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Archive for the ‘non-duality’ Category

Silence

“Words stand between silence and silence: between the silence of things and the silence of our own being, between the silence of the world and the silence of God. When we have really met and known the world in silence, words do not separate us from the world nor from other men, nor from God, nor from ourselves because we no longer trust entirely in language to contain reality.”
Thomas Merton

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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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” The Earth with its layers of land and water and air provides the space within which all living things are nurtured and the context within which humans attain their identity. If in the excitement of a secular technology reverence for the Earth has diminished in the past, especially in the western world, humans now experience a sudden shock at the devastation they have wrought on their own habitation. The ancient human-Earth relationship must be recovered in a new context, in its mystical as well as in its physical functioning. There is need for awareness that the mountains and rivers and all living things, the sky and its sun and moon and clouds all constitute a healing, sustaining sacred presence for humans which they need as much for their psychic integrity as for their physical nourishment. This presence whether experienced as Allah, as Atman, as Sunyata, or as the Buddha-nature or as Bodhisattva; whether as Tao or as the One or as the Divine Feminine, is the atmosphere in which humans breathe deepest and without which they eventually suffocate.”

Thomas Berry

 

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I sat there and forgot and forgot
until what remained was the river that went by and I who watched. . .
Eventually the watcher joined the river
and then there was only one of us.
I believe it was the river.”

Norman Maclean

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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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“Enlightenment does not mean one should disappear into the realm of transcendence. To be fixated in the absolute is simply the polar opposite of being fixated in the relative. With the dawning of true enlightenment, there is a tremendous birthing of impersonal Love and wisdom that never fixates in any realm of experience. To awaken to the absolute view is profound and transformative, but to awaken from all fixed points of view is the birth of true nonduality. If emptiness cannot dance, it is not true emptiness. If moonlight does not flood the empty night sky and reflect in every drop of water, on every blade of grass, then you are only looking at your own empty dream. I say, “Wake up!” Then your heart will be flooded with a Love that you cannot contain.” ~Adyashanti

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The Buddha’s Last Instruction

“Make of yourself a light,”
said the Buddha,
before he died.

I think of this every morning
as the east begins
to tear off its many clouds
of darkness, to send up the first
signal – a white fan
streaked with pink and violet,
even green.

An old man, he lay down
between two sala trees,
and he might have said anything,
knowing it was his final hour.

The light burns upward,
it thickens and settles over the fields.
Around him, the villagers gathered
and stretched forward to listen.

Even before the sun itself
hangs, disattached, in the blue air,
I am touched everywhere
by its ocean of yellow waves.

No doubt he thought of everything
that had happened in his difficult life.

And then I feel the sun itself
as it blazes over the hills,
like a million flowers on fire –
clearly I’m not needed,
yet I feel myself turning
into something of inexplicable value.

Slowly, beneath the branches,
he raised his head.
He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.

~ Mary Oliver ~

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