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Jerry Katz
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#1968 - Tuesday, November 2, 2004 - Editor: Jerry  

This issue consists of some recent entries from David Hodges' Live Journal:    

From the "Literary" list ([email protected]/):  

From: [email protected]  

It is the 100th anniversary this week of a famous Irish poet called Patrick Kavanagh.
Here is one of his poems.I was driving back Sunday night across the country and I was
able to listen to a live radio broadcast of some of his work from one of the theatres. It
was good, they read 'The Great Hunger' which is his biggest work, but I like this one.
There is an Irish band called the Dubliners, and one of them, Luke Kelly, set it to music
many years ago before he died, and it is a beautiful song/poem. Raglan Road is near where
Kavangh lived in Dublin [he was from Monaghan] and it is near the canal. On the banks of
the canal near there is a bench with a statue of Kavanagh, facing the water where he
loved to sit, so you can sit beside him.    


On Raglan Road 
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.  

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.  

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May  

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.  

Patrick Kavanagh  

~ ~ ~    


Discern at every step that I am whatever is beginningless, conscious,
unborn, primal, resident in the Heart-cavity, unsullied, and transcending
the world, whatever is pure, peerless, desireless, beyond sight or other
perceptions or even mental apprehension. Because we think we are in the body
we also believe that we are born. However, we do not think of the body, of
God, or of methods of realization in our deep slumber. Yet in our waking
state we hold onto the body and think we are in it. The Supreme Being is
that from which the body is born, in which it lives, and into which it
resolves. We, however, think that we reside within the body. Hence
instruction is given. The instruction means: "look within." Consciousness is
not born at any time; it remains eternal. But ego is born; so also the other
thoughts. Associated with the absolute consciousness they shine forth; not
otherwise. . . .Liberation is to know that you were not born. "Be still and
know that I am God."  

Contributed by Harsha, from the HarshaSatsangh mail list.'    

~ ~ ~    

Crooked Fence
Photography by David Hodges
 I saw this fence on my morning walk. Something about those two broken slats really spoke to me.   


~ ~ ~    

Len Flare in the park
Photography by David Hodges
I went to the park on Saturday and sat under a tree. Everything was green and delicious.  

    ~ ~ ~


"The moment you have in your heart this extraordinary
thing called love and feel the depth, the delight, the ecstasy of it,
you will discover that for you the world is transformed."

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