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Archive for the ‘letting-go’ Category

Prayer is about becoming receptive
It’s about learning the art of relaxation
rather than learning the strategies of how to conquer our reality.
Truth is not going to be a conquest, it is going to be total surrender.
Its about becoming a host, it’s about opening up.
It’s about being receptive so that the wind can come in,
the rain can come in, and the sun can come in.
And just hidden behind the wind, the rain and the sun comes the Guest.
And the guest does not come from the outside, it arises within you.
God is the guest, you are the host.
You become a welcome,
You become a prayer,
You become an invitation,
And the host is waiting, always waiting
You are waiting, with tears in your eyes, and with tremendous trust in your heart.
Osho

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It is as if a raindrop fell from heaven into a stream or fountain
and became one with the water in it so that never again can the
raindrop be separated from the water of the stream; or as if a
little brook ran into the sea and there was thenceforward no
means of distinguishing its water from the ocean; or as if a
brilliant light came into a room through two windows and though
it comes in divided between them, it forms a single light inside.

St. Teresa of Avila
Quoted in ‘The Virago Book of Spirituality’ Ed. Sarah Anderson

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I am Here to embrace all of It,
with empty hands and holy trembles.

The one flesh Buddha/Christ/Mother/Tao
has been wounded and torn,
caressed and loved throughout eons,
still it remains unnamed and untouched, without blemish.
As do you and i dear friends.

Here — Now — we are holding hands,
as we pass through incalculable birthings and deathings
to an awareness that nothing ever happened.

It has been said that ‘the line between
the profound and the profane is as thin as fishing line’,
But how can we know?
For the One that carries us swallowed the line,
as we bit the hook that dangles us
between and beyond time and space–
with its knowings that crumble to unknowing…

It is Here the head does bow,
as the heart gives thanks to Grace and her wild ways.
United in freedom and inexpressible Love,
every song a prayer to know Itself as This.

I am Here to embrace all of It…..

 

 

with love and honor

sparrow

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“The world is like a ride at an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it, you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills, and it’s very brightly colored , and it’s very loud and it’s fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question – is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered, and they come back to us. They say, ‘Hey! Dont worry, don’t be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride…’…It’s just a ride. And we can change it anytime we want. It’s only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money. A choice, right now, between fear and love.”

Bill Hicks

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The ego is a monkey catapulting through the jungle: Totally fascinated by the realm of the senses, it swings from one desire to the next, one conflict to the next, one self-centered idea to the next. If you threaten it, it actually fears for its life.

Let this monkey go.
Let the senses go.
Let desires go.
Let conflicts go.
Let ideas go.
Let the fiction of life and death go.
Just remain in the center, watching.

And then forget that you are there.

Lao Tzu
from Hua Hu Ching: The Unknown Teachings of Lao Tzu
translated by Brian Walker

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To move
Cleanly.
Needing to be
Nowhere else.
Wanting nothing
From any store.

To lift something
You already had
And set it down in
A new place.

Awakened eye
Seeing freshly.

What does that do to
The old blood moving through
Its channels?

~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~

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Now I become myself. It’s taken
Time, many years and places,
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people’s faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
“hurry, you will be dead before —–”
(What? Before you reach the morning?
or the end of the poem, is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!…..
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the Sun!

May Sarton

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Everything I steal, I give away.
Once, in pines almost as tall as these,
same crescent moon sliding gently by,
I sat curled on my knees, smoking with a friend,
sipping tea, swapping Coyote tales and lies.

He said something to me
about words, that each is a name,
and that every name is God’s. I who have
no god sat in the vast emptiness silent
as I could be. A way that can be named

is not the way. Each word reflects
the Spirit which can’t be named. Each word
a gift, its value in exact proportion
to the spirit in which it is given.
Thus spoken, these words I give

by way of Lao Tzu’s old Chinese, stolen
by a humble thief twenty-five centuries later.
The Word is only evidence of the real:
in the Hopi tongue, there is no whale;
and, in American English, no Fourth World.

Sam Hamill

 

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“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.” – Louise Erdrich

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The Inner History of a Day

No one knew the
name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;
It dwells within the silence with elegance
To create a space for all our words,
Drawing us to listen inward and outward.

We seldom notice how each
day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day,
we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one.

~ John O’Donohue

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