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Re: organism and identity / for sg

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  • Era
    ... I like that ... great advise ... I understand now my mom was a, active medium, she used to go into trance the spirit trhough her made charcoal drawings,
    Message 1 of 105 , Oct 2, 2003
      > > dear SG and at all,
      > Namaste Light of the One Heart -
      > > I ask you to forgive me I am having
      > > a talk at n other forum
      > SG: there is nothing to forgive. it is simply another passing
      > wave on the Ocean of Being ....

      I like that

      > > and I became agitated
      > SG: perhaps the other forum is not edifying but disturbing to
      > your peace and light . if so would it not be simply
      > more beneficial to put your attention on something
      > that would feed your understanding and wisdom.
      > K> I am immersed in music and the dots
      > > brake my train of though and I loose
      > > focus and have to go back constantly
      > SG: ah - this happens when one attempts to divide the
      > train of thought. try turning off the music to read
      > and then between posts turn it on and listen to a
      > whole song. (this of course is simply a suggestion)
      > When you listen Immerse yourself within it .

      great advise

      > K: I don't get the meaning of them either,
      > > why are there where they are and what
      > > does the variety their nubers mean
      > > if anything
      > SG: they are simply pauses., until the next line emmerges
      > from the stillness to the light of day on the page . The
      > number of more or less means nothing other than
      > the momentary happening .

      I understand now

      my mom was a, active medium, she
      used to go into trance the 'spirit'
      trhough her made charcoal drawings,
      what than she analysed for hours with
      her girl frineds, thay met every week


      > K: may ask you what do they mean to you?
      > SG: explanation is above.
      > sg:> > disturb your peace?
      > K: no, my love of rhytm
      > SG: ah here it is simply another aspect of the flow and
      > rhythm... rather than the stopping of all motion the dots
      > flow until the next visual image appears..
      > sg: if so take a deep breath sit back and ask yourself
      > > > honestly Why ?
      > > > This is an potential opening to reach deep and
      > > > contemplate how caught up you are within these
      > K: I hope you are kidding
      > its not that important
      > SG: i wasn't kidding ... but am glad to see that it isn't as
      > much of a problem to your peace as first stated... it is
      > never meant to disturb your peace ...
      > sg: minor externals that you are allowing to disturb your
      > peace .......
      > > > the dots are nothing more than pauses along the
      > > > path ...... they are not there to disturb your peace.....
      > > > perhaps see them simply as reminders to stop and
      > > > smell the roses rather than rushing through the
      > garden and savoring the fragrance...
      > K: > I do that with MY OWN beat
      > SG: ah well there you have it ... each has a natural flow .
      > this is simply part of my flow ....
      > K: oh! I see: the preachers pause when making an
      > "important' point
      > SG: maybe it is the poets pause.... is there a tendency to
      > see this open heart sharing as *preaching* ?

      oh! of course you are a poet, I read
      some beautiful ones

      > K: > like a highlight
      > > I dislike preacher stance, other
      > > than the black ones in a Gospel
      > SG: would it be better sung with a beat ?
      > > Infinite Love
      > > I love this signo SG and I know its true coming from you
      > > love, Karta
      > SG: there is nothing more important to give than this.
      > there is nothing more to be other than this as a
      > recognition of the same Essense within all Life
      > at the core of Being . For some it is simply covered
      > over in a veil of illusion .

      love, Karta
    • Era
      ... Nina, you just made my day smiles
      Message 105 of 105 , Oct 5, 2003
        --- 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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