Thursday, November 17, 2011
Something Old, Something New
Monday, October 31, 2011
Messages From the Heart
You dream constantly of a world that is comprised of nothing but love. This world can become your reality. Never give up this dream, but instead build your life around making it the reality of your world and thus the world in general. Listen to the dream and allow yourself to experience what true love is. Recognize that all love is actually coming from the universe and the creator. The love you feel already exists. When you feel it connected with another human being, it is simply a sharing of universal love. Experience this heart to heart transfer of the highest form of creative energy. Make love something that is all encompassing - that engulfs the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual aspects of your being
Love means listening to those you love and understanding them deeply while trying to serve their deepest desires. Love means that you recognize yourself as a completely empowered and loving being who also deserves the highest level of joy and bliss. Be completely transparent in sharing your love. Never hide nor hold anything back. Be willing to share as much love as the other can bear. Seek out those who also have unlimited reservoirs of love and rejoice in the ability to fulfill each other's desire for the highest and most pure forms of love. Simply be love.
Source: Ted Murray
Traveling Light by David Wagoner
In the Kalihari Desert told the Bushmen
He couldn't hear the stars
Singing, they didn't believe him.
They looked at him,
Half-smiling. They examined his face
To see whether he was joking
Or deceiving them. Then two of those small men
Who plant nothing, who have almost
Nothing to hunt, who live
On almost nothing, and with no one
But themselves, led him away
From the crackling thorn-scrub fire
And stood with him under the night sky
And listened. One of them whispered,
Do you not hear them now?
And van der Post listened, not wanting
To disbelieve, but had to answer,
No. They walked him slowly
Like a sick man to the small dim
Circle of firelight and told him
They were terribly sorry,
And he felt even sorrier
For himself and blamed his ancestors
For their strange loss of hearing,
Which was his loss now. On some clear nights
When nearby houses have turned off their televisions,
When the traffic dwindles, when through streets
Are between sirens and the jets overhead
Are between crossings, when the wind
Is hanging fire in the fir trees,
And the long-eared owl in the neighboring grove
Between calls is regarding his own darkness,
I look at the stars again as I first did
To school myself in the names of constellations
And remember my first sense of their terrible distance,
I can still hear what I thought
At he edge of silence where the inside jokes
Of my heartbeat, my arterial traffic,
The C above high C of my inner ear,myself
Tunelessly humming, but now I know what they are:
My fair share of the music of the spheres
And clusters of ripening stars,
Of the songs from the throats of the old gods
Still tending even tone-deaf creatures
Through their exiles in the desert.
-David Wagoner-
(Traveling Light)