The medicine of Grace to wipe out our sorrows is to develop
unshakable faith in God and tolerance is the medicine of Grace to
wipe out our sorrows. Bhakti alone can give us the capacity to
put up
with sorrows. Temples are the agencies for developing that
Bhakti.
Hence, the need for temples at all places. All offerings to the
deities in the temples are tokens of our gratitude to God.
~ ~ ~
That which is within all, which is seen as "This" is
the source. He
who is within and sees as "This" is God. It is the
reality. It is in
yourself. What is limited is Sadhana; what is unlimited is the
end.
~ ~ ~
What is the purpose of human birth? To earn, to eat, to
undergo
misery everyday and finally to die? Instead of earning and
suffering,
can we not die now? The purpose of birth is to avoid re-birth.
Except
man, all animals grow horizontally. Only man grows vertically.
Instead of growing horizontally, it is God's will that he should
grow
vertically in order to look up. God has given to animals devices
for
self-protection; to man alone He has given intelligence. By doing
nothing, we avoid re-birth; By giving up attachment, we avoid
sins.
~ ~ ~
By education we realise Truth. There are many truths, History
is one
truth. Geography is one truth, Mathematics is one truth. The
content
of truth is the greatest in Mathematics. In others, there is an
element of imagination. In Geography, we come across names Asia,
Africa, Madras, Calcutta, etc. These names were given by us. By
imagination, we have given names "plateau"
"valley", etc. By a
process of gradual elimination of all that is imaginary, when we
arrive at truth, that Truth is found to be God. To think of Him
with
real devotion is the fruit of education.
~ ~ ~
Neither the raw fruit nor the tree wants to leave each other.
But
when the fruit becomes ripe, this attachment automatically
disappears. Man requires to experience anger, jealousy, passion,
etc.
just as the fruit had to undergo various stages of growth and
taste
before it became fully ripe so to get automatically detached from
the
tree. We cannot overcome these experiences in the beginning. But
we
must ponder over the fact why we undergo these experiences.
Otherwise
we will be the losers. We will become slaves of these experiences
and
can never achieve fulfillment or contentment.
~ ~ ~
When adversities overtake us, we blame God and complain that
He is
blind to our misfortunes. But if we indulge in a little
introspection, we will realise that our faults are so enormous
that
we are utterly unworthy of His grace and, in spite of that we are
able to get food, shelter and clothing. It is due to the abundant
mercy of God. We must consider the difficulties we encounter as a
blessing in disguise.
She won the right to raise their child by
demonstrating to a dumbstruck judge what she could manage: she
changed the baby's diaper with her teeth.
While ruthlessly cleaning off my desk one
morning, determined to make a clearing amidst the clutter before
a 10:30 appointment, I came across some saved newspaper clippings
in a folder labeled, "Happiness, etc." Crumpling them
up with nary a glance, one by one, I was just about to toss out
something from The New York Times when a dazzling smile caught my
eye.
"Celestine Tate Harrington, 42," read the headline. The
paper itself was wrinkled and a little torn, but the hefty black
woman in the picture was precisely as she'd been three years
before, looking out jovially from her obituary.
"Celestine Tate Harrington, a quadriplegic street musician
whose buoyant personality and unremitting chutzpah brought
astounded smiles to everyone who watched her play the keyboard
with her lips and tongue, died on February 25th at age 42 of
complications resulting from a traffic accident. At 4-feet, 10
inches and 190-pounds, and performing daily on an electric
synthesizer, she cut a remarkable figure as she lay on her
stomach, head up, moving swiftly through the city streets on a
motorized gurney that she guided through a steering device worked
by her chin."
I looked again at the photograph. Celestine Harrington appeared
to be chuckling in response to somebody or something outside our
view, and you could almost hear the deep and easy laughter,
full-throated and hearty.
The obituary continued: "Born with a congenital joint
condition that eroded the connective tissue in her arms and legs,
leaving them immobile stubs, she never seemed to consider herself
disabled. In 1974, she was courted and wed by a nursing home aide
at the rehabilitation clinic where she lived at the time, and
they had one child, a daughter. Her husband's death a year later
led the courts to seek custody, but she won the right to raise
their child by demonstrating to a dumbstruck judge what she could
manage: she changed the baby's diaper with her teeth.
"Mrs. Harrington was a beloved presence to people on the
Atlantic City Boardwalk. One of the many friends with whom she
formed close relationships was Camille LeClair, owner of the fast
food restaurant for which Mrs. Harrington made deliveries. After
getting word of the death, Mrs. LeClair recalled last week that
on one occasion when Mrs. Harrington was in her house, 'I said to
Celestine, "Why does God allow me to [walk all around] but
you have to struggle so much?" Celestine said, "That's
why I'm here. To remind you to count your blessings, every
day."'"
- stories
about other people: http://www.aish.com/spirituality/growth/Happiness3_etc..asp
Like haiku poetry, the Japanese garden is a marvel of
structure and simplicity
Leaves
The winds that blow –
ask them, which leaf of the tree
will be the next to go.
Soseki (1865-1915)
Translated by
Harold G. Henderson
...
But the bones of the garden – and Mr. Powell's heart –
are the 25 tons of boulders used to create a symbolic
mountainscape. He ponders each of his sandstone boulders as one
would consider a great art purchase. Moving them around in the
garden is painstaking work requiring a small forklift. He sets
one down, steps back, considers and moves it around the way other
designers shuffle begonias.
"I spend hours thinking about rocks, and I'm faster than
most," he says.
...
The Zen of a garden is more about the daily care (originally
sand, gravel is the accepted interpretation). As focal points
they lull, they calm. The gardens' low maintenance has become
identified with a lifestyle that is more contemplative,
introspective.
It is the garden's symbolic offering of harmony –among
people and nature and heaven – that appeals to Mr. Davis and
Ms. Barksdale. A garden, they believe, encourages the observer to
look inward to find peace and tranquility. And then there is the
simplest conceit of all: beauty. "We offer both curb appeal
and personal well-being," says Ms. Barksdale.
There are the practical aspects of landing a
small plane: Flying a left- or right-hand pattern around the
airport, holding a specific altitude, and lining up with the
runway, high or low, or a bit left or right.
There is another aspect, the one that I am
after: The experience of absolute absorption into, and complete
integration with, the universe.
Zen. The Zone.
Some people golf, some play tennis. You can get
in the zone driving. You can get in the zone doing yoga.
The Japanese have a ceremony in which they
simply pour tea. That's all. They pour tea, and while they pour
tea they allow themselves to be completely integrated in the act
of pouring tea, and in so doing, they become one with the
universe.
You can do the same thing flying a light
airplane toward the ground at high speed only to raise the nose
at the last second -- in the last foot off the runway -- and fly
it there: one foot (six inches is better) off the runway, hanging
it there, feeling the airspeed decay, the tires barely squeaking
as they kiss the runway.
Some people call this a well-executed landing.
I call it Zen and complete integration with the universe.
And with an instructor from Silver Express
flight school along, I plan to get ``in the zone.''
You'll probably have to fill out a brief
subsciption form, but there are many good articles from the Miami
Herald, so it's worth the two minutes it takes to fill out the
form. --Jerry
The winds that blow – 
In all this cool 