“We can train in rejoicing in even the smallest blessings our life holds. It’s easy to miss our own good fortune; often happiness comes in ways we don’t even notice. It’s like the cartoon I saw of an astonished-looking man saying What was that?!… Continue Reading “To Train In Rejoicing”
All day long, I see things a painter would paint. What is there to complain about? Even my own pain has been endured by thousands before me, and depicted by master sculptors. Pilgrimage, penance, failure, learning to hold one’s self tenderly, in friendship –… Continue Reading “Pilgrimage”
“It is the ultimate in natural conservation in which the container is discarded but the contents are recycled.” – Stephen Levine
I just love this passage from Smile at Fear: Awakening the True Heart of Bravery by Chogyam Trungpa. To arrive at this place he describes, within one’s self, must be to arrive at a place of deep, deep peace. “In the saddle, as… Continue Reading “Chogyam Trungpa’s Saddle Analogy”
(Rasa is a Sanskrit word literally meaning juice, essence, or taste. It also refers to an ancient concept in Indian arts concerning the aesthetic of a composed piece of visual, literary, or musical work. More specifically, Rasas are the feelings evoked in the reader… Continue Reading “Rasa”
“If you’re able to keep returning to your focus point (in meditation), you can move still deeper into the mind and experience the true Self, because underneath these three basic levels of consciousness (conscious mind, semi-conscious mind, unconscious mind) there is a fourth. For… Continue Reading “Darren Main on the Source”
The sky is always there. The sun is always there. Storms come and go. Clouds come and go.
I stood in a glass house at the edge of the sea. I watched as the tide rose, gradually swallowing the house, waves breaking against glass walls, and over the glass roof, booming, rattling, trembling. Seaweed, rocks, shells, too many fish to count, so… Continue Reading “The Encounter”
Who holds this light? Nobody knows, only that it stronger grows. Dim or bright, the smallest flame can light the darkness just the same.
My fires are so thirsty, the hunger drinks itself. Transcendent wheel turning, at once groaning and soundless. I speak the language of rounded stones, spoken at the navel of the world. At times I cannot even reach you. At times I scoop you… Continue Reading “Omphalos”