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Re: organism and identity / for maria luisa

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  • Era
    ... on that note my warm hearted angel here is the barren desert through enlightened eyes Karta
    Message 1 of 105 , Oct 1 12:45 PM
      --- In meditationsocietyofamerica@yahoogroups.com, "Nina" <murrkis@y...> wrote:
      > > > > > Allow me to point out, that I have never revealed to you
      > > > > > my personal experiences with consciousness, except
      > > > > > indirectly.
      > > > >
      > > > > so rather than play ring around the mulberry bush why don't
      > > > > you simply speak openly of what it is ?
      > > >
      > > > Well, considering that all we can do is speak indirectly of it,
      > > > how would I reply?
      > >
      > > SG: perhaps start by directly sharing what it was for
      > > you ...... rather than speaking of the by-products
      > > which are being filtered as a process of thinking ......
      > SG, what would you have me do? There is no dream-sharing
      > machine available, as was available to Claire in
      > "Until the End of the World". You will have to be
      > satisfied with my particular language of expression,
      > even if the apparent logic is distasteful to you.
      > What a farce it would be for me to express it in any
      > other way than what comes naturally. If you were a close
      > friend, someone I trusted deeply, I might share more
      > of the herstory of specifics, or even be available to
      > lead the way into the experience. However, "Nina" (and
      > probably many others on these lists) is more private than
      > to broadcast such things, and also sees them as "beside
      > the point". If you are interested and looking, you can
      > find it in what I write.
      > > N: > There are all manner of spontaneous expressions of being
      > > > filled with "The Holy Spirit". As regards my own expression
      > > > of this highly intimate experience, either you see it in
      > > > what I share, or you don't. The same could be said of anyone's
      > > > contributions on this list.
      > > >
      > > > Ring around the mulberry bush is what we do here, on these
      > > > lists.
      > >
      > > SG: that could be ended ...... it is a choice.........
      > You are correct, I could determine to stop posting on these lists.
      > > > You may call my writing 'cold', others might call it 'direct',
      > > > yet others might find it to be different, entirely.
      > > > You say my writing is based in 'logic'; however, where is my
      > > > "logic" coming from, except from "experience"?
      > >
      > > SG: try bringing it from the Heart rather than the sterility
      > > of intellect and intellectual process .........
      > You are mistaken if you think that my intellect/intellectual process
      > is not arising from the heart. How do you think it is, that my
      > intellect is inspired?
      > The desert southwest in the USA looks sterile and lifeless to those
      > who are used to life being abundantly visible and green. Vitality has
      > many expressions.
      > to each her own,
      > Nina

      on that note my warm hearted angel
      here is the barren desert through
      enlightened eyes


    • Era
      ... Nina, you just made my day smiles
      Message 105 of 105 , Oct 5 4:51 AM
        --- In meditationsocietyofamerica@yahoogroups.com, "Nina" <murrkis@y...> wrote:
        > > > When the inspiration fails, it is no worse than
        > > > a sandcastle being washed away by the beach tide.
        > > > Tomorrow, I build another sandcastle.
        > > >
        > > > The thing is, I do know that at any time, I could
        > > > let go of the sandcastle building... but why?
        > > > Maybe you know why and would share the why...
        > >
        > > SG: one perhaps builds sandcastles until there is no longer
        > > an attachment to building and creating a structured form ......
        > > Inspirations may be wrapped up in sandcastles .....
        > >
        > > perhaps at that point one simply creates them out of the joy of
        > > the moment..... not expecting them to last but simply for the
        > > beauty and joy of spontaneous art and motion which flows from
        > > the Bliss of Being here now in this place in this moment .......
        > > it needs not carry behind it some representation or hidden
        > > meaning it simply is as it is Beautiful and sacred within it's own
        > > right.......
        > >
        > > then as in all things (this creation of the moment) simply falls
        > > away so that another image may take its place
        > >
        > > First one goes beyond the transient unfolding play before it is
        > > fully understood and appreciated for what it is ....... then one
        > > steps back into the lila and play simply Enjoying that lila as an
        > > expression of Infinite Love in motion........
        > > Formless or Form it is the same Essense
        > > minus the distinguishing factors .....
        > > SG: hahahahaha perhaps so .... everything proceeds from
        > > Source and returns to Source in some manner......
        > >
        > >
        > > Infinite Love
        > 1. There are pictures of this sandcastle building: faded square
        > photographs with radiused corners, the blues and greens and sand
        > colors of photographs from that time, the reds always slightly
        > pungent, as if the pigment were wired and erratic, unsure of its
        > place in the film. There we are, squatting in the sand: my blond-
        > haired mother, sitting aside, arm around the barrel-chest of the
        > small grey dog; my father and a very small I sitting together,
        > scraping sand into forms. What the photograph barely hints at is the
        > joy of building that sandcastle, part enjoyment of the sand and
        > water, part thrill and satisfaction of building it with my father.
        > What the photograph doesn't contain is what came later. After
        > building it, I felt so much happiness and pride; we played in the
        > water, and I kept looking back to see that sandcastle sitting before
        > the waves. Then the two boys came, stepping into the sandcastle,
        > crushing it. I cried salt tears to the sea, inconsolable, and unable
        > to explain or even understand that the greatest loss was not the
        > sandcastle, but what the sandcastle represented.
        > 2. We like to go early to the beach, before the beach patrol comes on
        > line, and let our dogs run off leash. One morning, on the way back,
        > we are walking close to the dunes, past a sandcastle left above the
        > tide line. One of the dogs stalks the sandcastle, circling it,
        > sniffing it carefully, as if the castle might move. She notes the
        > hollow center of the castle, and daintily scratches it with one paw,
        > once, twice. Moving within the hollow, she begins to dig, throwing
        > large arcs of sand beneath and behind her, very efficiently deepening
        > the hollow. Sufficiently inspired, she leaps from the castle, and
        > runs circles on the beach. She is amazing, lean muscle and arching
        > back, her earth-pounding feet carrying her so close to us on her
        > returns that her breath is heard and wake is felt.
        > 3. After the walk, I remain on the beach after the others return
        > home. The sun is coming up, pink and orange, and the sky is humid and
        > a thick blue-grey. The moon is still out, and a few stars, but are
        > gradually fading in a sky that is approaching their brilliance. I
        > stand within the laps of the waves, and look out to the rocking
        > shrimp boats, and the long, thin horizon beyond. With each receding
        > wave, the water draws sand from beneath the edges of my feet.
        > Eventually, I am balancing on two pyramids beneath my arches. I find
        > that if I am not perfectly balanced through the soles of my feet as
        > these pyramids form, that eventually I must cling to the tops of the
        > pyramids with the muscles of my legs, lest my feet slide from the
        > pyramids. I stand for a long while like this, trying on new pyramids,
        > learning as a matter of course what it is to be perfectly balanced
        > within my soles, and how transparent and effortless that feels,
        > watching the night suns recede as I am warmed by the heat advancing
        > in the eastern sky. At some point, the shrimp boats disappear, and I
        > take that as my cue to leave.
        > Thanks for your letter, SG.
        > Nina

        Nina, you just made my day

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