Category Archives: Reposted from elsewhere
this woman’s a warrior
A winner!
her back to the world
she stands outside into the
cold
and the snow
made her a white helmet
and shoulder guards
and is now knitting a cape
the deer don't dare come
near her and the
boars too
stay away
and the men agree
this woman's a warrior
better not bother her
there's a blade stuck in
her heart
and you better not reach
to pluck it out if you're
not the one who put it
there
Beneath the Red Cliffs
A gem of wonder. Pause and penetrate to the Core …
by Thomas Davis
for April Chischilly
Beneath red cliffs as first morning light reflects fire
into an impossibly blue sky,
a Navajo woman, aging, calm, long black hair and black eyes
a part of high desert juniper and pinion trees,
walks as beauty stirs backwards and forward in time.
The medicine man in his Hogan’s darkness
sees a woman he doesn’t know through an ancient crystal
handed from medicine man to medicine man
through thousands and thousands of years.
He feels heart-strength, spirit-strength,
sees her facing what is beyond the light’s weaving,
her beauty-song echoing and echoing
into the song of women, the spirit of women
who have forever given birth
and lived through the everyday turmoil of everyday
without flinching, trying to find the courage that is who she is.
Courage weaves a blanket from light out of the woman’s heart
into the texture of red stone.
It rises…
View original post 83 more words
THE POWER OF ILLUSION, THE NARADA STORY
Of course this is only a story. In reality …
Believe me.
Maya is not a separate entity. Absence of light is called darkness, so also absence of Knowledge, Illumination etc., is called ignorance, illusion or Maya.
Once Narada Muni who is very intimate devotee of the Lord Krishna, through devotion and austerities he had reached a great Spiritual station, so Lord Krishna went to visit him, and as his reward offered to grant him a desire.
“My dear Krishna, can you please show me power of your Maya, your illusory energy? Please explain to me the secret of this magic called Maya and how she act?”
Sri Krishna hesitated to do it. So Krishna asked his dear devotee:
My dear Narada are you sure you want to see power of my maya!?
Narada was very determined so he said: Yes, Krishna i am sure. I want to see power of your Maya!
Lord Krishna replied : Ok Narada I will show…
View original post 768 more words
The Doors of Midsummer
The Doors of Midsummer
A breath of cloud moves east across Y Garn’s face.
Words are as scarce as swallows in a cold summer.
Anyway, anyway, they only grow from dream to tangled lie,
flowering like the bindweed covering all beneath,
Weighing down, weighing down until nothing else remains.
The doors have opened in every hill,
An invitation to join the dance and summer’s feast.
But we are taught to doubt generosity,
To look for the trap in openness and goodness
(nothing is true that comes so free and easy).
River and clouds are the rulers of this world
and they move on in their own time, unbidden.
Tune to a key that sings of endlessness, even though
no one here knows anything of that song.
For emotion is born from time and loss:
In timeless halls is no such thing.
No such thing but endless dance and bliss.
If…
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WE REALLY DO NEED TO TRAIN OUR MIND…FIRST!
“Training is simply valuing compassion that arises from pure awareness. There are no hardships and it’s not complicated. They don’t tell you that, do they?” 😉
We Really Do Need To Train Our Mind … First!
If we don’t train our mind to be still and silent, it will lack the clarity needed to recognise and realise the truth of the teachings. With training, we experience and gain inspiration and then, subtle questions arise from realisation. Teachings are generalised, and theory is black and white, static and fossilising; it is only through authentic experience that genuine questions arise. If we cannot form a precise question, we will not receive a precise answer.
Reading about, discussing and studying the reality of the nature of mind will not help in realising and experiencing this. We need to still the mind into silence by focusing our attention and inner energies, otherwise the nature of mind will remain merely as a theory. In training the mind, we also have to refine our conduct to be more attentive to others’ needs…
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Donald Trump and Boris Johnson
Some jokes about – er – sick jokes.
At least things can’t get any worse err oh just wait. It gets worse. Much worse. Just enter Boris Johnson to the scene.
When you see pictures of Trump and Johnson you feel like watching cancer cells replicating.
The so called politicians in my country are like Trump and Johnson; they are also literal clowns full of racism and sexism.
It will get only worse, and people will be talking constantly about how worse it is for decades, we are all in this mess together.
At least we can get few laughs out of them; I had plenty of laughs from seeing these below pictures. All credits go for their creators and artists.
ain’t nobody here but us chickens….
He said a mouthful here to be sure. Not things you hear/see on the “news” either.
world
democracy
ain’t nothing
but
a chicken
with
it’s head cut off
without
strong
humanitarian leadership
flip
flopping
around
spilling
children’s blood
all
over the ground
and
mighty nations
don’t
make a peep
about
the carnage
since
they’re
looking forward
to
greed’s
feast
carelessly
made
with
cunning
bloodied hands
from
selling weapons
to
both
warring parties
you
might
rightly call
those
nations
chicken pluckers
for
as the earth
is plunged
into
the boiling water
of
climate change
they’re
busy
pulling
earth’s resource feathers
off
to stuff
their pillows
with
dollars
but
one day soon
no one
is
going to have
a place
to
sleep
Thank You!
This is for you, K. ❤ (Do check out the Comments on the original post, dear K. You will find a surprise to add to your perfect day. 😉 )
An Ancient Panic Etched
And now for something completely different …
(Well slap me with a fish!)
Pigeonholed.
Pigeon-holed,
He can hardly move.
One of his greatest fears materialised . . .
The transpired terror.
A foot pushes against a cheek;
Eyelid to bunion,
Left shoulder crushed like a crashed Cortina into a tight corner,
Spine into another.
Right knee in the most improbable of positions.
I have no intention of divulging where a big toe ends up.
He sometimes said, (though would admit to no other),
‘I fear being pigeonholed.
It scratches at me from reverberant recesses,
towering turrets in my head’.
As he tapped his tapering tonsure
An ancient panic etched into his forehead sketchily,
Like a child’s stick horse.
No, look closer, not a horse,
The terrifying spectre of a pony with just the one trick,
Who may, or may not, be a mirage.
When fretting, conviction takes shape,
Whispering into his ear that he’ll be spotted and slotted,
Judged and then nudged,
Identified…
View original post 291 more words
