Be very careful about locating good or God, right or wrong, legal or illegal, at your favorite level of consciousness.
Timothy Leary
Be very careful about locating good or God, right or wrong, legal or illegal, at your favorite level of consciousness.
Timothy Leary
I am holding a weekend yoga retreat at Hepburn Retreat Centre – about an hour and a half drive from Melbourne in Victoria’s spa country.
The weekend program includes yoga, meditation, pranayama, as well as kirtan and bhajans (chanting) on saturday afternoon followed by Hepburn Retreat Centre’s legendary vegan banquet.
The retreat includes delicious, home cooked, wheat free, vegan meals commencing with Friday night dinner.
You can read more details at the Hepburn Retreat Centre website.
Love and Light
Ostii
Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh
The small man
Builds cages for everyone
He
Knows.
While the sage,
Who has to duck his head
When the moon is low,
Keeps dropping keys all night long
For the
Beautiful
Rowdy
Prisoners.
enjoy it!
love
As a bee seeks nectar
from all kinds of flowers,
seek teachings everywhere.
Like a deer that finds
a quiet place to graze,
seek seclusion to digest
all you have gathered.
Like a madman,
beyond all limits,
go wherever you please
and live like a lion
completely free of all fear.
a Dzogchen tantra,
from The Crystal and the Way of Light by Namkhai Norbu
“The Knower of the mystery of sound knows the mystery of the whole Universe…”
-Hazrat Inayat Khan, Sufi Master
Falling Slowly, sung by Glen Hansard of the Frames and and Markéta Irglová from the beautiful film, Once.
I don’t know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can’t react
And games that never amount
To more than they’re meant
Will play themselves out
Don’t weep, insects—
Lovers, stars themselves,
Must part.
Kobayashi Issa