tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78557072590014992952024-03-13T23:31:03.232-03:00zen to befor a little less noise: a personal path of peace: and building bridgesparaserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.comBlogger189125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-36459127615638380672010-11-24T10:42:00.002-03:002010-11-24T10:48:26.493-03:00test<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWptWTUTY2NzZYP1u7vqVBaValwJ8B4L9Pq6fwgFgHWnSO7eY8opTEep0JhgVwxx5-3RPI3m2rIHJCOorOmYOt5sp9-SSJb5LIWI0tYeCqAd59iImkbigRdoMaei5x0rADJ_L6yO_rZAS/s1600/DSC01719.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWptWTUTY2NzZYP1u7vqVBaValwJ8B4L9Pq6fwgFgHWnSO7eY8opTEep0JhgVwxx5-3RPI3m2rIHJCOorOmYOt5sp9-SSJb5LIWI0tYeCqAd59iImkbigRdoMaei5x0rADJ_L6yO_rZAS/s400/DSC01719.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543111988803995602" border="0" /></a>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-62366865945926598342010-03-05T13:43:00.007-03:002010-03-05T13:52:50.332-03:00it reaches beyond life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtD5fvsSCe_HSt9hsgKKp_IA3Ojw-a5dKCYBic7wRZANNU-QItxYkAl53CwSDXl6QLvuEVVdc9KPHY41vS-Kng1lFEpSXQiF0W8K2GpVEYG2N1lHz8oqiPQmiEavtQbqF90EvahI1zszUv/s1600-h/24postcards1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtD5fvsSCe_HSt9hsgKKp_IA3Ojw-a5dKCYBic7wRZANNU-QItxYkAl53CwSDXl6QLvuEVVdc9KPHY41vS-Kng1lFEpSXQiF0W8K2GpVEYG2N1lHz8oqiPQmiEavtQbqF90EvahI1zszUv/s400/24postcards1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445192644832829170" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br />I think music is what language once aspired to be. Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life.</span><br /><br />Love Begins in Winter, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Simon Van Booy</span><br /><br /><br />if you'd like to learn more about this author, please check:<br /><a href="http://simonvanbooy.com/">http://simonvanbooy.com/</a><br /><br />picture above from <span style="font-weight: bold;">Max Richter</span>'s site on his composition, <span style="font-style: italic;">24 Postcards in Full Colour</span>. To listen to this wonderful music, please refer to:<br /><a href="http://www.24postcards.co.uk/">http://www.24postcards.co.uk/</a><br /><br />That's what I'm reading, that's what I'm listening to, that's what nourishes me.paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-88884220146336828202009-12-01T13:11:00.000-03:002009-12-01T13:13:03.453-03:00on interbeing<div id="watch-player-div" class="flash-player"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://s.ytimg.com/yt/swf/watch-vfl135124.swf" style="" id="movie_player" name="movie_player" bgcolor="#000000" quality="high" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" 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height="100%" width="100%"></embed><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DV1hQSt2hSE&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DV1hQSt2hSE&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object></div>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-76903949447883026392009-11-25T12:22:00.002-03:002009-11-25T12:28:38.022-03:00the Buddha in a cup of tea<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PfNDgF3Wr_JYy6AnFXxjR30IpxI6_Gg3Ig9ccjLq4kWj6b2LxH9BugToFAAYi_aoUt0smm2w24HumOmzmy_p5w6XWjadmcn2477OnVtgavZH0aQqHJ4oxkfSpi07kcpaJAhi980Em0gs/s1600/tea+garden+stone.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PfNDgF3Wr_JYy6AnFXxjR30IpxI6_Gg3Ig9ccjLq4kWj6b2LxH9BugToFAAYi_aoUt0smm2w24HumOmzmy_p5w6XWjadmcn2477OnVtgavZH0aQqHJ4oxkfSpi07kcpaJAhi980Em0gs/s400/tea+garden+stone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408063173338381922" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span>Too worldly for a monastery,<br />I find Buddha in a cup of tea:<br />Up with the sunrise,<br />I sit alone in my cabin,<br />Mind washed by simmering water<br />Sound, like wind in the pines.<br />This is my solitary quest,<br />Buddha under the Bodhi Tree<br />Meditated for seven days,<br />Until a beautiful sunrise<br />Made him give up<br />The futility of revealing<br />What was never hidden.<br />I prefer a simple cup of tea,<br />Seven minutes to boil water,<br />Much easier than seven days.<br />Complete, unexcelled Enlightenment:<br />Of course, only if<br />You are paying attention!<br /><br />The Four Noble Truths<br />First, suffering exists:<br />Why else would we drink tea?<br />A daily taste of paradise in the everyday.<br />Second truth: suffering caused by <em>tanha</em>--<br />“Self-centeredness, grasping, and greed;”<br />Drink tea and be ego-free;<br />Self dissolves in service to the holy leaf;<br />Guests arrive and Buddha meets Buddha.<br />Third truth: suffering can cease<br />The tea cup is a raft between<br /><em>Nirvana</em> and <em>Samsara</em>,<br />Neither shore more holy than the other.<br />Fourth truth: there is a way to end suffering,<br />The Noble Eightfold Path:<br />Right view: the beautiful leaves, the color of the brew.<br />Right intention: prepare a delicious cup and enjoy.<br />Right speech: no yesterday or tomorrow in the tearoom.<br />Right conduct: spontaneous morality needs no rules.<br />Right livelihood: honest, forthright, a good example.<br />Right effort: delight in details: gong fu cha!<br />Right mindfulness: care for another cup?<br />Right concentration: nothing but tea, yet tea includes all.<br /><br />All of this called<br />The Middle Way,<br />No extremes:<br />Neither asceticism nor hedonism<br />Greedy people make insipid tea.<br />The overly patient brew it<br />Too dark and bitter.<br /><br />Elaborating on obvious truths<br />Tea Buddha also teaches<br /><em>Anatta</em>—no self,<br />How can I know I,<br />Since I’m the one doing the knowing?<br />I am not I, and tea is not tea!<br />And <em>anicca</em>, impermanence,<br />The same guests, like the same moment<br />Never return—one time, one meeting.<br />Tea changes: white, green, oolong, red, pu erh.<br />Today’s Long Jing is different from yesterday’s.<br />And <em>tathata</em>—suchness, the beingness of Tea:<br />What is tea? Just this, just this, just this…<br /><br /><br /><b>Kenneth S. Cohen<br /><br /><br /></b>to read more please check:<br /><a href="http://personallifemedia.com/podcasts/236-buddhist-geeks/episodes/52961-buddha-cup">http://personallifemedia.com/podcasts/236-buddhist-geeks/episodes/52961-buddha-cup</a><b><br /></b>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-90316497183715615022009-10-23T15:52:00.001-03:002009-10-23T15:55:37.807-03:00reflections<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlpJihJ5UFDlrCQsfjQlsHbl1tf7cwqGR6MB-lr9U6d7L3oYdskhyphenhyphen7laACgvXOFCULuLUtiKAv9FoXkxjHCy5yFv9OX9u6kmiMNa2CnsxeASM_I7SeGiEHjbhu1SvYF71wY-IXo_uky3N/s1600-h/Thaib+Chaidar+Indonesia-reflection.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlpJihJ5UFDlrCQsfjQlsHbl1tf7cwqGR6MB-lr9U6d7L3oYdskhyphenhyphen7laACgvXOFCULuLUtiKAv9FoXkxjHCy5yFv9OX9u6kmiMNa2CnsxeASM_I7SeGiEHjbhu1SvYF71wY-IXo_uky3N/s400/Thaib+Chaidar+Indonesia-reflection.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395870639639985106" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br />Objects of mind</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Subject of mind</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Reflections on the surface of water</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Different, not the same</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Yet who can separate them?</span><br /><br /><br />Gary Palenparaserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-66962905927878014662009-10-15T10:30:00.002-03:002009-10-15T10:36:04.939-03:00the preciousness of every single moment<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jsBMdIsH7DMCBmxdN40ohIvH5uRV9mo5gY9h-6sCnCUTwC68eOZwENHDMxsS-pmbIGEDPjFQbaQD9Tw6XlUwCPV49dnr76LvThQOjt1JKMUS60ZehTg8pwBCZ_n6f63xn1PshR1sk-e-/s1600-h/naked+desert.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 343px; height: 475px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jsBMdIsH7DMCBmxdN40ohIvH5uRV9mo5gY9h-6sCnCUTwC68eOZwENHDMxsS-pmbIGEDPjFQbaQD9Tw6XlUwCPV49dnr76LvThQOjt1JKMUS60ZehTg8pwBCZ_n6f63xn1PshR1sk-e-/s400/naked+desert.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392819615942961826" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs, and the tigers are getting closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump pf grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it into her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Tiger above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life, it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of life.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pema Chödrön</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Wisdom of No Escape</span> (Shambala Publications, Boston/London, 2001)paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-63243717185392860562009-10-07T16:03:00.003-03:002009-10-07T17:19:47.294-03:00someday, he'll come along<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/p/EF6EE5DE48A0570D&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/p/EF6EE5DE48A0570D&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" height="385" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />it's Mr. Yorke's birthday today.<br /><br />thanks for all the beauty, shared with so much generosity over the years.<br /><br />thank you for being on this planet.<br /><br />feel all the love and gratitude from so many people you've been inspiring all along.<br /><br />Happy Continuation!paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-79841499920585733472009-09-27T07:58:00.003-03:002009-09-27T08:10:38.861-03:00koan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T90Y4GXYlzw/Sr9GTaR9vwI/AAAAAAAABcA/7Fm0XPPvW40/s1600-h/Tenryuuji-monk.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 332px; height: 443px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T90Y4GXYlzw/Sr9GTaR9vwI/AAAAAAAABcA/7Fm0XPPvW40/s400/Tenryuuji-monk.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386100978644532994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No one at home – yet no vacancy!</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Soen Nakagawa </span><br /><br /><br />Endless Vow – The Zen Path of Soen Nakagawa (Shambala Publications, Boston/London, 1996)paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-38322972948651706962009-09-23T08:59:00.003-03:002009-09-23T09:07:12.165-03:00what am I doing?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQbTK6cs3H6GQ3gZ23AcBaJFdY0xGF3yL8JXqWFWP0QWXjDVjC7fPF6P6t4_nyT1xkatWyDQFK2OWLtQzqxIdkmEwcXKeaHReXtg_-hgskAxl-RirH6UIZ8TpYK2hpcMD9thcGLbe2fOV/s1600-h/tree_husk.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQbTK6cs3H6GQ3gZ23AcBaJFdY0xGF3yL8JXqWFWP0QWXjDVjC7fPF6P6t4_nyT1xkatWyDQFK2OWLtQzqxIdkmEwcXKeaHReXtg_-hgskAxl-RirH6UIZ8TpYK2hpcMD9thcGLbe2fOV/s400/tree_husk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384632931296744914" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Do you think I know what I’m doing?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">As much as a pen knows what it’s writing,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Or the ball can guess where it’s going next.</span><br /><br /><br />Rumi<br /><br />Open Secret: Versions of Rumiparaserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-821894357075280902009-09-16T09:02:00.004-03:002009-09-16T09:10:58.942-03:00Que Será, Será - Plum Village version<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbEq9R2zrg2h4IlXJd3lBo2QLTodhm8YPaWyh0BVDbSCEM3EppSTpuCmxUrMSx4LOxmrzcCfyE1gCBL4MLnw-ArQHbud0kUdARdtd7tiyrQT44Glsz-h14TnQ7HBNrqIRTQAEyq1zqlqV/s1600-h/Novice.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbEq9R2zrg2h4IlXJd3lBo2QLTodhm8YPaWyh0BVDbSCEM3EppSTpuCmxUrMSx4LOxmrzcCfyE1gCBL4MLnw-ArQHbud0kUdARdtd7tiyrQT44Glsz-h14TnQ7HBNrqIRTQAEyq1zqlqV/s400/Novice.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382034877171039138" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When I was just a little girl,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I asked my mother what will I be?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Will I be pretty?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Will I be rich?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This’s what she said to me:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que Será, Será</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Whatever will be, will be?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The future’s not ours to see</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que Sera, Sera,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What’s will be, will be.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When I was just a novice monk</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I asked my teacher, what will I be?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Will I be enlighten?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Will I be free?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This’s what Thay said to me:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que Será, Será,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What ever will be, will be?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Sangha will let you know,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Within ten years or so.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When I was just a novice nun</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I tried my best to be near Thay</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But everybody did the same thing,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How could I be near to Thay</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sit next to me my child,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Every Thursday at lunch,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Love your brothers and yours sisters,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You’re always close to me.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I’ve been a nun for 5 years now,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I ask my teacher, where is my (Dharma) Lamp?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I’ve tried my best, done everything.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Will I get it this time?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sit, stand, talk and walk,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Do everything in mindfulness</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And have a pleasant smile</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The light will shine from there.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I’ve been a monk for 10 years now</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I ask my teacher, what should I do?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Should I go out?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Have a temple of my own,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que Será, Será,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Whatever will be, will be.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Be a river my child</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Don’t be a drop of water.<br /><br /><br /></span>Photo: Plum Village Novice Brothers and Sisters during Winter Retreat 2008.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.plumvillage.org/">http://www.plumvillage.org/</a><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-89132149094785215312009-09-04T02:24:00.002-03:002009-09-04T11:19:15.960-03:00a child learns to stand<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOMTIau7TpPvMG4ycXzo4kyaSpQa7mGDj6Io3uTN3Z9wzcsEmoXGv_m_BUW4FvrWDgsUMU5uYVlC1-JdBTeXQWohyphenhyphenYN3BhDyCXa-6Lu2tdFG3Pp3Zp2LWK_33tSIQcV_3x_wYViyWIyN1C/s1600-h/puja"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOMTIau7TpPvMG4ycXzo4kyaSpQa7mGDj6Io3uTN3Z9wzcsEmoXGv_m_BUW4FvrWDgsUMU5uYVlC1-JdBTeXQWohyphenhyphenYN3BhDyCXa-6Lu2tdFG3Pp3Zp2LWK_33tSIQcV_3x_wYViyWIyN1C/s400/puja" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243519770727619490" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In spite of the scientific knowledge that is steadily growing, the people of the world are restless and racked with fear and discontent. They are intoxicated with the desire to gain fame, wealth, power and to gratify the senses. To this troubled world still seething with hate, distrust, selfish desire and violence, most timely is the Buddha's Message of love and understanding, the Noble Eightfold Path, leading to the realization of Nibbana. A mere knowledge of the Path, however complete, will not do. In this case, our function is to follow it and keep to it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The path is indeed difficult, but if we, with constant heedfulness, and complete awareness, walk it watching our steps, we will one day reach our destination. A child learns to stand and walk gradually and with difficulty. So too have all great ones moved from stage to stage through repeated failure to final success. It is a Path leading to the realization of Ultimate Reality, to complete freedom, happiness and peace through moral, spiritual and intellectual perfection.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From this brief account of the Path, one may see that it is a way of life to be followed, practised and developed by each individual. It is self-discipline in body, word and mind, self-development and self-purification. It has nothing to do with belief, prayer, worship or ceremony.</span><br /><br /><br /><em>The Path to Supreme Bliss</em>, in <em>Gems of Buddhist Wisdom</em>, The Corporate Body of the Buddha Educational Foundation, 1996paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-65760635436578643252009-08-22T23:08:00.006-03:002009-09-04T11:26:59.150-03:00love is real<object height="364" width="445"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sc2mEtmxwDw&hl=pt-br&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sc2mEtmxwDw&hl=pt-br&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="364" width="445"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">e.s.t. - Esbjörn Svensson Trio</span>´s song <span style="font-style: italic;">Believe Beleft Below</span>, lyrics by Josh Haden, with<span class="description"> the Schleswig Holstein Chamber Orchestra, Pat Metheny on guitar and sung by Nils Landgren.<br /><br />I dedicate this tune to Maria Silvia Ferraz de Camargo, the greatest love of my live. Together with Esbjörn Svensson and others R.I.P.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">some people don´t die, they stay in the marvels they left passing by</span> (dfuse)<br /><h1><br /></h1>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-76656075286832111632009-08-20T10:08:00.003-03:002009-08-20T10:15:09.653-03:00this inner enemy is easily vanquished<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFp7-BjUoBCfiMQL10MbP2OQJJ1D-JtqeIeOlHjzem-Vp4sWh-yPng5JkFxpIVM_SVCIp9ITpgcq3nFo8UF06cn-uIj56U5r0t4pG44iZgszoeIO2F3m9b4fRTsbUOGI0eBOIAUUhltHYJ/s1600-h/Teeny+Tiny+Birdhouselucyellen06.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 370px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFp7-BjUoBCfiMQL10MbP2OQJJ1D-JtqeIeOlHjzem-Vp4sWh-yPng5JkFxpIVM_SVCIp9ITpgcq3nFo8UF06cn-uIj56U5r0t4pG44iZgszoeIO2F3m9b4fRTsbUOGI0eBOIAUUhltHYJ/s400/Teeny+Tiny+Birdhouselucyellen06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372033394076011762" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br />When we investigate carefully, we cannot find something, some powerful enemy, called negative emotion. In reality, there is nothing there. For example, when we experience aversion or attachment, these emotions are not located in the ugly or beautiful object that causes them, nor are they located in our minds, nor are they to be found anywhere else. When we look more closely, we realize that it is through the coming together of causes and conditions that these emotions have such power – they do not have any power of their own. They are simply a nexus of factors that we identify and label. In fact, the emotions are entirely dependent on other things. The harm they do to us is due to illusion. If we really understand this, the negative emotions cannot harm us.</span> […] <span style="font-style: italic;">For negative emotions are actually impotent, based as they are on ignorance, which itself has no strength. This inner enemy is easily vanquished with the weapon of discriminating wisdom, which knows the true nature of the emotions.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />Commentaries by <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Dalai Lama</span> taken from “<span style="font-style: italic;">A Flash of Lightning in the Dark of Night</span>” (Shambala Dragon Editions, 1994)paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-61522270115641448422009-08-11T11:33:00.004-03:002009-08-20T10:05:34.410-03:00the belly of God<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDv12Wswm0CD_ZAfZYcbFJA-AZ8YJNNCYqHVxQ1tK2qBb9_JwRRWZP1VGCk1pRHC1p-CuTX9syDE7cfp0DA41XNbk6YgFbL3ZRefz9gZE-X_UbNgIH77T0LbpA3XziA422xmNd6zHuGTma/s1600-h/Annie+Griffiths+Belt+waterfall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDv12Wswm0CD_ZAfZYcbFJA-AZ8YJNNCYqHVxQ1tK2qBb9_JwRRWZP1VGCk1pRHC1p-CuTX9syDE7cfp0DA41XNbk6YgFbL3ZRefz9gZE-X_UbNgIH77T0LbpA3XziA422xmNd6zHuGTma/s400/Annie+Griffiths+Belt+waterfall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368715301174516354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Do you want to know what joy is? Do you really want to know? Then listen. It’s nighttime, it’s raining, I’m hungry, I’m outside, I knock on the door of my house, I say it’s me, and they don’t let me in, I spend the night at the door of my house, in the rain, famished. There it is, that’s joy. Let whoever can understand understand. Let whoever wants to hear hear. Joy is never again being home, being always outside, weakened by everything, hungry for everything, being everywhere in the out-of-doors of the world as in the belly of God.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Christian Bobin</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">The secret of Saint Francis of Assisi</span> (Shambala Publications, 1997)<br /><br /><br />photography ©<a href="http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photographers/photographer-annie-griffiths-belt.html">Annie Griffiths Belt</a>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-38303339051130399672009-08-05T02:22:00.001-03:002009-08-11T11:42:38.138-03:00a purpose<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmZw73XApAgCqrUhvCaTaxUWANZRkrqqhJBonYxl5AgJ9gKOF7YZx_WZ2Hm_dzp6aZV0wSZOU_PaLEZCUwGbDRQXnbXiBFheMHM5s-NB_6RCI83WB-SsZP-15k17B6S94q0hznSSkqwgK/s1600-h/purpose.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 430px; height: 287px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmZw73XApAgCqrUhvCaTaxUWANZRkrqqhJBonYxl5AgJ9gKOF7YZx_WZ2Hm_dzp6aZV0wSZOU_PaLEZCUwGbDRQXnbXiBFheMHM5s-NB_6RCI83WB-SsZP-15k17B6S94q0hznSSkqwgK/s400/purpose.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251789814516579154" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>Although there is no specific purpose in a man's existence, yet man is free to have some purpose in life.</em><br /><br /><br />in <em>Gems of Buddhist Wisdom</em>, The Corporate Body of the Buddha Educational Foundation, 1996paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-9970101646357098632009-07-28T12:06:00.006-03:002009-07-28T12:19:05.372-03:00isn’t it?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaq7UebnhletoSI4SLOVayxvrsfRrBqQF5xp_b12kj1ccCy7i-aa9saVEZD3qQlhBdCr70D3KD3SytKITcNLgao0gaKxDQMSeAV0GxFywdxZzj56MkX6FSjFO9DdMHJcsd27rz4UV7O9_/s1600-h/lady+bug+fingers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 418px; height: 331px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaq7UebnhletoSI4SLOVayxvrsfRrBqQF5xp_b12kj1ccCy7i-aa9saVEZD3qQlhBdCr70D3KD3SytKITcNLgao0gaKxDQMSeAV0GxFywdxZzj56MkX6FSjFO9DdMHJcsd27rz4UV7O9_/s400/lady+bug+fingers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363529912134958018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />[…] <span style="font-style: italic;">“everything in the realms of the lower, middle and upper heavens is engaged in spiritual training. All at some point or other become bodhisattvas, so that the title bodhisattvas is unnecessary. If all are becoming Buddha and bodhisattva, surely there is no reason to make a distinction between ‘Buddha nature’ and all living creatures? At this moment you, us, and the ground we are treading on, all of us are in a process of striving and growth. The very motion of the whole universe is a process of profound spiritual growth. All change, all life and death, loving and hating, all is training and growth. Isn’t it? Isn’t it?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ko Un</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Little Pilgrim</span>, Parallax Press, Berkley, 2005paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-5577657525030538672009-07-22T10:32:00.004-03:002009-07-22T10:41:51.922-03:00spiritual maturity<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrJURMBb3OQDfsQt6NJUvtISr8nsce9ZrchY_-Xic6kXdrRYCzVUjRatSGsYGbXXl7qlnq7_fuDIynbqgmK2JPyNL933digx_y9joh3awJFNLgF5tXWs7r0EDcglq9lzCnhUQR9Fk6EHA/s1600-h/AGPix_edwards_0135_Lg.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 482px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrJURMBb3OQDfsQt6NJUvtISr8nsce9ZrchY_-Xic6kXdrRYCzVUjRatSGsYGbXXl7qlnq7_fuDIynbqgmK2JPyNL933digx_y9joh3awJFNLgF5tXWs7r0EDcglq9lzCnhUQR9Fk6EHA/s400/AGPix_edwards_0135_Lg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361277960325254946" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br />For the psychologically mature person, the ills and injustices of life are handled by counter aggression, in which one makes an effort to eliminate the injustice and create justice. Often such efforts are dictatorial, full of anger and self-righteousness. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">In spiritual maturity, the opposite of injustice is not justice, but compassion. Not me against you, not me straightening out the present ill, fighting to gain a just result for myself and others, but compassion, a life that goes against nothing and fulfills everything.</span><br /><br />[…]<br /><br /><span><span style="font-style: italic;">The best answer to injustice is not justice, but compassion, or love. You ask, “But what am I to do in this difficult situation? I must do something!” Yes, but what? Always our practice must be the basis for our actions. And appropriate and compassionate response does not come from a fight for justice, but from that radical dimension of practice that “passeth all understanding”.</span> […] <span style="font-style: italic;">Let us not adopt some facile, narrowly psychological view of our lives. The radical dimension I speak of demands everything we are and have. Joy, not happiness, is its fruit.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Charlotte Joko Beck</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Nothing Special – Living Zen</span> (HarperCollins, 1993)paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-34432383978794613582009-07-18T10:28:00.001-03:002009-08-11T11:43:20.169-03:00leaves<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEuPIAZri5Nx9vAiDpDetK9GatDL1RGiSGScv8AwkABolHo5chp2xGqgoDiDS9ieIBwIePTJ6KraX-4pp2xOho0VHi7P3Ip77MT3f2SfWtVjR-Kkp8Lnb-rnTCDVxhiLJgd8p6YUwcVuK1/s1600-h/winter_leaves.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 345px; height: 518px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEuPIAZri5Nx9vAiDpDetK9GatDL1RGiSGScv8AwkABolHo5chp2xGqgoDiDS9ieIBwIePTJ6KraX-4pp2xOho0VHi7P3Ip77MT3f2SfWtVjR-Kkp8Lnb-rnTCDVxhiLJgd8p6YUwcVuK1/s400/winter_leaves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356756046886903506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>The grape leaves outside my window are curiously beautiful. "Curiously" because it comes upon me as strange, after the long darkness of self-absorption and fear and shame in which I have been living, that things are beautiful, that independent to our catastrophes they continue to mantain their casual precision, the effortless abundance of inventive "effect", which is the hallmark and specialty of Nature. Nature: this morning it seems to me very clear that Nature be defined as that which exists without guilt. Our bodies are in Nature; our shoes, their laces, the little plastic tips of the laces -- everything around us and about us is Nature, and yet something holds us away from it, like the upward push of water which keeps us from touching the sandy bottom, ribbed and glimmering with crescental fragments of oyster shell, so clear to our eyes.</em><br /><br />[...]<br /><br /><em>The grape leaves where they are not in each other's shadows are golden. Flat leaves, they take the sun flatly, and turn the absolute light, sum of the spectrum and source of all life, into the crayon yellow with which children render it. Here and there, wilt transmutes this lent radiance into a glowing orange, and the green of the still tender leaves -- for green persists long into autumn, if we look -- strains from the sunlight a fine-veined chartreuse. The shadows these leaves cast upon each other, though vagrant and nervous in the wind that sends friendly scavenging rattles scurrying across the roof, are yet quite various and definite, containing innumerable barbaric suggestions of scimitars, flanged spears, prongs, and menacing helmets. The net effect, however, is innocent of menace. On the contrary, its intricate simultaneous suggestion of shelter and openness, warmth and breeze, invites me outward; my eyes venture into the leaves beyond. I am surrounded by leaves. The oak's are tenacious claws of purplish rust; the elm's, scant feathers of a feminine yellow; the sumac's, a savage, toothed blush. I am upheld in a serene and burning universe of leaves. Yet something plucks me back, returns me to that inner darkness where guilt is the sun. </em><br /><br /><br />excerpt from <em>Leaves</em>, short story by <strong>John Updike </strong>in <em>The Music School</em>, First Vintage Books Edition, 1980<br /><br /><br />Photo ©<a href="http://richardsmallphotography.smugmug.com/">Richard Small</a>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-70706578509855266172009-07-13T14:18:00.002-03:002009-07-13T15:07:23.144-03:00a stroke of an insight<object height="326" width="446"><param name="movie" value="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><param name="bgColor" value="#ffffff"> <param name="flashvars" value="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/embed/JillBolteTaylor_2008-embed_high.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/JillBolteTaylor-2008.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=229"><embed src="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf" pluginspace="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/embed/JillBolteTaylor_2008-embed_high.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/JillBolteTaylor-2008.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=229" height="326" width="446"></embed></object>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-12733753724962414342009-07-09T11:47:00.001-03:002009-07-11T14:31:05.415-03:002 words<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSECUdFpezcTcUuOF2xhClra8habnmNhfSFm9bkm0d4hMNgQMykLN7KOswkVX8BPSrswAb58jjU-IYfV_Ns0vCtQzHz4dBnsK0XskD4pKSY6JPmIYvccp5r_SBA-1hKHcZCyO7I3Kmigu/s1600-h/stone+bowls+Tassajara.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSECUdFpezcTcUuOF2xhClra8habnmNhfSFm9bkm0d4hMNgQMykLN7KOswkVX8BPSrswAb58jjU-IYfV_Ns0vCtQzHz4dBnsK0XskD4pKSY6JPmIYvccp5r_SBA-1hKHcZCyO7I3Kmigu/s400/stone+bowls+Tassajara.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351279234496616450" border="0" /></a><br /><em><br /><br />The secret of Soto Zen is just two words:<br /><br /> not always so.<br /><br /></em><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Shunryu Suzuki-roshi<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>found this pearl of instant enlightenment on <a href="http://www.stevenkharper.com/">http://www.stevenkharper.com</a>, where there was also the link to this picture of the <a href="http://www.sfzc.org/tassajara/">Tassajara Zen Mountain Center</a>, where my mind pictures my beloved friend and brother Arnold, his toes being kissed by the fish in the Tassajara river; to see more please refer to: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/surharper/sets/72157600290243490/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/surharper/sets/72157600290243490/</a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-35878561232792654472009-07-03T11:47:00.002-03:002009-07-03T12:05:36.503-03:00that mass of dots<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwq_TvHcBdZEbYx-KypiY9mMjseOCQX8zElGWk3dWkbi9l4r-IfuE1Kd7S_iMBwx0pOHLsZnUA51IPGiq9hrG7E8vRgfXcd1IIBhc56XlzFfJikHdaUXLBOSKjecMZ4LozXbpKDepwUeU/s1600-h/3326857645_23ce3d5eff.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwq_TvHcBdZEbYx-KypiY9mMjseOCQX8zElGWk3dWkbi9l4r-IfuE1Kd7S_iMBwx0pOHLsZnUA51IPGiq9hrG7E8vRgfXcd1IIBhc56XlzFfJikHdaUXLBOSKjecMZ4LozXbpKDepwUeU/s400/3326857645_23ce3d5eff.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354249698820668210" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />quotes from the movie <a hrehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giff="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0345551/">Latter Days</a> (2003):<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Do you ever read the Sunday comics?<br /><br />Well, when I was a little kid, I use to put my nose right up to them. And I was just amazed because it looked like this mass of dots, and none of it made sense until I pulled back. <br /><br />Life looks like that mass of dots to me sometimes. <br /><br />None of it makes any sense, but I like to think that, from God's perspective, life, everything - even this - make sense. It's not just dots. <br /><br />Instead we're all connected, and it's beautiful and funny and good. This close we can't expect it to make sense, not right now. <br /><br />Sometimes it all still feels like a mass of dots. But more and more these days, I feel like we're all connected. And it's beautiful... and funny... and good.</span> <br /><br /><br /><br />Photography by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/astro-dudes/3326857645/">Claire L. Evans</a>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-26740236251910452822009-06-24T13:34:00.002-03:002009-06-24T13:40:54.231-03:00to be enlightened by all things<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GFsbovfS0K8rjyR8yTRHOaCQvRg6LYBjMHseCCziPeVJnIbINiVGJ97KHMUupnmtWg2Q1Zj3a-96YvqSinjWr173lr7jiuqqm_v11iMZxTbBSFKbnyidB3_wXV1MbJ8KSv_KaqBHpkSS/s1600-h/sombra.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 419px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GFsbovfS0K8rjyR8yTRHOaCQvRg6LYBjMHseCCziPeVJnIbINiVGJ97KHMUupnmtWg2Q1Zj3a-96YvqSinjWr173lr7jiuqqm_v11iMZxTbBSFKbnyidB3_wXV1MbJ8KSv_KaqBHpkSS/s400/sombra.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350933980143837202" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To study the Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things. To be enlightened by all things is to cast off the body and mind of the self as well as those of others. Even the traces of enlightenment are wiped out, and life with traceless enlightenment goes on forever and ever.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Eihei Dōgen</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Genjōkōan</span> (現成公案)paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-16161539906428661862009-06-21T17:17:00.000-03:002009-06-21T22:23:59.134-03:00to guard their practice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwW_ur28WlAJuqF13ehf9dpKkyEK2LQHAtVfdhBvez-E1dYUExWnrwZPd6Ohikn1VSkMJ5jPQF3bP5cwQJRceMMQj62inl7NmglFLDxPwstVJNZCyfA-RLPKZDiWRuq_yfwWH9yGrDw2Wf/s1600-h/fushimi-torii-89.3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 489px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwW_ur28WlAJuqF13ehf9dpKkyEK2LQHAtVfdhBvez-E1dYUExWnrwZPd6Ohikn1VSkMJ5jPQF3bP5cwQJRceMMQj62inl7NmglFLDxPwstVJNZCyfA-RLPKZDiWRuq_yfwWH9yGrDw2Wf/s400/fushimi-torii-89.3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347628848236541218" border="0"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><font style="font-style: italic;">Those who wish to guard their practice<br />Should very attentively guard their minds,<br />For those who do not guard their minds<br />Will be unable to guard their practice.</font><br /><br /><br /><font style="font-weight: bold;">Shantideva</font><br /><br /><br style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">A Guide to the Bodhisattva's Way of Life</span>, Translated by Stephen Batchelor, Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, Dharamsala, 1979paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-85008389929027510322009-06-15T10:03:00.002-03:002009-06-15T15:45:08.026-03:00the later returned<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz7QHJorJYgYoEPmC3V0h9SbBXJAG-SJZj3RPn7MgxhJ8O2qvJ5qvFW8n96mbpYws5oGZsVoyamgAENuSk_ijyiQ8y0tKs_2UxaRjLlRZ1ULQsXryGhsBugw0_bBR51WX60Q_7IEfhh1iR/s1600-h/black-pearl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 420px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz7QHJorJYgYoEPmC3V0h9SbBXJAG-SJZj3RPn7MgxhJ8O2qvJ5qvFW8n96mbpYws5oGZsVoyamgAENuSk_ijyiQ8y0tKs_2UxaRjLlRZ1ULQsXryGhsBugw0_bBR51WX60Q_7IEfhh1iR/s400/black-pearl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344199673408176178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When a drop quit home and later returned</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />It found a shell and became a pearl.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rumi</span><br /><br /><br /><br />excerpt from <span style="font-style: italic;">Rumi's Divan of Shems of Tabriz - Selected Odes</span>, a new interpretation by James Cowan, Element Boooks, 1997paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7855707259001499295.post-49989174780279753712009-06-10T13:23:00.005-03:002009-06-10T13:33:19.633-03:00what happens if I sit with that?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDcoaSz2r2HA-qQUi1lMQEtVTF2NdTWc6VVCKWpF5bFFV5WBxGSmu4vUPsDKMJMIeFwc7rWziMD6zih7TiE_rbFbbGn67BPzoV_uIDtYXsUjfDGUSSikmN4OLEWOpzhr2CwwCewzfylGn/s1600-h/EdwardHopper-Morning-Sun-1952.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDcoaSz2r2HA-qQUi1lMQEtVTF2NdTWc6VVCKWpF5bFFV5WBxGSmu4vUPsDKMJMIeFwc7rWziMD6zih7TiE_rbFbbGn67BPzoV_uIDtYXsUjfDGUSSikmN4OLEWOpzhr2CwwCewzfylGn/s400/EdwardHopper-Morning-Sun-1952.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345735688848182946" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Only a self-centered self, a self that is attached to mind and body, can be hurt. That self is really a concept formed of thoughts we believe in.</span> […] <span style="font-style:italic;">Suppose I feel I have no friends, and I’m very lonely. What happens if I sit with that? I begin to see that my feeling of loneliness are really just thoughts. As a matter of fact, I’m simply sitting here. Maybe I’m sitting alone in my room, without a date. Nobody has called me, and I fell lonely. In fact, however, I’m simply sitting. The loneliness and the misery are simply my thoughts, my judgments that things should be other than they are. I haven’t seen through them; I haven’t recognized that my misery is manufactured by me. The truth of the matter is, I’m simply sitting in my room. It takes time before we can see that just to sit is okay, just fine. I cling to the thought that if I don’t have pleasant and supportive company, I am miserable. <br /><br />I’m not recommending a life in which we cut ourselves off in order to be free of attachment. Attachment concerns not what we have, but our opinions about what we have.<br /><br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Charlotte Joko Beck</span>, <span style="font-style:italic;">Nothing Special – Living Zen</span> (HarperCollins, 1993)<br /><br /><br />above, <span style="font-style:italic;">Morning Sun</span> by Edward Hopper,1952; Oil on canvas, 28 1/8 x 40 1/8 inches; Columbus Museum of Art, Ohio -- to see more please refer to:<br /><a href="http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/hopper/interior/">http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/hopper/interior/</a>paraserzen/zentobehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06260179573275009463noreply@blogger.com0