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#2390 - Sunday, February 12, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee

A wise man never knows all, only fools know everything.
-- African  Proverb


          Be conscious of yourself, watch your mind, give
        it your full attention.  Don't look for quick results,
        there may be none within your noticing.  Unknown
        to you, your psyche will undergo a change, there will
         be more clarity in your thinking and feeling, purity
        in your behaviour.  You need not aim at these - you
        will witness the change all the same.
                          - Nisargadatta Maharaj
  "I Am That"
Talks with Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

posted to Along the Way  


The man in whom Tao acts without impediment
Harms no other beings by his actions,
Yet he does not know himself to be "kind," to be "gentle."
The man in whom Tao acts without impediment
Does not bother with his own interests
And he does not despise others who do.
He does not struggle to make money, and he does not make a virtue of
He goes his way without relying on others
And does not pride himself on walking alone.
While he will not follow the crowd, he won't complain of those who
Rank and reward make no appeal to him.
Disgrace and shame do not deter him.
He is not always looking for right and wrong, always deciding "yes"
or "no."
The ancients said, therefore:
The man of Tao remains unknown
Perfect virtue produces nothing
"No-self" is "true-self"
And the greatest man is nobody.

(Chuang Tzu - translated by Thomas Merton)

  posted by Roy Whenary

swan photo by Alan Larus    

We say release, and radiance, and roses

Rainer Maria Rilke


      We say release, and radiance, and roses,
      and echo upon everything that's known;
      and yet, behind the world our names enclose is
      the nameless: our true archetype and home.

      The sun seems male, and earth is like a woman,
      the field is humble, and the forest proud;
      but over everything we say, inhuman,
      moves the forever-undetermined god.

      We grow up; but the world remains a child.
      Star and flower, in silence, watch us go.
      And sometimes we appear to be the final
      exam they must succeed on. And they do

From “Ahead of All Parting - The selected poetry and prose of Rainer Maria Rilke”.




Through your great wisdom, you have realized nirvana.
Through your great compassion, you willingly embrace samsara.
Through your skill in methods you have realized they are no different.
Peerless Teacher, at your feet I bow.

- Paltrul Rinpoche

'The Words of My Perfect Teacher' is one of the great Tibetan classics presenting the essential reflections basic for someone wishing to undertake the path to enlightenment. Written by Paltrul Rinpoche (1808-1887) who was famous for completely embodying what he taught, this book is considered to be particularly inspiring.




Maggie's taking care of a man
who's dying; he's attended to everything,
said goodbye to his parents,
paid off his credit card.
She says Why don't you just
run it up to the limit?
but he wants everything
squared away, no balance owed,
though he misses the pets
he's already found a home for
-- he can't be around dogs or cats,
too much risk. He says,
I can't have anything.
She says, A bowl of goldfish?
He says he doesn't want to start
with anything and then describes
the kind he'd maybe like,
how their tails would fan
to a gold flaring. They talk
about hot jewel tones,
gold lacquer, say maybe
they'll go pick some out
though he can't go much of anywhere and then
abruptly he says I can't love
anything I can't finish.
He says it like he's had enough
of the whole scintillant world,
though what he means is
he'll never be satisfied and therefore
has established this discipline,
a kind of severe rehearsal.
That's where they leave it,
him looking out the window,
her knitting as she does because
she needs to do something.
Later he leaves a message:
Yes to the bowl of goldfish.
Meaning: let me go, if I have to,
in brilliance. In a story I read,
a Zen master who'd perfected
his detachment from the things of the world
remembered, at the moment of dying,
a deer he used to feed in the park,
and wondered who might care for it,
and at that instant was reborn
in the stunned flesh of a fawn.
So, Maggie's friend?
Is he going out
Into the last loved object
Of his attention?
Fanning the veined translucence
Of an opulent tail,
Undulant in some uncapturable curve
Is he bronze chrysanthemums,
Copper leaf, hurried darting,
Doubloons, icon-colored fins
Troubling the water?

~ Mark Doty ~    

(My Alexandria)

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