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Post by silver on Feb 10, 2014 0:24:12 GMT -5
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Post by silver on Feb 10, 2014 1:31:00 GMT -5
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kayla
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Post by kayla on Feb 16, 2014 20:44:29 GMT -5
Be Kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle
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kayla
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Post by kayla on Feb 16, 2014 20:46:25 GMT -5
Normally, we do not so much look at things as we overlook them.Alan Watts
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 28, 2014 10:21:55 GMT -5
We don’t really know how letting go happens. We want to know so we can make it happen…But gradually we find that letting go really isn’t our job. Rather, our task is to learn how to let things be exactly as they are.
--Jon Bernie
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Post by silver on Apr 28, 2014 14:17:01 GMT -5
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Post by silver on Apr 29, 2014 9:36:57 GMT -5
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Post by silver on Apr 29, 2014 13:08:55 GMT -5
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 6, 2014 11:33:18 GMT -5
Huang-Po (mid 9th Cent.)
Uncanny how much of what I read here at ST is along these same lines.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2014 10:51:41 GMT -5
"Brahman is all this ... the world as world is unreal; world as Brahman is real." ~Shankara "Nondual spirituality reveals a truly "foundational" Absolute Reality that explodes the post-modernist claim dominating our colleges, universities and halls of academia ... the claim that there is no such Reality, only "cultural conditioning," "wishful thinking," and "language games."" ~Tim Conway ~tim conway
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2014 9:33:22 GMT -5
"Thought can never capture the movement of life, it is much too slow. It is like lightning and thunder. They occur simultaneously, but sound, travelling slower than light, reaches you later, creating the illusion of two separate events.” ~UGK
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Post by Beingist on Jul 13, 2014 18:49:23 GMT -5
You've just told me some high spots in your memories. Want to hear mine? They're all connected with the sea. Here's one. When I was on the Squarehead square rigger, bound for Buenos Aires. Full moon in the Trades. The old hooker driving fourteen knots. I lay on the bowsprit, facing astern, with the water foaming into spume under me, the masts with every sail white in the moonlight, towering high above me. I became drunk with the beauty and signing rhythm of it, and for a moment I lost myself -- actually lost my life. I was set free! I dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying spray, became beauty and rhythm, became moonlight and the ship and the high dim-starred sky! I belonged, without past or future, within peace and unity and a wild joy, within something greater than my own life, or the life of Man, to Life itself! To God, if you want to put it that way. Then another time, on the American Line, when I was lookout on the crow's nest in the dawn watch. A calm sea, that time. Only a lazy ground swell and a slow drowsy roll of the ship. The passengers asleep and none of the crew in sight. No sound of man. Black smoke pouring from the funnels behind and beneath me. Dreaming, not keeping looking, feeling alone, and above, and apart, watching the dawn creep like a painted dream over the sky and sea which slept together. Then the moment of ecstatic freedom came. the peace, the end of the quest, the last harbor, the joy of belonging to a fulfillment beyond men's lousy, pitiful, greedy fears and hopes and dreams! And several other times in my life, when I was swimming far out, or lying alone on a beach, I have had the same experience. Became the sun, the hot sand, green seaweed anchored to a rock, swaying in the tide. Like a saint's vision of beatitude. Like a veil of things as they seem drawn back by an unseen hand. For a second you see -- and seeing the secret, are the secret. For a second there is meaning! Then the hand lets the veil fall and you are alone, lost in the fog again, and you stumble on toward nowhere, for no good reason!
Eugene O'Neill, from Long Day's Journey into Night
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2014 9:42:35 GMT -5
"You're nothing trying to be nothing." ~Adyashanti
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2014 11:53:51 GMT -5
Q: How does a genuine crisis happen? M: It happens every moment, but you are not alert enough. A shadow on your neighbour's face, the immense and all-pervading sorrow of existence is a constant factor in your life, but you refuse to take notice. You suffer and see others suffer, but you don't respond. I Am That
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2014 7:56:59 GMT -5
What are the sources of poetry? Love and death and the paradox of love and death. All poetry from the beginning is about Eros and Thanatos. Those are the only subjects. And how Eros and Thanatos interweave.
Erica Jong
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