Information may come from reading what’s written
And hearing what is being said;
But wisdom comes from understanding
That which is neither written or said
For the art of reading between the lines
Is an art that no one teaches.
An art that no one teaches
But is learnt by one who observes
Is an art that helps us touch
That which little has touched...
Come and sit by my side,
Let my silence touch yours
And let our silence collect those fruits
That words can never bear...
~ Raj Yogi
4 November 2019
THE DIGITAL SELF
By Melanie Amante Mabao Maguindanao
Seemingly suspended frozen in the frigid air...
I examined myself again in the mirror.
I saw my avatar in a metaverse where the sky is the limit.
Is this a way to trick the senses?
Maybe some neural implant has been inserted so that I can't tell the difference between playing my life or the second life...on a never ending calculus of reality and fantasy.
My heart stopped in there for a moment.
Is it really possible to digitalize the self?
To leave your body and upload the mind?
A post-human living entirely inside a machine...creating an absence of human flaws and weaknesses?
It is a concept of having an appearance without the traces and sutures of wear and tear but a seamless indestructible image of the self in an alternate world.
The idea more than appealing is rather sticky. The wild and the weird sounds mysterious and interesting sometimes... but, I would rather have reality decompose me from the outside, than think of a new world that brings about new dangers!
Source: FB, My Avatar on the Mirror, November 5, 2018
Seemingly suspended frozen in the frigid air...
I examined myself again in the mirror.
I saw my avatar in a metaverse where the sky is the limit.
Is this a way to trick the senses?
Maybe some neural implant has been inserted so that I can't tell the difference between playing my life or the second life...on a never ending calculus of reality and fantasy.
My heart stopped in there for a moment.
Is it really possible to digitalize the self?
To leave your body and upload the mind?
A post-human living entirely inside a machine...creating an absence of human flaws and weaknesses?
It is a concept of having an appearance without the traces and sutures of wear and tear but a seamless indestructible image of the self in an alternate world.
The idea more than appealing is rather sticky. The wild and the weird sounds mysterious and interesting sometimes... but, I would rather have reality decompose me from the outside, than think of a new world that brings about new dangers!
Source: FB, My Avatar on the Mirror, November 5, 2018
1 November 2019
TH … TH … THUNDER
By George Daniel Anos
Sometimes we choose to live alone
And people ask us why
Our tongues we hold and merely smile
then leave them hanging dry
Most often too these questions' tone
Are full of genuine wonder
But only if they knew the tale
Left by the last loud thunder
Streaking wild from the sky
From darkly clouds above
We were swept of what we thought
We will forever have
The brightness caught us suddenly
And lifted darkness' curtain
That next ones will be longer still
Of that we thought we're certain
So it struck straight into our heart
too stunned for any objection
Just like a child who hasn't yet
Seen a storm in action
With each new blast on that dark night
Our spirits rose ever higher
The crackling charges gave our spines
electrifying shivers
Too caught up in that wondrous sight
The thunders barely heard
Till that last time it streaked the sky
To our ears it finally bared
Unlike the gentle Sun and moon when
days end and nights begin
Sometimes we cannot see them
Still they return again
Such things are true of sudden love
we surrender everything
Without knowing if its real
right from the beginning
The echoing final rumbles
Of the night with a brightened sky
When lightning strikes were all we saw
Until that sad goodbye.
Source: FB/Thundery weather
November 1, 2019
Sometimes we choose to live alone
And people ask us why
Our tongues we hold and merely smile
then leave them hanging dry
Most often too these questions' tone
Are full of genuine wonder
But only if they knew the tale
Left by the last loud thunder
Streaking wild from the sky
From darkly clouds above
We were swept of what we thought
We will forever have
The brightness caught us suddenly
And lifted darkness' curtain
That next ones will be longer still
Of that we thought we're certain
So it struck straight into our heart
too stunned for any objection
Just like a child who hasn't yet
Seen a storm in action
With each new blast on that dark night
Our spirits rose ever higher
The crackling charges gave our spines
electrifying shivers
Too caught up in that wondrous sight
The thunders barely heard
Till that last time it streaked the sky
To our ears it finally bared
Unlike the gentle Sun and moon when
days end and nights begin
Sometimes we cannot see them
Still they return again
Such things are true of sudden love
we surrender everything
Without knowing if its real
right from the beginning
The echoing final rumbles
Of the night with a brightened sky
When lightning strikes were all we saw
Until that sad goodbye.
Source: FB/Thundery weather
November 1, 2019
31 October 2019
FORGED BY FIRE
Oh Didi Dreaming Fire and Wind
copyright by Yesu Ben (2012)
Forged by Fire (Amazon)
Oh Didi dreaming fire and wind,
Would you bring me there,
Teach me your night-waltz; dance with me
Tapping out loud in lunar sea,
God’s substance innocent and free
basking in the glare?
Convince the fire that eats the night,
Not to slay the dark,
And ask the wind, the cold it brings,
The breezes on raw holy wings,
The mournful anthem that it sings
Not to kill the spark.
Comes the water from the river,
Comes it from the deep
Oh scream at it that it may cease
Its gladness soaking calm and peace
That in regret and woe increase
When in your fear you weep.
Go fly so ever far away
‘til you hear the sky
Until you hear its bitter song
Remaining so devoid so long
And blasting wind and rain so strong,
That you may know why.
Lose your strength in thoughtless seeking,
Lose also your soul
And tolerance for what’s been told
As you’ve grown weary, you’ve grown old
To truths that don’t count and don’t hold,
Bits that make the whole.
Climb up now the high high mountain
Your God-seeking self
Conquer all of your illusions,
Free yourself from all delusion,
Face the sea cliff of deception
Kill your untrue self.
*Didi is sister in Sanskrit (Nun)
copyright by Yesu Ben (2012)
Forged by Fire (Amazon)
Oh Didi dreaming fire and wind,
Would you bring me there,
Teach me your night-waltz; dance with me
Tapping out loud in lunar sea,
God’s substance innocent and free
basking in the glare?
Convince the fire that eats the night,
Not to slay the dark,
And ask the wind, the cold it brings,
The breezes on raw holy wings,
The mournful anthem that it sings
Not to kill the spark.
Comes the water from the river,
Comes it from the deep
Oh scream at it that it may cease
Its gladness soaking calm and peace
That in regret and woe increase
When in your fear you weep.
Go fly so ever far away
‘til you hear the sky
Until you hear its bitter song
Remaining so devoid so long
And blasting wind and rain so strong,
That you may know why.
Lose your strength in thoughtless seeking,
Lose also your soul
And tolerance for what’s been told
As you’ve grown weary, you’ve grown old
To truths that don’t count and don’t hold,
Bits that make the whole.
Climb up now the high high mountain
Your God-seeking self
Conquer all of your illusions,
Free yourself from all delusion,
Face the sea cliff of deception
Kill your untrue self.
*Didi is sister in Sanskrit (Nun)
TREES
🌳🌳🌳
By Estelle Cortes
I see you all almost everyday,
When I traverse along the road,
You waved to me
And whispered in the wind,
You gave me shade
During hot summertime,
And cooled my face
When it's too hot to run.
Then you fell down,
One by one.
The majestic Tree friends
I've known.
My heart bleed,
A part of my Soul died.
In my mind are words
"My Tree Friends are gone."
Goodbye dear friends,
I will miss your comforting shade
And the whispers of your leaves.
Mere words are not enough,
To honor you All,
Who, even in death continues to help.
~Estelle~
October 17, 2019
By Estelle Cortes
I see you all almost everyday,
When I traverse along the road,
You waved to me
And whispered in the wind,
You gave me shade
During hot summertime,
And cooled my face
When it's too hot to run.
Then you fell down,
One by one.
The majestic Tree friends
I've known.
My heart bleed,
A part of my Soul died.
In my mind are words
"My Tree Friends are gone."
Goodbye dear friends,
I will miss your comforting shade
And the whispers of your leaves.
Mere words are not enough,
To honor you All,
Who, even in death continues to help.
~Estelle~
October 17, 2019
29 October 2019
LEGACY
By Estelle Cortes
Light and darkness,
Beauty, like memory fades.
Be not ashamed,
Embrace the darkness
Even in the madness,
Grow like a seed,
When planted,
Will take root
Beneath the ground,
Then spring upwards
Reaching for the sun.
As it grows,
It benefits
What surrounds it,
Giving shade,
Providing fruits,
A shelter for the birds.
And when the time comes
It'll fall,
Even in death
Still as useful.
So I strive hard
To be like a tree,
In life
And in death
I will leave
A beautiful legacy.
~Estelle ~
March 10, 2019
Light and darkness,
Beauty, like memory fades.
Be not ashamed,
Embrace the darkness
Even in the madness,
Grow like a seed,
When planted,
Will take root
Beneath the ground,
Then spring upwards
Reaching for the sun.
As it grows,
It benefits
What surrounds it,
Giving shade,
Providing fruits,
A shelter for the birds.
And when the time comes
It'll fall,
Even in death
Still as useful.
So I strive hard
To be like a tree,
In life
And in death
I will leave
A beautiful legacy.
~Estelle ~
March 10, 2019
WHAT A PITY WE'RE ALMOST BLIND
By Michael A. Taylor
What a pity we're almost blind
For daily we pass minute jewels
Much finer than anything worn by queens
Way beyond the skills of humankind,
As if the products of the fairy world
Had somehow found their way into ours -
Such is their incredible design.
Though we know we should dawdle
We are poor at pausing
To smell the flowers while we still have time
To watch a butterfly crossing our path
Or bend to examine a dragonfly's wings.
Instead, we hurry and seem to accept
That we live with hollowed hearts.
Source: POEM FROM EXILE
What a pity we're almost blind
For daily we pass minute jewels
Much finer than anything worn by queens
Way beyond the skills of humankind,
As if the products of the fairy world
Had somehow found their way into ours -
Such is their incredible design.
Though we know we should dawdle
We are poor at pausing
To smell the flowers while we still have time
To watch a butterfly crossing our path
Or bend to examine a dragonfly's wings.
Instead, we hurry and seem to accept
That we live with hollowed hearts.
Source: POEM FROM EXILE
TO THE SLEEPING LADY
By Romeo Balingcongan
I wonder
If you have always been sleeping all these years?
Was there ever a time when you lay prone on your tummy
Your face held by both your hands propped against your chin
Watching the people of the lake
Do what they normally do each day
Housewives and other female household members
Washing clothes at the lakeshore or
Agus River or other outlets from the lake.
Farmers bringing vegetables, fruits,
Marang, durian, or whatever produce they had
Fishermen their catches for the day
Vendors selling their wares in Padian
Malongs and straw mats and blankets
Woven the traditional way
Buyers haggling for lower prices
Horse driven carts then
Jeepneys and motorcabs now
Plying their routes
Private vehicles going to wherever they're going to
At arranged weddings and aqeeqas?
Smiling perhaps at the little foibles of the people of the lake?
Were you sad
At the occasional Meranaw custom of vendetta
Rido, they call it, that disturbed
The normal flow of life for the families involved?
Did you cry
When wars plagued the land
Resisting invaders from foreign lands?
And did you shed tears
As you watched Marawi bombed
Reduced to rubbles
The chaotic din of everyday life
Silenced?
Are you mourning still
The lives that were lost
In that senseless war
And the souls that were scattered
To who knows where?
Do nightmares disturb you
Of terrible things yet to come
When, God forbid,
All the pent up rage are not contained
When blood shall be spilt and turn the land crimson?
Or, do you, with the wisdom born
Of thousands and thousands of years
Who lived long before the first settlers set their feet upon the land
See beyond our ken a brighter joyous day
When the People of the Tents
Come home and be once more the proud
People of the Lake?
Pray tell me, Sleeping Lady
For my soul is faint
My heart heavy.
Tell me please.
I wonder
If you have always been sleeping all these years?
Was there ever a time when you lay prone on your tummy
Your face held by both your hands propped against your chin
Watching the people of the lake
Do what they normally do each day
Housewives and other female household members
Washing clothes at the lakeshore or
Agus River or other outlets from the lake.
Farmers bringing vegetables, fruits,
Marang, durian, or whatever produce they had
Fishermen their catches for the day
Vendors selling their wares in Padian
Malongs and straw mats and blankets
Woven the traditional way
Buyers haggling for lower prices
Horse driven carts then
Jeepneys and motorcabs now
Plying their routes
Private vehicles going to wherever they're going to
At arranged weddings and aqeeqas?
Smiling perhaps at the little foibles of the people of the lake?
Were you sad
At the occasional Meranaw custom of vendetta
Rido, they call it, that disturbed
The normal flow of life for the families involved?
Did you cry
When wars plagued the land
Resisting invaders from foreign lands?
And did you shed tears
As you watched Marawi bombed
Reduced to rubbles
The chaotic din of everyday life
Silenced?
Are you mourning still
The lives that were lost
In that senseless war
And the souls that were scattered
To who knows where?
Do nightmares disturb you
Of terrible things yet to come
When, God forbid,
All the pent up rage are not contained
When blood shall be spilt and turn the land crimson?
Or, do you, with the wisdom born
Of thousands and thousands of years
Who lived long before the first settlers set their feet upon the land
See beyond our ken a brighter joyous day
When the People of the Tents
Come home and be once more the proud
People of the Lake?
Pray tell me, Sleeping Lady
For my soul is faint
My heart heavy.
Tell me please.
24 October 2019
THE WHITE SWANS
By John Jude Palencar
In a foreign country with unknown language
Sitting on the porch, watching, listening,
Letting people, events, experiences passing by
Some are nice, some hypocrite, crazy, harmful
Especially in these days I look at myself and ask:
How come that so so much I have not seen?
And what to do about wrong and harmful doings I know of?
I stumbled about a 'stone' - must I make it known to others?
I learn to accept for myself care and help
Knowing: everything less than respect is unacceptable
Healing, growing, understanding, speaking out
And I say to myself with gratitude and joy:
'You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Daring to hold hands with the Sacred One
I know I hear the music with such longing
But never learnt to dance as it was demanded
You have not danced ugly at all, my dear
A shy crushed child, a broken vessel
You have tangoed with great style
Your own style in your unique world
The child, the woman, faithful and true
You claimed to near God's heart even more
In following the call of our King of Love
You have indeed danced lovely, dear brave woman'
In a foreign country with unknown language
Sitting on the porch, watching, listening,
Letting people, events, experiences passing by
Some are nice, some hypocrite, crazy, harmful
Especially in these days I look at myself and ask:
How come that so so much I have not seen?
And what to do about wrong and harmful doings I know of?
I stumbled about a 'stone' - must I make it known to others?
I learn to accept for myself care and help
Knowing: everything less than respect is unacceptable
Healing, growing, understanding, speaking out
And I say to myself with gratitude and joy:
'You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Daring to hold hands with the Sacred One
I know I hear the music with such longing
But never learnt to dance as it was demanded
You have not danced ugly at all, my dear
A shy crushed child, a broken vessel
You have tangoed with great style
Your own style in your unique world
The child, the woman, faithful and true
You claimed to near God's heart even more
In following the call of our King of Love
You have indeed danced lovely, dear brave woman'
13 October 2019
BEYOND FORGETTING
by Rolando A. Carbonell
For a moment I thought I could forget you.
For a moment I thought I could still
the restlessness in my heart
I thought the past could no longer
haunt me – nor hurt me.
How wrong I was!
For the past,
no matter how distant,
is as much a part of me as life itself.
And you are part of that life.
You are so much a part of me — of my dreams,
my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions –
that in all tasks I can’t help remembering you.
Many little delights and things remind me of you.
Yes, I came.
And would my pride mock my real feelings?
Would the love song,
the sweet and lovely smile on your face,
be lost among the deepening shadows?
I have wanted to be alone.
I thought I could make myself forget you
In silence and in song…
And yet I remembered.
For who could forget the memory
of the once lovely, the once beautiful,
the once happy world such as ours?
I came because the song that I kept
through the years is waiting to be sung.
I cannot sing it without you.
The song when sung alone will lose
the essence of its tune,
because you and I had been one.
I have wanted this misery to end,
because it is part of my restlessness.
Can’t you understand?
Can’t you divine the depth and tenderness
of my feelings towards you?
Yes, can’t you see how I suffer
in this even darkness without you?
You went away because
you mistook my silence for indifference.
But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.
How could I essay the intensity of my love
when silence speaks a more eloquent tone?
But perhaps, you didn’t understand…
Remember, I came,
because the gnawing loneliness is there
and will be lost until the music is sung,
until the poem is heard,
until the silence is understood…
until you come to me again.
For you alone
can blend music and memory
into one consuming ecstasy.
You alone…
For a moment I thought I could forget you.
For a moment I thought I could still
the restlessness in my heart
I thought the past could no longer
haunt me – nor hurt me.
How wrong I was!
For the past,
no matter how distant,
is as much a part of me as life itself.
And you are part of that life.
You are so much a part of me — of my dreams,
my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions –
that in all tasks I can’t help remembering you.
Many little delights and things remind me of you.
Yes, I came.
And would my pride mock my real feelings?
Would the love song,
the sweet and lovely smile on your face,
be lost among the deepening shadows?
I have wanted to be alone.
I thought I could make myself forget you
In silence and in song…
And yet I remembered.
For who could forget the memory
of the once lovely, the once beautiful,
the once happy world such as ours?
I came because the song that I kept
through the years is waiting to be sung.
I cannot sing it without you.
The song when sung alone will lose
the essence of its tune,
because you and I had been one.
I have wanted this misery to end,
because it is part of my restlessness.
Can’t you understand?
Can’t you divine the depth and tenderness
of my feelings towards you?
Yes, can’t you see how I suffer
in this even darkness without you?
You went away because
you mistook my silence for indifference.
But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.
How could I essay the intensity of my love
when silence speaks a more eloquent tone?
But perhaps, you didn’t understand…
Remember, I came,
because the gnawing loneliness is there
and will be lost until the music is sung,
until the poem is heard,
until the silence is understood…
until you come to me again.
For you alone
can blend music and memory
into one consuming ecstasy.
You alone…
YOUR MIND - YOUR SOIL
It’s all about the mind, my dear -
That’s where suffering takes root
And that’s where pain is born
And that’s also where salvation blooms.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where the seeds of suffering were sown
And unknown to you, though it’s your mind
That’s where the suffering has slowly grown.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where your pain was watered and fed.
You had no idea how it kept growing
And how you even took it to bed.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
That’s where you can grow joy and bliss;
You have a toolbox filled with things
That can help you easily accomplish this.
Learn to tend your mind with loving care
Like a gardener tends his garden -
You need to become its gardener and
You need to become its vigilant warden.
Your mind is a fertile land with soil
That can give a harvest of abundant grain;
Why then do you settle for suffering,
Why do you drown yourself in pain?
~ Raj Yogi
That’s where suffering takes root
And that’s where pain is born
And that’s also where salvation blooms.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where the seeds of suffering were sown
And unknown to you, though it’s your mind
That’s where the suffering has slowly grown.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where your pain was watered and fed.
You had no idea how it kept growing
And how you even took it to bed.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
That’s where you can grow joy and bliss;
You have a toolbox filled with things
That can help you easily accomplish this.
Learn to tend your mind with loving care
Like a gardener tends his garden -
You need to become its gardener and
You need to become its vigilant warden.
Your mind is a fertile land with soil
That can give a harvest of abundant grain;
Why then do you settle for suffering,
Why do you drown yourself in pain?
~ Raj Yogi
16 September 2019
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
7 September 2019
LOVE ME NOW WHILE I CAN KNOW
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.
Love me now, while I'm living; do not wait 'til I am gone.
And then chisel it on marble - words on ice, cold stone.
If you have dear sweet thoughts about me. Why not whisper them to me?
Don't you know it would make me happy and as glad as glad could be?
If you wait until I'm sleeping, never to awaken here again,
there will be walls of earth between us and couldn't hear you then.
I won't need your kind caresses when the grass grows over my face.
I won't crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place.
So then, if you love me any, if it's but a little bit.
Let me know while I am living, so I can own it treasure it."
~Anon~
4 September 2019
A THOUSAND SILENT TIMES EACH DAY
By Michael A. Taylor
A thousand silent times each day
I speak to you, my Sweet.
In a thousand unwitnessed ways
I demonstrate my love.
All day my thoughts accompany you
Beside, behind, in front of you.
Unguessed by you
I study and delight in you.
And, maybe sometimes sensed by you -
Though you conclude it is the wind -
It is I who disturbs your hair,
And lightly, so lightly, kisses you.
A thousand silent times each day
I speak to you, my Sweet.
In a thousand unwitnessed ways
I demonstrate my love.
All day my thoughts accompany you
Beside, behind, in front of you.
Unguessed by you
I study and delight in you.
And, maybe sometimes sensed by you -
Though you conclude it is the wind -
It is I who disturbs your hair,
And lightly, so lightly, kisses you.
LONELINESS
Being alone I felt the gloom,
but deep in my heart sadness has no room.
When I am in doubt of what is happening to me,
I just bend my knees and start to pray.
I prayed to Yahweh to make me strong.
Save my soul from being wrong.
Prayed so hard to Yahweh to stay.
Never leave my side anytime of day.
I prayed to Yahweh with all my heart,
that from loneliness I must depart.
Pray that our children remembers us.
May they be reminded of the pasts.
Oh my children I love you so.
I really wanted to be with you.
But in my remaining years I have to know,
if being by myself I still can grow.
My wayward ways I put to rest.
Now I am ready for the final test.
To face my challenge till the end,
with somebody that Yahweh did send.
(holy5naptorres)
8:51pm
8/13/2019
but deep in my heart sadness has no room.
When I am in doubt of what is happening to me,
I just bend my knees and start to pray.
I prayed to Yahweh to make me strong.
Save my soul from being wrong.
Prayed so hard to Yahweh to stay.
Never leave my side anytime of day.
I prayed to Yahweh with all my heart,
that from loneliness I must depart.
Pray that our children remembers us.
May they be reminded of the pasts.
Oh my children I love you so.
I really wanted to be with you.
But in my remaining years I have to know,
if being by myself I still can grow.
My wayward ways I put to rest.
Now I am ready for the final test.
To face my challenge till the end,
with somebody that Yahweh did send.
(holy5naptorres)
8:51pm
8/13/2019
23 July 2019
WE MEET EACH OTHER IN ALL FORMS OF LIFE
This body is not me.
I am not limited by this body.
I am life without boundaries.
I have never been born,
and I have never died.
Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars,
Manifestations from my wondrous true mind.
Since before time, I have been free.
Birth and death are only doors through which we pass,
sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide- and seek.
So laugh with me,
hold my hand,
let us say good-bye,
say good-bye, to meet again soon.
We meet today.
We will meet again tomorrow.
We will meet at the source every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.
~Thich Nhat Hanh
I am not limited by this body.
I am life without boundaries.
I have never been born,
and I have never died.
Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars,
Manifestations from my wondrous true mind.
Since before time, I have been free.
Birth and death are only doors through which we pass,
sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide- and seek.
So laugh with me,
hold my hand,
let us say good-bye,
say good-bye, to meet again soon.
We meet today.
We will meet again tomorrow.
We will meet at the source every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.
~Thich Nhat Hanh
20 July 2019
HEALING MYSELF
No, I do not have the strength
Nor the resources that are needed
To fight and correct a million things
That seem wrong but must be changed
From my perspective, at the very least.
When cruelty rears its ugly head
And strikes one that cannot defend
Or causes pain and suffering,
God knows why,
What can I do but cry.
But my tears will soon run dry
And leave me feeling torn
Wondering why I was even born,
Why the cruelty, why this pain,
What is it one could possibly gain
By hurting another -
No, himself.
What is another?
How can there be another?
Are not the cells in my body all me?
What happens when one organ or a cell
Turns against another inside of me?
It shows that I am sick.
My body may be healthy and well
And, perhaps, my spirit, too
But a higher part of me, my society
Is likely not so well.
No, I shall not recuse myself,
Nor will I blame the others
For there are really no others...
It’s me...at another level.
No, I shall not turn against ‘another’...
I’ll work on myself and work harder there
For I care...
As I get better and better still,
Healthier and healthier still
I’ll heal
I’ll spread the healing vibrations more,
I’ll pray,
I’ll smile and
I’ll love myself some more
Until wellness spreads wider still -
That is mine and my maker’s will.
~ Raj Yogi
Nor the resources that are needed
To fight and correct a million things
That seem wrong but must be changed
From my perspective, at the very least.
When cruelty rears its ugly head
And strikes one that cannot defend
Or causes pain and suffering,
God knows why,
What can I do but cry.
But my tears will soon run dry
And leave me feeling torn
Wondering why I was even born,
Why the cruelty, why this pain,
What is it one could possibly gain
By hurting another -
No, himself.
What is another?
How can there be another?
Are not the cells in my body all me?
What happens when one organ or a cell
Turns against another inside of me?
It shows that I am sick.
My body may be healthy and well
And, perhaps, my spirit, too
But a higher part of me, my society
Is likely not so well.
No, I shall not recuse myself,
Nor will I blame the others
For there are really no others...
It’s me...at another level.
No, I shall not turn against ‘another’...
I’ll work on myself and work harder there
For I care...
As I get better and better still,
Healthier and healthier still
I’ll heal
I’ll spread the healing vibrations more,
I’ll pray,
I’ll smile and
I’ll love myself some more
Until wellness spreads wider still -
That is mine and my maker’s will.
~ Raj Yogi
A SONG OF AUTUMN
By Adam Lindsay Gordon
“Where shall we go for our garlands glad
At the falling of the year,
When the burnt-up banks are yellow and sad,
When the boughs are yellow and sere?
Where are the old ones that once we had,
And when are the new ones near?
What shall we do for our garlands glad
At the falling of the year?”
“Child! can I tell where the garlands go?
Can I say where the lost leaves veer
On the brown-burnt banks, when the wild winds blow,
When they drift through the dead-wood drear?
Girl! when the garlands of next year glow,
YOU may gather again, my dear —
But I go where the last year’s lost leaves go
At the falling of the year.”
“Where shall we go for our garlands glad
At the falling of the year,
When the burnt-up banks are yellow and sad,
When the boughs are yellow and sere?
Where are the old ones that once we had,
And when are the new ones near?
What shall we do for our garlands glad
At the falling of the year?”
“Child! can I tell where the garlands go?
Can I say where the lost leaves veer
On the brown-burnt banks, when the wild winds blow,
When they drift through the dead-wood drear?
Girl! when the garlands of next year glow,
YOU may gather again, my dear —
But I go where the last year’s lost leaves go
At the falling of the year.”
DRINK FROM THE SAUCER
I've never made a fortune,
And I'll never make one now
But it really doesn't matter
'Cause I'm happy anyhow.
As I go along my journey
I'm reaping better than I've sowed
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.
I don't have a lot of riches,
And the going's sometimes tough
But with kin and friends to love me
I think I'm rich enough.
I thank God for the blessings
That His mercy has bestowed
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.
He gives me strength and courage
When the way grows steep and rough
I'll not ask for other blessings
For I'm already blessed enough.
May we never be too busy
To help bear another's load
Then we'll all be drinking from the saucer
When our cups have overflowed.
~ John Paul Moore
And I'll never make one now
But it really doesn't matter
'Cause I'm happy anyhow.
As I go along my journey
I'm reaping better than I've sowed
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.
I don't have a lot of riches,
And the going's sometimes tough
But with kin and friends to love me
I think I'm rich enough.
I thank God for the blessings
That His mercy has bestowed
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.
He gives me strength and courage
When the way grows steep and rough
I'll not ask for other blessings
For I'm already blessed enough.
May we never be too busy
To help bear another's load
Then we'll all be drinking from the saucer
When our cups have overflowed.
~ John Paul Moore
FREEDOM T0 …
As I descended from where all descends
To experience life as a human on earth
That which from all things come
Gave me free will to value my worth.
It gave me free will, will power, intent and choice
To do what I liked with myself;
I had the choice to create a piece of art
Or to waste myself in search of pelf.
‘Should I continue being a fool
And waste my gifts on worthless stuff
Or should I pursue a better thing
Though on starting it might seem tough?’
I have my free will and will power, too,
And I have intent and the power to choose
In addition to many other gifts I have -
What would you do when in my shoes?
~ Raj Yogi
To experience life as a human on earth
That which from all things come
Gave me free will to value my worth.
It gave me free will, will power, intent and choice
To do what I liked with myself;
I had the choice to create a piece of art
Or to waste myself in search of pelf.
‘Should I continue being a fool
And waste my gifts on worthless stuff
Or should I pursue a better thing
Though on starting it might seem tough?’
I have my free will and will power, too,
And I have intent and the power to choose
In addition to many other gifts I have -
What would you do when in my shoes?
~ Raj Yogi
15 July 2019
LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY
By Percey Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—
See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—
See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
WILD GEESE
Photo: January 1, 2021
Hacking River
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
🚣🚣🚣🚣🚣🚣🚣
Wikipedia:
National Royal Park
The Hacking River is a watercourse that is located in the Southern Sydney region of New South Wales in Australia. For thousands of years traditional owners called the river Deeban, however the colonial settlers renamed the river after Henry Hacking, a British seaman who killed Pemulwuy and was a pilot at Port Jackson in colonial New South Wales.
14 July 2019
NEW BEGINNING
The dawn does not come
twice to awaken the man
the best way out
is always through
(Robert Frost)
there are two ways
of meeting difficulties:
you alter the difficulties or
you alter yourself to meet them
(Phyllis Bottome)
Measure wealth not the by things you have
but by the things you have for which
you would not take money.
there are things that are known;
and things that are unknown
and in between,
there are doors
we all need time
to be alone...
to think
to dream
to wonder.
the future belongs
to those who believe
in the beauty of their dreams
(Eleanor Roosevelt)
and in the end,
it is not the years
in your life that count.
it is the life in your years.
(Abraham Lincoln)
Love life
Honor life
and give thanks
twice to awaken the man
the best way out
is always through
(Robert Frost)
there are two ways
of meeting difficulties:
you alter the difficulties or
you alter yourself to meet them
(Phyllis Bottome)
Measure wealth not the by things you have
but by the things you have for which
you would not take money.
there are things that are known;
and things that are unknown
and in between,
there are doors
we all need time
to be alone...
to think
to dream
to wonder.
the future belongs
to those who believe
in the beauty of their dreams
(Eleanor Roosevelt)
and in the end,
it is not the years
in your life that count.
it is the life in your years.
(Abraham Lincoln)
Love life
Honor life
and give thanks
24 April 2019
ROCK OF AGES
by Rado Gatchalian
Like a wind be a blessing without mentioning your name
You are just a ripple that flow from here to there
You do not need to do big things to change the world
All you need is to do one small thing for one’s inner world.
And like a ripple — you shall travel quietly, without a trace
But like rocks of infinite time: you will be there
In a memory that the Universe shall keep.
Be happy simply because you make others happy.
Be lifted because you try to carry someone.
Be blessed as you become blessings to many.
Just do what you do.
For love, and the Joy will always be with you...
Forever!
IMPROVEMENT
The joy of life is living it, or so it seems to me;
In finding shackles on your wrists, then struggling till you're free;
In seeing wrongs and righting them, in dreaming splendid dreams,
Then toiling till the vision is as real as moving streams.
The happiest mortal on the earth is he who ends his day
By leaving better than he found to bloom along the way.
Were all things perfect here there would be naught for man to do;
If what is old were good enough we'd never need the new.
The only happy time of rest is that which follows strife
And sees some contribution made unto the joy of life.
And he who has oppression felt and conquered it is he
Who really knows the happiness and peace of being free.
The miseries of earth are here and with them all must cope.
Who seeks for joy, through hedges thick of care and pain must grope.
Through disappointment man must go to value pleasure's thrill;
To really know the joy of health a man must first be ill.
The wrongs are here for man to right, and happiness is had
By striving to supplant with good the evil and the bad.
The joy of life is living it and doing things of worth,
In making bright and fruitful all the barren spots of earth.
In facing odds and mastering them and rising from defeat,
And making true what once was false, and what was bitter, sweet.
For only he knows perfect joy whose little bit of soil
Is richer ground than what it was when he began to toil.
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