Upanishads - The little space

"The little space within the heart
is as great as the vast universe.
The heavens and the earth are there,
and the sun and the moon and the stars.
Fire and lightning and winds are there,
and all that now is and all that is not."

 

Wu Hsin - This That

art Jungle eye

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Electricity by itself does not provide illumination.
It requires an instrument, such as a light bulb.
The subject cannot perceive itself.
To do so, an objectification and an instrument
that can perceive said objectification are required.

Being is what witnesses the world.
Yet, there is That which witnesses Being.
As this Perceiving, It situates Itself in time
and tasks the mind to provide the entertainment.
It is Spectating the spectacle.

Clear, eyes open sight is the apprehension
that whatever appears comes to be seen
as the interaction between the Absolute and Its objective expression.
This is a recognition, a knowing that in It
and through It the entire universe and its activities are supported.

Antecedent to Conscious Being,
It is that which can not be observed by definition,
and which by Itself constantly illumines all.

It is that which exists fully and is not state-dependent.
It is That which knows, not a knower, but Perceiving as such.
It is That on which existence depends.
Itself, It exists as nothing; but It is at the root of everything.
It is That which once known, nothing else need be known.

That Itself stages a play with Itself,
first revealing, then perceiving, then experiencing Itself.

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Steve Taylor - Sacred Days

There are no special days -
there is only the spinning of the earth
towards the sun and away again,
warming its face before the fire
then turning again to the cold black space.

The year has no end or beginning.
There is only the floating of the earth,
tilting through the seasons like a yacht at sea.
circling a course laid down by gravity.

Every day is sacred -
every moment of this journey,
every spin and tilt and curve,
every forward flow through space.
And I will celebrate them all.

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Art Robby Donaghey

Valery Larbaud - "the gift of oneself"

art Martin Stranka

i offer myself to each as his reward; 

here it is, even before you deserved it.

there is something in me,

in the deepest part of me, at the center of me, 

something infinitely barren 

like the tops of the highest mountains;

something comparable to the blind spot in the retina,

and with no echo, 

and yet which sees and hears; 

a being with a life of it's own, which nonetheless 

lives my whole life, and listens, impassive, 

to all the chitchat of my consciousness.

a being made of nothing, if that's possible, 

insensitive to my physical suffering,

that doesn't weep when i weep,

that doesn't laugh when i laugh, 

that doesn't blush when i do something shameful,

and that doesn't moan when my heart is aching;

that doesn't make a move and gives no advice,

but seems to say eternally: "i'm here, indifferent to everything."

maybe it is as empty as emptiness is, 

but so big that good and evil together do not fill it.

where hatred dies of suffocation and the greatest love never penetrates.

so take all of me: the meaning of these poems, 

not what can be read, but what comes across in spite of me:

take, take, you have nothing. 

wherever i go, in the whole world, 

i always meet, 

around me as in me, 

the unfillable void,

the unconquerable nothing.

   

— " the gift of oneself" by valery larbaud

translated from the french by ron padgett & bill zavatsky

for the random house book of twentieth century french poetry

Naomi Stone - Bewildering beauty of the Beloved

art Rassouli

There is a song ….

the words sing the sad story….

that the thrill is gone….

and what happens

when they no longer feel

the currents of desire …..

no longer feel able to see

someone or something with the eyes

of bewildering disorientation

which so many mistake for love…

 

Like earthly wine…

earthly love is a beginning….

opening the senses…

 

but when love comes in its purity arises…..

awakens……………..expands ……

and grants us divine vision….

……the thrill is forever new……

something lifts us

in the sheer lightness of Spirit….

delicately spun spreading..

gliding…………..sheer……..invisible wings…

orbs………..shimmering cloud…

catching the light..

bears us on the breath of love

 

When the Beloved gazes through

our earthly eyes

the solid illusion dissolves

and melts away…..

and a different seeing emerges…

…i call it “beholding” ……….

 

Behold…………the kingdom is at hand……..

the Beloved brushes by………

and touches with the softness of air

spirit to spirit

a movement of beauty……..

felt in the heart………….

that softens the soul

the soothing sound

of the sighs of creation 

love overflowing ……

shimmering strings of the heart

sing like the harp……….

quivering with music

only the Beloved can play

Naomi Stone: "I am a contemplative, a mystic, a pilgrim, a seeker, a woman deeply in love with the God hidden in all of us, in all of His Creation, who comes shining out when we least expect it and takes my breath away and breathes me with His sublime Presence in everything. I have two sons and loved raising them. I was a teacher for years, taught at the university level, did some community work, helped start a hospice in our area, and worked with patients and families for years. I am consoled by Nature and the natural world and have embraced the life of a spiritual hermit." You may visit Naomi on her website here where she has shared over 700 of her poems over the last four years. You may contact her via Facebook here. 

Wei Wu Wei - The pure land

Q. Is IT possible to be rid of the concept of “other” without at the same time 

being rid of the concept of “I”, or to be rid of the concept of “I”' 

without at the same time being rid of the concept of ”other”?
☼ Wei Wu Wei : It is not possible.
Q. With which should one begin?
☼ WWW : With neither. An identified subject cannot rid itself of either concept.
Q. That is news, bad news! I thought that was what is required of us?
☼ WWW : As well be required to scoop up the moon by baling its reflection out of a puddle!
Q. What then?
☼ WWW : Until an identified subject knows what he is, 

he cannot be expected to realize what he is not.
Q. Cannot I say also that until he knows what he is not, he cannot realize what he is?
☼ WWW : You can. You should. You must.
Q. There seems to be no way out!
☼ WWW : That is why we are not all Buddhas. 

If it seemed to be possible should we not have done it long ago?
Q. But there must be a way out!
☼ WWW : There is no 'way', and nothing 'out'. It is here and now.
Q. Then what is it?
☼ WWW : What it is—is quite obvious.
Q. Not to me.
☼ WWW : If you can't find it by looking—don't look, 

if you can't find it by thinking—don't think! 

It is where there is no looking, and no thinking.
Q. Because it cannot either be seen or thought?
☼ WWW. : Not at all.
Q. Why, then?
☼ WWW : Not because it cannot be seen or thought, 

but because there is no 'one' to look or to think!
Q. Then what does one do?
'☼WWW : One' does not do. 'One' does not even cease to do.
Q. And so?
☼ WWW : It is better for you to tell me. 

Is what your identified subject is—anything he can know?
Q. Surely not.
☼ WWW : Is what he is—anything he can not-know?
Q. What he is—is not likely to be an object of knowledge.
☼ WWW : Can he see, know, or find what he is or what he is not?
Q. I do not think so.
☼ WWW : Why is that?
Q. Probably because what he is looking for, trying to know, seeking to find, 

is what is looking, trying, seeking?
☼ WWW : Exactly. That is the answer.
Q. But is it an answer?
☼ WWW :It is the only answer. 

Finding no 'thing', he finds that he is what he is, which is also what he is not.
Q. So that what he is not is what he is?
☼ WWW : In so far as words can suggest it.
Q. But does that answer my question?
☼ WWW : You asked me how to be rid of the interdependent concepts of 'other' and “I”. 

They have been mutually abolished.
Q. So that. . . ?
☼ WWW : No 'other', no “I”.
Q. And what I am is also what I am not, and what I am not is also what I am! 

No room for self, no room for other-than-self! 

Is that not a definition of Nirvana or of the Pure Land?
☼ WWW : It is also a definition of the Kingdom of Heaven.
Q. Is there a historical precedent for such an approach?
☼ WWW : There are many. 

For instance when Hui K'o had 'his' supposed mind tranquillized by Bodhidharma, 

by being unable to find it—that was not the result of his having no mind to find, 

but because there was no 'he' to have anything. 

The mind was not missing: it was he that could not be found.
Q. It was mind that was looking for mind and not finding itself as an object?
☼ WWW : And not-finding was finding!

Open secret PDF  HERE

The Wei Wu Wei archives 

Stardust from Adrien Servadio on Vimeo.

 The result of my life
is no more than three words:

I was raw,
I became cooked,
I was burnt.

Rumi

Don Miguel de Ruiz - A Story of Discovery

““Miguel,” he said gently, with a sweet smile on his face, 

“all the things you’ve learned in school, and everything you think you understand about life, 

comes from knowledge. It isn’t truth.”

“Don’t take offense, my child,” he went on. 

“This is the mistake everyone makes. 

People put their faith in opinions and rumors—and out of this, they construct a world, 

believing that their constructed world is the real world. 

They don’t know whether what they believe is true. 

They don’t even know whether what they believe about themselves is true.

 Do you know what is true, or what you are?”

“Yes, I know what I am!” I insisted.
How could I not know myself? I’ve been with myself since birth!” 

“M’ijo, you don’t know what you are,” he said calmly, 

“but you know what you’re not. 

You’ve been practicing what you’re not for so long, you believe it. 

You believe in an image of you, an image based on many things that aren’t true.”

I didn’t know what to say next. 

I had expected praise, or at least an argument against my point of view. 

I would have been happy to participate in an intellectual boxing match with my grandfather. 

In my opinion, I had enough information to debate the master, and to win. 

Instead, what he gave me was a knockout punch to the self. 

Everything I thought about Miguel, my grandfather disqualified in a few hard sentences. 

Everything I knew about the world was now in doubt. 

Doubt! It’s hard to overstate the importance of doubt 

when we’re bringing down the intellectual house we’ve built. 

We learn words, we believe in their meaning, 

and we practice those beliefs until our little house is solid and strong. 

Doubt is the tremor that brings it down, when it’s time. 

Doubt can cause a citadel of beliefs to crumble; 

and that kind of tremor is necessary if we want to see beyond our private illusions. 

An earthquake is necessary. 

I looked at my grandfather, and he smiled back at me, as if we had just shared a happy secret. 

Did he even notice that my self-esteem had been shattered?

The Toltec Art of Life and Death:A Story of Discovery–Don Miguel de Ruiz

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