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#2227 - Wednesday, August 10, 2005 - Editor: Gloria Lee
A gold Buddha can't get through a furnace, a wood Buddha can't
get through a fire, and a clay Buddha can't get through water.
The real Buddha sits within: enlightenment, nirvana, suchness,
and Buddha-nature are all clothes sticking to the body.
-Chao-chou
From "The Pocket Zen Reader," edited by Thomas
Cleary, 1999
August in Oregon by John Steinberg from photo album: http://eliphante.org/snaps05/webshow1/
And everything comes to One,
As we dance on, dance
on, dance on.
- Theodore Roethke ~ ~ ~
Belief, any belief, is based on the sense of
insecurity. Only
when all belief is given
up are you free to
know yourself. In self-
discovery what you
find is the Truth - that
Truth which is total,
self-evident and
which needs no outside
support or justi-
fication.
- Ramesh S. Balsekar
posted to Along the Way
FORGOTTEN THE WORDS
"I built my cottage among the habitations of men,
And yet there is no clamor of carriages and horses.
You ask: 'Sir, how can this be done?'
'A heart that is distant creates its own solitude.'
I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
Then gaze afar towards the southern hills.
The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day;
The flying birds in flocks return.
In these things there lies a deep meaning;
I want to tell it, but have forgotten the words."
~Tao YuanMing
posted to Daily Dharma
DYING TO THE NOW IS LIFE
"When effort is needed, effort will appear.
When effortlessness becomes essential,
it will assert itself. You need not push
life about. Just flow with it and give
yourself completely to the task of the
present moment, which is the dying now
to the now. For living is dying. Without
death life cannot be."
~Nisargadatta Maharaj
Source unknown.
posted to Daily Dharma
August in Oregon by John Steinberg from photo album: http://eliphante.org/snaps05/webshow1/
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea.
--e. e. cummings poem posted by Steve Toth on
unsaymyself