Tuesday, September 23, 2014

doership








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Why should you bear your load on your head when you are traveling on a train? 

It carries you and your load whether the load is on your head or on the floor of the train. You are not lessening the burden of the train by keeping it on your head but only straining yourself unnecessarily.
 

Similar is the sense of doership in the world by individuals.


–Ramana Maharshi








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Monday, September 22, 2014

today







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Dance.
A thousand times I have ascertained and found it to be true: the affairs of this world are really nothing into nothing. 

Still though, we should dance.


–Hafiz






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datura

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you are beautiful







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You suppose that you are the lock on the door
But you are the key that opens it

It’s too bad that you want to be someone else

You don’t see your own face, your own beauty
Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.


—Rumi






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wild geese







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You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile, the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across landscapes,
over the prairies and deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting---
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.


–Mary Oliver







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Sunday, September 21, 2014

for your Sunday







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happy birthday, Leonard







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We kneel in gratitude
as the movements in love
disperse our sweet intentions
across the fictions
of Companionship-
two of the creatures
which You named Me
 

Leonard Cohen








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today







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Be kind to your sleeping heart.

Awake awhile.
It does not have to be
Forever,
Right now.
One step upon the Sky’s soft skirt
Would be enough.
Hafiz,
Awake awhile.
Just one True moment of Love
Will last for days. 

Rest all your elaborate plans and tactics
For Knowing Him,
For they are all just frozen spring buds
Far,
So far from Summer’s Divine Gold.
Awake, my dear.

Be kind to your sleeping heart.
Take it out into the vast fields of Light
And let it breathe

Say,
“Love,
Give me back my wings.
Lift me,
Lift me nearer.” 

Say to the sun and moon,
Say to our dear Friend,
“I will take You up now, Beloved,
On that wonderful Dance You promised.” 


–Hafiz







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here







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Come, live in my heart, and pay no rent. 

—Samuel Lover







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let’s live suddenly without thinking









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let’s live suddenly without thinking
under honest trees,
                        a stream
does.the brain of cleverly-crinkling
-water pursues the angry dream
of the shore. By midnight,
                                a moon
scratches the skin of the organised hills
an edged nothing begins to prune
let’s live like the light that kills
and let’s as silence,
                            because Whirl’s after all:
(after me)love,and after you.
 I occasionally feel vague how
vague idon’t know tenuous Now-
spears and The Then-arrows making do
our mouths something red,something tall


–E. E. Cummings







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there is a(n energy) field








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Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing
there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.


–Rumi






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delicious trouble


Freckles by Krys Bailey

 
 
 
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This the spirit that Beauty must ever induce, wonderment and a delicious trouble, longing and love and a trembling that is all delight.

For the unseen all this may be felt as for the seen; and this is the Soul's feel for it, every Soul in some degree, but those the more deeply that are the more truly apt to this higher love – just as all take delight in the beauty of the body but all are not stung as sharply, and those only that feel the keener wound are known as Lovers.

These Lovers, then, lovers of the beauty outside of sense, must be made to declare themselves.


–Plotinus







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Saturday, September 20, 2014

today







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Remember, you are entirely on your own.
You must realize first of all that you are the proof of everything, including yourself. 

None can prove your existence, because this existence must be confirmed by you first. 

Your being and knowing you owe nobody. 

You are entirely on your own.
You do not come from somewhere, you do not go anywhere.
You are timeless being and awareness.


–Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj








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view with a grain of sand








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We call it a grain of sand
but it calls itself neither grain nor sand.
It does just fine without a name,
whether general, particular,
permanent, passing,
incorrect or apt.
Our glance, our touch mean nothing to it.
It doesn't feel itself seen and touched.
And that it fell on the windowsill
is only our experience, not its.
For it it's no different than falling on anything else
with no assurance that it's finished falling
or that it's falling still.

The window has a wonderful view of a lake
but the view doesn't view itself.
It exists in this world
colorless, shapeless,
soundless, odorless, and painless.

The lake's floor exists floorlessly
and its shore exists shorelessly.
Its water feels itself neither wet nor dry
and its waves to themselves are neither singular nor plural,
They splash deaf to their own noise
on pebbles neither large nor small.

And all this beneath a sky by nature skyless
in which the sun sets without setting at all
and hides without hiding behind an unminding cloud.
The wind ruffles it,  its only reason being
that it blows.

A second passes
A second second.
A third.
But they're three seconds only for us.

Time has passed like a courier with urgent news.
But that's just our simile.
The character's invented, his haste is make-believe,
his news inhuman.


–Wislawa Szymborska
Stanislaw Baraniczak and Clara Cavanagh translation









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needful things







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By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. 

The non-existent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.


—Nikos Kazantzakis






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location








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Truth cannot be out there—cannot exist independently of the human
mind—because sentences cannot so exist, or be out there

The world is out there, but descriptions of the world are not.
Only descriptions of the world can be true or false. 

The world on its own—unaided by the describing activities of humans—
cannot. 


–Richard Rorty
Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity









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existence



 






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Ultimately, you are the proof that God exists, not the other way around. For before any question about God can be put, you must be there to put it.


–Nisargadatta Maharaj

Friday, September 19, 2014

natural laws







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Just as man is composed of earth, water, air and fire, so this body of the earth is similar.
Whereas man has bones within himself, the supports and framework of the flesh, the world has rocks, the supports of the earth; if man has within himself the lake of blood, wherein the lungs expand and contract in breathing, the body of the earth has its ocean, which also expands and contracts every six hours with the breathing of the world; as from the said lake of blood arise the veins, which spread their branches through the human body; likewise the ocean fills the body of the earth with an infinite number of veins of water.
The same cause which moves the humorous in every species of animate bodies against the natural law of gravity also propels the water through the veins of the earth wherein it is enclosed, and distributes it through small passages.
And as the blood rises from below and pours out through the broken veins of the forehead, as the water rises from the lowest part of the vein to the branches that are cut, so from the lowest depth of the sea the water rises to the summits of the mountain, where, finding the veins broken, it pours out and returns to the bottom of the sea.


–Leonardo da Vinci, 1490








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safe in their alabaster chambers







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Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.

Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine;
Babbles the bee in a stolid ear;
Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadences, —
Ah, what sagacity perished here!

Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.


–Emily Dickinson




















Are You a Mere Picture?

 





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Are you a mere picture, and not as true as those stars, true as
this dust? They throb with the pulse of things, but you are
immensely aloof in your stillness, painted form. 
The day was when you walked with me, your breath warm, your
limbs singing of life. My world found its speech in your voice, and
touched my heart with your face. You suddenly stopped in your walk,
in the shadow-side of the Forever, and I went on alone.

Life, like a child, laughs, shaking its rattle of death as it
runs; it beckons me on, I follow the unseen; but you stand there,
where you stopped behind that dust and those stars; and you are a
mere picture.
No, it cannot be. Had the life-flood utterly stopped in you,
it would stop the river in its flow, and the foot-fall of dawn in
her cadence of colours. Had the glimmering dusk of your hair
vanished in the hopeless dark, the woodland shade of summer would
die with its dreams.
Can it be true that I forgot you? We haste on without heed, forgetting the flowers on the roadside hedge. Yet they breathe unaware into our forgetfulness, filling it with music. You have moved from my world, to take seat at the root of my life, and therefore is this forgetting-remembrance lost in its own depth.
You are no longer before my songs, but one with them. You came
to me with the first ray of dawn. I lost you with the last gold of
evening. Ever since I am always finding you through the dark. No,
you are no mere picture.


–Rabindranath Tagore
Lover’s Gifts XLII









Thursday, September 18, 2014

How can you best explain quantum mechanics in 5 words or less?




Don’t look : waves.
Look : particles.

 
(The answer to a challenge asked by Sean Carroll on Twitter,
originally posed by physicist John Wheeler.)










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There is a lot to say about quantum mechanics, perhaps the most mysterious idea ever to be contemplated by human beings, but all we need is one simple (but hard to accept) fact: 

How the world appears when we look at it is very different from how it really is.


–Sean Carroll
 The Particle at the End of the Universe -
The Hunt for the Higgs and the Discovery of a New World







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on dragons and princesses








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We must assume our existence as broadly as we in any way can; everything, even the unheard-of, must be possible in it. That is at bottom the only courage which is demanded of us: to have courage for the most extraordinary, the most singular, and the most inexplicable that we may encounter.
Only he or she who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most inigmatical, will live the relation to another as something alive and will wholly expand his or her being.
For if we think of this existence of the individual as a larger or smaller room, it appears evident that most people learn to know only a corner of their room, a place by the window, a strip of floor on which they walk up and down.
Thus, they have a certain security.
And yet that dangerous insecurity is so much more human than that which drives the prisoners in Poe's stories to feel out the shapes of their horrible dungeons and not be strangers to the unspeakable terror of their abode.
We, however, are not prisoners. We have no reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us.
Has it terrors, they are our terrors; has it abysses, those abysses belong to us; are dangers at hand, we must try to love them.
And if only we arrange our life according to that principle which counsels us that we must always hold to the difficult, then that which now still seems to us the most alien will become what we most trust and find most faithful.
How should we be able to forget those ancient myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses;
perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave.


–Rainer Maria Rilke

Letters to a Young Poet







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Wednesday, September 17, 2014

A Message from Space








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Everything that happens is the message:
you read an event and be one and wait,
like breasting a wave, all the while knowing
by living, though not knowing how to live.


Or workers built an antenna -- a dish
aimed at stars -- and they themselves are its message,
crawling in and out, being worlds that loom,
dot-dash, and sirens, and sustaining beams.


And sometimes no one is calling but we turn up
eye and ear -- suddenly we fall into
sound before it begins, the breathing
so still it waits there under the breath --


And then the green of leaves calls out, hills
where they wait or turn, clouds in their frenzied
stillness unfolding their careful words:
"Everything counts. The message is the world."



–William Stafford
The Way It Is








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Tuesday, September 16, 2014

today






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Just rest. 

Just sit there right now
Don’t do a thing
Just rest.
For your separation from God,
From love,

Is the hardest work
In this
World.


Let me bring you trays of food
And something
That you like to
Drink.


You can use my soft words
As a cushion
For your
Head.



–Hafiz
Daniel Ladinsky translation








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Monday, September 15, 2014

The Book on the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are, excerpt







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We do not “come into” this world;
we come out of it, as leaves from a tree.
As the ocean “waves,” the universe “peoples.” 
Every individual is an expression of the whole realm of nature, a unique action of the total universe. 
This fact is rarely, if ever, experienced by most individuals. 

Even those who know it to be true in theory do not sense or feel it, but continue to be aware of themselves as isolated “egos” inside bags of skin.
You didn’t come into this world.
You came out of it, like a wave from the ocean.

You are not a stranger here.

—Alan Watts







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you are








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The body is not you, the name is not you.
The body is the food you have consumed;
the taste of the food is the knowledge ‘I am’.
That is Self, the feeling ‘I am’,
that is the love to be. 
How amazing, how incredible, it has no name, but you give many names to it.
It is the Self, the love to be.
That love to be is all pervading. 
Before you conceptualize anything, you are.
Even before the knowingness, you are.


–Nisargadatta








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God is a metaphor







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God is a metaphor for a mystery that absolutely transcends all human categories of thought.


–Joseph Campbell 







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the keeper of flocks, excerpt






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Metaphysics?
What metaphysics do these trees have?

That of being green and having crowns and branches
And that of giving fruit at their hours,
– which is not what makes us think – us,
who don't know to be aware of them.


But what better metaphysics than theirs,
Which is not knowing why they live
And not knowing they don't know?

–Fernando Pessoa







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Sunday, September 14, 2014

today

 






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Sit and be still

until in the time
of no rain you hear

beneath the dry wind's
commotion in the trees

the sound of flowing
water among the rocks,

a stream unheard before,

and you are where
breathing is prayer.


–Wendell Berry








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the snow man








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One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.



–Wallace Stevens








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sight








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Once
a single cell
found that it was full of light
and for the first time there was seeing

when
I was a bird
I could see where the stars had turned
and I set out on my journey

high
in the head of a mountain goat
I could see across a valley
under the shining trees something moving

deep
in the green sea
I saw the two sides of the water
and swam between them

I
look at you
in the first light of the morning
for as long as I can


–W. S. Merwin







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