Returning home after a medical day with someone forgetting

Are all opinions simply the illusions of mind?

The vagaries of life 

though painful, 

teach us not to cling 

to this fleeting world. 

              - Ikkyu (1394-1481)

Not all.

Not at all.

Some are necessary failures.

Happy faults.

We'll some day remember.

"Nying je chenmo," says the Dalai Lama, "great compassion," will have significant impact on our outlook.

All things must pass.

Whether they must or not, they do pass.

Saturday morning practice passes into itself, nowhere else.

Sit where you will no one can take your place.

Even in absence, presence.

There's nowhere to go. But, don't let that stop you.

Is that so

We don’t understand. We think we have something to gain. Someone else will have to lose. It will benefit us.

This is the thinking of insecure people wanting to get ahead.

They are wrong.

There is no getting ahead. There is no winning. Everyone loses when any one loses.

I’ll get his job, they think. I’ll get her job, they speculate. It will all work out for the best in the end.

They’re wrong. It won’t work out well. This is what they don’t know.

At prison, Doris broke silence with these verses:

The great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences. Let go of wanting and avoiding, and everything will be perfectly clear. But make the slightest distinction and heaven and earth are set infintely apart.   

If you want truth, don't be for or against anything. The idea of good and evil is the primary disease of the mind. If you don't grasp the deeper meaning, you trouble your minds complacency. The infinite is perfect and lacks nothing. But because you select and reject, you can't perceive the true nature of existence.  

Don't be entangled in the world; but don't lose yourself in emptiness. Be at peace in the oneness of things and all errors will disappear by themselves. 

 (-- By Seng-ts’an, Third Zen Patriarch)

Letting go self is important. Nothing to gain, nothing to lose.

There’s only no self. And everyone distinctly has nothing to lose, nothing to gain.

One word says it all!

As, itself

When we speak into that middle separation between me and not me, between reality as composed by me and reality disclosing itself -- we speak being-in-truth, an opening, where what collapses is subject/object, inner/outer, self/other.

In that opening all dualities collapse into one another and what was antagonistic opposition opens  as self-disclosure/reality-disclosure.

Like zen, which is this moment revealing itself, what is being revealed is presented as what is being revealed in and to and through itself.

Speak the truth!

Opening everything as itself.

the world, he says, is pure statement

Go ahead, say it!

The means of knowing and knowledge itself become integral aspects of Gebser's methodological approach. The mere illumination of what was not previously known and understood, that is philosophy, must then yield to eteology, or being-in-truth. "The Greek word eteos means 'true, real'; as an adverb, eteon means 'in accord with truth, truly, really' and comes from the root se:es, meaning "to be.”[30]*

…Eteology must replace philosophy just as philosophy once replaced the myths. In the eteologemes, the eteon or being-in-truth comes to veracity or statement of truth, and the "wares" or guards verity and conveys the "verition" which arises from the a-waring and imparting of truth. Eteology, then, is neither a mere ontology, that is, theory of being, nor is it a theory of existence. The dualistic question of being versus non-being which is commensurate only with the mental structure is superseded by eteology, together with the secularized question as to being, whose content -- or more exactly whose vacuity -- is nothing more than existence.Every eteologeme is a "verition," and as such is valid only when it allows origin to become transparent in the present. To do this it must be formulated in such a way as to be free of ego, and this means not just free of subject but also free of object; only then does it sustain the verity of the whole. This has nothing to do with representation; only in philosophical thought can the world be represented; for the integral perception of truth, the world is pure statement, and thus "verition."[31] 

 We can see, then, that this approach places great demands upon us all. It is not sufficient to merely describe or approximate, rather we are required to show what is in its fullest essence. This has, I believe, far-reaching ramifications for science and its allocation of recognition and funding. The actual contribution of knowledge, its freedom from the constraints imposed upon the researcher due to fiscal, economic, academic or political reasons must all be let go in favor of a direct, revelation of truth. This will not be an easy task for many, especially those who are bound to what is "right" as opposed to what is "true." We see this reflected in all aspects of our societal lives. Eteology is an approach of liberation. 

* [EPO, p.312, note 4]  (from, THE PRIMORDIAL LEAP AND THE PRESENT: THE EVER-PRESENT ORIGIN - AN OVERVIEW OF THE WORK OF JEAN GEBSER, by Ed Mahood, jr)  http://www.gaiamind.org/Gebser.html

 wary

adj warier, wariest

1. watchful, cautious, or alert

2. characterized by caution or watchfulness

[from ware² + -y¹]

warily  adv

wariness  n

Aware, be wary, care!

Everything, everything is conversation.

Let’s.

Liberate.

feasts, fathers, and flowers

The magical spell-casting motif only works within the tribe sharing the belief of magical spell-casting.

I prefer poiesis.*

 Poïesis (Ancient Greek: ποίησις) is etymologically derived from the ancient termποιέω, which means "to make". This word, the root of our modern "poetry", was first averb, an action that transforms and continues the world. Neither technical production nor creation in the romantic sense, poïetic work reconciles thought with matter and time, and person with the world.It is also used as a suffix, as in the biological term hematopoiesis, the formation of blood cells.  (--Wikipedia)

my father moved through dooms of love

34 

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath 

and nothing quite so least as truth
--i say though hate were why men breathe--
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all 

(Poem by e.e.cummings) 

Nothing quite so least as truth.

October's feasts, fathers, and flowers. 

Monday afternoon

Schooners wrapped. Season end.

Ducks don't read, thus hope doesn't end.

Sheets pulled in taken down.

Sticks and lines bereft.

Late October, orange, Mt Battie

The day itself.

Begins to wane hunter's moon.

At table, reading Berry

To live graciously with one another -- that's what Thomas Berry says is our goal.