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#2013 - Saturday, December 25, 2004 - Editor: Gloria
"Peace and Universal Love is the essence
of the Gospel preached by all
Enlightened Ones.
The Lord has preached that equanimity
is the dharma.
Forgive do I all creatures,
and let all creatures forgive me.
Unto all have I amity, and unto none enmity.
Know that violence is the root cause of
all miseries in the world.
Violence, in fact, is the knot of bondage.
'Do not injure any living being.'
This is the eternal, perennial, and unalterable
way of spiritual life.
A weapon, howsoever powerful it may be,
can always be superseded by a superior one;
however, no weapon can be superior to non-violence and
love."
~Jain Prayer of Peace
posted to Daily Dharma
if you pass your night
if you pass your night
and merge it with dawn
for the sake of heart
what do you think will happen
if the entire world
is covered with the blossoms
you have labored to plant
what do you think will happen
if the elixir of life
that has been hidden in the dark
fills the desert and towns
what do you think will happen
if because of
your generosity and love
a few humans find their lives
what do you think will happen
if you pour an entire jar
filled with joyous wine
on the head of those already drunk
what do you think will happen
go my friend
bestow your love
even on your enemies
if you touch their hearts
what do you think will happen
Translated by Nader Khalili
'Rumi, Fountain of Fire'
A Christmas Story
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of
our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription.
It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10
years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas---oh, not
the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of
it-overspending... the frantic running around at the last minute
to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for
Grandma---the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't
think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual
shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something
special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior
level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas,
there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an
inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in
sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing
holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in
their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling
shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other
team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet
designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag
team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping
them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got
up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false
bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just
one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot
of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out
of them."
Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached little
league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for
his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting
goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and
shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On
Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside
telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me.
His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and
in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the
tradition---one year sending a group of mentally handicapped
youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of
elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week
before Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always
the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children,
ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation
as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its
contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical
presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story
doesn't end there.
You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When
Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I
barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an
envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three
more.
Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an
envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and
someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing
around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their
fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas
spirit, will always be with us.
author unknown, contributed by Rick Grunwald
"Snowy Path to Nowhere" by Alan Larus
reposted by Mazie Lane
On this Christmas Eve, something by the Catholic
monk, Thomas Merton who did so much to bridge the spirituality of
East and West.
Regardless of faith, belief, tradition, or practice, may the
renewal of light at this time of year renew in all of us life and
hope and peace.
Blessings,
Ivan ============
Thought for the Day:
All of mysticism comes down to this:
to recognize
what is already
and always there. ============
Here's your Daily Poem from the Poetry Chaikhana --
 |
O Sweet
Irrational Worship By Thomas
Merton Wind and a bobwhite --from Selected Poems of Thomas Merton, Thomas Merton |
Question: Going back to the question of how to determine who is and who is not a jnani, can we not come to some valid conclusion by studying his life and his teachings? Will not his state be somehow reflected in the life he leads?
Annamalai Swami: You cannot determine the answer to this question by studying the teachings or the behaviour of a person you think might be a jnani. These are not reliable indicators. Some jnanis may stay silent; others may talk a lot. Some are active in the world; some withdraw from it. Some end up as teachers while others are content to stay hidden. Some behave like saints, whereas others act like madmen. The same peace can be found in the presence of all these beings, since this peace is not affected by modes of behaviour, but there may be no other common factors.
Question: Jnanis are supposed to have an equality of vision. Can we not decide whether someone may be a jnani on the basis of whether he treats people around him equally?
Annamalai Swami: Jnanis remain absorbed in the Self at all times and their apparent behaviour is just a reflection of the circumstances they find themselves in. Some may appear to be egalitarian. Others may not. They play their allotted roles, and though they may seem to be involved in them as ordinary people would be, they are not really touched by any of the events that occur in their lives. Equal vision may be there, internal equanimity may be there, but don’t expect all jnanis to behave in a prescribed, egalitarian way.
Bhagavan
often used to cite King Janaka as an example of a jnani who was
fully involved in the affairs of the world. But when his palace
caught fire and was burning to the ground, he was the only person
in the vicinity who was not disturbed.
In this same story there was a group of sadhus who lived near the palace. When the fire began to spread, they panicked and began to collect their sticks, their spare kaupinas, their water pots, and so on. They had very few possessions, but they were still very attached to them, and they definitely didn’t want to lose them to the fire. They were more worried about their spare underwear than Janaka was about his palace. Janaka watched his palace burn to the ground with complete equanimity. When you have this jnana, your inner peace is a solid rock that cannot be disturbed.
ANNAMALAI SWAMI, FINAL TALKS
edited by DAVID GODMAN
posted on MillionPaths
photo by Alan Larus
You, you only, exist
Rainer Maria Rilke
You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last,
our passing is so immense
that you arise: beautiful moment,
in all your suddenness,
arising in love, or enchanted
in the contraction of work.
To you I belong, however time may
wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up: look:
all becomes festival!
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
posted on AlphaWorld