Showing posts with label Simone Weil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Simone Weil. Show all posts

Thursday, May 15, 2025

Listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world. —Jack Kerouac

  






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You have seen that the universe is at root a magical illusion and a fabulous game, and that there is no separate you to get something out of it, as if life were a bank to be robbed. 

The only real "you” is the one that comes and goes, manifests and withdraws itself eternally in and as every conscious being. 
For “you” is the universe looking at itself from billions of points of view, points that come and go so that the vision is forever new. 

Just as there is no time but the present, and no one except the all-and-everything, there is never anything to be gained - though the zest of the game is to pretend that there is.


—Hakuin


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Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time?

That the river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of the future?

If time is not real, then the dividing line between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion. 


—Herman Hesse
Siddhartha


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To give up our imaginary position as the center, to renounce it, not only intellectually but in the imaginative part of our soul, that means to awaken to what is real and eternal, to see the true light and hear the true silence.


—Simone Weil
Waiting for God


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Wednesday, March 5, 2025

Next to blood relationships, come water relationships. —Stanley Crawford

   





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It is only necessary to know that love is a direction not a state of the soul. 

If one is unaware of this, one falls into despair at the first onslaught of affliction.


—Simone Weil
The Love of God and Affliction, Waiting for God



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In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood -
A lord of nature weeping to a tree.
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
That place among the rocks - is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have. 


—Theodore Roethke



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