| Inspiration |
| Be A Lake
An aging master grew tired of his apprentice complaining, and so, one morning, sent him for some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt in a glass of water and then to drink it. "How does it taste?" the master asked. "Bitter," spit the apprentice. The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake, and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, "Now drink from the lake." As the water dripped down the young man's chin, the master asked, "How does it taste?" "Fresh," remarked the apprentice. "Do you taste the salt?" asked the master. "No," said the young man. At this, the master sat beside the young man and said, "The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things...stop being a glass. Become a lake. –a Hindu story The Call I have heard it all my life, A voice calling a name I recognized as my own. Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper. Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency. But always it says: Wake up my love. You are walking asleep. There's no safety in that! Remember what you are and let this knowing take you home to the Beloved with every breath. Hold tenderly who you are and let a deeper knowing colour the shape of your humanness. There is no where to go. What you are looking for is right here. Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand. There is no waiting for something to happen, no point in the future to get to. All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now. You are wearing yourself out with all this searching. Come home and rest. How much longer can you live like this? Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles. All this trying. Give it up! Let yourself be one of the God-mad, faithful only to the Beauty you are. Let the Lover pull you to your feet and hold you close, dancing even when fear urges you to sit this one out. Remember - there is one word you are here to say with your whole being. When it finds you, give your life to it. Don't be tight-lipped and stingy. Spend yourself completely on the saying. Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together. –Oriah Mountain Dreamer The Cracked Pot A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After 2 years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house." The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known of your flaw, and I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house." Moral: Each of us is unique. We're all cracked pots. But it's the cracks and flaws that make our lives together interesting and rewarding. The Empty Cup Nan-in, a Japanese Zen master, was visited by a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. When Nan-in served tea to the professor, he poured the tea into the professor's cup and kept on pouring. When the cup overflowed, the professor said, "The cup is overflowing. No more will go in!" Nan-in said, "Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?" –a Zen koan The Essence of Water Water is simple and clear. It abides in the moment. Water is transparent, empty of itself. Water always yields. Water always accepts. Water always finds its own level. It can be tossed about, yet always return to harmony. Water is neither hard nor soft. It simply reflects the way one comes to it. Water is both movement and stillness. It resonates, echoing the silent depths. Water gives without effort. It has supreme power over all living things, yet makes no claim on what it creates. Water creates the wave, the breath, life. Water is the source of life itself. Drink it in. –Lori Furbush Five Simple Rules for Living Free your heart from hatred. Free your mind from worries. Live simply. Give more. Expect less. Flight from the Shadow Once there was a man who was so troubled by the sight of his own shadow and so disturbed by his footsteps that he decided to get rid of both. His method of escape was to run away from them, so he got up and ran. But each time he put his foot down, there was another step, and his shadow had no difficulty at all in keeping up. He blamed his failure on not running away fast enough. So he ran quicker and quicker until he finally dropped dead. The man did not realize that if only he found some shade, his shadow would vanish, and that if he sat down quietly, there would be no footsteps. –Zhuangzi Froglessness The first fruition of the practice is the attainment of froglessness. When a frog is put on the center of a plate, she will jump out of the plate after just a few seconds. If you put the frog back again on the center of the plate, she will again jump out. You have so many plans. There is something you want to become. Therefore you always want to make a leap, a leap forward. It is difficult to keep the frog still on the center of the plate. You and I both have Buddha Nature in us. This is encouraging, but you and I both have Frog Nature in us. That is why the first attainment of the practice – froglessness is its name. –Thich Nhat Hanh The Invitation It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!" I doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. –Oriah Mountain Dreamer Just Two Words There once was a monastery that was very strict. Following a vow of silence, no one was allowed to speak at all. But there was one exception to this rule. Every ten years, the monks were permitted to speak just two words. After spending his first ten years at the monastery, one monk went to the head monk. "It has been ten years," said the head monk. "What are the two words you would like to speak?" "Bed...hard," said the monk. "I see," replied the head monk. Ten years later, the monk returned to the head monk's office. "It has been ten more years," said the head monk. "What are the two words you would like to speak?" "Food...stinks," said the monk. "I see," replied the head monk. Yet another ten years passed and the monk once again met up with the head monk, who asked,"What are your two words now, after these ten years?" "I...quit," said the monk. "Well, I can see why," replied the head monk. "All you ever do is complain.” –a Zen koan Kindness Before you know what kindness really is, you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say it is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend. –Naomi Shihab Nye Monkey Mind 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 forget that you are there. –Laozi More is Not Enough There once was a stone cutter who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life. One day, he passed a wealthy merchant's house. Inside, he saw many fine possessions and important visitors. "How powerful that merchant must be!" he thought, feeling very envious and wishing he could be like the merchant. To his great surprise, he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying more luxuries and power than he had ever imagined, and was envied by many. Soon a high official passed by, escorted by attendants and soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, had to bow low before the procession. "How powerful that official is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a high official!" Then he became the high official, carried everywhere in his embroidered chair, feared and hated by many. Then on a hot summer day, he looked up at the sun shining proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. "How powerful the sun is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the sun!" Then he became the sun, shining fiercely down on everyone, scorching the field, cursed by the farmers and laborers. But when a huge black cloud moved between him and the earth, his light could no longer shine on everything below. "How powerful that storm cloud is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a cloud!" Then he became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. But soon he was being pushed aside by a great wind. "How powerful that wind is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the wind!" Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off the roofs of houses, uprooting trees, feared and hated by all below him. But soon he encountered a huge towering rock that would not move, no matter how forcefully he blew against it. "How powerful that rock is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a rock!" Then he became the tall rock, strong and mighty. But soon he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into his hard surface, and felt himself being changed. "What could be more powerful than I, the rock?" he thought. He looked down and saw below him the figure of a stone cutter. –a Zen koan Nature’s Beauty A priest was in charge of the garden within a famous temple. He had been given the job because he loved flowers, shrubs, and trees. Next to the temple, there was another, smaller temple where there lived a very old Zen master. One day, when the priest was expecting some special guests, he took extra care in tending to the garden. He pulled the weeds, trimmed the shrubs, combed the moss, and spent a long time meticulously raking and carefully arranging all the dry autumn leaves. As he worked, the old master watched him with interest from across the wall that separated the temples. When he had finished, the priest stood back to admire his work. "Isn't it beautiful?" he called out to the old Zen master. "Yes," replied the old man, "but there is something missing. Help me over this wall and I'll put it right for you." After hesitating, the priest lifted the old fellow over and set him down. Slowly, the master walked to the tree near the center of the garden, grabbed it by the trunk, and shook it. Leaves showered down all over the garden. "There, said the old man. "You can put me back now." –a Zen koan Peace Peace is a natural mind-state in every one of us. Peace has been there since the day we were born, and it is going to be there until the day we die. It is our greatest gift, so why do we think we have no peace of mind? Experiencing peace is like looking at our hands. Usually we see only the fingers - not the spaces in between. In a similar manner, when we look at the mind, we are aware of the active states, such as our running thoughts, and the one-thousand-and-one feelings that are associated with them, but we tend to overlook the intervals of peace between them. –Thynn Thynn A Prayer for the World Let the rain come and wash away the ancient grudges and the bitter hatreds held and nurtured over generations. Let the rain wash away the memory of the hurt and the neglect. Then let the sun come out and fill the sky with rainbows. Let the warmth of the sun heal us wherever we are broken. Let it burn away the fog so that we can see each other clearly; so that we can see beyond labels, beyond accents, gender or skin color. Let the warmth and brightness of the sun melt our selfishness so that we can share the joys and feel the sorrows of our neighbors and, let the light of the sun be so strong that we will see all people as our neighbors. Let the earth, nourished by rain, bring forth flowers to surround us with beauty. And let the mountains teach our hearts to reach upward to heaven. –Rabbi Harold S. Kushner Return to Stillness Your body, heavy with life’s clutter, Soaks into the earth. Surrender, like a wave that rolls across the beach And drains into the sand. Sense the energy of the body loosen, Pulsing with life. The whisper of a fire in your heart Begins to shimmer and dance. Let it burst open, Unprotected, And flow out in a rainbow of colors, Mingling with the web of life around you. Let your voice breathe; Release its Joy, And weep with Truth. Come home to the stillness from which you were born, The void that vibrates with all that is. –Lori Furbush The River Metaphor Levels of Meditation (from Patanjali's Yoga Sutras): Pratyahara = Withdrawal of the senses Dharana = Focused attention Dhyana = Meditation Samadhi = Self-realization "Pratyahara, dharana, dhyana, and samadhi can be compared to a boat journey on a river. When you set out on the boat, you leave behind the land, the trees, the bustle of community. Your senses begin to merge with the experience of the river. This is pratyahara. As the journey progresses, you become more and more detached from what you left behind. And more and more immersed in the rhythm of the water. You are floating, melting, gurgling - you feel the river in your veins, your flesh, in the taste on your tongue. This is dharana - mental absorption. Dhyana, a state of meditation, naturally follows. In this state you and the river are one. The boat disappears. You are the river - dancing through light, over reeds, across land. Then, when the river finally flows into the sea, your I-ness completely disappears. This is samadhi. The dissolution of dichotomies. The boat, your Self, the river, the sea. All are one." –excerpted from The Spirit of Yoga by Cat de Rham and Michele Gill The Story of a River Born on the top of mountain, the little spring dances her way down. The stream of water sings as she travels. She wants to go fast. She is unable to go slowly. Running, rushing, is the only way, maybe even flying. She wants to arrive. Arrive where? Arrive at the ocean. She has heard of the deep, blue, beautiful ocean. To become one with the ocean, that is what she wants. Coming down to the plains, she grows into a young river. Winding her way through the beautiful meadows, she has to slow down. "Why can't I run the way I could when I was a creek? I want to reach the deep, blue ocean. If I continue this slowly, how will I ever arrive there at all?" As a creek, she was not happy at all with what she was. She really wanted to grow into a river. But, as a river, she does not feel happy either. She cannot bear to slow down. Then, as she slows down, the young river begins to notice the beautiful clouds reflected in her water. They are of different colors and shapes floating in the sky, and they seem to be free to go anywhere they please. Wanting to be like a cloud, she begins to chase after the clouds, one after another. "I am not happy as a river. I want to be like you, or I shall suffer. Life is really not worth living." So the river begins to play a kind of game, chasing after clouds. She learns to laugh and cry. But the clouds do not stay in one place for very long. "They reflect themselves in my water, but then they leave. No cloud seems to be faithful. Every cloud I know has left me. No cloud has ever brought me satisfaction or happiness. I hate their betrayal." The excitement of chasing after clouds is not worth the suffering and despair. One afternoon, a strong wind carried all the clouds away. The sky became desperately empty. There were no more clouds to chase after. Life became empty for the river. She was so lonely she didn't want to live anymore. But how could a river die? From something you become nothing? From someone, you become no one? Is it possible? During the night, the river went back to herself. She could not sleep. She listened to her own cries, the lapping of her water against the shore. This was the first time she had ever listened deeply to her own nature, and in doing so, she discovered something very important: her water was made of clouds. She has been chasing after clouds and she did not know that clouds were her own nature. The river realized that the object of her search was within her. She touched peace. Suddenly, she could stop. She no longer felt the need to run after something outside herself. She was already what she wanted to become. The peace she experienced was truly gratifying and brought her a deep rest, a deep sleep. When the river woke up the next morning, she discovered something new and wonderful reflected in her water-- the blue sky. "How deep it is, how calm. The sky is immense, stable, welcoming and utterly free." It seemed impossible to believe that this was the first time the river ever reflected the sky in her water. But that is true, because in the past, she was interested only in the clouds, and she never paid attention to the sky. No cloud could ever leave the sky. She knew that the clouds were there, hidden somewhere in the blue sky. The sky must contain within itself all the clouds and all the waters. Clouds seem impermanent, but the sky is always there as the faithful home of all the clouds. Touching the sky, the river touched stability. She touched the ultimate. In the past. she had only touched the coming, going, being, and nonbeing of the clouds. Now she was able to touch the home of all coming, going, being, and nonbeing. No one could take the sky out of her water anymore. How wonderful it was to stop and touch! The stopping and touching brought her true stability and peace. She had arrived home. That afternoon, the wind ceased to blow. The clouds came back one by one. The river had become wise. She was able to welcome each cloud with a smile. The clouds of many colors and shapes seemed to be same, but then again they were no longer the same for the river. She did not feel the need to possess or chase after any particular cloud. She smiled to each cloud with joy and loving kindness. She enjoyed their reflections in her water. But when they drifted away, the river did not feel deserted. She waved to them, saying "Good-bye. Have a nice journey." She was no longer bound to any of the clouds. The day was a happy one. That night, when the river calmly opened up her heart to the sky, she received the most wonderful image ever reflected in her water-- a beautiful full moon, a moon so bright, refreshing, smiling. The full moon of the Buddha travels in the sky of utmost emptiness. If the rivers of living beings are calm, the refreshing moon will reflect beautifully in their water. All space seemed to be there for enjoyment of the moon, and she looked utterly free. The river reflected the moon in her water and enjoyed the same freedom and happiness. What a wonderful, festive night for everyone-- the sky, clouds, moon, stars, and water. In the boundless space, sky, clouds, moon, stars, and water enjoyed walking in meditation together. They walked with no need to arrive anywhere, not even the ocean. They could just be happy in the present moment. The river did not need to arrive at the ocean to become water. She knew she was water by nature and at the same time a cloud, the moon, the sky, the stars, and the snow. Why should she run away from herself? Who speaks of a river as not flowing? A river does flow, yes. But she does not need to rush. –Thich Nhat Hanh Symptoms of Inner Peace Be on the lookout for symptoms of inner peace. The hearts of a great many have already been exposed to inner peace and it is possible that people everywhere could come down with it in epidemic proportions. This could pose a serious threat to what has, up to now, been a fairly stable condition of conflict in the world. Some signs and symptoms of inner peace: ...A tendency to think and act spontaneously, rather than from fears based on past experiences. ...An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment. ...A loss of interest in judging self. ...A loss of interest in judging others. ...A loss of interest in conflict. ...A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others. ...A loss of the ability to worry. (This is a very serious symptom!) ...Frequent, overwhelming episodes of appreciation. ...Contented feelings of connectedness with others and with nature. ...Frequent attacks of smiling through the eyes of the heart. ...Increasing susceptibility to love extended by others, as well as the uncontrollable urge to extend it. ...An increasing tendency to let things happen, rather than make them happen. WARNING: If you have some or all of the above symptoms, please be advised that your condition of inner peace may be so far advanced as to not be curable. If you are exposed to anyone exhibiting any of these symptoms, remain exposed only at your own risk. –Reprinted with permission of the author, Saskia Davis Water Prayer A disciple asked his guru, "How am I to attain peace when there is so much noise around this village? Every time I try to meditate, there's a rooster crowing or a child crying or a dog barking. I can't concentrate on my prayers." The guru said nothing, but took the man by the hand and led him to the forest. They walked for some time until they came across a small pool. It was a windy day, and the surface of the pond had become choppy. "What do you see in the pool?" the guru asked. "It is troubled," replied the disciple. His master then bid him dive into the pool, to the bottom. When he emerged from the water, his master asked him again what he saw in the pool. "It is still and deep," the man answered. "So then," said the master, "you must learn how to pray from the water." –a Zen koan |
 |
 |
| Be the change you wish to see in the world. ~Mahatma Gandhi |