tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21352998415264782672024-03-11T05:22:09.295+02:00No Mind's LandThe sea will be the sea, whatever the drop's philosophy...No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.comBlogger3599125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-32930641246203588262024-03-10T07:38:00.000+02:002024-03-10T07:38:35.834+02:00Andrew Harvey ~ The Direct Path <p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XQOdpMcWWF-JOs1HtgV5iXjXQR6es8cTfZKfeXYpGi2kki2gSjSbCanvoQldbmpT13DKZv6j85tA4RwABzmQTTmga467zkrQQW3byoM9HJ-2WVZPI05Kq5jvVG2lTkxbPH8NxpIebRAW33ylUH0RzpET85gO5v1pzsjsVz2VKAv9mnufuyWfUjKtXr4/s1312/430260235_7281551731930377_7805938111411826407_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1312" data-original-width="843" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XQOdpMcWWF-JOs1HtgV5iXjXQR6es8cTfZKfeXYpGi2kki2gSjSbCanvoQldbmpT13DKZv6j85tA4RwABzmQTTmga467zkrQQW3byoM9HJ-2WVZPI05Kq5jvVG2lTkxbPH8NxpIebRAW33ylUH0RzpET85gO5v1pzsjsVz2VKAv9mnufuyWfUjKtXr4/w335-h520/430260235_7281551731930377_7805938111411826407_n.jpg" width="335" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"> ~The Paradox of the Journey~<br /><br />All major mystical traditions have recognized that there is a paradox at the heart of the journey of return to Origin.<br /><br />Put simply, this is that we are already what we seek, and that what we are looking for on the Path with such an intensity of striving and passion and discipline is already within and around us at all moments. The journey and all its different ordeals are all emanations of the One Spirit that is manifesting everything in all dimensions; every rung of the ladder we climb toward final awareness is made of the divine stuff of awareness itself.<br /><br />Divine Consciousness is at once creating and manifesting all things and acting in and as all things in various states of self-disguise throughout all the different levels and dimensions of the universe.<br /><br />The great Hindu mystic Kabir put this paradox with characteristic simplicity when he said:<br /><br />Look at you, you madman,<br />Screaming you are thirsty<br />And are dying in a desert<br />When all around you there<br />is nothing but water!<br /><br />And the Sufi poet Rumi reminds us:<br /><br />You wander from room to room<br />Hunting for the diamond necklace<br />That is already around your neck!</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6H9InAks0ub2H1cK_RdpBkTq8ljTERmwd8VlCuZOLjf0HYbu704iUWH09CWJQRcWDGcsoNHcNeIrkG1KzmthBXYK-EcIHtDU3KC528PH2wpsZ-ZQ8i14Z9SwVDmULh8Czf78NqtACy_S_U4j91yHzGlVlm8DYKT9O6yD5Qmm6YdQdI6jnBsitNoDP_Ek/s1500/Andrew%20Harvey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="1500" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6H9InAks0ub2H1cK_RdpBkTq8ljTERmwd8VlCuZOLjf0HYbu704iUWH09CWJQRcWDGcsoNHcNeIrkG1KzmthBXYK-EcIHtDU3KC528PH2wpsZ-ZQ8i14Z9SwVDmULh8Czf78NqtACy_S_U4j91yHzGlVlm8DYKT9O6yD5Qmm6YdQdI6jnBsitNoDP_Ek/w135-h84/Andrew%20Harvey.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"> </span></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-3013142599232617502024-03-07T21:37:00.001+02:002024-03-07T21:37:20.926+02:00Jean Klein - I Am<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0u4gr0q2jyY?si=pR-lQb5rwPewkSAQ" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtN8uqv7hH7X1Au59ZumxAmtnwQTPIWiPBfYNcsq4_Fyhv75086g5KHMMjqt3KCjXNfBZlKtP-1uvy5scSeisNgmX5YDXjYnkmdd5NKjMY2eO1p8SlWV9o6_yh6VWC4viiFBfC5QtZOmYItSfSl9NlBLm7Jf5Q4OUkVmS4JTCRo4kXBhUSPtDVo-v1dOA/s400/410779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="259" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtN8uqv7hH7X1Au59ZumxAmtnwQTPIWiPBfYNcsq4_Fyhv75086g5KHMMjqt3KCjXNfBZlKtP-1uvy5scSeisNgmX5YDXjYnkmdd5NKjMY2eO1p8SlWV9o6_yh6VWC4viiFBfC5QtZOmYItSfSl9NlBLm7Jf5Q4OUkVmS4JTCRo4kXBhUSPtDVo-v1dOA/s320/410779.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://pgoodnight.files.wordpress.com/2019/12/i-am-jean-klein.pdf" target="_blank"><b>PDF</b></a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-50098094157912612732024-02-27T12:02:00.003+02:002024-02-27T12:02:49.010+02:00J. Krishnamurti - Have you not noticed ?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheu1fx-JLQa-qn9BM74YJdbikqdDv8YDzRd7zEh7YaIVMkoOUsMLTdoMtge2lSq5eODLdFIk62cCiPT3N4iVlenSb1-zecs0e6SNlaxLwjA5U5C0ST2BkjhdPZhGB2YdHjgwlIFzJO1KufWgTXg9Vl6EN87Pc1w0T_C3QYOifZGskW9lpdoVEzweeF8C0/s1080/426764616_25160435000214226_4553993804553351035_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheu1fx-JLQa-qn9BM74YJdbikqdDv8YDzRd7zEh7YaIVMkoOUsMLTdoMtge2lSq5eODLdFIk62cCiPT3N4iVlenSb1-zecs0e6SNlaxLwjA5U5C0ST2BkjhdPZhGB2YdHjgwlIFzJO1KufWgTXg9Vl6EN87Pc1w0T_C3QYOifZGskW9lpdoVEzweeF8C0/w461-h461/426764616_25160435000214226_4553993804553351035_n.jpg" width="461" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;">"Have you not noticed <br />that love is silence? <br />It may be while holding the hand of another <br />or looking lovingly at a child, <br />or taking in the beauty of an evening. <br />Love has no past or future, and so it is <br />with this extraordinary state of silence." </span><br /><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-28961463182189064942024-02-13T17:14:00.003+02:002024-02-13T17:14:57.279+02:00Djalâl ad-Dîn Rûmî - The True Kaaba<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/INEV03i6E6A?si=OCnENbBLD80Jh1tu" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Circle the Kaaba of the heart<br />if you possess a heart.<br />The heart is the true Kaaba,<br />the other is just a stone.<br /><br />God enjoined the ritual<br />of circling the formal Kaaba<br />as a way for you to find a heart.<br /><br />But if your feet walk<br />around the Kaaba a thousand times,<br />and yet you injure a heart,<br />do you expect to be accepted?<br /><br />Give everything away, but gain a heart,<br />and its light will stay with you<br />even as far as the dark night of the grave.<br /><br />Bring a thousand bags of gold coins to God,<br />and He will only tell you:<br />“Bring the heart if you come to Us.<br /><br />“As silver and gold have no value Here,<br />it is the heart that We demand, if you desire Me.”<br /><br />In the realms of the Throne, the Tablet, and the<br />Pen, that which seems worthless, the heart in ruins,<br />is the most precious thing.<br /><br />Don’t debase it—even though distressed,<br />the heart is most precious in distress.<br /><br />The ruined heart attracts God’s attention.<br />How happy is the soul that practices caring for it.<br /><br />Comforting the wretched heart<br />in its time of need and pain<br />is more valuable to the Creator<br />than performing the outer pilgrimage.<br /><br />The ruined hearts are God’s stores of treasure;<br />great treasures are buried in these ruins.<br /><br />Tie the belt of service<br />and become a servant of hearts,<br />and the way to the Mystery may open up within you.<br /><br />If you yearn for holy felicity,<br />shed your arrogance<br />and become a seeker of hearts.<br /><br />When the goodwill of hearts is with you,<br />fountains of wisdom will begin to flow<br />from within your own being.<br /><br />The water of life will cascade<br />from your speech like a river;<br />your Christlike breath<br />will become a remedy for disease.<br /><br />For a single Heart all the worlds came into being;<br />listen to the lips that recite<br />the subtle point of Except for thee<br />I would not have created the worlds.<br /><br />How else would the universe exist!<br />This universe of rust and dirt, of planets and stars.<br /><br />Silence! A description of the heart<br />is impossible with words,</span><br /><span style="color: #0c343d;">even if every cell of your body had a tongue. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6MzgVKdXAA_6mREXGoJdw5p_rtufh-XMUDc2ZVmBwMgWt8A_ZQzRyFO96XrdRWs4iQg7Di9Tvodky7kzNS_optZCn2jdfNMluWhyaCy2ZwwYU5Z0A1v_SNCwb9qWV2SIG1BpNerfd9sU1u-OBv560JlwvHBHGWPW74wjLl6z4jeznSGZ9noatsuAhzvo/s501/Capture%20d'%C3%A9cran%202024-02-13%20115909.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="501" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6MzgVKdXAA_6mREXGoJdw5p_rtufh-XMUDc2ZVmBwMgWt8A_ZQzRyFO96XrdRWs4iQg7Di9Tvodky7kzNS_optZCn2jdfNMluWhyaCy2ZwwYU5Z0A1v_SNCwb9qWV2SIG1BpNerfd9sU1u-OBv560JlwvHBHGWPW74wjLl6z4jeznSGZ9noatsuAhzvo/s320/Capture%20d'%C3%A9cran%202024-02-13%20115909.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <br /><p></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-66951880642051673002024-02-04T17:16:00.000+02:002024-02-04T17:16:23.362+02:00Yunus Emre - A taste of Love <div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/i6BD-6mE-1s?si=h98bBGAyT119ylT5" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Courgette;"> Whatever I say, You are the subject.<br />Wherever I go, every impulse is toward You. <br />🍃<br />It’s true, those who don’t love You are soul-less dolls,<br />but the living need a Beloved like You.<br />🍃<br />You’ve veiled Yourself from the whole universe.<br />At a single sight of You it would perish.<br />🍃<br />Giants and elves, humans, angelic powers,<br />all beings are in love with You.<br />🍃<br />The seraphim and maidens of paradise crowd around You<br />and can’t bear to leave Your presence.<br />🍃<br />From your hand poison is a delicious drink.<br />My soul is healed by anything You do.<br />🍃<br />When I eat something sweet without You, it’s bitter.<br />You are the soul’s taste, what else could I want? <br />🍃<br />If my soul suffered a hundred wounds,<br />my joy would not decrease.<br />This love washes everything clean.<br />🍃<br />Yunus is just one atom of it. This planet, this whole universe is born from a taste of love <br /></span><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Courgette;">🍃</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Courgette;"> </span><br /><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Courgette;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /> <br />Translated from Turkish <br />by Kabir Helminski and Refik Algan<br />Original Title of the poem: <br />Ne söz keleci der isem dilim seni söyleyecek</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Courgette;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Courgette;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0oX5zsRAtp6DeyGhPPBFp3eHW51ArkAjmeC7JKSz4H5YrifDbfNKoo4suhqE6nvi74sLdeSqnaofVe00kz2iUtjQQZtx1dV6CDTCPA4W0JtkxLy-0UyzryS3NRapTYR4AGRe5niVgaI2DN_oKIgrjDj6R_rZXgprdIF1u7_CnjgRwPKjkRcd5Khuktc/s864/Yunus%20Emre%20EDIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="864" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0oX5zsRAtp6DeyGhPPBFp3eHW51ArkAjmeC7JKSz4H5YrifDbfNKoo4suhqE6nvi74sLdeSqnaofVe00kz2iUtjQQZtx1dV6CDTCPA4W0JtkxLy-0UyzryS3NRapTYR4AGRe5niVgaI2DN_oKIgrjDj6R_rZXgprdIF1u7_CnjgRwPKjkRcd5Khuktc/s320/Yunus%20Emre%20EDIT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-26643479479878301512024-02-02T11:17:00.001+02:002024-02-02T11:18:00.819+02:00Naimy Mikhail--The Book Of Mirdad<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTRXvH_7RTAYVYFWf0FTvh9C6LO2shyds4fYjGCE92f9q_UoA1J75C4pbAzl2hWLZHei-DJZgR8KqdQI5cJkd5ecSoQx3T3VgPOEWzi-KDxtwITSc29k9eYELMouXnEIY3k24QtZNST45vOLTMOOW_N5xlSQ4MbYjcorW6rtpDjevcP7fmTUp6GtcQbw/s734/93f9409a5f5f2612aca51f32fde6b710.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="564" height="553" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTRXvH_7RTAYVYFWf0FTvh9C6LO2shyds4fYjGCE92f9q_UoA1J75C4pbAzl2hWLZHei-DJZgR8KqdQI5cJkd5ecSoQx3T3VgPOEWzi-KDxtwITSc29k9eYELMouXnEIY3k24QtZNST45vOLTMOOW_N5xlSQ4MbYjcorW6rtpDjevcP7fmTUp6GtcQbw/w425-h553/93f9409a5f5f2612aca51f32fde6b710.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"> You live that you may learn to love. You love is that you may learn to live. No other reason is required of Man. <br /><br />And what is to love but for the lover to absorb forever the beloved so that the twain be one?<br /><br />And whom, or what, is one to love? Is one to choose a certain leaf upon the Tree of Life and pour upon it all one’s heart? What of the branch that bears the leaf? What of the stem that holds the branch? What of the bark that shields the stem? What of the roots that feed the bark, the stem, the branches and the leaves? What of the soil embosoming the roots? What of the sun, and sea, and air that fertilize the soil?<br /><br />If one small leaf upon a the tree be worthy of your love how much more so the tree in its enterity? The love that singles out a fraction of the whole foredooms itself to grief. <br /><br />You say, 'But there be leaves upon a single tree. Some are healthy, some are sick; some are beautiful, some are ugly; some are giants, some are dwarfs. How can we help but pick and choose?'<br />I say to you. Out of the paleness of the sick process the freshness of the healthy. I further say to you that ugliness is Beauty's palette, paint and brush: and that the dwarf would not have been a dwarf had he not given of his stature to the giant.<br /><br />You are the tree of Life. Beware of fractionating yourselves. Set not a fruit against a fruit, a leaf against a leaf, a bough against a bough; nor set the stem against the roots; nor set the tree against the mother- soil. That is precisely what you do when you love one part more than the rest, or to the exclusion of the rest. <br /><br />You are the Tree of Life. Your roots are everywhere. Your boughs and leaves are everywhere. Your fruits are in every mouth. Whatever be the fruits upon that tree; whatever be its boughs and leaves; whatever be the roots; they are your fruits; they are your leaves and boughs; they are your roots. If you would have the tree bear sweet and fragrant fruit, if you would have it ever strong and green, see to the sap wherewith you feed the roots.<br /><br />Love is the Sap of Life. While Hatred is the pus of Death. But Love, like blood, must circulate unhindered in the veins. Repress the blood, and it becomes a menace and a plague. And what is Hate but Love repressed, or Love withheld, therefore becoming such a deadly poison both to the feeder and the fed; both to the hater and to that he hates. A yellow leaf upon your tree of life is but a Love-weaned leaf, Blame not the yellow leaf. A withered bough is but a Love-starved bough. Blame not the withered bough. A putrid fruit is but a Hatred-suckled fruit. Blame not the putrid fruit. But rather blame your blind and stingy heart that would dole out the sap of life to few and would deny it to many, thereby denying it to itself.<br /><br />No love is possible except by the love of self. No self is real save the All-embracing Self. Therefore is God all Love, because he loves himself. <br /><br />So long as you are pained by Love, you have not found your real self, nor have you found the golden key of Love. Because you love an ephemeral self, your love is ephemeral.<br /><br />For in loving anything, or anyone, you love in truth but yourselves. Likewise in hating anything, or anyone, you hate in truth but yourselves. For that which you hate is bound up inseparably with that which you love, like the face and the reverse side of the same coin. If you would be honest with yourselves, then must you love what you hate and what hates you before you love what you love and what loves you. <br /><br />Love is not a virtue. Love is a necessity; more so than bread and water; more so than light and air.<br /><br /> Let no one pride himself on loving. But rather breathe in Love and breathe it out just as unconsciously and freely as you breathe in the air and breathe it out. <br /><br />For Love needs no one to exalt it. Love will exalt the heart that it finds worthy of itself. <br /><br />Seek no rewards for Love. Love is reward sufficient unto Love, as Hate is punishment sufficient unto Hate. <br /><br />Nor keep any accounts with Love. For Love accounts to no one but itself.<br /> <br />Love neither lends nor borrows; Love neither buys nor sells; but when it gives, it gives its all; and when it takes, it takes its all. Its very taking is a giving. Its very giving is a taking. Therefore is it the same to-day, to-morrow and forevermore.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFAEyeB8uGCmM-PWER2cZ_x4bSD0D7iK_7Q-G7UxclKKtuxmyfVU6U2tIv3JjgHaSchDtPAVWnjSb556oOwbkLrlP2R_2Kj6c9MXIE_jVwyPLr3pK5c8no1cZvww-QEJ0Cj6bSEX0_se5shWWWvSl41k2tuMQNZLp8Gjw6XTAiSTucO5wD4S4YZC-_Ag/s728/Naimy%20Mikhail.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="500" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFAEyeB8uGCmM-PWER2cZ_x4bSD0D7iK_7Q-G7UxclKKtuxmyfVU6U2tIv3JjgHaSchDtPAVWnjSb556oOwbkLrlP2R_2Kj6c9MXIE_jVwyPLr3pK5c8no1cZvww-QEJ0Cj6bSEX0_se5shWWWvSl41k2tuMQNZLp8Gjw6XTAiSTucO5wD4S4YZC-_Ag/w107-h155/Naimy%20Mikhail.webp" width="107" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">PDF</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><a href="https://www.academia.edu/27759515/Naimy_Mikhail_The_Book_Of_Mirdad" target="_blank">HERE</a> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFNZMWmRm2p-VBPPIi0GYbGde4gIBUCQFpkyLKGimDceegcfvFOuWTuOpE6PVs8IJTPqXcUhAHTDrB2r3S_2Z5kxEWPmcD1wDBseQ9bGnPpvSVjLHf6jg9_zcBmyeFN3N9k5FK34Jswm_GDqWw253zF43EKUeX267dyH1zhyuwQPQNEWPacZvsGqx1Uw/s1920/424858686_10160476412632605_4965078154804491264_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFNZMWmRm2p-VBPPIi0GYbGde4gIBUCQFpkyLKGimDceegcfvFOuWTuOpE6PVs8IJTPqXcUhAHTDrB2r3S_2Z5kxEWPmcD1wDBseQ9bGnPpvSVjLHf6jg9_zcBmyeFN3N9k5FK34Jswm_GDqWw253zF43EKUeX267dyH1zhyuwQPQNEWPacZvsGqx1Uw/w112-h199/424858686_10160476412632605_4965078154804491264_n.jpg" width="112" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></p><br />No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-26276011329259272902024-01-26T10:18:00.002+02:002024-01-26T10:18:31.589+02:00Nancy Neithercut - Life simply happens<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2-POlMNH7glPe93xaLmMWSbGrtYFZSAC2Klp_iHQ7P3PMw6SsWpV6iN6J2ZlqE30t2mOckyc9Gc1aRwrabslkyTYDylVGSICYFimk7SojY9PZDg0VivxvAaWNwGEnu7DnVgheIowzHpuldmamKlgB9WvZLnfdXwTAIugt7-ZAPGoNYI0ZmbUcX7nlIE/s683/SHARON%20KINGSTON.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="566" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2-POlMNH7glPe93xaLmMWSbGrtYFZSAC2Klp_iHQ7P3PMw6SsWpV6iN6J2ZlqE30t2mOckyc9Gc1aRwrabslkyTYDylVGSICYFimk7SojY9PZDg0VivxvAaWNwGEnu7DnVgheIowzHpuldmamKlgB9WvZLnfdXwTAIugt7-ZAPGoNYI0ZmbUcX7nlIE/w457-h552/SHARON%20KINGSTON.png" width="457" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0c343d;">pic</span> <a href="https://www.sharonkingston.com/" target="_blank">Sharon Kingston</a></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i> life simply happens<br />Utterly spontaneously<br />All by itself<br />There are no things nor non things<br />It does not arise from some really big thing<br />No source nor god<br />Nor does it arise from emptiness or nothingness...<br />Simultaneously arising and self-erasing<br />Looking and feeling like anything at all<br />awakening<br />endarkening<br />how beautifully the dream spins itself<br />raveling and unravelling<br />blooming and wilting<br />sound and silence<br />color and light<br />and dark<br /><br /><br />clearly, clearly<br />without any one to know<br />thought paints echoes<br />of a flowing dreamscape<br />that has no edges<br />nor center<br />nor outside<br />from which to view it<br />or change it<br />or pour endless love letters<br />into the sea of dreams<br /><br /><br />ripples endlessly flowing<br />caused by no stone<br />nor wind<br />even your beautiful reflection<br />has no face<br />even this beauty<br />this awe<br />this heartbreakingly wondrous<br />unknowing<br />spin into this fairytale<br />of love<br /><br /><br />this dream of a dream within a dream<br />sourceless reflections twirl<br />above and below<br />into and through each other<br />seemingly drawing lines<br />with space and time<br /><br /><br />between here and there<br />there is no distance<br />when all measurement is made up<br />there is no before or after<br />when separate moments are imaginary<br />there is no outline of sky<br />nor inline of tree<br />nor any thing that can be captured<br />as there is no hand to grasp the flowing<br />that neither moves<br />or stays still<br />no one who sings<br />nor is silent<br /><br /><br />we are but<br />an echoes dream<br />there is no sound<br />no dream...<br />no words...<br />yet all these words<br />paint the dream</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdFrxpzReO3d_utrGIzbHNaXdz47rVuJYM3BAhlJn8PLt3jbqGKpMLAQYllmywbXY9ni-Dvh4PIhwBSnVdOfAQL6_TTQLbhhil1sHjK3eirQum82aSkMPXxj4LqFFA4IdUIeyrYHA9_9tnWzmKkhhitXAV6lJYHgP1EtEqq3JCEpPs8yLAGcBSHKONUQ/s1080/nancy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1080" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdFrxpzReO3d_utrGIzbHNaXdz47rVuJYM3BAhlJn8PLt3jbqGKpMLAQYllmywbXY9ni-Dvh4PIhwBSnVdOfAQL6_TTQLbhhil1sHjK3eirQum82aSkMPXxj4LqFFA4IdUIeyrYHA9_9tnWzmKkhhitXAV6lJYHgP1EtEqq3JCEpPs8yLAGcBSHKONUQ/w239-h159/nancy.jpg" width="239" /></a></i></div><i><br /> </i><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://nancyneithercut.substack.com/" target="_blank">https://nancyneithercut.substack.com/</a> </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i> </i><br /></p><p> </p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-73291133037387064972024-01-17T17:09:00.003+02:002024-01-17T17:09:27.555+02:00Ibn 'Arabi - There is no other<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/L5r-HPD6THo?si=3cCFyLXbks2pXdfm" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;">I am calling to you from afar,<br /><br />Calling to you since the very beginning of days,<br /><br />Calling to you across millennia<br /><br />For aeons of time.<br /><br />Calling, calling…Since always.<br /><br />It is part of your being, my voice.<br /><br />But it comes to you faintly<br /><br />and you only hear it sometimes.<br /><br />‘I don’t know’, you may say,<br /><br />but somewhere you know.<br /><br />‘I can’t hear’, you say, “What is it and where?”<br /><br />But somewhere you hear, and deep down,<br /><br />you know.<br /><br />For I am that in you,<br /><br />which has always been.<br /><br />I am that in you,<br /><br />which will never end.<br /><br />Even if you say, “Who is calling?”<br /><br />Even if you think, “Who is that?”<br /><br />Where will you run? just tell me.<br /><br />Can you run away from yourself?<br /><br />For I am the only one for you<br /><br />There is no other<br /><br />Your promise, your reward I am alone,<br /><br />Your punishment, your longing and your goal. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT2TLw8IFLBpJbKElje7MoDs4bpW_8HRdPzmbTjO6RGdqndNm-iHlpAIXUSP81ftEXpZzY2ht5ypLLSkRCWIC91WI2dgFk6B-C7t2aWrDoXcaxMQmucYn4lxiFw9UVvwu75F6gPy2RJdBbn6ZZGLpO6SjGFda7obJmgC6sbyez99zjalqy41JtI6qVShI/s349/Ibn'Arabi%202_InPixio.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="243" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT2TLw8IFLBpJbKElje7MoDs4bpW_8HRdPzmbTjO6RGdqndNm-iHlpAIXUSP81ftEXpZzY2ht5ypLLSkRCWIC91WI2dgFk6B-C7t2aWrDoXcaxMQmucYn4lxiFw9UVvwu75F6gPy2RJdBbn6ZZGLpO6SjGFda7obJmgC6sbyez99zjalqy41JtI6qVShI/w195-h280/Ibn'Arabi%202_InPixio.png" width="195" /></a></div><br /> <br /><p></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-10209861239467928612024-01-13T11:46:00.004+02:002024-01-13T11:46:46.074+02:00David Carse - All That Is<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SQbb0QJnMdA?si=xT5LbP0B8ycNDPvq" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"> It has become obvious that none of this<br />is what it once seemed.<br />We are all dream characters in a dream.<br />Source, Spirit, God, Goddess, gods...<br />or: 'my true self,' 'my higher self'...<br />or: devas, angles, spirit guides,<br />forces good or evil...<br />or: guru, sat-guru, master, teacher...<br />these are all concepts, human ideas, constructs;<br />and, as such, dream characters here with us in the dream.<br />There is no separate 'God,' just as there is no separate 'us.'<br />All these are projections. What there is, is This.<br />All That Is.<br />This is not just another name for God.<br />Not a being named 'God' or 'Source'<br />or anything else, outside of, other than, What Is.<br />In all reality there are not two. There is only<br />All That Is. <br />This.<br />You, who you really are when you say "I am"<br />and I, who I really am when I say "I am"<br />are the same "I am"<br />All That Is.<br />'you,' 'me,' 'we,' apparent individuals,<br />are dream characters in the dream which<br />'I,' All That Is, dreams.<br />There is no we, no me, no you.<br />Even the dream is within<br />All That Is.<br />That is who You really are,<br />not the you you think you are.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"> </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlnsDaF3LDSGnsMzbFJo-LWI0GraQBLDDgmw6R2vnIar_IrN-RLQBm8fPG7vSzUf17gUY8QKhTazP9JPMYetKn5m2chr_PrOh-37hppoC6btLSAP2t2VTeLc4_OBLp3dIDU3og0OgLpktY4l6S1GH_iWCG5FEwDeDkAFQ0zXfM5BgiQlrYa5TRyBzRXE/s2048/by%20parablev%20Silence-Seekers_InPixio.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlnsDaF3LDSGnsMzbFJo-LWI0GraQBLDDgmw6R2vnIar_IrN-RLQBm8fPG7vSzUf17gUY8QKhTazP9JPMYetKn5m2chr_PrOh-37hppoC6btLSAP2t2VTeLc4_OBLp3dIDU3og0OgLpktY4l6S1GH_iWCG5FEwDeDkAFQ0zXfM5BgiQlrYa5TRyBzRXE/w229-h129/by%20parablev%20Silence-Seekers_InPixio.png" width="229" /></a></b></div><b><br /> </b><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"> </span></b></span></p><h3 class="widget-title" style="color: #0066bf; text-align: center;">'Perfect Brilliant Stillness'</h3><h3 class="widget-title" style="color: #0066bf; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.perfectbrilliantstillness.org/book/" target="_blank">HERE</a> </h3><h3 class="widget-title" style="color: #0066bf; text-align: center;"> </h3><h3 class="widget-title" style="color: #0066bf; text-align: center;"> </h3>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-79071185312150703372024-01-08T21:25:00.000+02:002024-01-08T21:25:03.507+02:00Mahmoud Shabestari - The wine of rapture<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Rv_0elvlP20?si=-_NFYgmaljZ1tzSC" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> THE wine, lit by a ray from his face,<br />Reveals the bubbles of form,<br />Such as the material world and the soul-world,<br />Which appear as veils to the saints.<br />Universal Reason seeing this is astounded,<br />Universal Soul is reduced to servitude.<br />Drink wine ! for the bowl is the face of the Friend.<br />Drink wine ! for the cup is his eye, drunken and flown with wine.<br />Drink wine ! and be free from heart-coldness,<br />For a drunkard is better than the self-satisfied.<br />The whole world is his tavern,<br />His wine-cup the heart of each atom,<br />Reason is drunken, angels drunken, soul drunken,<br />Air drunken, earth drunken, heaven drunken.<br />The sky, dizzy from the wine-fumes' aroma,<br />Is staggering to and fro ;<br />The angels, sipping pure wine from goblets,<br />Pour down the dregs on the world ;<br />From the scent of these dregs man rises to heaven.<br />Inebriated from the draught, the elements<br />Fall into water and fire.<br />Catching the reflection, the frail body becomes a soul,<br />And the frozen soul by its heat<br />Thaws and becomes living.<br />The creature world remains giddy,<br />For ever straying from house and home.<br />One from the dregs' odour becomes a philosopher,<br />One viewing the wine's colour becomes a relater,<br />One from half a draught becomes religious,<br />One from a bowlful becomes a lover,<br />Another swallows at one draught<br />Goblet, tavern, cup-bearer, and drunkards ;<br />He swallows all, but still his mouth stays open.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGn9SJzWHUe29ajjdUk0-kxDqSwg2I6gveli_cjlihU5DtRfDwp3ORXYtrvC_Rdw6Zj0gKxHIF9Q8U-eM4XDmVq8zze2YNtXrFFXA8hnoCW0aC77AYcgcrAibZ9xj4zwm1W6L2pA_sxyWfAXsGywMIfG_uPGBb-uMCbNoWfUytZw1gshPO4Hs2lkeAvwU/s595/%D8%B4%DB%8C%D8%AE-%D9%85%D8%AD%D9%85%D9%88%D8%AF-%D8%B4%D8%A8%D8%B3%D8%AA%D8%B1%DB%8C_InPixio.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="397" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGn9SJzWHUe29ajjdUk0-kxDqSwg2I6gveli_cjlihU5DtRfDwp3ORXYtrvC_Rdw6Zj0gKxHIF9Q8U-eM4XDmVq8zze2YNtXrFFXA8hnoCW0aC77AYcgcrAibZ9xj4zwm1W6L2pA_sxyWfAXsGywMIfG_uPGBb-uMCbNoWfUytZw1gshPO4Hs2lkeAvwU/s320/%D8%B4%DB%8C%D8%AE-%D9%85%D8%AD%D9%85%D9%88%D8%AF-%D8%B4%D8%A8%D8%B3%D8%AA%D8%B1%DB%8C_InPixio.png" width="214" /></a></b></div><b><br /> </b><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;">The secret rose garden:</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"><a href="https://www.mediafire.com/file/uqdapehv2bonvtd/the_secret_rose_garden2.pdf/file" target="_blank">DOWNLOAD</a></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> <br /></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> <br /></span></b></span></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-48480452192726822152024-01-08T00:10:00.000+02:002024-01-08T00:10:16.038+02:00Søren Kierkegaard - Being silent<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4k-sCqz6oAK6VpAggbz_9oLC5S_7jx5Y4hKBppnulLY2p4bl57LECQCyTEsJ999br2tnCyqvpdTGtbfq0ChTUViYqfSIAlAwXAYFQL0mxXYNgMLIiAWeqIqtI-QKCc8_ip-P_LbcQy96q5BVYVGatLXlkKE2xjnpnhazZ8m0dv00_c2QWr6FsA1rQk0/s1031/Capture%20d'%C3%A9cran%202023-03-15%20104729.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="1031" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4k-sCqz6oAK6VpAggbz_9oLC5S_7jx5Y4hKBppnulLY2p4bl57LECQCyTEsJ999br2tnCyqvpdTGtbfq0ChTUViYqfSIAlAwXAYFQL0mxXYNgMLIiAWeqIqtI-QKCc8_ip-P_LbcQy96q5BVYVGatLXlkKE2xjnpnhazZ8m0dv00_c2QWr6FsA1rQk0/w636-h358/Capture%20d'%C3%A9cran%202023-03-15%20104729.png" width="636" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b>As my prayer became more attentive and inward<br />I had less and less to say.<br />I finally became completely silent.<br />I started to listen<br />– which is even further removed from speaking.<br />I first thought that praying entailed speaking.<br />I then learnt that praying is hearing,<br />not merely being silent.<br />This is how it is.<br />To pray does not mean to listen to oneself speaking,<br />Prayer involves becoming silent,<br />And being silent,<br />And waiting until God is heard.</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b> </b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMyR7KeepLupmspqg8BgxdfiqLg2u9_ts2QgqO6YZg1NRFqpnoMsd3qyfDvEK0LWZGBjEjFqKFCkC8HUS_DYKcy3xMdiwYBiw7LhHH09V6Ms4Si1PG3t2vba18dwKx3bD7zFiWzKce_ujRXq6vZbRcObppuP_XzPy4j9GW5s5sNegf-2ICNjE8uZ7K4U/s950/sOren%20kierkegaard.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="800" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMyR7KeepLupmspqg8BgxdfiqLg2u9_ts2QgqO6YZg1NRFqpnoMsd3qyfDvEK0LWZGBjEjFqKFCkC8HUS_DYKcy3xMdiwYBiw7LhHH09V6Ms4Si1PG3t2vba18dwKx3bD7zFiWzKce_ujRXq6vZbRcObppuP_XzPy4j9GW5s5sNegf-2ICNjE8uZ7K4U/w165-h196/sOren%20kierkegaard.webp" width="165" /></a></b></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b><br /></b><i> Thanks to</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/edith.daloia" target="_blank">Edith Daloia</a> </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i> </i></span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-80468921236398944782024-01-06T15:17:00.004+02:002024-01-06T15:24:09.986+02:00Djalâl ad-Dîn Rûmî - Shams of Tabriz<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/12z8pURHAj0?si=WPZK-WQOf98DY7Tq" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> When I start over, he is my leader.<br />When I seek my heart, he is its beloved.<br />When I search for peace, he is my intercessor.<br />When I go to war, he is my dagger.<br />When I come to a gathering, he is the wine and sweets.<br />When I enter the rose garden, he is the narcissus.<br />When I go into a mine, he is the ruby and carnelian.<br />When I come into the sea, he is the pearl.<br />When I wander in the desert, he is the oasis.<br />When I fly to the heavens, he is the stars.<br />When I exercise patience, he is my heart.<br />When I burn with heartache, he is the censer.<br />When I enter battle in wartime,<br />he, as commander, controls the formation of the ranks.<br />When I go to a banquet for festivities,<br />he is the wine pourer, musician, and cup.<br />When I write letters to friends,<br />he is the paper, pen, and ink.<br />When I awaken, he is my new awareness.<br />When I fall asleep, he enters my dreams.<br />When I seek a verse for my poetry,<br />he stretches my mind for rhyme.<br />Whatever form you can imagine,<br />he stands above it—<br />like painter and pen.<br />No matter how much higher you look,<br />he is higher than that “higher” of yours.<br />Go and leave behind lectures and textbooks.<br />You’d be better off having him as your manual.<br />Now be silent, for all six directions are his light.<br />And when you pass beyond the six directions, he is the ruler.<br />O love, your satisfaction is my satisfaction—<br />this is what’s most effective.<br />And your secret is my secret—<br />therefore, I won’t reveal it.<br />Bravo, Shams of Tabriz,<br />who is shining like the sun,<br />and deeply worthy of himself.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCDzTgz6Vlg7mZPOJ0kQ7W0eV9sAgFnQfQPDHzFcf_D-Ek7blCOg4MO-rCGn-NReoaQfw7zsamPFvxqse5Sl5ldRslyILEjPlukL12x-J8Gxe4C9j2-yWVee48M3RoDlmUA3THby2-6vIlvDbRnj4wLsCsKMAEf41KYfGeK4JiYj2dcYOuJjc0YJdYY0/s564/49de7954225a7c98f1dccdeb2e030b94.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="564" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCDzTgz6Vlg7mZPOJ0kQ7W0eV9sAgFnQfQPDHzFcf_D-Ek7blCOg4MO-rCGn-NReoaQfw7zsamPFvxqse5Sl5ldRslyILEjPlukL12x-J8Gxe4C9j2-yWVee48M3RoDlmUA3THby2-6vIlvDbRnj4wLsCsKMAEf41KYfGeK4JiYj2dcYOuJjc0YJdYY0/s320/49de7954225a7c98f1dccdeb2e030b94.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Indie Flower;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></b></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"></span></b></span></p><p><b></b></p><p><b></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: courier;">In Rumi’s imagination, Shams, in reflecting the beauty of<br />the beloved, assumed the place of the qibla—the direction<br />for prayer. The qibla directs the bodily prayer practice of<br />Islam, whereas a shaykh guides the soul through the inner<br />mystical dimensions of the religion. According to Rumi, the<br />mystical dimension is essential to religious devotion. He<br />even boldly suggests that in a heightened state of spiritual<br />ecstasy, the outer world—including the most sacred site of<br />Islam—can disappear completely.<br />The Ka‘ba is the black-clothed cube shrine in Mecca,<br />which Muslims believe was rebuilt at God’s command by<br />Abraham and Ishmael. In its eastern corner is the Black<br />Stone set in a ring of silver, which pilgrims kiss, touch, or<br />point to while on pilgrimage. For Rumi, praying toward<br />Mecca was obligatory for the body, but gazing upon the face<br />of Shams was prayer for the soul. Shams pointed Rumi’s<br />longing and loving heart toward the divine within.</span><span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://oceanofpdf.com/category/authors/emily-jane-odell/" target="_blank">The Gift of Rumi: Experiencing the Wisdom of the Sufi Master</a><br /></span></b></span></p><p><b> </b></p><p></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-47080015058001476142023-12-24T10:06:00.000+02:002023-12-24T10:06:11.266+02:00Byron Katie - The world is your mind<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3a4C0KGXVaVLCCOO0MEfhXKKwy8Tsyt8ZOQTxISOTaSHQxIB5lYmu_R0wp3suanuS_YjzIYeo5P2QHGdpXFY7kba7vkF9UCswwYNLREqxCEDVdiJBaXFvPk5DXRp7d1e6_xMeMXLJfPfDJysmoT9VX_tpBNwz_JavzcI9SluEOdHOkkxeuw7rdvVhmIM/s613/universe%20and%20you.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="598" height="507" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3a4C0KGXVaVLCCOO0MEfhXKKwy8Tsyt8ZOQTxISOTaSHQxIB5lYmu_R0wp3suanuS_YjzIYeo5P2QHGdpXFY7kba7vkF9UCswwYNLREqxCEDVdiJBaXFvPk5DXRp7d1e6_xMeMXLJfPfDJysmoT9VX_tpBNwz_JavzcI9SluEOdHOkkxeuw7rdvVhmIM/w494-h507/universe%20and%20you.JPG" width="494" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Quicksand;">When the mind believes what it thinks, <br />it names what cannot be named and tries to make it real through a name. <br />It believes that its names are real, <br />that there’s a world out there separate from itself. <br /><br />That’s an illusion. The whole world is projected.<br /> <br />When you’re shut down and frightened, the world seems hostile; <br />when you love what is, everything in the world becomes the beloved. <br />Inside and outside always match—they’re reflections of each other. <br /><br />The world is the mirror image of your mind.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Quicksand;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Quicksand;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMXUrejl3ZD-Ryd9YB4BaKvEymhyphenhyphen509qsz7-lK9R240DPeopyGfUumh4vs-wSDxfjeCO1DyR_OYeJh78G5GtE9fjgLKochCG9QSO2HAWgizQVD06B2-hDyvBjLqkXgSi_HyK_bNR3RxCmm4FvcXOPKjJ9CY6Axdmze3GxDrC5FyvHS1EYEr0PCpfAroc/s608/universe%20and%20you...JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="301" data-original-width="608" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMXUrejl3ZD-Ryd9YB4BaKvEymhyphenhyphen509qsz7-lK9R240DPeopyGfUumh4vs-wSDxfjeCO1DyR_OYeJh78G5GtE9fjgLKochCG9QSO2HAWgizQVD06B2-hDyvBjLqkXgSi_HyK_bNR3RxCmm4FvcXOPKjJ9CY6Axdmze3GxDrC5FyvHS1EYEr0PCpfAroc/s320/universe%20and%20you...JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Quicksand;"> <a href="https://thework.com/" target="_blank">https://thework.com/</a></span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-54012965734141534482023-12-19T12:24:00.004+02:002023-12-19T12:25:33.576+02:00Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī - A Sacred Blasphemy<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qCxV-BneVYs?si=2BamcaFjAlePwlJM" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i> A Sacred Blasphemy</i><br /><br />Be off and know<br />That the way of lovers is opposite all other ways.<br />Lies from the Friend<br />Are better than truth and kindness from others.<br /><br />For Him<br />The impossible is commonplace,<br />Punishment is reward,<br />Tyranny is justice,<br />Slander is the highest praise.<br /><br />His harshness is soft,<br />His blasphemy is sacred.<br />The blood that drips from the Beloved's thorn<br />is sweeter than roses and basil.<br /><br />When He's bitter<br />it's better than a candy-shop.<br />When He turns his head away<br />it's all hugs and kisses.<br />When He says, "By God, I've had enough of you!"<br />it's like an eternal spring<br />flowing from the fountain of life.<br /><br />A "No" from his lips is a thousand times "Yes."<br />On this selfless path<br />He acts like a stranger<br />yet He's your dearest friend.<br /><br />His infidelity is faith,<br />His stones are jewels,<br />His holding back is giving,<br />His ruthlessness is mercy.<br /><br />You may laugh at me and say,<br />"The path you're on is full of curves!"<br />Yes, for the curve of His eyebrow<br />I have traded in my soul!<br /><br />This curvy path has gotten me drunk,<br />I cannot say another word!<br />Carry on, my glorious heart,<br />finish the poem in silence . . .<br /><br />O Shams, Lord of Tabriz,<br />What sweetness you pour upon me <br />All I need to is open my mouth<br />and all your songs flow out.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /><br /><i>-- Translation by Jonathan Star<br />"Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved"<br />Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i><a href="https://www.jonathanstar.com/" target="_blank">https://www.jonathanstar.com/</a> </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYxa7HWTWcYyA_cjAcp619XgdcOdXrztTA-Mas3-U0BMTlDX_IYfIpjxmwp7XgjKv_K1I-6ceyH-TUhudgvQSGwJmqZ7REeiz6Sc4l-F1SYwT3dg9K6JqIpatbRY7v7O5ry7Quoza6yu7jpKbAyYxN-TvdVnZ85eluG4KYn5JZwHIboyf79RHbbfJToE/s446/book.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="418" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYxa7HWTWcYyA_cjAcp619XgdcOdXrztTA-Mas3-U0BMTlDX_IYfIpjxmwp7XgjKv_K1I-6ceyH-TUhudgvQSGwJmqZ7REeiz6Sc4l-F1SYwT3dg9K6JqIpatbRY7v7O5ry7Quoza6yu7jpKbAyYxN-TvdVnZ85eluG4KYn5JZwHIboyf79RHbbfJToE/w252-h269/book.png" width="252" /></a></i></span></div><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i><br /> </i></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><i> </i></span></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-44386085389388657512023-12-17T10:18:00.000+02:002023-12-17T10:18:07.160+02:00ᖇᑌᗰƗ ♡’s Wedding Night – December 17th, 1273<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsij_TeuM1DhO5irBszb2FoadXR8FOugBOv5Q9oFYLqx5gBK73nm2zZvFlmUuaa609SG2xyhtpO-pqvitIhQg9ISBLwjPJhib2F4Encscu5vnRHK3mCYGwhDXBDY-mg34hhyphenhypheng6aWj1SWBy3iwXfFdpK7ZHqw8h7GnSk_-mozATKOQaG1Zd71kuMbIf6Qw/s902/48425493_2247913978561438_5914220608551387136_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="902" height="411" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsij_TeuM1DhO5irBszb2FoadXR8FOugBOv5Q9oFYLqx5gBK73nm2zZvFlmUuaa609SG2xyhtpO-pqvitIhQg9ISBLwjPJhib2F4Encscu5vnRHK3mCYGwhDXBDY-mg34hhyphenhypheng6aWj1SWBy3iwXfFdpK7ZHqw8h7GnSk_-mozATKOQaG1Zd71kuMbIf6Qw/w595-h411/48425493_2247913978561438_5914220608551387136_n.jpg" width="595" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"></span></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;">Salaam and Greetings of Peace:</span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;">On December 17th, 1273 AD, Mevlana Jalal al-din Rumi died at Konya. The 17th of December is thus called Sheb-i Arus, meaning ‘Bride’s Night” or ‘Nuptial Night’ or ‘Wedding Night,’ because of the union of Mevlana with God. As Rumi’s epitaph states:</span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><span><a tabindex="-1"></a></span>‘When we are dead, seek not our tomb in the earth, but find it in the hearts of men.’</b></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;">Rumi was a universally loved genius, one of the greatest servants of humanity, founder of the Mevlevi Sufi Brotherhood, his poetry and doctrine advocates unlimited tolerance, positive reasoning, goodness and charity, and awareness through love. Looking with the same eye on Muslim, Jew and Christian alike, his peaceful and tolerant teaching has reached men of all sects and creeds.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwvcXI3cUPaiDPIm0sUmHlBaf_jTQYEMHzONm3NCBLVMiUcAVYuCLwrR6riwRF5p4eQb0AQirth4fHQPc5dIQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div></div><p></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-41892550682758334712023-12-17T10:12:00.000+02:002023-12-17T10:12:34.772+02:00J.Krishnamurti - What Love Is Not<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4cthmbAFxTchzxkgIw9BZ__MFDSLcvWA3XZKeJwesExDuylfCD9MTr73U93PyIHRaDjf6LklndqNegOru8UxqZ93nQDbUjSWiQ41Ux35ycwqzvkLDqA1ad3qN1nSdWptmR6-U7JM-df7W1r_n-I_HIBoUBAyutreGYPZ1PjDCiBylbod6OhQdN8qon_0/s960/411495344_1300906374641609_9100238694507314788_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="939" data-original-width="960" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4cthmbAFxTchzxkgIw9BZ__MFDSLcvWA3XZKeJwesExDuylfCD9MTr73U93PyIHRaDjf6LklndqNegOru8UxqZ93nQDbUjSWiQ41Ux35ycwqzvkLDqA1ad3qN1nSdWptmR6-U7JM-df7W1r_n-I_HIBoUBAyutreGYPZ1PjDCiBylbod6OhQdN8qon_0/w480-h470/411495344_1300906374641609_9100238694507314788_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: courier;"><i> LOVE IS NOT DESIRE.</i><br /><br /> It is a great thing to find out this for oneself. And if love is not desire then what is love? Love is not mere attachment to your baby, love is not attachment in any form; love is not jealousy, ambition, fulfilment or becoming; love is not desire or pleasure. The fulfilment of desire, which is pleasure, is not love. So I have found out what love is. It is none of these things. Have I understood these elements and am I free of them? Or I just say, ‘I understand intellectually, I understand verbally, but help me to go deeper’? I can’t; you have to do it yourself.<br /><br />Krishnamurti in Saanen 1979, Discussion 2<br /><br /><i>Facing the Fact That You Do Not Love</i><br /><br />QUESTION: The strongest underlying commandment in all religions is to love your fellow man. Why is this simple truth so difficult to carry out?<br /><br />KRISHNAMURTI: Why is it that we are incapable of loving? What does it mean to love your fellow man? Is it a commandment, or is it a simple fact that if I do not love you and you do not love me, there can only be hate, violence, and destruction? What prevents us from seeing the very simple fact that this world is ours, that this earth is yours and mine to live upon, undivided by nationalities, by frontiers, to live upon happily, productively, with delight, with affection and compassion? Why is it that we do not see this? I can give you lots of explanations, and you can give me lots more, but mere explanations will never eradicate the fact that we do not love our neighbour. On the contrary, it is because we are forever giving explanations and causes that we do not face the fact. You give one cause, I give another, and we fight over causes and explanations. We are divided as Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, this or that. We say we do not love because of social conditions, or because it is our karma, or because somebody has a great deal of money while we have very little. We offer innumerable explanations, lots of words, and in the net of words we get caught. The fact is that we do not love our neighbour, and we are afraid to face that fact, so we indulge in explanations, in words and the description of the causes; we quote the Gita, the Bible, the Koran, anything to avoid facing the simple fact.<br />With the facing of that fact there comes a different quality; and it is this quality that saves the world.<br />What happens when you face the fact and know for yourself that you do not love your neighbour or your son? If you loved your son, you would educate him entirely differently; you would educate him not to fit into this rotten society, but to be self-sufficient, to be intelligent, to be aware of all the influences around him in which he is caught, smothered, and which never allow him to be free. If you loved your son, who is also your neighbour, there would be no wars because you would want to protect him, not your property, your petty little belief, your bank account, your ugly country or your narrow ideology. So you do not love, and that is a fact.<br />The Bible, the Gita or the Koran may tell you to love your neighbour, but the fact is that you do not love. Now, when you face that fact, what happens? What happens when you are aware that you are not loving, and being aware of that fact, do not offer explanations or give causes as to why you do not love? It is very clear. You are left with the naked fact that you do not love, that you feel no compassion. The contemptuous way you talk to others, the respect you show to your boss, the deep, reverential salute with which you greet your guru, your pursuit of power, your identification with a country, your seeking – all this indicates that you do not love. If you start from there you can do something. If you are blind and really know it, if you do not imagine you can see, what happens? You move slowly, you touch, you feel; a new sensitivity comes into being. Similarly, when I know that I have no love, and do not pretend to love, when I am aware of the fact that I have no compassion and do not pursue the ideal, then with the facing of that fact there comes a different quality; and it is this quality that saves the world, not organized religion or a clever ideology. It is when the heart is empty that the things of the mind fill it; and the things of the mind are the explanations of that emptiness, the words that describe its causes.<br /><br />So, if you really want to stop wars, if you really want to put an end to this conflict within society, you must face the fact that you do not love. You may go to a temple and offer flowers to a stone image, but that will not give the heart this extraordinary quality of compassion and love, which comes only when the mind is quiet, and not greedy or envious. When you are aware of the fact that you have no love, and do not run away from it by trying to explain it, or find its cause, then that very awareness begins to do something; it brings gentleness, a sense of compassion. Then there is a possibility of creating a world totally different from this chaotic and brutal existence which we now call life.<br /><br />Krishnamurti in Bombay 1961, Discussion</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: courier;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: courier;"> </span></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-14512279377195889512023-12-14T20:57:00.002+02:002023-12-14T20:57:56.786+02:00Ḥāfeẓ-e Shīrāzī - Awake Awhile<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ndHAAH9bYno?si=f8i2KylgYQ65o7Bu" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;">Awake awhile.<br />It does not have to be<br />Forever,<br />Right now.<br /><br />One step upon the Sky’s soft skirt<br />Would be enough.<br /><br />Hafiz,<br />Awake awhile.<br />Just one True moment of Love<br />Will last for days.<br /><br />Rest all your elaborate plans and tactics<br />For Knowing Him,<br />For they are all just frozen spring buds<br />Far, so far from Summer’s Divine Gold.<br /><br />Awake, my dear.<br />Be kind to your sleeping heart.<br />Take it out into the vast fields of Light<br />And let it breathe.<br /><br />Say,<br />“Love,<br />Give me back my wings.<br />Lift me,<br />Lift me nearer.”<br /><br />Say to the sun and moon,<br />Say to our dear Friend,<br />“I will take You up now, Beloved,<br />On that wonderful Dance You promised!” </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhva1_d2-sYfTmdeFbLQLn1ZRGVHzlvd8R1uOfCvUp_goTYZKcUTCG7jaFwpF3uOhm1F3IKXWM4YX2cx-OUi5ewR5wPVcY9NAOA2hmNw-5Cpkvga4rGoBT003rSbci-Im2t2Yg2u7BjBNH8AKLloJYlP2Ou-LL1FP61HEfcdVi1llJg9HdysVvKN8uxuBE/s720/279872931_3184615585148692_1140745510622789625_n_InPixio.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="507" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhva1_d2-sYfTmdeFbLQLn1ZRGVHzlvd8R1uOfCvUp_goTYZKcUTCG7jaFwpF3uOhm1F3IKXWM4YX2cx-OUi5ewR5wPVcY9NAOA2hmNw-5Cpkvga4rGoBT003rSbci-Im2t2Yg2u7BjBNH8AKLloJYlP2Ou-LL1FP61HEfcdVi1llJg9HdysVvKN8uxuBE/s320/279872931_3184615585148692_1140745510622789625_n_InPixio.png" width="225" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"> </span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-52128028036454545922023-12-13T14:17:00.002+02:002023-12-13T14:17:43.912+02:00Jahan Malek Khatun - Tonight<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hmi_K7JwBf0?si=lbRuz-OzMsHm5dRC" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #660000; font-family: Satisfy;">Come here a moment, sit with me, don't sleep tonight,<br />Consider well my heart’s unhappy plight, tonight;<br />And let your face’s presence lighten me, and give<br />The loveliness of moonlight to the night, tonight.<br />Be kind now to this stranger, and don’t imitate<br />life as it leaves me in its headlong flight, tonight.<br />Be sweet to me now as your eyes are sweet; don’t twist<br />away now like your curls, to left and right, tonight;<br />Don’t sweep me from you like the dust before your door;<br />Dowse all the flames of longing you ignite, tonight.<br />Why do you treat me with such cruelty now, my friend,<br />so that my tears obliterate my sight, tonight?<br />If, for a moment, I could see you in my dreams,<br />I’d know the sum of all this world’s delight, tonight.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Satisfy;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Satisfy;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfIF0NysdY4SwgTbmzGB-CWvHP_ZVDCX80ZYDldqT4ZMgpwq0iTe_IiCmX5ckMijlQfZU6WE_ebeaBcVhGcwG1fZQJGTgMqq-9D0DUBx3ByA30C6b6CiPcpdPT2EQbn_NLU_JUh02mgQHjTYGLTwvVrDYfbgnBjU-Lac-Zj_GOEjgN80xiZi2CL5UQhYg/s657/Jahan%20Khatun%20_InPixio.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="657" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfIF0NysdY4SwgTbmzGB-CWvHP_ZVDCX80ZYDldqT4ZMgpwq0iTe_IiCmX5ckMijlQfZU6WE_ebeaBcVhGcwG1fZQJGTgMqq-9D0DUBx3ByA30C6b6CiPcpdPT2EQbn_NLU_JUh02mgQHjTYGLTwvVrDYfbgnBjU-Lac-Zj_GOEjgN80xiZi2CL5UQhYg/w243-h172/Jahan%20Khatun%20_InPixio.png" width="243" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Satisfy;"></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Satisfy;"><br /> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jahan_Malek_Khatun" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-74613740149618945432023-12-10T18:01:00.001+02:002023-12-10T18:01:11.247+02:00Joan Tollifson - No Mistakes<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns1vy5wXkSZjuTlAJO1MiGvm5WeBs6cuORlPKq3sJP4-KPd4n2YrrIOV2NxfrD8cL4ADuDSbAIcpReK1P0D_UBnFiLKfjVd8uA7NVeOeC-I8YuwqMlLpdgS3WfxDK9gibUQOGz4PDV5iFromt203uvDD9QAFbgsUMAiVSKjmEPcQIpeeBl6Dmt0h9VEo/s1200/354047275_10167395823210251_7246718487808446269_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns1vy5wXkSZjuTlAJO1MiGvm5WeBs6cuORlPKq3sJP4-KPd4n2YrrIOV2NxfrD8cL4ADuDSbAIcpReK1P0D_UBnFiLKfjVd8uA7NVeOeC-I8YuwqMlLpdgS3WfxDK9gibUQOGz4PDV5iFromt203uvDD9QAFbgsUMAiVSKjmEPcQIpeeBl6Dmt0h9VEo/w558-h558/354047275_10167395823210251_7246718487808446269_n.jpg" width="558" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #660000;"><i> There is nowhere at all which is devoid of the Way.<br /> — Huang Po</i><br /><br />It has often been said that the root illusion is the subject/object divide—the thought-sense that we are separate from life, that we are an independent entity with free will and choice, that we are fundamentally incomplete or in some way deficient, that something bigger and better needs to happen, or that something that apparently is happening needs to stop happening, in order for us to finally be okay.<br /><br />On the other side of this inside/outside illusion, in the so-called world that seems to be “out there,” apparently separate from us, all kinds of things appear to be wrong. From the illusory perspective of being a separate self in a solid and divided reality, we seem to be constantly confronted with apparent imperfection, horrific injustices, a sense of vulnerability, and the need to either do something or stop doing something.<br /><br />But in our actual present moment experience, there is simply what is, as it is—and we can never actually get hold of how or what it is because it is ever-changing and unresolvable, and there is no place to stand outside of it. No inside/outside divide can actually be found. It appears to be there, but when we look for it, it can’t be found. There is no actual place where “inside” turns into “outside,” except conceptually.<br /><br />Experientially, there is simply this one bottomless present moment—infinite, eternal, never the same way twice, always just this—ungraspable aliveness, seamless unicity, no-thing-ness appearing as this ever-changing magic show in which infinitely varied, ever-changing energies and sensations collapse and solidify into the seemingly coherent movie of waking life with all its identifiable characters, plotlines and seemingly solid objects and situations. And in the movie, with its billions of characters, it seems there must be billions of similar but never identical movies of waking life all playing simultaneously in some kind of holographic, fractal unfolding.<br /><br />In our movie of waking life, as in a dream, all kinds of things appear to happen. Babies are born, people die, empires rise and fall. We seem to be a particular character navigating “our life.” We seem to make choices. There seems to be cause and effect, success and failure, good and evil.<br /><br />We have various apparent problems and aspirations, so we undergo psychotherapy, take up yoga and meditation, attend satsangs, go into recovery programs, read books, and have all kinds of experiences—contracted experiences, expanded experiences, pleasant experiences and unpleasant ones. We try to control all of this, and sometimes our efforts seem to be working, but often they don’t seem to be working, and then we try harder—or, if we’ve heard that trying is the problem, we try not to try.<br /><br />In the world that seems to be outside of us, all kinds of scary, unjust and upsetting things seem to be happening, so we organize political movements, march in the streets, run for office, fight wars, demonstrate for peace—whatever life moves each of us to do. Some of these efforts seem to bear fruit, while others seem to go nowhere. There are apparent advances and apparent setbacks. Society seems to improve in many ways, while at the same time, it seems to be going straight to hell in other ways. And no two of us seem to completely agree on which way is heaven and which is hell. We see an event one way, and we’re very sure that’s the truth, but then suddenly we get new information and see it in an entirely different way. We begin to suspect that all events are infinitely complex and unresolvable—that there is no single truth in the way we had imagined—but still, the way we see it at the moment feels so believable.<br /><br />Our life story and the character we seem to be are all a kind of imagination. The past is gone, even a split second ago has vanished completely, and even the so-called present moment comes and goes so instantaneously that no-thing ever actually forms or persists in the ways it seems to. It’s always NOW, and yet we can’t locate this now in space or time. The whole movie—the characters and the storylines—are made of nothing more substantial than ever-changing, fleeting sensations, thoughts, memories, and mental images. None of it has any actual continuity or independent existence. Even the body is nothing solid or persisting, as we can discover if we explore it closely, nor can it be extracted from the entire universe that is supposedly “not the body.” Again, there is no actual inside or outside, no real boundaries, no substantial “things.”<br /><br />If we watch as choices and decisions happen, we discover that they happen spontaneously, choicelessly—no thinker or chooser can be found “behind the curtain” (or inside our head) authoring our thoughts or making our decisions. They all happen by themselves. Even when there is long deliberation, each moment of that deliberation happens spontaneously by itself.<br /><br />Although it appears otherwise, if we look closely, we discover that we don’t actually get to choose anything at all about our lives. We imagine that we can decide what to study in college, or what career path to follow, or whether or not we meditate or eat a healthy diet, or whether we engage in political activism or go on a spiritual search. But it all happens choicelessly. We don’t choose which people we’re attracted to, or which ones we fall in love with, or which sources of news and information seem trustworthy to us, or how we see contentious issues. It all happens by itself. We don’t know what our next thought or emotion will be.<br /><br />If we are imagining ourselves as a separate self, this lack of control sounds terrible. What could be worse than being totally powerless in a dangerous world!? But actually, it is total freedom. Not the freedom to do what we want or to make the world be the way we want it to be, but the freedom to be exactly as we are in each moment, and for everything else to be exactly as it is in each moment—which is actually no way at all.<br /><br />And the great revelation that may choicelessly dawn is that, ultimately, it doesn’t really matter what shape experience takes in the dream-like movie of waking life—whether there is what we call anger or compulsive behavior or a sense of being a separate self, or whether there is what we call equanimity, relaxation and a sense of undivided wholeness—whether the movie is spiritual or political or all about making money—whether there is what we call a nuclear war or climate change or peace on earth. None of it has the substantial existence or meaning that it seems to have when we label and define it. None of it can be pinned down or pulled apart from everything else. None of it is actually personal. We’re never really separate from everything else in the cosmos. We can’t ever really get it wrong. There is no boat to miss and no one to miss it. There are no mistakes, and there are no one-sided coins.<br /><br />And in that realization, there is a huge sense of relief and relaxation and appreciation for the absolute wonder of everything, just as it is—including all the apparent horrors in the world and all our own apparent defects and imperfections. It all belongs, including all our (choiceless) efforts to cure and heal and fix what is apparently broken and dis-eased. There’s a Zen koan that says, <i>“Medicine and sickness cure each other. The whole earth is medicine. What is the self?”</i> What am I? What is this body, this mind, this awaring presence, this hearing-seeing-breathing-thinking-being? Does it have a shape, a size, a location, a place where it is not?<br /><br />This aliveness, this undoubtable beingness, this awaring presence, this unfathomable reality can’t be grasped, and it can’t be avoided. It can’t be found because it can’t be lost. It shows up in infinitely changing forms, but the forms are as ephemeral as smoke or clouds. The apparent solidity and separation is illusory. From a self-identified perspective, when this view is applied to the seemingly very real dramas of everyday life, both personal and global, it can sound heartless and uncaring, but from the perspective of wholeness, it is the unconditional love (the open awareness) that is always allowing everything to be exactly as it is.<br /><br />Our ideas about life are shifting sands endlessly being reshaped by the tides of whatever intelligence-energy is moving beneath the surfaces we see. This text is ultimately meaningless and purposeless—and that is actually its beauty and its liberating potential—although there is really nothing in need of liberation and no dividing line between what we might think of as “liberation” and what we might consider “un-liberated” (sinful or delusional). It’s that mystery again, the one appearing as two, the zero appearing as infinity, the lover and the beloved dissolving in love—not one, not two.<br /><br />Attention moves by itself, choicelessly, from one apparent dimension of reality to another—in one moment, we seem to be a person in a very real situation, and in another moment, there is no center to experiencing and it is all dissolving into absolute no-thing-ness. Sometimes we are choicelessly worrying over a decision we must seemingly make, and in another moment, it is crystal clear that it is all unfolding by itself. Sometimes we are watching the news in horror, full of grief or rage or despair, and in another moment, it all seems to be energy in motion, like ocean waves crashing together. We sit down to meditate and sometimes our thoughts run wild, and other times there is vast emptiness. We judge one thing good and another bad, and then we judge ourselves for judging, and all of that happens by itself, choicelessly. And even more astonishingly, nothing is ever really happening—at least not in the way we think it is. After all, it’s ALL gone before it even arrives—how real is any of it?<br /><br />This freedom to be just as we are, and for the world to be just as it is, doesn’t mean we like it all. It doesn’t mean we might not “decide” to see a therapist or go on a march for social justice. It doesn’t mean there won’t be discernment, urges, interests and aspirations, or that we won’t seemingly make choices and perform actions. All of that is how life moves. It’s like the ocean waving—one whole indivisible movement that is always changing shape while never departing from the Great Ocean of Here-Now.<br /><br />It can be discovered that there is no actor apart from the action, no observer apart from the observed, no seer apart from the seeing, no doer apart from the doing. We’re only a dancer when we’re dancing, and when dancing, we are never apart from the dance. But without some distinction between this and that, the ten thousand things and the movie of waking life could not appear at all. We couldn’t function without the ability to distinguish this from that. And beyond the illusions created by the limits of our sensory organs and nervous systems, the words we use (subjects and objects, nouns and verbs) and the thought-stories built with those confuse us even more. We mistake the map for the territory.<br /><br />But ultimately, the map is an aspect of the territory, as is our confusion and our search for clarity. Not one, not two. Even the apparent solidity and division and the intermittent thought-sense of being a separate “me” and all that follows from that, is never really a problem. It seems to be, in the movie, from the perspective of the character. And so, in the movie, we go on what seems to be a long journey of awakening and healing, making progress and having setbacks. But nothing is actually happening. None of it ever really exists or persists. None of it is personal because the person is a mirage, a character in a dream. It’s all only momentary appearances. And like a dream, when we wake up, it’s gone. It was never really happening. It was a real dream, but the content was unreal. And yet, this isn’t just “nothing” in some vacuous, nihilistic sense—there is an undeniable aliveness and presence.<br /><br />Waking up from a dream can happen in any moment, and it can only ever happen now. But ultimately, it doesn’t really matter whether it happens or not. It only matters in the dream, to the dream character. There’s nothing wrong with dreaming or with enjoying movies—and we enjoy all kinds of movies—adventure stories, romances, comedies, tragedies, horror stories, war stories, love stories, family dramas, soap operas, thrillers. It’s all part of life, the dreaming and the waking up, the holographic layers of reality, the movies within movies—it’s all included.<br /><br />I’ll close with a few lines from my friend Darryl Bailey, whose expression of nonduality is one of the clearest and cleanest I’ve encountered:<br /><br /><i> People desperately want to describe existence and, historically, they speak of matter, energy, consciousness, spirit, oneness, and mystery. But descriptions are merely limited interpretations. All of them. They can never tell us what life actually is.<br /><br /> – Darryl Bailey</i><br /><br />So perhaps there will be a relaxing into not knowing, into simple open presence—enjoying the utter simplicity of what is—without needing to grasp it with words or concepts, without needing it to be different from how it is, without waiting for something bigger, better or more special to happen, without trying to have any particular experience—just simply relaxing into the unconditional love that welcomes it all and allows it all to dissolve completely. This welcoming and dissolving is the very nature of Here-Now.<br /><br />Love and blessings to all…</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDl4blTDH-uKs5jOtEA2qcCwmqyfm25nHbkf-0TekmfgfCAs84ujKHWNLs-quaRnlTLAxIufpZqj-qnyi_dX1cMg8PNhXf5q_CHKluzH5QDaLmqO9HpdBvGd1xn-TIOvULqHKCOJiQk-qp2A6mC8XVUGJuF4pkK8k4LlhbNoZSHzH7lPG1ae8lvdN5cUY/s574/311239279_529937979138373_7942309540108386806_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="475" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDl4blTDH-uKs5jOtEA2qcCwmqyfm25nHbkf-0TekmfgfCAs84ujKHWNLs-quaRnlTLAxIufpZqj-qnyi_dX1cMg8PNhXf5q_CHKluzH5QDaLmqO9HpdBvGd1xn-TIOvULqHKCOJiQk-qp2A6mC8XVUGJuF4pkK8k4LlhbNoZSHzH7lPG1ae8lvdN5cUY/w102-h123/311239279_529937979138373_7942309540108386806_n.jpg" width="102" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"><a href="https://joantollifson.substack.com/p/no-mistakes-b72?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=1427713&post_id=139628463&utm_campaign=email-post-title&isFreemail=true&r=2vk1mh&utm_medium=email" target="_blank">Right Now, Just As It Is</a> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;"> </span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-70354560325911623982023-12-09T17:57:00.004+02:002023-12-09T17:57:33.206+02:00Mirza Ghalib - The Beloved's single face<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/f3ZOL8e2c8Y?si=tZIZgCLpnFBAcRog" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Courgette;">The world is no more than the Beloved’s single face,<br />In the desire of the One to know its own beauty, we exist.<br /><br />Each place, each moment, sings its particular song of not-being and being.<br />Without reason, the clear glass equally mirrors wisdom and madness.<br /><br />Those who claim knowledge are wrong; prayer just leads to trance,<br />Appearance and faith are mere lees in the Unknowing Wine.<br /><br />Wherever the Footprint is found,<br />that handful of dust holds the oneness of worlds.<br /><br />This earth, burnished by hearing the Name, is so certain of Love<br />That the sky bends unceasingly down, to greet its own light. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Courgette;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Courgette;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06dUUm6l0j0z2P-EXjvpfrRHF2-JDMt38Pz_txeyvmCa2QCWqpS3HNAzGacuEq8IumdgI4WJTzE5Bw0SFOlb8JGJ6nNtSfY263zEVVm2BSJQLVBCyQBEZ42z7T-FCp1_5jOI83_SE6qfCWDhfIX0N1rP_m3GM8t0RpbG_UxzWdjHpRweTIc9oSXVD38c/s1078/A_InPixio.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="1078" height="80" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06dUUm6l0j0z2P-EXjvpfrRHF2-JDMt38Pz_txeyvmCa2QCWqpS3HNAzGacuEq8IumdgI4WJTzE5Bw0SFOlb8JGJ6nNtSfY263zEVVm2BSJQLVBCyQBEZ42z7T-FCp1_5jOI83_SE6qfCWDhfIX0N1rP_m3GM8t0RpbG_UxzWdjHpRweTIc9oSXVD38c/w116-h80/A_InPixio.png" width="116" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> On the subject of mystic philosophy, Ghalib,<br />your words might have struck us as deeply profound ...<br />Hell, we might have pronounced you a saint,<br />if only we hadn't found<br />you drunk<br />as a skunk!</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-6453749297652288122023-12-02T22:49:00.002+02:002023-12-02T22:49:43.171+02:00Nancy Neithercut - A sigh of love <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBGZtcnHjM7OfyEfQ8XcriZBrJy-fMU-2uM2FzIBbwQnyeWXB68gF2Av_XJzvLXbTBfhn449fHHaGG72NiupOaUiicp3KP77X6uF8zK1WD0m3P7onbSAeJECGj1PuH0VvoZiFPtl-EpxZ7ikvAlLz79YB-BMbVudSwSLpfuJSQZMSuAiTqhfEOWaZNXM/s1124/387828720_10161917662803514_443061095278307913_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="843" height="631" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBGZtcnHjM7OfyEfQ8XcriZBrJy-fMU-2uM2FzIBbwQnyeWXB68gF2Av_XJzvLXbTBfhn449fHHaGG72NiupOaUiicp3KP77X6uF8zK1WD0m3P7onbSAeJECGj1PuH0VvoZiFPtl-EpxZ7ikvAlLz79YB-BMbVudSwSLpfuJSQZMSuAiTqhfEOWaZNXM/w474-h631/387828720_10161917662803514_443061095278307913_n.jpg" width="474" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;">The idea of 'happiness' or 'love' <br />was beginning to seem <br />like a dream <br />that would never ever come, <br />and yet my desire for love <br />pierced me deeply <br />and ripped me <br />shredded me <br />and emptied my dreams <br />of love and magic and time <br />until there was nothing left, <br />not even a skeleton’s dance <br /><br />Awakening is not <br />a walk in the park. <br />I kept looking and looking <br />for what could <br />never ever be found …<br />a better moment... <br />another moment... <br />all my dreams of what life <br />or love should be like <br />started to crumble. <br />It just kept smacking me <br />in the face<br />… over and over and over again, <br />that this is it, <br />whatever it looked like, <br />I had no control over thoughts <br />feelings <br />sensations... <br />of life itself. <br /><br />I realized that all perception <br />no matter what it looks or feels like <br />happens all by itself... <br />and that all perception <br />and its inseparable recognition <br />arises equally and evenly <br />without doing a thing... <br />simply 'out of the blue' <br />thoughts <br />sensations <br />feelings <br />arise <br />and spontaneously, <br />without any effort or non effort <br />there is a recognition of them, <br />and it dawned <br />hitting me like a freight train, <br />that I had never been separate <br />from what's going on. <br /><br />In the end there was <br />not even nothing left. <br />Not even emptiness... <br />and there was not even <br />a me to be empty. <br />And a sigh of love rushed in. <br />Caressed me <br />found me, <br />animating my <br />empty shadow <br />dancing <br />in the dark <br />in the wake <br />of loves demise…</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Quicksand;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIEekBwyQSGsAgFCrdfiAuf5KWO2n35vSiI17G9H6yQdwLBOfJUU79-I63U0AoeOEQGQZ0RwfzPLiS9b3kg7vTsPLEnkz6a15M_H3PfOZW1Cr6t_GuNPvtpIHwe3WEuUjTM0cAVNybiwHWGyHouFP92Zt-_05UY12P_uQukHoKpIeMPA_llmyqm81h_ws/s314/Nancy%20pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="246" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIEekBwyQSGsAgFCrdfiAuf5KWO2n35vSiI17G9H6yQdwLBOfJUU79-I63U0AoeOEQGQZ0RwfzPLiS9b3kg7vTsPLEnkz6a15M_H3PfOZW1Cr6t_GuNPvtpIHwe3WEuUjTM0cAVNybiwHWGyHouFP92Zt-_05UY12P_uQukHoKpIeMPA_llmyqm81h_ws/w114-h145/Nancy%20pic.JPG" width="114" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://nancyneithercut.substack.com/" target="_blank">https://nancyneithercut.substack.com/</a></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> <br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-64047859694991964092023-12-02T07:08:00.003+02:002023-12-02T07:08:43.884+02:00St Therese of Lisieux - Joy<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTgOHR_V8EQjhy-64kfOdPvzaupKew8fK7mwg5ZTp-K2pNcnnoc_W9Dl3LcWDI7NPi4rp4zyQt97pe9rDuk9mdLcaFeuWN_85PIxbbLQKEMzoR0s1ri-bBGjQ8bFb63pQwGyhQsMr98ztnJkaUQoQ2-kKG-d4UmcQLIESOXyPushJN4aadSWnknjoWnE/s836/St%20Therese%20of%20Lisieux.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="836" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTgOHR_V8EQjhy-64kfOdPvzaupKew8fK7mwg5ZTp-K2pNcnnoc_W9Dl3LcWDI7NPi4rp4zyQt97pe9rDuk9mdLcaFeuWN_85PIxbbLQKEMzoR0s1ri-bBGjQ8bFb63pQwGyhQsMr98ztnJkaUQoQ2-kKG-d4UmcQLIESOXyPushJN4aadSWnknjoWnE/w521-h395/St%20Therese%20of%20Lisieux.png" width="521" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Secular One; font-size: medium;">"I learned from experience that joy does not reside <br />in the things about us, <br />- but in the very depths of the soul, <br />That one can have it in the gloom of a dungeon, <br />- as well as in the palace of a king."</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Secular One; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><i><b> <a href="https://www.littleflower.org/st-therese/who-is-st-therese/" target="_blank">Who is St Therese?</a></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Secular One; font-size: medium;"></span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-67949991562913228392023-11-27T07:36:00.000+02:002023-11-27T07:36:10.470+02:00Kavi Jezzie Hockaday - Un-moor your boat<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUfDIyMJNHtRYI2BLoIIdgCc9VBJOAgZub93GfGZ09yVvpL9X_Q3zfpDZzVRQMMg1zltKKjcmOAYmdCcXCK3Z7XKIFp8LY3I7gIBXKAtwr0KyGLePOfoiT0U8gNTSB32X8LfSTh2yzKHG7hW69K2C3YMEFm_tffhiBgNpxZD1IvWq5wDhsn2bXHzla56Y/s763/barque%20vide.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="553" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUfDIyMJNHtRYI2BLoIIdgCc9VBJOAgZub93GfGZ09yVvpL9X_Q3zfpDZzVRQMMg1zltKKjcmOAYmdCcXCK3Z7XKIFp8LY3I7gIBXKAtwr0KyGLePOfoiT0U8gNTSB32X8LfSTh2yzKHG7hW69K2C3YMEFm_tffhiBgNpxZD1IvWq5wDhsn2bXHzla56Y/w464-h640/barque%20vide.JPG" width="464" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /><b><span style="color: #660000;">You have moored your boat<br />On the safe part of the river<br />And, for a time, it has been fine<br /><br />Now there is a longing to know<br />What lies further down stream<br />A thirst for adventure <br />And a deep desire for the ocean<br /><br />But you have been moored for a long time<br />And there is fear of the unknown<br />What if there are rapids<br />Or even a huge waterfall<br />What if you should capsize and drown<br />What huge discomfort this brings up<br /><br />Maybe it is better to stay moored up in the safety<br />Even though it no longer brings any juice to life<br />And the longing, the thirst, the desire, remains <br />And seems to grow every day<br /><br />Oh what a conundrum, a puzzle, a mystery…<br /><br />Friend, cast off the ropes and throw them upon the shore<br />You won’t be needing them again<br />Un-moor your boat like the warrior you are<br />Deep in your heart<br />Set sail, face the river, surrender and surf<br />Meet what comes as it comes<br />Be done with your fearful imagination<br />Live in this day, here, now<br />You have more capacity than you know<br />But you cannot discover it <br />Until you un-moor and set sail.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQpAshxIDIdFGv4SVpNfeewDMnzB3tq4uG0LnFEWhZYRJE54Vso8OFFhcga3D7_pDXtJ3E6zm0IUNicv7ubJzpQkOEiV_YATosAipHjROCOZg6fFCgGu6Gbn8BhyopICOmSg5mZNI9uUO_VYwOGyerc2RyKsIruYzPVoz3N4vC20cJzH3OynagvnAkm0/s224/Kavi%20Jezzie%20Hockaday.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="224" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQpAshxIDIdFGv4SVpNfeewDMnzB3tq4uG0LnFEWhZYRJE54Vso8OFFhcga3D7_pDXtJ3E6zm0IUNicv7ubJzpQkOEiV_YATosAipHjROCOZg6fFCgGu6Gbn8BhyopICOmSg5mZNI9uUO_VYwOGyerc2RyKsIruYzPVoz3N4vC20cJzH3OynagvnAkm0/w146-h146/Kavi%20Jezzie%20Hockaday.webp" width="146" /></a></b></div><b><br /> </b><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"><a href="https://kavijezziehockaday.substack.com/p/who-are-we?utm_source=profile&utm_medium=reader2" target="_blank">HERE</a> </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"> </span></b></span><br /></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-19632431606280928602023-11-21T06:33:00.000+02:002023-11-21T06:33:08.821+02:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTsL5gT01gRjR_cyU9TfkPDEjSIy0yK5VQL3DReTBX0cUnqN4lUJ2SKzNUonOSzlsnSDnf2czfOureXALiyy8C3qiKhQqQWg9eJJfmR-IMLKHrHGE-_DBqFF5rlI69_pXR8a1MIi8IpLkbqrEjcu10ePfXawT-q67VMeXZew4ZozHQex3WGKY5sCkhxI/s1101/402910195_6632934516804869_5315692762120042851_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="827" height="673" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTsL5gT01gRjR_cyU9TfkPDEjSIy0yK5VQL3DReTBX0cUnqN4lUJ2SKzNUonOSzlsnSDnf2czfOureXALiyy8C3qiKhQqQWg9eJJfmR-IMLKHrHGE-_DBqFF5rlI69_pXR8a1MIi8IpLkbqrEjcu10ePfXawT-q67VMeXZew4ZozHQex3WGKY5sCkhxI/w505-h673/402910195_6632934516804869_5315692762120042851_n.jpg" width="505" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135299841526478267.post-62323564697364047742023-11-20T09:30:00.002+02:002023-11-20T09:30:27.738+02:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Z8cl5fkreWtrIjQbPk1dEErhsXkrdKXLSBtUxeZg8GH4xtHKjqWlFMPgggxI1YunmiUpZQYlgDiIh0yBkBa48XLdMXEIrVyy-3Rd9SWiGhZcb0wH0zV8HxAFrMq4kZw2MbuYvvTkTFInWrxD3lCYpajyzF99-63wI7-AgdP1xR0m5YBFM0Yuw4mcWiM/s563/11219092_1094871450532369_1039205624024711853_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="380" height="679" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Z8cl5fkreWtrIjQbPk1dEErhsXkrdKXLSBtUxeZg8GH4xtHKjqWlFMPgggxI1YunmiUpZQYlgDiIh0yBkBa48XLdMXEIrVyy-3Rd9SWiGhZcb0wH0zV8HxAFrMq4kZw2MbuYvvTkTFInWrxD3lCYpajyzF99-63wI7-AgdP1xR0m5YBFM0Yuw4mcWiM/w458-h679/11219092_1094871450532369_1039205624024711853_n.jpg" width="458" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>No Mind's Landhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17687126130064016329noreply@blogger.com0