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Nondual Highlights Issue #2824, Saturday, May 26, 2007, Editor: Mark


Go to the truth beyond the mind.
Love is the bridge.

- Stephen Levine, posted to The_Now2




If we really see things the way they are our mind will give up attachment to them.

- Ajahn Chah, from Food For the Heart, published for free by the Sangha, Wat Pah Nanachat, posted to DailyDharma




A monk once complained to Mu- chou, "We waste most of the day sweeping floors and washing clothes, is there a away of avoiding this"?

"Yes, there is."

"How?"

" By just sweeping floors and washing clothes," Mu-chow replied.

P: In other words, it's thought and memory which makes repetition tiresome. Just do it with a fresh attentive mind, and it will seem refreshingly new each time.

- posted by Pete, to AdvaitaToZen




When you demand nothing of the world, nor of God, when you want nothing, seek nothing, expect nothing, then the Supreme State will come to you uninvited and unexpected!

- Nisargadatta, posted to adyashantigroup




Why am I reaching again for the brushes?
When I paint your portrait, God,
nothing happens.

But I can choose to feel you.

At my senses' horizon
you appear hesitantly,
like scattered islands.

Yet standing here, peering out,
I'm all the time seen by you.

The choruses of angels use up all of heaven.
There's no more room for you
in all that glory. You're living
in your very last house.

All creation holds its breath, listening within me,
because, to hear you, I keep silent.

- Ranier Maria Rilke, from Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy, posted to SufiMystic




Shall I tell you our secret?
We are charming thieves who steal hearts
and never fail because we are
the friends of the One.
The time for old preaching is over
we aim straight at the heart.
If the mind tries to sneak in and take over
we will string it up without delay.
We turn poison into medicine
and our sorrows into blessings.
All that was familiar,
our loved ones and ourselves,
we had to leave behind.

Blessed is the poem that comes through me
but not of me because the sound of my own music
will drown the song of Love.

- Rumi, Ghazal (Ode) 424, translated by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mafi, from Rumi: Hidden Music, posted to Sunlight

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