to each and every thing

 

 

 

 

 

You must become brother and sister

to each and every thing

so that they flow through you

dissolving every difference

 between what belongs to you and others.

 

No star, no leaf shall fall -

you fall with them -

to rise again

in every new beginning.

 

 

 

 

~ Hermann Hesse

From The Seasons of the Soul

 

  

walking with those who've come before and those who will follow

 

 

 

 

 

 
When we take a step on the green grass of spring, we walk in such a way

 that allows all our ancestors to take a step with us. Our peace, our joy,

 our freedom, which are in each step, penetrate each generation of our ancestors 

and each generation of our descendants. If we can walk like that,

 that is a step taken in the highest dhyana (training of the mind).

When we take one step we see hundreds and thousands of ancestors 

and descendants taking a step with us, and when we take a breath

 we are light, at ease, calm. We breathe in such a way that all the generations

 of ancestors are breathing with us and all the generations of our descendants

 are also breathing with us […] if we breathe like that, 

only then are we breathing according to the highest teachings.

We just need a little mindfulness, a little concentration and then we can look

 deeply and see. At first we use the method of visualization and we see,

as we walk, all the ancestors putting their foot down as we put our foot down, 

and gradually we don’t need to visualize any more – each step we take, 

we see that that step is the step of people in the past.

 

~ Thich Naht Hanh
with thanks to Love is a Place

things that are within us

 

 

 

The things we see,” Pistorius said softly, “are the same things that are within us.

 There is no reality except the one contained within us. That is why so many people 

live such an unreal life. They take the images outside them for reality 

and never allow the world within to assert itself. You can be happy that way.

 But once you know the other interpretation you no longer have the choice

 of following the crowd. Sinclair, the majority’s path

 is an easy one, ours is difficult.

If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself.

 What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us.” “Each of us has to find out

 for himself what is permitted and what is forbidden.. Forbidden for him.

It’s possible for one never to transgress a single law and still be a bastard.

 And vice versa.

I live in my dreams — that’s what you sense. 

Other people live in dreams, but not in their own. 

That’s the difference.

 

 

 

~ Hermann Hesse

excerpts from Damian 

 art by Alaira Bird

 

 

 

hurt or heal

 

 

 

 

 I have come to the frightening conclusion

 that I am the decisive element.

 

 It is my personal approach that
creates the climate.

 

 It is my daily mood that makes the
weather.

 

 I possess tremendous power to make life
miserable or joyous.

 

 I can be a tool of torture or an
instrument of inspiration. 

 

I can humiliate or humor,
hurt or heal. 

 

In all situations it is my response that
decides whether a crisis is escalated or deescalated,
and a person is humanized or dehumanized. 

 

If we treat people as they ought to be, 

we help them become what they are capable of becoming.

 

 

~ Attributed in various places to both
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

and in others to Dr. Haim Ginott

art by Rodrigo Gaya Villar

 with thanks to Mystic Meanderings

 

 

through the body

 

 

 

Our weaknesses are the way to God

 

Tell me why it is through the body

 

through torment of the body you speak to the spirit

 

why through leprosy fever deafness

 

You are a healer and not a priest

 

you take in your hands the head of the dying

 

from one lump you bring forth new life 

 

like bread you multiply the body

 

You come through bodies not through sunsets

 

and the hard strong hand of blood and flesh

 

holds in the palm like a sparrow

 

the muscle of the human heart

 

 

 

 

~ Anna Kamienska

from Astonishments

 

 

 

 

lack of faith

 

 

 

 

 

Yes

 

even when I don't believe

 

there is a place in me

 

inaccessible to unbelief

 

a patch of wild grace

 

a stubborn preserve

 

impenetrable

 

pain untouched sleeping in the body

 

music that builds its nest in silence

 

 

 

 

 

~ Anna Kamienska

from Astonishments

 art Detail from Pablo Picasso, Gertrude Stein

 

competition and compassion

 

 

 

 

 

Competition today is tantamount to a blood sport—

and not just on the playing field or in the ring. 

 

The psychoanalytic theorist Karen Horney introduced

 the concept of hyper-competitiveness

 as a neurotic personality trait almost 70 years ago.

 She characterized the hyper-competitive

coping strategy as “moving against people”

 (in contrast to moving toward or away from people).

 Her observations are now all too evident in our culture. 

Extreme us-versus-them behavior has created a lonely world. 

There is always some new adversary to move against, 

so we get locked into a vicious circle of measuring our strength

 by disparaging others.

 

Competition is natural, a part of the human arsenal for survival, 

but when it creates enmity, we need to question its power in our lives. 

 

This is where sympathetic joy — joy in the happiness of others — comes in.

 If we’re in a competitive frame of mind, when something good happens

 to someone else, we think it somehow diminishes us. 

It doesn’t really, of course, but being consumed with jealousy 

and envy clouds our judgment. Even when we’re not in the running, 

extreme competitiveness makes us feel as if we were. 

 
If we approach life from a place of scarcity,

 a mind-set that emphasizes what we lack instead of what we have,

 then anyone who has something we want becomes the enemy. 

 If we approach life from a place of scarcity, 

a mind-set that emphasizes what we lack instead of what we have, 

then anyone who has something we want becomes the enemy.

 
 As Buddhist monk Nyanaponika Thera says,

 

 “It is compassion that removes the heavy bar, 

opens the door to freedom, 

makes the narrow heart as wide as the world..."

 

Looking closely at the life of someone we consider to be the competition, 

we are bound to see hardships that the person has endured

 or understand how tenuous status and good fortune can be.

 When we can connect with a perceived enemy on the level of human suffering, 

winning or losing seems less important.

A few years ago I led a meditation group at an elementary school in Washington, D.C.

 The walls of the school corridors were plastered with homilies:

 Treat people the way you would like to be treated. 

Play fair. Don’t hurt others on the inside or the outside. 

The message that stopped me short, however, was 

Everyone can play.

 

 

 

 ~  Sharon Salzberg 

 from Lions Roar

 

 

 

all are heard

 

 

 

 

So a little spring prays to the ocean, 

so the beating heart prays to the heart of the universe, 

so the little word prays to the great Logos, 

so a dust speck prays to the earth, 

so the earth prays to the cosmos, 

so the one prays to the billion, 

so human love prays to God’s love, 

so always prays to never,

 so the moment prays to eternity,

 so the snowflake prays to winter,

 so the frightened beast prays to the forest silence,

 so uncertainty prays to beauty itself.

And all these prayers are heard.

 

 

~ Anna Kamieńska 

from In the Great River: A Notebook
The inner life of one of the great poet-mystics

 Translated by Clare Cavanagh

with thanks to Love Is A Place

 

 

 

the flaws make us who we are

.

 

 

 

 

We don't have to hate ourselves for our own vulnerability. 

We don't have to hate ourselves for what life has done to us. 

We don't have to hate ourselves because hurt or loss or longing has gotten to us. 

Our desires will always be with us in some form, 

keeping us firmly attached to a world that will hurt us. 

 

 

We must come to love ourselves,

 love our life, 

in its vulnerability,

 in its impermanence,

 not in spite of all its flaws,

 but because of them.

 Because the vulnerability,

 the changes, 

the flaws make us who we are.

 

 

 

 
~  Barry Magid

 

 

 

 

no life is single

 

 

When the garden of your unchosen lives has enough space to breathe beneath
 your chosen path, your life enjoys a vitality and sense of creative tension. 
 Rilke refers to this as "the repository of unlived things."

 

*

No one lives his life.

Disguised since childhood,

haphazardly assembled

from voices and fears and little pleasures,

we come of age as masks.

Our true face never speaks.

Somewhere there must be storehouses

where all these lives are laid away

like suits of armor or old carriages

or clothes hanging limply on the walls.

Maybe all paths lead there,

to the repository of unlived things.

excerpted from Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

*

 

You know that you have not compromised the immensity that you carry,
 and in which you participate.  You have not avoided the call of commitment; 
 yet you hold your loyalty to your chosen path in such a way as to be true
 to the blessings and dangers in life's passionate sacramentality. 

 No life is single. Around and beneath each life is the living presence
 of these adjacencies.... to keep the borders of choice porous demands 
critical vigilance and affective hospitality.  To live in such a way invites risk
 and engages complexity.   Yet the integrity of growth demands such courage
 and vulnerability from us; otherwise the tissues of our sensibility atrophy
 and we become trapped behind the same predictable mask of behavior. 

 

 

~ John O'Donohue

from Eternal Echoes

.

to learn from animal being

Nearer to the earth's heart,

Deeper within its silence:

Animals know this world

In a way we never will.

We who are ever

Distanced and distracted

By the parade of bright

Windows thought opens:

Their seamless presence

Is not fractured thus.

Stranded between time

Gone and time emerging,

We manage seldom

To be where we are:

Whereas they are always

Looking out from

The here and now.

May we learn to return

And rest in the beauty

Of animal being,

Learn to lean low,

Leave our locked minds,

And with freed senses

Feel the earth

Breathing with us.

May we enter

Into lightness of spirit,

And slip frequently into

The feel of the wild.

Let the clear silence

Of our animal being

Cleanse our hearts

Of corrosive words.

May we learn to walk

Upon the earth

With all their confidence

And clear-eyed stillness

So that our minds

Might be baptized

In the name of the wind

And light and the rain.

~ John O'Donohue

from To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

such small hands

 

 

 

 

 

somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will enclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

 

 

~ e.e. Cummings

 

 

 

we open time

 

 

 

 
I saw to the south a man walking.

 He was breaking ground in perfect silence.

 He wore a harness and pulled a plow. 

His feet trod his figure's blue shadow,

 and the plow cut a long blue shadow in the field. 

He turned back as if to check the furrow, 

or as if he heard a call. 

 

Again I saw another man on the plain to the north. 

This man walked slowly with a spade, 

and turned the green ground under.

 

Then before me in the near distance I saw the earth itself walking,

 the earth walking dark and aerated as it always does in every season,

 peeling the light back: The earth was plowing the men under,

 and the space, and the plow. No one sees us go under. 

No one sees generations churn, or civilizations. 

The green fields grow up forgetting.

Ours is a planet sown in beings.

 Our generations overlap like shingles.

 We don’t fall in rows like hay, but we fall.

 Once we get here, we spend forever on the globe,

 most of it tucked under. While we breathe, we open time

 like a path in the grass. 

 

We open time as a boat’s stem slits the crest of the present.

 

There were no formerly heroic times, 

and there was no formerly pure generation. 

There is no one here but us chickens, 

and so it has always been: a people busy and powerful,

 knowledgeable, ambivalent, important, fearful,

 and self-aware: a people who scheme, promote, 

deceive, and conquer; who pray for their loved ones,

 and long to flee misery and skip death. 

 

It is a weakening and discolouring idea,

 that rustic people knew God personally once upon a time –

 or even knew selflessness or courage or literature – 

but that it is too late for us. In fact, the absolute is available

 to everyone in every age. 

 

There never was a more holy age than ours, and never a less.

 

 

 

 

~ Annie Dillard

from For the Time Being 

 

 

 

happiness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

good to be

 

 

 

 Keb' Mo'

 

 

Where you belong should always be worthy of your dignity. 

You should belong first in your own interiority. If you belong there,

 and if you are in rhythm with yourself and connected to that deep, 

unique source within, then you will never be vulnerable

 when your outside belonging is qualified, relativised or taken away.

 You will still be able to stand on your own ground, 

the ground of your soul where you are not a tenant,

 where you are at home.

 

 

~ John O'Donohue
from Anam Cara

 with thanks to whiskey river