Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
Buddhism, true love, Thich Nhat Hanh
transcription taken from comments, and gratefully:
'The Buddha is a teacher of love, true love. Love for mother earth should be true love. And if it is true love, it can bring a lot of happiness to you and to mother earth. And romantic love, if it is true love, it can also bring a lot of happiness. But if it is not true love, it will make you suffer, and make the other suffer as well. And in the teaching of the Buddha, true love needs four elements. First of all, maitri, loving kindness, that is the capacity to offer happiness. If you cannot offer happiness, that’s not true love. In romantic love, if you are not able to help the other person [be] happy, that’s not true love. So you should train yourself in order to be able to offer happiness to you and to him or to her. Without that, both will suffer. The second element of true love is compassion. Compassion is the kind of energy that can help remove suffering. It can help transform the suffering in you and in the other person. If you cannot transform and take care of the suffering in you and in [the] other person, that is not true love. That is why karuna, the second element of true love, should be cultivated by you and by the other person. Romantic and not romantic, that’s not important. The important [thing] is it is true love or not true love. Right? And the third element of true love is joy. If by loving you make the other person cry all the time, and you cry all the time, that’s not true love, romantic or not romantic. True love is inclusiveness; that you do not exclude. His suffering is your suffering, his happiness is your happiness. There’s no individual suffering and happiness any more. In true love, there is the element of inclusiveness, non-discrimination, there’s no separation, there’s no frontier, between you and the other person. In that spirit, you cannot say “That’s your problem.” No. Your problem is my problem. My suffering is your suffering. So this is true love, the forth element of true love. And if romantic love has these four elements, it can bring a lot of happiness also. And the Buddha never said negative things about true love. And romantic love, if you are successful, you will cultivate a lot of loving kindness and compassion, and very soon, your love will be all-embracing. The other person is no longer the only object of your love, because your love continue[s] to grow and your love will embrace all of us. And happiness become[s] limitless. And that is the love of the Buddha. That is the meaning of the forth element of true love, inclusiveness. If it is true love, then it will continue to grow, and include more and more and more, not only humans, but also animals, vegetables, and minerals, and that is great love, maha-karuna, maha-maitri. And that is the love of the Buddha.'
The Journey, Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Klaus Schulze , My Ty She
hum, a bit too much adapted to mainstream, no?
was drawn by the painting...
Cat Stevens ,I Want To Live In A Wigwam
the tree hut..:-)~~~
there is still a life ahead,
and ageing is life to be lived,
a time of sweet surrender
and letting go the past,
a time with no children to raise
and for much deeper and truer
love undisturbed by the rush of
modern working regulations,
a time to fill from inside
all growing wider and not loaded
with the ambition and push of youth,
it is not a cycle to fear and despise
but to accept with all the richness
it can bring and with the growth of
reconciliation and plasticity
in the face of death coming nearer,
death not as something horrible, but as release
and grace and mercy when it will be time.
when we want the sweetness we have to peel the skin
when we want the sweetness
we have to peel the skin
and cut all through
to the core
when the skin is naked
we can taste the essence
of onions and fruit
when we cut the grass
the air we breathe
fills with its fragrance
the gift of maturing
is the time of harvesting
in the cycles of life
when we love
we peel off layer
for layer
and it all
does not come off easily,
our clothes stick
with the glue of fear
and our heads
are full with shit
pouring out
with the rain
and all of a moment
we caress the bark
of old trees
and the earth
embraces us:
we have arrived
to listening,
the weight has left,
we entered the now.
we have to peel the skin
and cut all through
to the core
when the skin is naked
we can taste the essence
of onions and fruit
when we cut the grass
the air we breathe
fills with its fragrance
the gift of maturing
is the time of harvesting
in the cycles of life
when we love
we peel off layer
for layer
and it all
does not come off easily,
our clothes stick
with the glue of fear
and our heads
are full with shit
pouring out
with the rain
and all of a moment
we caress the bark
of old trees
and the earth
embraces us:
we have arrived
to listening,
the weight has left,
we entered the now.
Monday, May 29, 2017
eagle eyes
a golden flame,
a cruel sharpness,
eagle eyes,
the balance of power
in flight.
how and why
should an eagle
dis-connect ,
be body and soul,
a spirit in the sky?
to say the same
again and again
does not make it
untrue:
it is plainly useless.
two in a garden,
two ate and drank,
trying to talk
person to person,
fading into evasion,
enveloped by shadows,
evading to meet,
talking on other people
and what they do
and how they are.
both open,
both closed,
one calling it process,
one a black hole,
both standing,
none reaching out,
both wanting to,
all embrace lost
in the need
to keep apart.
for me, speaking
for me,
no need to talk
on what to do
when it is not done
and no water
i can drink.
sometimes
i am a little thirsty
but and because.
the eagle circles
carried by wind
not caring a shit
about human desire:
though, i am not .. him
note:
i cannot disconnect my arms from my heart
when i am in love
and i miss waking up into the days with tenderness,
but the eagle doesn't mind :-)
a cruel sharpness,
eagle eyes,
the balance of power
in flight.
how and why
should an eagle
dis-connect ,
be body and soul,
a spirit in the sky?
to say the same
again and again
does not make it
untrue:
it is plainly useless.
two in a garden,
two ate and drank,
trying to talk
person to person,
fading into evasion,
enveloped by shadows,
evading to meet,
talking on other people
and what they do
and how they are.
both open,
both closed,
one calling it process,
one a black hole,
both standing,
none reaching out,
both wanting to,
all embrace lost
in the need
to keep apart.
for me, speaking
for me,
no need to talk
on what to do
when it is not done
and no water
i can drink.
sometimes
i am a little thirsty
but and because.
the eagle circles
carried by wind
not caring a shit
about human desire:
though, i am not .. him
note:
i cannot disconnect my arms from my heart
when i am in love
and i miss waking up into the days with tenderness,
but the eagle doesn't mind :-)
Sunday, May 28, 2017
May: another month, green, hot, flowers
so one day i'll fly away-
not so far now...
separation in life and living
means separation,
i love the richness of life too much,
scent, flowers, trees and rivers
and this love is sensual-
too much is lost in discussion
and denial and in looking away-
it is enough to be old,
why have it always in mind
and be dead before it is time?
i have died many times,
i have been born many times.
i don't know what else to feel
anymore, i cannot approach it,
here i am in a thick coat of armour
finding what i don't like so i don't wish
what i cannot do.
i needed my appetite lost...
a love which is not connected
to me is no love, to me
including my sensual presence-
a love per se does not exist:
it is a fake, an invention,
an esoteric and moralist if
not even puritan construct.
reality is not rigid.
even water runs...
i run already too far.
i live, i don't exist.
as this is about helplessness and a silence and stillness
where nobody is welcome and where hope drowns in
the sand of inner deserts, a sand which muffles the other's voice,
and as this is about joy shared and about vulnerability and truth,
emotional honesty given and non-given:
it means nothing here. just a diary note.
Saturday, May 27, 2017
a short reflection on the space between 'you' and ' me'
this space between 'you' and 'me' is finite and infinite as we can see,
it is not a hall of echoes nor of mirrors only,
it is the space in which possibilities grow,
a living dialogue in which we call us,
the bed of germination of flowers and weeds,
it is purification by fire, the hell of reactions, the water of life
and the foundation of paradise, all in one-starting in ourselves reaching out and meeting
and causing movement and experiencing reaction, stillness, welcome or rejection,
we call, starting with names, going on with definitions,
expectations, wishes, whatsoever-words are about all this-
we can call in another person the good and the bad,
the simple and the difficult,
the sweet and the sour,
we throw words like "you are always"
or"you are like" and very easily nomen est omen-
all transits a border and leads where nobody wanted to go-
what comes back is not in our control,
not even we are, only in so far as we can,want and
...need to be-
maybe we have all to give but can be stopped short
or stop ourselves in mid-air before we even realize what we do or
what the hell has happened a moment before.
this dialogue is alive, it comes with change, it can lead towards change,
not always for the better- it depends on each one alone and on both together
as long as there shall be a together: a matter of choice.
the space between you and me: either we can share it or we cannot.
when we feel a need to stress loneliness or togetherness: then where is this space?
when we cannot live in it: it is not there, only a poor construct
in which nobody can breathe.
still looking for this space- in the meantime i have mine.
there is nobody who can take it, i will never allow it anymore
or at least i cannot imagine i will.
"Alles wirkliche Leben ist Begegnung", Dr. Martin Buber,
Autor von "Ich und Du"
it is not a hall of echoes nor of mirrors only,
it is the space in which possibilities grow,
a living dialogue in which we call us,
the bed of germination of flowers and weeds,
it is purification by fire, the hell of reactions, the water of life
and the foundation of paradise, all in one-starting in ourselves reaching out and meeting
and causing movement and experiencing reaction, stillness, welcome or rejection,
we call, starting with names, going on with definitions,
expectations, wishes, whatsoever-words are about all this-
we can call in another person the good and the bad,
the simple and the difficult,
the sweet and the sour,
we throw words like "you are always"
or"you are like" and very easily nomen est omen-
all transits a border and leads where nobody wanted to go-
what comes back is not in our control,
not even we are, only in so far as we can,want and
...need to be-
maybe we have all to give but can be stopped short
or stop ourselves in mid-air before we even realize what we do or
what the hell has happened a moment before.
this dialogue is alive, it comes with change, it can lead towards change,
not always for the better- it depends on each one alone and on both together
as long as there shall be a together: a matter of choice.
the space between you and me: either we can share it or we cannot.
when we feel a need to stress loneliness or togetherness: then where is this space?
when we cannot live in it: it is not there, only a poor construct
in which nobody can breathe.
still looking for this space- in the meantime i have mine.
there is nobody who can take it, i will never allow it anymore
or at least i cannot imagine i will.
"Alles wirkliche Leben ist Begegnung", Dr. Martin Buber,
Autor von "Ich und Du"
Thursday, May 25, 2017
Cat Stevens , Hard Headed Woman ,Tea For The Tillerman
hard-headed myself...it's enough now..there must be a time for sweetness too...
Tim Buckley , The River
I live by the river and I hide my house away
Then just like the river, I can change my ways
Oh, if you come to love me, you'll stay forever
Inside my heart, inside my dreams
And time will fade, in time we'll love
In the street we walk as beggars, in the alley, faithless kings
Ah, but it's the truth of life that chains us in between
Those lost moments we steal to keep our love alive
And our prize, so tired after all the pain
And time will fade, in time we'll love
I live by the river and I hide my house away
Then just like the river, I can change my ways
Oh, if you come to love me, you'll stay forever
Inside my heart, inside my dreams
And time will fade, in time we'll love
Nick Drake ,Way To Blue
Don't you have a word to show what may be done
Have you never heard a way to find the sun
Tell me all that you may know
Show me what you have to show
Won't you come and say
If you know the way to blue?
Have you seen the land living by the breeze
Can you understand a light among the trees
Tell me all that you may know
Show me what you have to show
Tell us all today
If you know the way to blue?
Look through time and find your rhyme
Tell us what you find
We will wait at your gate
Hoping like the blind.
Can you now recall all that you have known?
Will you never fall
When the light has flown?
Tell me all that you may know
Show me what you have to show
Won't you come and say
If you know the way to blue?
Cat Stevens , I Think I See The Light
i just loved this film, saw it several times, 'Harold and Maude'
Child for a Day, Cat Stevens
I was a child
Who ran full of laughter
I was a child who lived for today
My eyes full of sunshine
My heart full of smiles
I was a child for a day
We were the children
Who sang in the morning
We were the children
Who laughed at the sun
Who listened to those who spoke with their wisdom
We are the ones we would say, but
We're getting older as time goes by
A little older with everyday
We were the children of yesterday
We are the men who worry of nothing
We are the men who fight without aim
We listen to no one, yet speak of our wisdom
We are the pawns in the game
We're getting older as time goes by
A little older with everyday
We were the children of yesterday
I was a child
Who ran full of laughter
I was a child who lived for today
My eyes full of sunshine
My heart full of smiles
I was a child for a day
We're getting older as time goes by
A little older with everyday
We were the children of yesterday
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Birdcage walk, John Thomas Merton
1
One royal afternoon
When I was young and easily surprised
By uncles coming from the park
At the command of nurses and of guards,
I wondered, over trees and ponds,
At the sorry, rude walls
And the white windows of the apartments.
“These,” said my uncle, “are the tallest houses.”
2
Yes, in the spring of my joy
When I was visibly affected by a gaitered bishop,
Large and unsteady in the flagged yard,
Guards, dogs and blackbirds fled on every hand.
“He is an old one,” said uncle,
“The gaiters are real.”
3
Rippled, fistfed windows of your
Dun high houses! Then
Come cages made of pretty willows
Where they put the palace girls!
Green ducks wade slowly from the marble water.
One swan reproves a saucy daughter.
I consider my own true pond,
Look for the beginning and the end.
I lead the bishop down lanes and islands.
4
Yes, in the windows of my first existence
Before my yawns became seasons,
When nurses and uncles were sure,
Chinese fowl fought the frosty water
Startled by this old pontifex.
“No bridge” (He smiled
Between the budding branches),
“No crossing to the cage
Of the paradise bird!”
Astounded by the sermons in the leaves
I cried, “No! No! The stars have higher houses!”
Kicking the robins and ganders
From the floor of his insular world
The magic bishop leaned his blessing on the children.
5
That was the bold day when
Moved by the unexpected summons
I opened all the palace aviaries
As by a king’s representative
I was appointed fowler.
Thomas Merton,quote
'A tree gives glory to God by being a tree. For in being what God means it to be it is obeying God. It “consents,” so to speak, to God's creative love. It is expressing an idea which is in God and which is not distinct from the essence of God, and therefore a tree imitates God by being a tree.'
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
neighbour owl
the owl , my neighbour,
calls this night,
very near, such
beauty in the sound
of my solitude.
i know i have left
all the tears i needed
to cry,
i have no need of
sadness and despair.
i feel no wish to control
and i will take
what is given.
nothing, nobody
will dominate my spirit,
i do not need to be
free because i am.
the voice of the owl
in the forest at night
is welcome with my soul.
my friends are welcome.
i didn't leave a path
but a trace,
more for birds and frogs
to sing
than for angels to come.
there is a bird now
outside my window,
i hear clearly
how we do not sleep
this hour.
though i don't know
who i am,
i feel and see
where no eyes
can go.
why explain
that i am here
when all is present
and when i
am present in all.
my neighbour, the owl
does not question
nor discuss but
reaches me
in my bed.
i don't make love
with owls
and this is not
the time:
i am alone
i have returned
to now,
and tenderness
comes many ways,
breathing with me,
soothing the hour
of pain which
i let go
and bringing a
scent of the sea
through the eye of a storm
which has arrived and gone
long long ago,
leaving salt, blood
and confusion
and a new green
in the fields of the day.
this is all
and all is this,
and words divide
innocence by words
Monday, May 22, 2017
Sunday, May 21, 2017
The Who , Boris The Spider
...well, when i can i just put them outside.
or..i leave them ...why not.
one of my employees left her handbag for two months
in the practice because she saw Boris going in there.
we had to do a thorough search , several times,
and i guess he grinned from behind the curtains
Dr. Sue Johnson ,How to Love Intelligently In the Age of Instant Gratif...
not.so ..bad, really, something there..
a bit too insisting, mystery solved etc. ,
science..."the" way......but.
WOLF LARSEN ,Jedi, Live in San Francisco
The hero she is sleeping
A Jedi princess keeping
A sword inside a song
She is the grimmest reaper reaping
There are dragons in your letters
There is hope of something better
But you wait and watch and see
And never show your heart to me
And the mother she is singing
And the worried hands are wringing
But it all goes to the sky
It’s like a thousand rubies, spinning
But heroes are in theory
And my wooden heart is weary
Send me up into the sky
Like Diana in her fury
There is coffee on the table
There is paper, when you’re able
Write the truth, the word, the name
To stitch forever to this fable
So I’m leaving for St. Thomas
Leaving you for old St. Thomas
For the dawn will always break your arms
That circle of your promise
But I know you will find me
Maybe deaf, dumb, or blind
But you will lift me like a Jedi
Like a diamond for the sky to wear at dawn
Saturday, May 20, 2017
melancholia, just a flue
melancholia as taking a distance, even depression relating to one's dying, or fado coming out of tight chests, pressed throats and narrow conditions trying to rise..
melancholia as a luxury, depression as an evasion, fado as failing love and life taking a pride in survival....poverty and loss as a virtue, sadness as a means for transformation...
but not all sadness leads to beauty...
melancholia , depression and fado as a kind of strange complaint and insult to all who hurt us..
and then to all outside..all outside being the enemy...going out of focus by denial...using
all the arrogance of an ego separating itself as it had been separated, singled out, defined,
chased and caught and confined by society and partners ..now unwilling to stay within this game...
despair..black spots in the mind and in our hearts..
regression and retreat : related to each other and easily mixed up..
..maybe no recovery without regression and complaint,
to follow an animal instinct to hide and to draw the shutters
giving oneself space and time to heal and possibly all healing
includes leaving a part of life, a tooth, a bone, a pain...
didn't we learn as children how to leave a tooth can end suffering?
and don't the apple and plums and nuts drop from the trees when
the branches are too heavily loaded?
it all must be there too.
forgetting must be there: to let go.
to listen to the rain.
to sleep giving oneself to sleep..
in the morning to get up, to walk out and to get wet again..
there is no way to swim without getting at least a bit wet :-)
blood flows everywhere..always..
all rises, evaporates, returns with the rain..
and flowers will grow out of dust in some place, in some desert..
they come growing out of the night..wonders everywhere..
i must sleep.
i am ill and in pain, old and damaged...
it will go, i'll be young another way, another time, or not,
who must know. To let go and to go needs to be allowed-
and there is only us who can give us the freedom of
dysfunction.
We need it.
melancholia as a luxury, depression as an evasion, fado as failing love and life taking a pride in survival....poverty and loss as a virtue, sadness as a means for transformation...
but not all sadness leads to beauty...
melancholia , depression and fado as a kind of strange complaint and insult to all who hurt us..
and then to all outside..all outside being the enemy...going out of focus by denial...using
all the arrogance of an ego separating itself as it had been separated, singled out, defined,
chased and caught and confined by society and partners ..now unwilling to stay within this game...
despair..black spots in the mind and in our hearts..
regression and retreat : related to each other and easily mixed up..
..maybe no recovery without regression and complaint,
to follow an animal instinct to hide and to draw the shutters
giving oneself space and time to heal and possibly all healing
includes leaving a part of life, a tooth, a bone, a pain...
didn't we learn as children how to leave a tooth can end suffering?
and don't the apple and plums and nuts drop from the trees when
the branches are too heavily loaded?
it all must be there too.
forgetting must be there: to let go.
to listen to the rain.
to sleep giving oneself to sleep..
in the morning to get up, to walk out and to get wet again..
there is no way to swim without getting at least a bit wet :-)
blood flows everywhere..always..
all rises, evaporates, returns with the rain..
and flowers will grow out of dust in some place, in some desert..
they come growing out of the night..wonders everywhere..
i must sleep.
i am ill and in pain, old and damaged...
it will go, i'll be young another way, another time, or not,
who must know. To let go and to go needs to be allowed-
and there is only us who can give us the freedom of
dysfunction.
We need it.
Ryuichi Sakamoto (Happy End) 坂本龍一（はっぴいえんど）
...never forget..each end is a beginning, each beginning is an end...
though called happy end...just illusionary terminology...
the moment is all...happiness to happen...never an end
though called happy end...just illusionary terminology...
the moment is all...happiness to happen...never an end
Thursday, May 18, 2017
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