Go to I am High
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- Go to Jesus, Buddha and Surrender
Bhaskar
This message below if for you, my friend.
posted by
Shalian
on May 28, 2007 at 10:31 PM
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Thanks for stopping by
Your help would be highly appreciated, I really want to communicate this untranslatable sense as well as I can, this surrender is sublime and psychedelic, its a trust in the divine, an outburst of intuition, like a shining softness from the center of my being, beyond knowing, beyond understanding, and I write to point to that which is beyond these words.
posted by
Shalian
on May 28, 2007 at 10:30 PM
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Tarpa
That is a beautiful and true description of the surrender I am trying to point toward. We see ourselves in all things, we sense the most blissful connection to the table, chair and traffic, we sense the coincidence called creation, we get out of the little form and into the unwordable. Thank you for the lovely poem- I dig it!
posted by
Shalian
on May 28, 2007 at 10:24 PM
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Bliss Poem
This is a poem composed spontaneously several years ago whilst wintering in a highland valley. Every day I had to dig out about four feet of snow (from drifts and new fallings) to get to the woodshed. Anyway, it relates (playfully) to your posting so here it is...
Bliss
and non-thought
merge
on the dot
like bumble-bee
forgetting to drone
as he sucks the sukra of nectar
on hot summer day.
And me during the winter gales
that shake my cabin walls
and swirling snow
and cheerfully crackling fire
and luminous mantra practice
and days and nights
and breakfast, lunch and dinner
and grand plans
and telephone calls
and aching muscles
and fast-approaching death
and lovely walks in snow-drenched woods
and me
AHA!
Bliss.
I am not one.
I am many.
And we are all the same.
I am compassion
manifesting
as confused egocentred one
just to see if you are paying attention or not.
I think I said this to you before.
I wonder why I say it again.
It is a strange thought!
Bliss.
Emptiness.
Non-thought.
Clarity.
And other technical hoo-has
I find piled up nicely on my breakfast plate
suitably dressed up
as simple things like
over-cooked bacon
toast, and fried eggs.
Steel knife and fork
weighty and cool to the touch.
And mug of steaming tea with cream and sugar.
OH WHAT BLISS
to be human
and ordinary
and listen to the news
and know
that I love everyone in the world
and will die soon.
Very soon.
So soon that I cannot say
and do not know
only that it will be
very soon indeed.
And knowing this
a tear mingles lovingly with my tea
which now tastes much better!
and the toast is both crisp and soggy
like samsara and nirvana being not two
and the egg is nourishing and liquid
and deliciously tasteless
and the bacon is unnecessary garnish
without which it wouldn't be breakfast though would it?
and all is perfect
this is real bliss
but
usually
I miss it
and call it breakfast
and chew my way through all the discursive thought chatter
as if it were superfluous garbage
and as if I had all the time in the world
and would never die
and so I miss
this wondrous magic moment of bliss
when I am one
with you
my breakfast
cunningly disguised
as the inexpressible svabhavikakaya
of clarity, bliss and non-thought transcended
suchness.
So there, my dear
So there!
posted by
Tarpa
on May 28, 2007 at 7:42 AM
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Hi Shalian
I did get a little mixed up, but what you write is from the heart. I'll read it once again to be able to comment properly, my friend. And yes, a big thanks for sharing.
posted by
Bhaskar.ing
on May 28, 2007 at 5:22 AM
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It's longer
It's worth understanding, inspired by LSA and meditation upon suffering with surrender.
posted by
Shalian
on May 28, 2007 at 3:44 AM
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