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Re:Aphorisms for Health Challenges

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  • cott_doris
    Hallo Tristesse, May I join in with a few selected poems from 77,000 Service-Trees by Sri Chinmoy that helped me to remain in a good consciousness when I
    Message 1 of 6 , Jul 26, 2007
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      Hallo Tristesse,

      May I join in with a few selected poems from 77,000 Service-Trees by
      Sri Chinmoy that helped me to remain in a good consciousness when I
      recently fell ill but doing better by this time.

      As we hear from Ahelee Dharmaja has a lot of humour and is
      entertaining the nurses.

      "You may not believe
      In the power of your prayer,
      But God firmly believe in it."

      "Every day
      My mind starts praying
      And my heart starts meditating
      When dawn starts showing
      It's beautiful and cheerful

      "God wants me to cry
      One His Shoulder.
      But I prefer to cry
      At His Feet."

      "My Lord, do give me the capacity
      To wipe every tear
      from every heart."

      "Each day with a spiritual Master
      Is a life-saving
      Life-shaping opportunity
      for the disciple."

      "A soulful hope
      And a beautiful dream
      Live together."

      "You and your heart-garden-beauty
      And fragrance
      will always prevail."

      "I see God on rare occasions.
      But I keep meeting
      His Compassion-Eye
      And Forgiveness-Heart
      Every day."

      "Nothing is incurable!
      Nothing is unchangeable!
      This should be the slogan
      Of a God-believer."

      "My Lord,
      You help us all,
      But can we help You at all?
      My child,
      your acceptance of My Help
      Equals My Satisfaction-Heart."

      -Sri Chinmoy

      I will never forget Dharmaja's famous "exploding tomatoes" I repost
      here. It is worth reading again.

      Dear Everyone,

      I have just returned from a software training business trip to
      Healdsburg, in the wine country of Sonoma county, in northern

      The family that I worked for gave me some tomatoes from their
      garden. The mother put the tomatoes in a paper bag for me. I ate a
      few of them, and they were delicious.

      On Wednesday evening, upon returning to the hotel where I was
      staying, I placed the bag of tomatoes in my room, on top of the
      heater (that was not a smart move). The evening was quite
      chilly, so I had to turn on the heat for a while.

      At this point, I must note that when tomatoes are quite ripe, the
      skin can split open, and what you get is a minor explosion. The
      insidious thing about a tomato explosion is that it is usually
      silent. You may not get any auditory clue at all that an
      explosion has taken place. But it is there, waiting for you,
      waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

      Perhaps the fact that the tomatoes were on the heater caused the
      skin of several of them to rupture. On Thursday morning, I did
      notice some moisture on the bottom of the bag, but did not give much
      thought to it. You see? Tomatoes look so innocuous. You don't
      suspect them. This is another way that the tomato-world can cause
      you to let down your guard.

      It was my departure day. I gathered up my suitcase, portable
      computer, the bag of tomatoes, et al, and went downstairs to where
      my car was parked.

      The suitcase went into the cargo area of my station wagon, and as I
      was getting into the front seat, I temporarily placed the tomato bag
      onto the driver's seat, placed a few other articles elsewhere in the
      vehicle, then grabbed the tomato bag and placed it on the floor in
      front of the passenger seat.

      What I did not notice was that one of the tomatoes . . . the largest
      one in the bag . . . had abdicated its former position in the bag,
      pushed its way through the wet bottom of the bag, and cozily lodged
      itself on the back portion of the driver's seat.

      Hence, when I sat down for my pre-driving protection meditation, I
      elegantly squashed the tomato.


      Of course, because I always wear white trousers, the effect was all
      the more spectacular. The seat area of my trousers, in addition to
      the cloth upholstery of the car seat itself . . . everything was
      utterly covered with tomato skin, tomato pulp, tomato seeds, tomato

      I was prepared. I promptly cleaned up everything with the baby
      wipes that I keep in the car. The only evidence of the attack was
      the huge red-orange splotch on the seat of my pants.

      You may have read about the maya tactics that were employed in the
      Battle of Kurukshetra. And you probably think, erroneously, that
      the world of vegetables is not clever enough to employ such
      tactics. This experience, which has not been exaggerated one iota,
      proves otherwise.

      I dutifully meditated, and drove towards San Diego. On the way, I
      bought petrol in Ventura. A customer at the station was kind enough
      to make some caustic remarks regarding the size, color and
      location of the splotch on my trousers.

      I responded, "Thanks for letting me know."

      Probably, plenty of karma has been burned off by this experience.
      My realisation is now just around the corner.

      San Diego, California
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