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  • B Kalahan
    Much love, fellow steward of the Earth. Thank you for being conscious of life in all of its unique manifestations. I know that we are strange to each others
    Message 1 of 2 , Aug 19, 2008
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      Much love, fellow steward of the Earth. Thank you for being conscious of life in all of its unique manifestations. I know that we are strange to each others aquaintance, though I would like to offer some assistance. I want to remind you that we are eternal beings and each of us has the ability to acheive anything that we can perceive. If you know what you would like to acheive and accept that you can create anything, you have everything you need. Through diligent practice of the parts you are certain of, you will intuitively receive the less tangible parts of the equation. I understand that you resonate very closely with the ideas of Masuro Fukuoka. Please consider that we are all one and that love perpetuated is merely that. We do not own love nor do we own sadness, though it is what we perpetuate that emenates throughout creation strengthening and growing. My reason for reminding you of this is to encourage you to continue what your predecessor has
      lived for. What we perceive outside of the self is a direct reflection of what is within. Therefore the energy you confide in is in you. Use this compassion for health and love to assist All in acceptance of a higher consciousness. We are not outside of nature. One Love

      --- On Sun, 8/17/08, chris opler <chrisopler@...> wrote:

      From: chris opler <chrisopler@...>
      Subject: [fukuoka_farming] JAPANESE CEDARS AT THE ZEN CENTER
      To: fukuoka_farming@yahoogroups.com
      Date: Sunday, August 17, 2008, 12:29 PM

      ------------ --------- --------- ---

      "After visiting some Eastern states and before I started my journey
      home, I stopped at the Green Gulch Zen Center outside San Francisco, a
      place I had visited before. This center is surrounded by bare,
      savannah like hills, but considering that there is a redword forest in
      a nearby national park, it seems likely that in ancient times this area
      also was densely forested.

      My guide when I visited the place before, a leader of the center and a
      Native American Indian chief, was no longer there. After seeing the
      redwood forest, where huge trees 200-250 feet in hieght grew densely
      over a large area, I had told him that the ecosystem of mised trees
      and undergrowth in the the park closely resembled the virgin forests of
      Japan. We discussed the fact that a hint about how to accomplish the
      revegetation of California Could be found there. When we parted, I
      told him, 'You are the guardian deity of the American forests. You are
      a gian in both body and spirit.' He replied, 'You are small, but you
      are a giant of the Orient,' and everyone had a good laugh.

      Redwood trees quickly grow to a large size, but their roots are
      shallow, so they easily fall over. In contrast, the Yaku and Yanase
      cryptomerias, or Japanese Cedars, send down deep roots, so I promised
      to send him some seeds of those varieties. After returning to Japan, I
      did send him a ahndful of seeds, and in return he presented me with a
      cup made from the top of redwood tree.

      I had heard that he carefully planted those cryptomeria seeds, but when
      I visited the Zen Center this time the members came to greet me, the
      first thing they did was show me a photograph.

      The large protograph showed the leader on his deathbed, surrounded by
      his disciples. He had raised himself into a sitting position and was
      planting seeds in a seedling flat. They told me he had said, 'These
      seeds are Fukuoka's spirit. Sow them carefully, and when the seedlings
      have developed, plant them in those three valleys over there.' After
      giving them these instructions, he had passed away.

      When I though about how he, with his large body had resembled the
      images of the recumbent Sakyamuni Buddha entering nirvana, had cared so
      much about the seeds I had sent him and had been deeply concerned about
      the greening of the desert, a lump rose to my throat and I was unable
      to speak.

      Ten or twenty people took me to see the place where he had told them to
      plant the seedlings. Several hundred cryptomeria saplings where
      growing there, some o fthem as much as six feet tall. Iron stakes had
      been driven into the ground around each tree, and barbed wire was wound
      around them. I was told that this was to keep away the der and
      realized just how much troubled they had gone to. "Our teacher must be
      glad you came to see this place."

      "our teacher is reseting at the foot of that hill over there." Then I
      looked closely in the direction they were pointing. I could see a spot
      of about for square yards on the other side of the valley where some
      stones had been crudely piled up. It was similar to gravesites I had
      seen in the desert of Somalia.

      One person said, "Our teacher must be calling out to you saying, 'Let's plant seeds in the desert.'"

      Jokingly, I answerd, "It looks like a comfortable place. It might not
      be bad to lie down there with him." But as soon as I said this, I
      suddenly burst into an uncrontrollable flood of tears.

      Yes, it was true. The man lying there had been a sower of seeds in the
      desert. When I thought how he might be the only perseon I would ever
      meet who understood me, who would live with me and die with me. I
      stood rooted to the spot, headless of the tears coursing down my cheeks.

      I have no idea why I was crying so, when I hadn't even shed tears when
      my mother and father died. This was the second time I had cried in
      fifty years. The first time was only my earlier visit when I spoke at
      a summer camp held in the midst of a virgin forest at French Meadow. I
      was recalling the spring of my twenty-fifth year, when I underwent my
      change of heart, and had just asked, "What is the true nature?"
      Suddenly words failed me, and tears flowed from my eyes. I had to ask
      to stop my talk. The situation was completely differing, but I had a
      feeling they were same tears.

      He was no longer here. Neither his body nor his spirit were in this
      world any more. It was because I knew that his pirit was not even
      drifting about in some other world that I was able to cry.

      I sensed that those tears flowed from some place that transcended lie
      and death and that, in fact, I had been bathed in refreshing tears of

      The people of the Zen Center must have had the same feeling. They left
      me there and, while gazing up at the blue California sky and talking
      happily about him, headed back to the Zen Center."

      "Then it happened. The silence of dawn was broken, and the morning
      light shone through the thin mist, which seemed to be peeled away layer
      by layer. Morning had come. All of a sudden, with the sound of
      fiercely beating wings, a night heron rose into the air and flew away,
      leaving behind a single sharp cry. I think that with that single cry I
      suddenly awoke. At the same time, something hot veiled up in my chest,
      as a fresh, new world opened up within my heart. I knew instinctively,
      without a doubt, that this was the world of muchia, of detachment. I
      was unable to stop my ceaseless flow of tears."

      Greetings. Here are a few of my favorites from 'The Ultimatum of GOD NATURE, The One-Straw Revolution A RECAPITULATION. '

      "Through the dark shade of cedars the road twists and turns
      At last it arrives at a mountain monastery
      Encircled by lamps a small gathering avails me, smiling
      Ah now I know my heart's home is here
      After wantering over mountains and rivers my journey has ended
      Let us pray together.

      The morning sun glistens on the treetops
      Beneath my gaze stretches the Chikush Plain
      Eternally time flows on flows on into the Genkay Sea
      Ah when the earth is green the people are prosperous and at peace
      Birds and beasts live in harmony butterflies dance in the sky
      Let us sing together.

      Bathed in the glow of the setting sun I hear the toll of the bell.
      Letting go of my hoe I linger in prayer.
      My work for the day now has ended.
      Ah today yesterday for ages unchanged this feeling of peace
      In the garden flowers bloom birds sing a hymn to God.
      Let us give praise together."

      ----- Message d'origine ----
      De : "o-tanig@edd. osaka-sandai. ac.jp" <o-tanig@edd. osaka-sandai. ac.jp>
      À : fukuoka_farming@ yahoogroups. com
      Envoyé le : Dimanche, 17 Août 2008, 8h25mn 43s
      Objet : [fukuoka_farming] Mr. Fukuoka died

      According to the Newspaper Asahi Mr. Fukuoka died on 16 August.
      The age is 95 years old.

      Okinori Taniguchi

      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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