universallovereflection@yahoo.com
Links of Interest
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ALWAYS UNDER CONSTRUCTION UNTIL
A spiritual path is truly an enlightening one. May you be blessed with love and light on yours...
My e-mail: jahhlove@netzero.com
Quotes For The Month
"If you love all things, you will also attain the divine
mystery that is in all things. For then your ability
to perceive the truth will grow every day, and
your mind will open itself to an all-embracing love"
--Fyodor Dostoyevsky
"This Humanist whom no beliefs constrained
Grew so broad-minded he was scatter-brained."
--J.V. Cunningham
Love does not consist in gazing at each other,
but in looking outward in the same direction.
--Author Unknown
"Death cannot stop true love,it can only delay it for a while."
--author unknown
"When the emotion is love... everyone is a poet."
--Unknown
"Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body."
-- Richard Steele
"
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
--William Blake
Conversation enriches the understanding;
but solitude is the school of genius.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
"I love to lose myself in other men's minds."
--Charles Lamb
Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation.
--St. Augustine
"The earth laughs in flowers."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
The mind is no match with the heart in persuasion;
constitutionality is no match with compassion.
--Everett M. Dirksen
"What we become depends on what we read
after all of the professors
have finished with us."
"The greatest university of all is
a collection of books."
--Thomas Carlyle
"No one has yet realized the wealth of sympathy,
the kindness and generosity hidden
in the soul of a child.
The effort of every true education should be
to unlock that treasure."
--Emma Goldman
"Those who stand for nothing fall for anything."
--Alexander Hamilton
"Democracy is a device that ensures we shall be governed no better
than we deserve."
--George Bernard Shaw
"How much more grievous are the consequences
of anger than the causes of it."
--Marcus Aurelius
"The greatest of faults, I should say, is to be conscious of none."
--Thomas Carlyle, On Heroes, Hero-Worship and the Heroic in History
"Wicked men obey from fear; good men, from love."
--Aristotle
"Your silence will not protect you."
--Lourde, Audre
"A merciful person helps himself
but a cruel person hurts himself."
--11:17
"Half the failures of this world arise from
pulling in one's horse as he is leaping."
--Augustus Hare
In real love, you want the other person's good. In romantic love, you want the other person.
--Margaret Anderson
Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
--Edmund Spenser
"The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and name."
--Shakespeare
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the truth of imagination-
what the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth-
whether it existed before or not."
--John Keats
"Out of chaos the imagination frames a thing of beauty."
--John Livingston Lowes
Please E-mail me if you have any quotes to share!
Poems For The Month
Here within my thoughts,
Are words wanting to be heard,
Thinking hard to help you understand,
My every last word...
LESSONS FROM A CHILD
There are certain lessons in life that can only
Be learned from a child.
These lessons are small--just like the child,
But their consequence is great.
From a child I have learned that there are
innumerable joys in simple things.
We just have to look more carefully to find them...
A child has shown me
that sometimes it is more fun
To play with the wrapping
paper than with the gift it concealed.
That sometimes we should take the time to count
how many red flowers we see
while taking a walk.
From a child I have learned that
we all need to have carefree moments...
That sometimes puddles are meant to be jumped in,
not walked around.
That sometimes snow is meant to be played in,
Not just grumbled about and shoveled aside.
From a child I have learned that simple things
are sometimes all we need to feel better...
Like a hug when we are sad,
or a nap when our mood is bad.
From a child I have learned that there are so many things
I don't understand...
Like why the sky is blue
or why that bug has so many legs
or why that man has no house to live in.
From a child I have learned about love...
Love of others, love of life.
Love that is unconditional.
From a child I have learned the lessons
I tend to forget as I get older.
But when I do forget, I know I can go to a child.
And with a smile, the child takes my hand,
And always help me to remember.
--Jennifer Cooper
DOWN WITH UPTIGHTNESS
Unwind your brain
Stick out your tongue
Laugh at yourself
Let someone see you cry
Sleep on the ground
Kiss or climb a tree
Stop wondering so often
what people think
Yell across a canyon
Dance in the bedroom
Wear a protest button
Ride a bicycle
Swim after dark
Confess your love openly
Set out in search of a
lost, spontaneous self.
Throw away your old hats
Worship God on your knees
Watch the sun come up
Ride in an airplane
Eat breakfast at ten
Get paint on your clothes
Remind yourself that freedom
is inward truth.
Put your arms around someone whose
skin is a different color.
Race your kids to the ice cream store.
Plan a trip to a foreign country-
whether you ever get there or not.
Lose your temper, say I'm sorry
Spend ten dollars on a gift
Ski gleefully down the slopes of life
and tell ghost stories when it's dark.
Feet
Would that my feet
could taste as sublime
as the curve and spine
of the powdered arch of yours
wh ite tickled by trail of blue
holding blood,
what I kiss,
what holds you
us
off the ground.
--Joshua Baker
I can't see you
but that doesn't mean you're not here
You could be right in front of me
while I'm just closing my eyes.
Or maybe you're behind me
and my eyes are open
so I can't see you
but that doesn't mean you're not here.
What if you're behind that wall
and I'm looking all over
and I can't see you
and you could be just a metre away
but you'd still be 'here' wouldn't you?
But would you still be 'here' if
you were 5 metres behind that wall
and I can't see you?
Or what if you were 50 metres away
and I'm looking at you
through a telescope?
Would you still be 'here'?
because I can see you ...
So if a metre away means you're here,
does a thousand metres away still mean
that you're here?
Because in both cases I can't see you
assuming of course you were behind
that wall
in the one metre case.
What difference does a metre
or a million metres make
if I can't see you.
You'd still be 'here'
I should consider myself lucky
because you never left me in the first place
You were always here
and as long as I keep thinking of you
you will be
here.
The Invitation
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare
to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayal or have become
shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!
I want to know if you can sit with pain,
mine or your own, without moving to hide it
or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy,
mine or your own, if you can dance with
wildness and let the ecstasy fill
you to the tips of your fingers and
toes without cautioning us to be careful,
be realistic, or to remember the
limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story
you're telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another
to be true to yourself;
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful
and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when
it is not pretty every day, and if you can source
your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure,
yours and mine, and still stand on the edge
of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live
or how much money you have. I want to know if
you can get up after a night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone, and do
what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are,
how you came to be here. I want to know
if you will stand in the center of the
fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or
with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
Artist's Embrace
Paint my night with love
Make the colors run across my skin
Capture my soul on canvas
An artist's delightful play of pigments
Brush strokes softly linger over my body
Effortless as wisps of shadows moving across the room
Breathing lightly across my breasts
Moonlight streams through the studio skylight
Touching my face with an innocent, unintended longing
Flickering almost imperceptibly
Exaggerating the hunger hidden deep in my heart
Our bodies sing intricate chorales of light
Faceted bodies pulsing with passion
Winding about each other in elaborate rays of celebration
Delicately etched against the night’s sky
Ocher and amber
Saffron and citrine
Passions transfigure into colors that never had a name
Exquisite fragile elegant ethereal
A portrait of our evening's embrace
copyright 2001 M.D. Burke
Do Better Now, My Child
He came to my desk with a quivering lip
The lesson was done.
Dear Teacher, "May I have a new leaf?" he said,
"I've spoiled this one."
I took the old leaf, stained and blotted,
And gave him a new one, all unspotted.
And into his troubled eyes I smiled,
"Do better now my child."
I went to the throne with a quivering soul,
The old year was done.
"Dear Master, may I have a new year?" I said,
"I have spoiled this one."
He took the old year, stained and blotted,
And gave me a new one all unspotted,
And into my troubled soul He smiled,
"Do better now, my child."
--Author Unknown
YOU'RE ALWAYS WELCOME HERE
Put your soul to my body,
tell me all that you discover,
true love that can be uncovered,
as long as you let me.
Don't be afraid to put your foot in the door,
I promise to let you inside,
there's nothing to hide,
you'll have love you've never had before.
I won't let anything harm you,
not the smallest scratch on your heart,
I'm honest from the start,
my love is true.
Whenever you're hungry,
come in and have some wine,
I'll always take the time,
to make you happy.
You're always wanted,
anytime of day,
I'll never turn you away,
like the one's before did.
So breathe into my ear,
let your soul drift away,
with me to stay,
you're always welcome here.
Company
by Tina K
~ FRIENDSHIP'S TAPESTRY ~
So often when I think of you and all the times we shared,
My heart is filled with thankfulness to have a friend
who cared enough to listen to me tell of joys and trials.
Your being there has been enough to change my tears to smiles.
The subtle love between two friends is so hard to define.
It is not a square or circle or even a straight line.
It's somehow like a tapestry with colors soft and bold,
Yet deep within the weaving there are tiny threads of gold.
Yes, rare and oh so lovely are your friendships' threads of gold.
For they will last a lifetime and then when my story's told -
Someone will hold my tapestry and turn it towards the light,
and tiny points, those threads of gold,will gleam and shine so bright.
And they may think - it's just a thread like green or red or blue-
Perhaps they'll never ever know that golden thread was you.
But I've been thinking lately how you've touched my life just so -
Of how you are so dear to me - and I wanted you to know-
That even if you're next to me or though we're miles apart,
Your golden thread of friendship still will weave within my heart.
~Author unknown~
Love is All
Life is the gift of love being
Offered by our Mother.
Vast as the cosmos, as
Eternal as She.
Inside us the spark grows as
Strong as the flamming sun.
All we are, all we can be.
Limitless life, limitless love.
Love, given life by our Mother.
(Godess, care for us all. Even through we wring the sea
dry with our nets, teach us in time to reweave
the World Pattern, so all ocean, all lands and peoples
may balance together in the sling of your deep sea love.)
Go into your heart and look inside yourself. Being you is good.
Love Thyself
Today I will make and effort to
respect myself
I will not run in search of love
I will be present with myself
Because I am exciting and full of love.
What an endeavor is frienship. Surely the greatest voyage we ever make.
There is one touch
that erases all lists,
derails all trains of throught,
unplugs all equiptment
of our modern drive
and leaves us writhing
to that essential spark.
So even though it's Friday
and the weight
of the week's undone
hangs in the house
with last night's spices,
we come into the morning
smiling at our pleasure
and the mindless of our tasks.
Impelled Like a Pearl to Form
I layer around my intermost
knowledge of you
embodying your beauty
encompassed in turn by your touch
which everywhere renews my lusture.
http://www.goddess.ws/
Love And A Question
--Robert Frost
our sea
we are the taste of honeysuckle juice
the smell of lilacs on a spring morning
the warmth of a sweet memory
the kiss of dew on white roses,
lillies of the valley, and daisies
we are the music of the sunrise
and every color of the sunset
we are the wind from a bumblebee's wings
the glow of candlelight in a quiet room
the freshness after the rain
the sound of laughter, echoing from the street
the look of faith in a child's eyes
we are the joy of a precious gift
the poetry of an unscaled mountain
the silence of an angel, deep in thought
the sigh of a grandmother's contentment
--D. Gordon Hart
A Friend Like You
There's lots of things
With which I'm blessed,
Tho' my life's been both Sunny and Blue,
But of all my blessings,
This one's the best:
To have a friend like you.
In times of trouble
Friends will say,
"Just ask... I'll help you through it."
But you don't wait for me to ask,
You just get up
And you do it!
And I can think
Of nothing in life
That I could more wisely do,
Than know a friend,
And be a friend,
And love a friend... like you.
--Author Unknown
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason, that long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre,
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angel, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me...
Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we,
Of many far wiser than we--
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee,
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
--Edgar Allen Poe
Wild Nights
Wild nights. Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port
Done with the compass
Done with the chart.
Rowing in Eden.
Ah, the sea.
Might I but moor
Tonight with thee!
--Emily Dickinson
Flower
In the dark cool damp
A feeling to reach out into it
Fingers spread down
Soft, enriching taste
A strive to the warmth above
Oh delight!
So warm, the light glow
Wind breathing
Streatch
To find my face in the sun
The moon moving
Energy
Spurting
Sway
Growth
Arms to uplift
Shaping
Shifting
Higher
Deeper
Eyes to open
Feeling
Oh these touches!
Warm embrace
Moving
Whispers
Rain falls splashing
Soft cool breath
Wash
And drowning
Color
Blooming in love
Bright brillance
What eyes see?
Beleiving
Oh shine!
Oh breath!
Take all!
Hands open
Palms wide
Dancing in the wind
Oh life!
Caresses of the bumbelbee
Aphids on the stem
Crickets resounding at night
One flower
Again!
Again!
Seeds fly
floating
To Earth
ANGELS in the early morning
May be seen the dews among,
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:
Do the buds to them belong?
Angels when the sun is hottest 5
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;
Parched the flowers they bear along.
Emily Dickinson (1830–86).
The life affirming spring, that moves and dances in delight of our human senses: Sensuality Heals.
Returning from the fields at eve
with sweet whisperings and music through the air
lifting souls above our little earth:
We laughed. We lived.
- Minerva T. Bloom
Learned about Surrender in the Arms of Trees
( I frequently got into trouble for disappearing into Grandmother's great orchard
shoes flying to both sides of me---trail of clothes eagerly following )
I
O, how I loved the embrace of my trees!
Charging full throttle
with sweet expectations of fruit
my body was elastic, gymnastic.
Climbing wide spreading branches
and slender, pendulous limbs
blossoming with creamy white, pink and purple
flowers of magnolias.
So happy was I among these glorious beings.
No cares in my world: only the songs from the winds
with streams of air breathing in natural motion
creating a symphony of beauty and peace.
II
A greenery of leaves it was,
my sacred place of organic delight
with creatures landing in search of quiet repose--
like the slender bodies
of technicolor winged butterflies
and birds, in between
their far-away journeys of flight.
(my companions, wearing all sorts
of plumage and wardrobe)
My long curly hair full of blossoms
and brightly colored ladybugs.
My skin, the scent of peaches, oranges and figs.
III
Grandmother always worried about me
for she longed for the day I would eat
something else but this.
Perhaps I had the soul of a bird,
she would say. Or a squirrel.
Well...I could certainly perform great feats!
Like the time I wondered with seething emotion
on what kind of world I would see,
from the handsome canopy
of my favorite oak tree.
With feet like talons,
I grabbed several tender limbs
(the ones closest to heaven)
and precariously balanced my featherweight body,
my head protuding from the oak's emerald cover,
like a faery queen.
With majestic range at my sight,
I surveyed the whole mountainous landscape
and the living unity. The entire earth at my hand!
Graceful amongst the dark green,
stately and dignified: the world as it should be.
IV
By late afternoon I had a belly full,
a happy belly. Rest afforded,
I would begin to melt to the sturdy stem,
a spiral of foliage enfolding me,
legs and feet dangling in perfect peace of sleep.
O let alone the danger of falling!
These trees were good to me.
V
One fateful day
with a cluster of fruit in my hand--
my aunt, God bless her heart! didn't notice me.
To make the story short,
there was a big thud. A heavy blow and fall.
It was not I; mind you, just the cluster of fruit
...striking a dull sound into the crown
of my aunt's forbidden lover.
VI
You can imagine: from then on,
I promised myself to stay awake!
Tonight by The Juniper Tree
Love, come with me
let's climb up the Juniper tree
like silent vines, tangling,
untangling, serpentine.
Join me
by the highest branch---to reach
for God's trembling firmament,
we'll steal away a galaxy.
Come love
come with me---to enjoy
lover's moon and the milk of this night.
Sit with me
atop the thickest branch--
where I'll let you whirl time
from a wet, soft, fruited mouth.
Tonight
high above---we'll listen
for sea wave's nostalgic songs
and be born, from the ocean and it's sounds.
From clay, sand and salt,
in ancient memory of heart.
I saw God in everything today.
My sister I can't describe the way I yearn to show you.
Your children are waiting for you. It hurts me so to watch.
I've been avoiding talking about the dark that hurts me so...
Yet when you see God in everything, nothing is really scary anymore.
Let's talk about it.
The Tree. Visualize that you are a tree, your feet are flat on the ground, root yourself to the earth...your roots growing deeper and deeper into the earth. Your arms are branches reaching toward the sky. You soak in the bright, warm, white light from the sky with each breath you take. It flows through your leaves, branches, trunk to your roots nourishing and strengthening you. As the light spreads through you it presses out any negative energy out through ends of your roots, fertilizing the earth and in turn strengthening your hold in the ground.
The cleansing part of the visualization is fairly simple...choose a cleaning method...whether it's a dust rag, a mini-vacuum, or even a toothbrush. Then focus your thoughts in your mind. If you see any visions of people or sense emotions that are negative and not your own, simply wipe, suction, or scrub them clear. Then send the cleaning object away from your body...explode it and send the particles back to whomever the negative energy came from with love and light. Use as many cleaning objects as you need to get the job done. You will feel lighter and happier by the time you're finished.
Now continue on with a protection visualization. For many the simplest thing to do is see and feel the glittering white light of God pouring in through the top of you head, filling you and then expanding outward from your body until you're surrounded in this protective cloud or bubble.
"He prayeth best who loveth best,
All things both great and small,
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."
St. John, in his Epistle (I John IV:8), wrote: "He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is Love." Christ, the great apostle of peace, emphatically laid clown a cardinal principle of life in his memorable words: "Love thy neighbour as thyself." And again he emphatically declared: "Love, and all things shall be added unto thee."
Sheikh Saadi, a Muslim divine, taught the same thing: "As the limbs of a body are knit together so are the children of God. They are born of the same essence. Should any one of them suffer from ague, the others too become restless."
Sheikh Farid and other saints also repeated this truth in the same strain: "If thou wishest to meet thy Beloved (God), injure not anyone's feelings." - Shalok Farid
Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth guru of the Sikhs, stated: "Verily, verily, I say unto thee that God manifests Himself to one who loves." God is Love, our soul is of the same essence as of God, so it is Love, and the Way back to God is also through Love.
Swami Vivekananda
UNIVERSAL LOVE AND HOW IT LEADS TO SELF-SURRENDER
How can we love the Vyashti, the particular, without first loving the Samashti, the universal? God is the Samashti, the generalised and the abstract universal whole; and the universe that we see is the Vyashti, the particularised thing. To love the whole universe is possible only by way of loving the Samashti--the universal--which is, as it were, the one unity in which are to be found millions and millions of smaller unities. The philosophers of India do not stop at the particulars; they cast a hurried glance at the particulars and immediately start to find the generalised forms which will include all the particulars. The search after the universal is the one search of Indian philosophy and religion. The Jnani aims at the wholeness of things, at that one absolute and generalised Being, knowing which he knows everything. The Bhakta wishes to realise that one generalised abstract Person, in loving whom he loves the whole universe. The Yogi wishes to have possession of that one generalised form of power, by controlling which he controls this whole universe. The Indian mind, throughout its history, has been directed to this kind of singular search after the universal in everything--in science, in psychology, in love, in philosophy. So the conclusion to which the Bhakta comes is that, if you go on merely loving one person after another, you may go on loving them so for an infinite length of time, without being in the least able to love the world as a whole. When, at last, the central idea is, however, arrived at that the sum total of all love is God, that the sum total of the aspirations of all the souls in the universe, whether they be free, or bound, or struggling towards liberation, is God, then alone it becomes possible for any one to put forth universal love. God is the Samashti, and this visible universe is God differentiated and made manifest. If we love this sum total, we love everything. Loving the world and doing it good will all come easily then; we have to obtain this power only by loving God first; otherwise it is no joke to do good to the world. "Everything is His and He is my Lover; I love Him," says the Bhakta. In this way everything becomes sacred to the Bhakta, because all things are His. All are His children, His body, His manifestation. How then may we hurt any one? How then may we not love any one? With the love of God will come, as a sure effect, the love of every one in the universe. The nearer we approach God, the more do we begin to see that all things are in Him. When the soul succeeds in appropriating the bliss of this supreme love, it also begins to see Him in everything. Our heart will thus become an eternal fountain of love. And when we reach even higher states of this love, all the little differences between the things of the world are entirely lost; man is seen no more as man, but only as God; the animal is seen no more as animal, but as God; even the tiger is no more a tiger, but a manifestation of God. Thus in this intense state of Bhakti, worship is offered to every one, to every life, and to every being. "Knowing that Hari, the Lord, is in every being, the wise have thus to manifest unswerving love towards all beings."
As a result of this kind of intense all-absorbing love, comes the feeling of perfect self-surrender, the conviction that nothing that happens is against us, Apratikulya. Then the loving soul is able to say, if pain comes, "Welcome pain." If misery comes, it will say, "Welcome misery, you are also from the Beloved." If a serpent comes, it will say, "Welcome serpent". If death comes, such a Bhakta will welcome it with a smile. "Blessed am I that they all come to me; they are all welcome." The Bhakta in this state of perfect resignation, arising out of intense love to God and to all that are His, ceases to distinguish between pleasure and pain in so far as they affect him. He does not know what it is to complain of pain or misery; and this kind of uncomplaining resignation to the will of God, who is all love, is indeed a worthier acquisition than all the glory of grand and heroic performances.
To the vast majority of mankind, the body is everything; the body is all the universe to them; bodily enjoyment is their all in all. This demon of the worship of the body and of the things of the body has entered into us all. We may indulge in tall talk and take very high flights, but we are like vultures all the same; our mind is directed to the piece of carrion down below. Why should our body be saved, say, from the tiger? Why may we not give it over to the tiger? The tiger will thereby be pleased, and that is not altogether so very far from self-sacrifice and worship. Can you reach the realisation of such an idea in which all sense of self is completely lost? It is a very dizzy height on the pinnacle of the religion of love, and few in this world have ever climbed up to it; but until a man reaches that highest point of ever-ready and ever-willing self-sacrifice, he cannot become a perfect Bhakta. We may all manage to maintain our bodies more or less satisfactorily and for longer or shorter intervals of time. Nevertheless, our bodies have to go; there is no permanence about them. Blessed are they whose bodies get destroyed in the service of others. "Wealth, and even life itself, the sage always holds ready for the service of others. In this world, there being one thing certain, viz. death, it is far better that this body dies in a good cause than in a bad one." We may drag our life on for fifty years or a hundred years; but after that, what is it that happens? Everything that is the result of combination must get dissolved and die. There must and will come a time for it to be decomposed. Jesus and Buddha and Mohammed are all dead; all the great Prophets and Teachers of the world are dead.
"In this evanescent world, where everything is falling to pieces, we have to make the highest use of what time we have," says the Bhakta; and really the highest use of life is to hold it at the service of all beings. It is the horrible body-idea that breeds all the selfishness in the world, just this one delusion that we are wholly the body we own, and that we must by all possible means try our very best to preserve and to please it. If you know that you are positively other than your body, you have then none to fight with or struggle against; you are dead to all ideas of selfishness. So the Bhakta declares that we have to hold ourselves as if we are altogether dead to all the things of the world; and that is indeed self-surrender. Let things come as they may. This is the meaning of "Thy will be done"--not going about fighting and struggling and thinking all the while that God wills all our own weaknesses and worldly ambitions. It may be that good comes even out of our selfish struggles; that is, however, God's look-out. The perfected Bhakta's idea must be never to will and work for himself. "Lord, they build high temples in Your name; they make large gifts in Your name; I am poor; I have nothing; so I take this body of mine and place it at Your feet. Do not give me up, O Lord." Such is the prayer proceeding out of the depths of the Bhakta's heart. To him who has experienced it, this eternal sacrifice of the self unto the Beloved Lord is higher by far than all wealth and power, than even all soaring thoughts of renown and enjoyment. The peace of the Bhakta's calm resignation is a peace that passeth all understanding and is of incomparable value. His Apratikulya is a state of the mind in which it has no interests and naturally knows nothing that is opposed to it. In this state of sublime resignation everything in the shape of attachment goes away completely, except that one all-absorbing love to Him in whom all things live and move and have their being. This attachment of love to God is indeed one that does not bind the soul but effectively breaks all its bondages.
Remember, Life is too important to be taken seriously... have fun and love one another... see the beauty/God(dess) in all...
what were you thinking 20 years after Summer of Love, your hoodoo mans charm transcending widespread ultra conservative backlash, woke in a Gramercy loft two dozen strangers gleefully making it, did you jump the freight trains of time, bent over opium nerves did you pulsate pink and blue, stranded upstate new york, flipping burgers bleak Nevada, lit out east and disappeared, swam bare assed in weedy Minnesota lake, picked a fight with some old redneck, beat him up bad, after hours figments of imagination, in tiny rooms long haired rock and roller, how far did you go when you blew and got blown in that broken down car, the broken down car of imagination did it take you by surprise? whose idea was it the edge of the universe, in that Loisaida squat house blasting from a boombox the complete works of Kierkegaard, sheer disappointment crawling around a giant cockroach, punks retarded cliques weren't that interesting, the corpse of G.G. Allin at your feet lying, what did you think of Brooklyn yuppy scoundrels took it over jacked up the rent five thousand percent, did you camp in Seabrook New Hampshire gleefully ripping fences, stare down state police and save them all a nuclear meltdown? did you spout ridiculous stories interviewed for a fanzine? did you watch ten years of your life go by screwed by your local art scene? did you bend over backwards trying to help only to find nobody cared? it was hard getting fined 22 thousand but you fought and beat that didn't you? crash bang junky on Manhattan Bridge poo-pooing passenger screams, fishtailed car into oncoming traffic, F trains left you crossed up at the confluence, somewhere on a corner of Desolation Row. Lover Lover, secretly behind your smile The words of love nakedly Discover your breasts and your neck And your hips and your eyelids Discover every caress So that the kisses in your eyes Reveal entire the whole of you. --Paul Eluard On love I've been loveless all my life, But now that love is mine. It drives me mad. A body light as clouds, A trembling wilow heart- My soul itself grows gossamer thin. Perfume loses all its magic Waiting for a wandering friend, And heartache comes in its time: Whatever the lamp is low, Whenever the moon faintly shines In marriage do thou be wise; prefer the person before money; virtue before beauty; the mind before the body. --William Penn Al's Barefoot Marathon I once knew a woman named Nell, And I guess I fell under her spell. I tickled her toes And took off her hose, And then we played (wow!) show and tell. A centipede, fresh from the zoo, Discarded her ninety-ninth shoe. We waited and waited With breath that was bated, Until she had dropped her last shoe. My donkey is constantly bragging, And her sway back is presently sagging. She paid her dues And wore out her shoes, And my ass, I would say, is now dragging. Jane Goodall's in love with a chimp. She met him through Irving, the pimp. She said, 'I propose To bite all your toes,' And now the chimp walks with a limp. In a fable, this odd monopode Would frequently snap and explode. 'Don't constantly tease me; You only displease me, So, please, I am not pigeon-toed!' I hardly think science, per se Could ever be classed as risque; But that Doctor Rose Has cute, sexy toes, And I cannot conceal this hearsay. If there's one thing I always knew It's that nothing compares with a shoe. I have fifty pair; They're stored everywhere. A bit greedy, but what can I do? I guess that I'm now on the spot, And it seems that you know what I've got. You've measured my feet And they are petite. 'Little Things Still Mean a Lot.' She has a shoe business, my Honey. She takes in just oodles of money. She sells pretty shoes No one can refuse, And at night she cavorts like a bunny. Whenever we say the word, 'shoes,' It sounds a bit like the word 'lose.' But the word 'hose' Is different, God nose. This language will drive me to booze. He don't know a beer from a cola. He can't tell a Lyle from a Lola. I doubt that you'll choose To look at his shoes, 'Cuz he don't know shit from Shinola.' by Al Willis
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