No, No nOby Not Here
- Dear nOby,
Once again, I am not Ok'ing your most recent word salad... er... i
mean writing, for posting here. As usual, it was very hard to
understand, and also included many html click-on items. And as usual,
at least one of them attacked someone personally. And this time for
one of the silliest things possible, being too "obese". It reminded me
of my reaction when Sri Sarlo posted a quote of Osho's, where Osho
said Swami Sivananda was no good because he was the fattest Guru in
India. Hah...As if the number or nature of cellular structures in
someone's physical body had some bearing on their spiritual
I wish you well, and hope you soon get over all your blind spots,
angers, habitual reactivity, and all other "negative" parts of your Being.
Peace and blessings,
- --- In email@example.com, medit8ionsociety
> Dear nOby,.......
> Peace and blessings,Dear Bob, dear readers,
''What is love, but a second hand emotion?? dubidu''
sounds somewhere from beyond, starting my letter,
`'what is love, but to stay true to yourself?''
To respect yourself with your bordered brain?
To accept failure over failure from all
your best intention? To accept your
body getting older, weaker day by day?
To accept your expectations mostly
ruined by experiences? To accept,
how friends turn your back on you?
To accept, that's nobody is around,
when you down and out? To accept,
you fall and fall again to stand up
one more time till you can't anymore?
To accept your futile efforts for
more peace, love, free speech?
To accept, that the best ones fail
- and the worst ones succeed ?
This body brain grows older and older,
gets beyond these endless quarrels
of never ending minority complex
loaded demonstration, how worthy
again those word works may be
for the readers, who rest with
these thoughts with their
life time, with their love?
What is love, but to stay together
in all quarrels, controversities,
to hold to each other with
caring words, feelings,
support, ravings and
What is love, to forget yourself
one flowering moment holding
your breath to care for yourself
like for others, who are part
of your world, who live
somewhere in your
heart, mind and
body, when my
my little Mimamai?
What is love, when not to create
a environment for freedom?
For freedom to quarrel
till cowards get strength
to communicate expressive,
what's need to be said for those
dumb ones, who can't listen to
anything else but an existential
break down running out of
money, health or life time?
What is love, but the worldwide
terrific tensions burning in
Outbursts of catastrophes?
In natural havoc or warriors
Job of deathly destruction
- the poisonous remedy for
healing time in total exhaustion
like these nearly 60 years of
peace in our homeland Germany now?
What else is love, but to stay alive?
Alive and together?
For example here?
P.S. Mimamai is my woman
longer then the seven last years: