We must seek the true causes of happiness and satisfaction...
Dalai Lama

Hibiscus on the Sleeping Shores

I say now, Fernando, that on that day
The mind roamed as a moth roams,
Among the blooms beyond the open sand;

And that whatever noise the motion of the waves
Made on the sea-weeds and the covered stones
Disturbed not even the most idle ear.

Then it was that that monstered moth
Which had lain folded against the blue
And the colored purple of the lazy sea,

And which had drowsed along the bony shores,
Shut to the blather that the water made,
Rose up besprent and sought the flaming red

Dabbled with yellow pollen—red as red
As the flag above the old café—
And roamed there all the stupid afternoon.

amazing starlings murmuration (full HD) -www.keepturningleft.co.uk

Ο τρόπος διδασκαλίας του Ζεν είναι να δείξει την πραγματικότητα, αντί να μιλήσει γι αυτήν. Για να τη δούμε όμως, θα πρέπει να ξεπεράσουμε την τάση μας να βάζουμε τα πάντα σε λέξεις. Οι λέξεις είναι βασικές, αλλά το πρόβλημα είναι ότι όταν βασιζόμαστε πάρα πολύ σε αυτές, αρχίζουμε να αντικαθιστούμε έναν κόσμο άμεσης πραγματικότητας με έναν κόσμο εννοιών και εικόνων που συμβολίζουν αυτή την πραγματικότητα, ή που ακόμα την περιγράφουν με ένα μόνιμο, παγιωμένο, και άχαρο νεκρό τρόπο. Χρησιμοποιώντας τις κατάλληλες λέξεις για κάθε κατάσταση, μπορεί να περάσουμε όλη μας τη ζωή χωρίς να ζήσουμε ποτέ τίποτα άμεσα. Οι βασικές μέθοδοι του Ζεν σκοπεύουν να βοηθήσουν το μαθητή να δει ότι οι συμβατικοί τρόποι με τους οποίους εννοιολογείται ο κόσμος είναι χρήσιμοι για μερικούς ιδιαίτερους σκοπούς, αλλά τους λείπει η ουσία. Όταν διασπαστεί ο εννοιολογικός κόσμος ο μαθητής βιώνει την εμπειρία της άμεσης πραγματικότητας και ανακαλύπτει το ανέκφραστο θαύμα της ίδιας της ύπαρξης. Η εμπειρία του "εδώ και τώρα" είναι ένα βαθύ μυστικιστικό βίωμα. Ο φαινομενικός κόσμος βλέπεται όπως είναι, χωρίς την παρεμβολή του εγώ.

Οι δάσκαλοι του Ζεν απέφευγαν τις αναλύσεις και τις φλύαρες αναπτύξεις. Ανέπτυξαν μεθόδους που σκόπευαν κατευθείαν στην αλήθεια. Οι μέθοδοι αυτές περιλαμβάνουν ξαφνικές και αυθόρμητες πράξεις ή λέξεις, εντελώς παράδοξες για το λογικό νου, οι οποίες αποβλέπουν στη διακοπή της διανοητικής λειτουργίας και την άμεση εμπειρία της πραγματικής μας κατάστασης. Οι δάσκαλοι μιλούν όσο το δυνατόν λιγότερο και σε κάθε περίπτωση προσπαθούν να αποσπάσουν την προσοχή των μαθητών από τις αφηρημένες σκέψεις και να τους αποκαλύψουν την άμεση αλήθεια σε όλη της την πληρότητα.

THE WAY OF THE WHITE CLOUDS

A MUST SEE! - Do you Exist? - Υπάρχεις;

Κρισναμούρτι- Σχέσεις

It matters not how long a room has been in darkness. When you bring a light into, all darkness disappears.

Hand feeding hummingbirds - Raw Video

The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.
Pearl S. Buck

Piazza Navona

"Until he extends his circle of compassion to include all living things, man will not himself find peace."
Albert Schweitzer

Journey to Mt. Kailash

(This article was originally published in Turning Wheel: Journal of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, Fall 1999)

His Holiness the Dalai Lama has written, “…if people are so highly developed spiritually that they can practice their religions effectively by staying in one place, even in some unholy place, then a pilgrimage may not be important for them…. Many ordinary people, however, especially those who find religion difficult to practice in a devout way in their normal lives, set off on long journeys with the hope of communicating virtue and gaining merit.”

Clearly, I fall into the latter category. For much of my life, I have struggled to maintain a consistent meditation practice at home, but will happily go into debt to travel to far-off lands in search of sacred sites. When I learned that my dear friend and teacher Roshi Joan Halifax was planning a journey to Mt. Kailash in western Tibet, I knew I had to join the trip.

For both Hindus and Tibetan Buddhists, Mt. Kailash is the center of the universe, the axis around which the world revolves. In Hindu cosmology it is the abode of Shiva, the god of destruction. For Tibetan Buddhists, it is the home of Demchog, the wrathful emanation of the Buddha. Both Buddhists and Hindus alike consider the pilgrimage to Mt. Kailash and the circumambulation around it (called a kora) to be the pinnacle of their spiritual life. Tradition has it that performing one kora will erase the bad karma of one lifetime, while 108 koras lead to full enlightenment.

My own intentions were less lofty. Over the past five years, my practice with Joan had been in the mindfulness tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh and, more recently, as a member of Roshi Bernie Tetsugen Glassman’s Zen Peacemaker Order (ZPO). Tibetan Buddhism was fascinating to me, but I didn’t understand much about the rituals and symbolism. I simply wanted to make the journey to experience whatever the mountain had to teach me, and to try to live out the three tenets of the ZPO: Not Knowing, Bearing Witness, and Healing Ourselves and the World. It seemed especially important to bear witness to the courageous struggle of Tibetans to maintain their culture and religious traditions in their own land.

In May of 1999, on a warm, smoggy day in Southern California, a group of fellow pilgrims from all over the United States gathered at Los Angeles International Airport to begin the journey. When we arrived in Kathmandu two days later, we were joined by others from Denmark, Switzerland, and India. In all, there were 20 of us, ranging in age from 17 to 67.

We would not arrive at Mt. Kailash until nearly three weeks later. Located in a remote corner of western Tibet, there is no fast, direct way to get to the mountain, no major airport for hundreds of miles. The pilgrim has to earn his or her way there with every step. In the old days, pilgrims walked for literally months to reach Kailash. Now, the trip is slightly easier, but still entails either a multiple-day drive from Lhasa in Landcruisers, or walking a number of days overland from Nepal, as we did. Lama Govinda wrote, “Nobody can approach the Throne of the Gods, or penetrate the Mandala of Shiva or Demchog, or whatever name he likes to give to the mystery of ultimate reality, without risking his life—and perhaps even the sanity of his mind.” The mountain exudes supreme bliss, but it is not easily gained. The wrathful energy of Kailash acts like a sword to cut through any illusions—physical, mental, or emotional—that get in the way of directly facing reality. I hoped to use this quality of the mountain to explore my bodhisattva nature and the obstacles that stood in the way of it shining forth.

A large number of our group had never traveled to Asia before, and our first two days in Kathmandu bowled us over. Garbage, urine, and shit mixed together in the streets, diseased children begged for money or food, and diesel fumes choked the air. Suffering and poverty were clearly in view; nothing was hidden. How could we possibly make a difference in the face of such overwhelming despair?

We flew from Kathmandu to Nepalganj, a smaller city in the southern part of Nepal, and then on to the Humla district in the northwest, where our trek would begin. Over the next seven days we trekked 35 miles through the high mountains, following the Karnali River, to the Tibetan border. We began at 9,000 feet and gradually worked our way up to nearly 15,000 feet. The trail was extremely mountainous. When Tenzin, our Tibetan guide, gave us a rundown of each day’s terrain, he would sometimes tell us that the trail was terzo, the Nepali word for smooth. Then he slyly smiled and made a rolling motion with his hands. Terzo meant that the ups and downs were only slightly less steep than mountain passes that would terrify a goat. Day after day, we walked through terraced fields of barley, meadows of wild cannabis and nettles, and pine forests laced with waterfalls.

The morning of the third day, I woke up feeling nauseous. Soon I began vomiting, but there was really no choice except to walk toward the next campsite. I lagged behind everyone else, accompanied by Tenzin and two sherpas who were saintly enough to stay with me the entire day. They carried my pack and stopped with me when I threw up every half hour or so. Ted, a fellow pilgrim and also a doctor, gave me some medication which eventually stopped the nausea. Until then, I just put one foot in front of the other and sweated my way along every inch of the trail. Demchog’s sword was cutting through my illusions of being invulnerable and not needing any help, assisting me in literally purging myself before approaching Kailash.

On our final day before reaching Tibet, we had to cross Nara La, a mountain pass that we affectionately came to call Gnarly La. At altitudes near 15,000 feet, everyone’s breathing was labored and our pace became very slow. I understood why Tibetans use mantras so profusely; the only way to successfully walk in such conditions is to synchronize breathing with walking. My own mantra, with every step, became, “Just this, just this.” We finally reached the top of the pass, and were rewarded by the sight of a cairn of stones and prayer flags flying against the background of a sapphire blue sky. Following the Tibetan tradition, we each added a rock to the cairn and cried out, “So so so!” asking the gods to bless our journey and that of the pilgrims who would come after us.

Having made it to the summit of the pass, I thought the way down would be easy. Another illusion waiting to be skewered! Going down the trail from the top of Nara La to the border turned out to be one of the most difficult and terrifying episodes of my life. After the pass, we skidded down a steep slope for about an hour and then traversed the side of an immense canyon. The slope below us angled down sharply more than 2,000 feet to the bottom. Several sections of this trail were no more than five inches wide, and those inches were not solid ground but rather loose rock and scree. While the sherpas virtually danced across these sections, we inched our way along and prayed we wouldn’t slip. Every so often, a herd of yaks would come from the opposite direction, and we stepped off the trail and clung to the canyon wall to let them pass. Meanwhile, Joan, on horseback because of a broken toe earlier on the trek, was four feet higher off the ground than the rest of us. Her horse’s every step sent showers of rocks cascading down the mountainside into the abyss. After this traverse was finished, we descended an extremely steep serpentine grade, slipping and sliding nearly 2,000 feet back down to the river before ending up in the town of Hilsa, on the border of China/Tibet.

We had barely caught our breath when we realized that we would have to return over the same trail in a couple of weeks. The downhill we had just descended would be even more forbidding on the way back up, and the motivation of getting to Kailash would be gone. But there was no other way to get home. We conjured up ideas about how to fake an illness that would necessitate a helicopter evacuation, thus avoiding the walk back over Nara La. Ted, who had practiced in Thich Nhat Hanh’s tradition, lifted one of Thây’s favorite phrases to remind us that “fun is made up of non-fun elements.”

We were allowed to cross the border into China/Tibet with no problems, a blessing considering that the U.S. bombing of the Chinese embassy in Yugoslavia had taken place a couple of weeks before we arrived. We continued over the Tibetan high plateau, a harsh barren country resembling a moonscape, to Lake Manosarovar. Surely one of the most beautiful places on earth, the lake stretches across the vast, empty, brown desert plain as far as the eye can see. We spent five days on the north shore in solitude and silence, preparing ourselves for the kora that lay ahead of us. Most mornings, the water was absolutely calm and still, like the surface of a mirror. By the afternoon, the wind began to rise and waves rolled onto the shore. This land was elemental: extreme sun, unrelenting wind, no trees for shade, and the earth littered with the bones of sheep and yak who had expired here. From a hillside high above the lake, I looked out and marveled at the gradations of color that changed with the water’s depth—turquoise to light green to dark emerald to deep lapis blue—and considered the unknowable depths and mysteries of our own souls.

We finally reached Darchen, the beginning point of the kora, on May 29. The next day, Sagadawa (Buddha’s birth, enlightenment, and paranirvana), we emerged from our tents into several inches of fresh snow. From that point on, snow fell on each of the five days we took to circle the 32-mile perimeter of Kailash. By the time we reached the north side of the mountain, the nighttime temperature dropped to about 20 degrees below zero. The daytime temperature was warmer, but still well below freeezing—our water bottles froze as we walked. I turned to my tentmate and good friend Andrea and wondered aloud if we would ever be warm again.

We didn’t sit in zazen very much on the trip; the walk and the trail itself became our meditation. The Kan Ro Man, a Soto Zen service adapted by Tetsugen Glassman to include Tibetan and Jewish elements, was the keystone of our journey. In the ceremony, we chant, “By this practice I sincerely wish to extend all my love to my own being, friends, enemies, family, and community and to all creations for so much done on my behalf… May those suffering on the three paths come to atonement and be cleansed of all their ills. May they be liberated from samsara and arrive in the Pure Land Together.” We are asked to put our whole bodies on the line to feed the hungry ghosts, to heal our suffering and the world. We performed the service twice—once in Nepal at the convergence of two powerful rivers, and then at a sky burial ground at the foot of Mt. Kailash, amidst butcher knives, pools of blood, and fragments of bone and flesh. For Tibetans, a sky burial is a very honored ritual. The body is dismembered and then left for vultures and the elements.

As we circled the mountain, Joan taught us about the mandala of Mount Kailash. Each direction of the mountain, including the center, is home to one of the Five Buddha Families. Perhaps most importantly, we were reminded that Zen is about bringing every element into the mandala of our practice, excluding nothing. Walking around the mountain, we entered this living mandala and reflected on parts of ourselves and the world around us that we had rejected.

On the third day of the kora, we ascended through a snowstorm to the Dolma La pass, the highest point of the route at 18,600 feet. Several hundred feet before the top of the pass, we stopped at another burial ground. Along with other pilgrims, we laid down and visualized our own deaths, meditating on the truth of impermanence. The symbolic meaning of the kora is that we die to our old way of being, and as we cross over the Dolma La, we are reborn. When we reached the top of the pass, faint from altitude, we helped each other to climb up on the Tara rock to leave prayer flags and wishes for peace in a world torn apart by war. Joan had brought the ashes of her father who had died the year before, and Pam brought her brother’s ashes. As the snow and wind pelted us, we chanted to Kanzeon and conducted a ceremony for Werner, who was entering the Zen Peacemaker Order. Overcome with emotions, tears of gratitude and exhaustion washed over me. We tumbled down the trail to our next campsite on the east side of Kailash, weary but renewed.

After the kora was finished, we slowly made our way back towards Kathmandu the same route we had come, back to the Tibetan border, over the dreaded Nara La, and through the mountainous Humla area. Strangely, Nara La no longer seemed so treacherous. I marveled at my lack of fear and ability to walk the trail with strength and confidence.

A few days before the end of our trek, the monsoons set in and rain fell day and night. The last day’s walk was very easy, no more than two hours, descending through lush pine forests, rhododendron groves, and jasmine. Although I had been longing for a hot bath and a dry place to sleep, the sudden realization that I was about to leave the realm of mountains, rivers, trees, and clouds saddened me greatly. I was leaving a world where time is measured by how long it takes for the burning sensation of the stinging nettles to fade away and how many days to walk from one village to another. I wanted to carry some sense of that wildness with me—the raw beauty of the mountain that mirrors our unadorned selves, the fearlessness and complete trust that permeates Nature.

When we finally returned to Kathmandu, I noticed that I did not turn away from the eyes of a hungry child, or avoid breathing the polluted air, as I had done before. Aversion had been replaced by openness and curiosity, by a much greater receptivity to the full spectrum of suffering and joy present in life. And with this openness came a yearning to alleviate the sufferings and celebrate the joys. What a great gift Kailash had bestowed upon me!

I am sure that His Holiness is right when he says that people can practice their religion effectively by staying home. But for me, the Dharma came vividly alive through this journey to a sacred mountain and immersion in another culture that forced me to let go of all that I knew. The words of Milarepa, the great Tibetan yogi and poet, echoed through my mind: “Just to leave home is half the Dharma.”

______________________

Maia Duerr is a writer, editor, anthropologist, and founder of Five Directions Consulting. She practices Zen Buddhism and has worked with the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, Upaya Zen Center, Parallax Press, and the Center for Contemplative Mind in Society. She writes The Jizo Chronicles, a blog on Socially Engaged Buddhism, found at http://jizochronicles.wordpress.com/.

Summer '78

Returning to the Ordinary World

A monk asked Kegon, "How does an enligthtened one return to the ordinary world?" Kegon replied, "A broken mirror never reflects again; fallen flowers never go back to the old branches."

Jizo's Buddhism

One day, Jizo received one of Hofuku's disciples and asked him, "How does your teacher instruct you?" "My teacher instructs me to shut my eyes and see no evil thing; to cover my ears and hear no evil sound; to stop my mind-activities and form no wrong ideas," the monk replied. "I do not ask you to shut your eyes," Jizo said, "but you do not see a thing. I do not ask you to cover your ears, but you do not hear a sound. I do not ask you to cease your mind-activities, but you do not form any idea at all."

the laughing heart - Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it?
Dogen Zenji

‎''Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile. Peace begins with a smile. Everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; be kind anyway. You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; it was never between you and them anyway.''

Mother Teresa

There is Buddha for those who don't know what he is, really. There is no Buddha for those who know what he is, really.

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer.

William S. Burroughs

e.e.cummings - somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

Rumi - No expectations

Let your mind wander in simplicity, blend your spirit with the vastness, follow along with things the way they are, and make no room for personal views-then the world will be governed.
Chuang tzu

acceptance

God in His infinite wisdom
Did not make me very wise-
So when my actions are stupid
They hardly take God by surprise

Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it.
Confucius

“I love people who make me laugh. I honestly think it's the thing I like most, to laugh. It cures a multitude of ills. It's probably the most important thing in a person.”
Audrey Hepburn

“Pick the day. Enjoy it - to the hilt. The day as it comes. People as they come... The past, I think, has helped me appreciate the present - and I don't want to spoil any of it by fretting about the future.”
Audrey Hepburn

Certain things catch your eye,
But pursue only those
that capture your heart.

old indian saying

O' GREAT SPIRIT
help me always
to speak the truth quietly,
to listen with an open mind
when others speak,
and to remember the peace
that may be found in silence.

Cherokee Prayer

Lakota Prayer

Wakan Tanka, Great Mystery,
teach me how to trust
my heart,
my mind,
my intuition,
my inner knowing,
the senses of my body,
the blessings of my spirit.
Teach me to trust these things
so that I may enter my Sacred Space
and love beyond my fear,
and thus Walk in Balance
with the passing of each glorious Sun.

According to the Native People, the Sacred Space
is the space between exhalation and inhalation.
To Walk in Balance is to have Heaven (spirituality)
and Earth (physicality) in Harmony.

And while I stood there
I saw more than I can tell,
and I understood more than I saw;
for I was seeing in a sacred manner
the shapes of things in the spirit,
and the shape of all shapes as they must
live together like one being.

Black Elk, Black Elk Speaks

Cherokee Prayer Blessing

May the Warm Winds of Heaven
Blow softly upon your house.
May the Great Spirit
Bless all who enter there.
May your Mocassins
Make happy tracks
in many snows,
and may the Rainbow
Always touch your shoulder.

Qui se souvient? - Lama Shenpen Rinpoche

Qui se souvient de ces errances, de ces combats, de ces victoires?
De ces doutes, de ces certitudes, de ces questions, de cette mémoire ?

Qui se souvient de ces souffrances, de ces larmes, de ces jeux?
De ces vies, de ces morts, de ces jeunes, de ces vieux?

Qui se souvient de tous ces parents, de ces enfants, de ces amis?
Ces visages, ces silhouettes, dans la lumière ou l’ombre tapis?

Qui se souvient?

Le temps passe et avance, apparaît et trépasse,
Le monde tourne, les continents se déplacent,
Les astres apparaissent puis se couchent,

Je suis ici, là, puis là-bas,
Je me lève, vie, bouge, et me rabat,
Je me vois, me ressent, me touche,

Hommes, femmes, enfants,
Amis, ennemis, indifférents,
Serpents, chats, ou mouches,

Qui se souvient?

J'ai appris ici et ailleurs,
Dans les temples, les forêts, sous le vent,
La différence entre mal et meilleur,
Entre hier, céans et maintenant,

Eté ici méditant, et là passeur,
Dans les hauteurs, ou les profondeurs,
Dans la douleur ou le bonheur,
Créé ou créateur.

De toutes ces vies dans le temps,
De toutes ces guerres, insouciant,
De tous ces désirs malveillants,
Que gardes-tu de vaillant ?

Qui se souvient ?


A l‘aube de chaque vie, de chaque mort,
Ne comprends-tu pas qu’il est grand temps,
D’arrêter de t’infliger tous les tourments,
A toi, et aux autres, de porter tort?

Depuis des temps sans commencement,
Qu’y a-t’il de plus à vivre et essayer,
Qui ne le fut pas à en être rassasié,
A en souffrir et subir les relents?

Homme, femme, enfant, de peu de foi,
N’est-il pas temps d’ouvrir les yeux,
D’ouvrir ton coeur, ta main, et de voir mieux,
De chercher Refuge et non rester sans loi?

Ne te souviens-tu pas ?

N’y a-t’il rien qui résonne, qui t’appelle,
Au fond, dans la mémoire, dans le coeur,
Voix Claire et Connaissante du Réel?

Parole pure qui résonne, qui te revient,
Qui détruit, transcende, toutes les peurs,
Qui tranche tout ce qui te retient ?

Sans doute, avec confiance, et sans attendre,
Au-delà des désirs, des peines, et des leurres,
Comprend qu’il n’y a plus rien à prendre.

Toujours souviens-toi!

Le ciel, la terre, le jour et la nuit,
La douleur, le plaisir, ou le bruit,
N’ont de réalité que pour qui les conçoit;

Les amis, les ennemis, ceux qu’on voit,
Ceux qu’on déteste, ou en qui l’on croit,
Existent comme la lune dans l’eau qui luit.

Et n’oublie pas,

Rien n’est plus précieux que le don,
Que l’oublie de soi sans rien prétendre;
Que l’Amour, que la Compassion,
Que le service sans rien attendre.

___________________________________
(c) Tous droits réservés. Ne pas reproduire sans autorisation.


************************************************

Who remembers?
By Lama Shenpen Rinpoche, 1999

Who remembers the wanderings, the battles, the victories?
The doubts, the certainties, the questions, the memory?

Who remembers the sufferings, the tears, the games?
The lives, the deaths, the young, the old?

Who remembers all the parents, the children, the friends?
The faces, the figures in light or crouched in the shadow?

Who remembers?

Time is passing and advancing, emerging and ceasing,
The world is turning, the continents are moving,
The stars are rising, then setting,

I am here, there, elsewhere,
I rise, I live, I move, I bend,
I see myself, I feel myself, I touch myself,

Men, women, children,
Friends, enemies, the indifferent,
Snakes, cats or flies,

Who remembers?

I have learnt here and there,
In temples, in forests, in the wind,
The difference between bad and better,
Between yesterday, here and now,

Having been here a meditator and there a passer,
In heights or in depths,
In sorrow or fortune,
Created or creator.

Through all the lives in time,
through all the wars, light-hearted,
Through all the malevolent desires,
What worth do you keep?

Who remembers?

At the dawn of each life, of each death,
Don’t you understand that it’s high time,
To stop inflicting all that torments,
To yourself and to others, to create troubles to others?

From beginningless time,
What is there more to live and to try,
Who has not yet been fed up with it
To suffer from it and to endure the stench?

Man, woman, child, of little faith,
Isn’t it time to open your eyes,
To open your heart, your hand and to see better,
To seek Refuge and not to stay without law?

Don’t you remember?

Isn’t there anything that resonates, that calls you,
Deep down, in the memory, in the heart,
The Clear and All-Knowing Voice of Reality?

The Pure Word that resonates, which comes back,
That destroys and transcends all of the fears,
That cuts off everything restraining you.

Without doubt, with confidence, and without expectations,
Beyond desire, sorrow and delusion,
Understand that there is nothing more to take.

Always remember!

The sky, the earth, day or night,
Pain, pleasure or noise,
Don’t have a reality but for those who conceive them;

Friends, enemies, those we see,
Those we detest or those in whom we believe,
Exist like the moon reflecting in water.

And don’t forget,

Nothing is more precious than giving,
Then forgetting ourselves without pretence,
Then Love, than Compassion,
Then service without waiting anything in return.


Lama Shenpen Riponche

When a man tells you who he is... believe him.
Maya Angelou