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Nondual Highlights Issue #2154 Wednesday, May 25, 2005
rusting among the parsley -
a baking pan.
- Buson, posted to AdvaitaToZen
Ode to My Socks
Maru Mori brought me
that she knitted with her own
two socks as soft
I slipped my feet
as if they were
with threads of
and the pelt of sheep.
my feet became
made of wool,
two long sharks
of ultramarine blue
by one golden hair,
two gigantic blackbirds,
were honored in this way
that for the first time
my feet seemed to me
like two decrepit
of that embroidered
of those luminous
the sharp temptation
to save them
the wild impulse
to put them
in a golden
and each day give them
and chunks of pink melon.
in the jungle
who hand over the rare
to the roasting spit
and eat it
I stretched out
and pulled on
And the moral of my ode
beauty is twice
and what is good is doubly
when it's a matter of two
- Pablo Neruda, translated by Stephen Mitchell and published in Ten Poems to Change Your Life, by Roger Housden, Harmony Books, New York, 2001
The Wind, One Brilliant Day
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
"In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses."
"I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead."
"Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain."
the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
"What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?"
- Antonio Machado, translated by Robert Bly
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
- Mary Oliver
The Mind is Without Fear
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake
- Rabindranath Tagore, from Gitanjali
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