's an
      impossibility.

      Yes.
      True of this conversation also.
      As all the words are conceptual
         entities requiring a before
         and after that don't exist,
         this conversation isn't occurring.

      Another way to say this is that
         each word constructs for itself
         before and after in the process
         of speaking itself.  In this sense,
         infinite conversations (universes, observers)
         occur simultaneously, without interfering
         with each other in any way.

      <snip>

      >I sense
      contradiction here... if the conceptual entity is finished,
      >there is no
      'turning point' for any conceptual entity.  It would be
      >a 'finish
      line' for a conceptual entity.

      The contradiction is for concept only.
      If there is no concept, there is no contradiction.
      Another way to say this: non-concept
         has not been disrupted or interfered with in any way
         by apparent concept arising.
      Call this:  creativity of infinity, which, with neither
         creation nor destruction, has become/is "all this" ...

      Love,
      Dan


       
      JAMES sent:

      anyone lived in a pretty how town
      (with up so floating many bells down)
      spring summer autumn winter
      he sang his didn't he danced his did.

      Women and men (both little and small)
      cared for anyone not at all
      they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
      sun moon stars rain

      children guessed (but only a few
      and down they forgot as up they grew
      autumn winter spring summer)
      that noone loved him more by more

      when by now and tree by leaf
      she laughed his joy she cried his grief
      bird by snow and stir by still
      anyone's any was all to her

      someones married their everyones
      laughed their cryings and did their dance
      (sleep wake hope and then) they
      said their nevers they slept their dream

      stars rain sun moon
      (and only the snow can begin to explain
      how children are apt to forget to remember
      with up so floating many bells down)

      one day anyone died i guess
      (and noone stooped to kiss his face)
      busy folk buried them side by side
      little by little and was by was

      all by all and deep by deep
      and more by more they dream their sleep
      noone and anyone earth by april
      wish by spirit and if by yes.

      Women and men (both dong and ding)
      summer autumn winter spring
      reaped their sowing and went their came
      sun moon stars rain


                                         e. e. cummings (1940)



       
      HARSHA sent:
       
      Birds in the sky and fish in water
      Dart and leave no track behind.
      And none can trace the path by which
      The sages journeyed to the Self.

      Sri Murugunar

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~ from ~~~~~~~~~~~~
      The Mountain Path , april 1975

       
      Dear Harsha,

      Namaste!!  Thanks for this.

      There is no tracing any paths.  There are no need for descriptions
      (especially 'descriptions of what a Jnani is like' -- what
      foolishness, even when stated by a Jnani himself.  Although Jnanis
      are "allowed" such indulgences ;-). 

      No pointers are fully adequate, no pointing fingers will cause anyone
      to look and see the moon.  Often, the pointing finger is not even
      noticed, and if it is, is not seen as the remotest bit interesting. 
      In the unusual case it is seen as interesting, the finger immediately
      becomes the focus of interest, not what it is pointing to.  If it is
      noticed the finger is pointing somewhere, the attachment to the
      finger must then be let go.  Then finally, seeing the moon.

      Even without a pointing finger, the moonlight is everywhere. 
      It 'lights up' everything perceivable and conceivable.

      Unfortunately, what is 'visible by that light', seems to be of far
      more interest than 'the light' itself.  How often is the light
      noticed, let alone is an interest taken?

      It seems sometimes nobody cares about the 'light', only what it
      illuminates.  The 'light' is not even noticed, it is so much taken
      for granted.

      Love,

      Tim


       
       
      Jerry sent:
       
      Red Rover
      by K.

      Redrover, redrover, my little dog clover... The words were there
      and gone in seconds flat, trampled over like a lost cat. There
      used to be so many places, so many haunts, now they are all
      corporations or industrial complexes. The eyes of society have
      been blinded by a race of money hungry beasts from a world
      created by themselves, a world which exists among men, and has
      always existed... Redrover, redrover, my little dog clover...
      How long has it been, how long since the last rain fall over the
      city? How long since the people worked in the fields for money?
      It’s been a long, long time. The children played for hours in
      the potato gardens long ago, years ago. There was a nursery
      even, a place for the kids to be watched over.

      Is there any way
      to bring back those days? Gone, gone with the wind are the old
      times... Gone with the last airplane are the thoughts of the
      people. Now, without warning, there comes a new era, an era with
      new fates, with new goals, and still, with fear... Painted on
      the walls of the old courtyard were expressionless faces;
      lifeless smiles. The grounds of the wrecked school went up in
      ruins long before the final rain fall, the rain fall that brough
      with it, the “Beings”. They were no more intelligent than any of
      us, nor more powerful, but they brought with them a ship which
      contained weapons of unearthly powers. Spray painted on the ship
      was the name “Redrover”, a name meaning nothing to the human
      race until then, and never meant anything again for three
      centuries. It was only that one day in which the meaning of the
      name meant anything. Now, if you will, hear, hear what things I
      have to tell, hear what expressions I must come up with...
      Destroy the thoughts which cloud your mind, open them up, for
      the time is now, the world is listening, set free your thoughts
      upon this planet...

      From here to the next town it’s about seventy-two miles... Care
      to walk? Care to crawl on your knees and beg for a stranger to
      take you with them? No, I assume you don’t. All of the busses
      have left for the night, and all the cabs are sleeping in an
      unconscience universe. Wherever you are, stay there, you don’t
      want part in this town, you will kick yourself, and probably
      find a way to end it all, per chance you come and stay here. For
      the next twelve hours, the inhabitants of this small town will
      face their every fear, in hopes that they will ultimatly find a
      way off this planet, and make it back to where they came from.
      What do you want to do? You have a choice. You can either:

      a) find a way out by foot b) find a way out by vehicle c) stay
      overnight and possibly self-destruct

      What’s it going to be? Are you going to be brave? Are you going
      to be a cowardly nothing? Or will you be something inbetween?
      Ok, let’s just pretend that your going to stay here over night,
      this is your fate...

      You awake unto a world filled with silence. It is like the
      inside of a tomb. All you can hear is your heart beating rapidly
      as you try to figure out where you took a wrong turn on life’s
      path. The most important thing to you right now is if there is a
      bar in town, cause you could sure go for a drink. Think for a
      second, is your craving for alcahol really the most important
      thing right now? I doubt it... The most important thing right
      now is getting your pothetic soul out of that place, if you can
      even figure out where you are. All you can see around you is a
      window closed off by the curse called night, and a shelf covered
      with life’s nonsense. Where are you, where have you been? The
      world has enclosed you inside this mad house... Go outiside,
      take a look around. What do you see? You see worms crawling in
      and out of dead, rotting animals... You see winding paths
      extending through a dead forrest. You see torture machines
      sprawled out among vast fields of tainted thoughts. What is your
      goal, to stay here and suffer? Redrover will find you...
      Redrover will find your brain, but do you want it to? It’ll be
      here soon... Find a way out of this mind hell. Find it, or it
      will find you...

      Look now, look now at the burning crops in the fields... Look at
      the children and their cries. Don’t destroy yourself, re-create
      yourself, because all this madness will soon be over... Do you
      hear that noise? Do you hear that vibration pounding in the
      decay you call your mind? Such mutiny has never been crossed
      over like this. “Help me!” “Help me!” That’s the sound of the
      tollbooth called life, the eternal pay which costs you
      everything. Is this really what you want? Is this the life you
      see fit to be your future? May it end now if it is not, and
      begin a new... Redrover, redrover, my little dog clover, where
      did you run to on that cold, cold day? I’m sorry I didn’t rescue
      you from that hell. Forgive me old state-of-mind. I didn’t mean
      to throw you out like that. The golden sun is hitting all of us
      on this never-ending beach. Rays of an existence far beyond is
      burning through you, until soon it will be your entire self. All
      the colors of the rainbow shall soon be united... All the shapes
      and sizes of the world around us shall soon be one... All the
      lives which we have seen being lived shall soon be no more than
      dust... All the energy which we have always used, shall soon be
      used up, because the old ways have been extinct for some time,
      and a waiting for something is over. The time is now... Where
      will you be on this dark day? Will you be aboard the redrover-
      the ship which passes throughout the entire spectrum of life?
      No, I assume you won’t be, because there are so many things
      which you never accomplished in life: the watering of your
      garden, the everlasting peace called the end of world struggles,
      the remembering of things long forgotten, the re-wiring of your
      former self... So many things must be done before you re-enter
      the endless vastness. And in the end, ultimatly find a way out
      of this one dimensional paradise called insanity.

      The End








       





       

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