"If you search for awakened heart, if you put your hand through your rib cage and feel for it, there is nothing there except for tenderness. You feel sore and soft, and if you open your eyes to the rest of the world, you feel tremendous sadness. This kind of sadness doesn't come from being mistreated. You don't feel sad because someone has insulted you or you feel impoverished. Rather, this experience of sadness is unconditioned. It occurs because your heart is completely exposed. There is no skin or tissue covering it; it is pure raw meat. Even if a tiny mosquito lands on it, you feel so touched. Your experience is raw and tender and so personal.
The genuine heart of sadness comes from feeling that your nonexistent heart is full. You would like to spill your heart's blood, give your heart to others. For the warrior, this experience of sad and tender heart is what gives birth to fearlessness. Conventionally, being fearless means that you are not afriad or that, if someone hits you, you will hit him back. However, we are not talking about that street-fighter level of fearlessness. Real fearlessness is the product of tenderness. It comes from letting the world tickle your heart, your raw and beautiful heart"
Shambhala ~ The Sacred Path of the Warrior by Chogyam Trungpa, p45-46
http://www.shambhala.org/
Sunday, 16 January 2011
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability | Video on TED.com
"They believed what made them vulnerable made them beautiful"
"Our lives are a collection of stories, truths about who we are, what we believe, where we come from, how we can let go of what people think, and own our story, we gain access to our worthiness ~ the feeling that we are enough just as we are, and that we are worthy of love and belonging" Dr Brene Brown ~ 'The Hustle for Worthiness' DVD
Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability Video on TED.com
http://www.brenebrown.com/welcome
"Our lives are a collection of stories, truths about who we are, what we believe, where we come from, how we can let go of what people think, and own our story, we gain access to our worthiness ~ the feeling that we are enough just as we are, and that we are worthy of love and belonging" Dr Brene Brown ~ 'The Hustle for Worthiness' DVD
Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability Video on TED.com
http://www.brenebrown.com/welcome
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
The Great Dream
Goddess created humanity so she could know herself.
And so creation is a continous flowering into being.
"The deepest strata of the underworld include a state of being called "Sacred Land", also known as the Earth of Light of Blessed Isles. This state houses the Dreamer within the Land, often known as Lucifer, the sun at midnight, and the star within the stone...Faery Seership is concerned with reaching deep into and through the substance of the surface world to the state where the Lord of Light holds the original vision of the earth and her creatures in the sacred land. The Faery seer seeks to be as one with the Dreamer and to open this sacred land into the surface world thereby healing and re-vivifying it...The sacred land is the original vision of the world in its balanced and paradisiacal state. This state of being surfaces in all natural areas but is stronger in some..."the sacred land is the land the way God intended it to be ~ a Garden of Eden". This statement is in keeping with some of the deeper teachings of Faery Seership which say that the Garden of Eden receded into the inner worlds as humanity moved forward into the surface world. This is the mystical legend of the exile of Adam and Eve, the primal parents of humanity, from Paradise...In Faery Seership, humanity was not exiled from Eden for eternity. Rather, the unconditional availability of Eden was traded for the gift of free will. The post-exile shift in human condition now requires us to seek, find, and claim our place in Eden as an act of choice. To do this humanity must also reclaim its responsibility and accountability as caretakers of the sacred garden of Eden. "
The Faery Teachings by Orion Foxwood. p112-113.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
A Short Adventure of a boy who dared to climb an apple tree
Once upon a time there was a boy who was happy but for a nagging pain on the sole of his right foot, where a splinter had been lodged following climbing the old apple tree in his parents garden.
He wanted to look over the wall that stretched for miles and miles, surrounding the huge estate hiding behind many tall dark trees. He thought if he could get high enough he might be able to see through the tall dark trees.
He should have listened to his parents who warned him never to climb the apple tree. His mother said if he did; the terrible growling, snarling, saliva spitting, frothing dog would see him and scare him so much, that he would for ever and ever chase him in his dreams.
Surprisingly this did not stop him from climbing the apple tree, as he had never heard or seen the dog. In fact the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that there was and never had been a dog. This disbelief grew and grew to such an extent that he felt more alone than he could have imagined. It was then he realized that this was what people called a lie.
Worse still, he started having arguments with himself about whether there was a dog, because he had spent many years imagining what a terrible growling, snarling, saliva spilling, frothing dog would look like. And smell like. Over the years the hair of the dog had grown, as had his blood dripping yellow stained teeth.
So on this average quiet day he decided that he would look over the wall; so he climbed and climbed and climbed, and climbed as it was a very high tree. Anyway, he got to the top only to slip and fall. He awoke stunned with a pain in his foot which remained even when the splinter was removed; much to the confusion of the local physician.
It was from that day that Barefoot was his name because he could no longer wear any shoes; so bad was the pain. His father was the village shoe maker and try as hard as he could to design different shoes of all shapes and sizes; he could not make a pair of shoes that his son could wear without aggravating the pain.
His father went up to Barefoot and said he had run out of ideas, but he knew of a Master shoe maker in the Big City, who might be able to help him. He knew his son was scared and did not want to travel outside of the village and certainly not beyond the estate wall. But he did not know of any other way.
Finally Barefoot gathered up his courage and left for the Big City. The journey was far over rock, clay, grass, stone and sand. He saw amazing lands and incredible animals of earth, sky and water. So much colour and movement that filled his body and crowded his dreams. At times his feet became sore, but still he want on until eventually his feet became hardened to the hot and cold. At times he forgot the reason why he had travelled so far. At times he forgot the pain in his foot. He crossed rough seas of fire and ice, finally winding down the river to the mouth of the Big City.
Barefoot wandered the streets for 2 days amazed and shocked at all the strange sights and smells. However, on the second day 2 minutes past 4 o'clock he arrived at the Master shoe maker's shop. He stood looking up at the winding, twisting, moving, shaking, quivering stairs of the huge snake; wondering how he could catch the tail. He decided to make a huge leap and flung himself on. The stairs gave one almighty shake and then became still. Barefoot gingerly crept up and , as he touched each new step a different note sounded out until he reached the top to a cacophony of noise. He had been announced and the door swung open! Barefoot was greeted by the Master shoe maker.
The Master shoe maker was an old man with long white hair that merged from his head into his long white beard that trailed to the ground. The Master shoe maker greeted Barefoot as an old friend and listened carefully to Barefoot's story. In response he said he would consider making shoes for Barefoot on condition that he work for him for a year and a day, and learn that shoe makers trade.
Days, weeks and months passed until that final day arrived and the Master shoe maker announced the shoes were finished.
"And they will stop the pain in my foot?" asked Barefoot.
"Oh no, they can't do that!" replied the Master shoe maker.
"What old man, I know you are a magician. You promised you would make me shoes. So what's the use of these then?" shouted Barefoot as he flung the shoes back in the Master shoe maker's face.
"Well, they will stop you getting more splinters" said the Master shoe maker.
"What's the use of that? Splinters don't bother me. I can just pull them out. It's the pain in my foot that won't go away!" exclaimed Barefoot.
"But don't you know, you are cured of the pain" replied the Master shoe maker.
"What, are you mad? No I am not cured!" Barefoot at this point was barely containing himself from punching the old man in the face.
"Well, if the pain was that bad how did you manage to walk all those miles?"
Barefoot puffed himself up to tower of the Master shoe maker and replied;
"Because I am strong and brave!"
"Um, so I see" said the Master shoe maker not looking convinced.
"Yes"
"You sure?"
"YES!" yelled Barefoot.
"I don't believe you" replied the Master shoe maker calmly.
"You calling me a liar?!"
Barefoot at this point was shaking with rage then realized in utter amazement that the Master shoe maker was shaking too; because he was desperately trying to hide that he was laughing.
The Master shoe maker then straightened himself up, grew a few inches taller, pulled off his beard and exclaimed;
"Well done my son! You have journeyed far and long. Over come many fears, many challenges and learned many lessons. So you too can now become the Master shoe maker like you father!"
Barefoot was silent for a while and then replied;
"Thank you father. I am no Master shoe maker. I shall not take your name. Barefoot I am and Barefoot I shall remain!".
By Elizabeth Silver fox
He wanted to look over the wall that stretched for miles and miles, surrounding the huge estate hiding behind many tall dark trees. He thought if he could get high enough he might be able to see through the tall dark trees.
He should have listened to his parents who warned him never to climb the apple tree. His mother said if he did; the terrible growling, snarling, saliva spitting, frothing dog would see him and scare him so much, that he would for ever and ever chase him in his dreams.
Surprisingly this did not stop him from climbing the apple tree, as he had never heard or seen the dog. In fact the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that there was and never had been a dog. This disbelief grew and grew to such an extent that he felt more alone than he could have imagined. It was then he realized that this was what people called a lie.
Worse still, he started having arguments with himself about whether there was a dog, because he had spent many years imagining what a terrible growling, snarling, saliva spilling, frothing dog would look like. And smell like. Over the years the hair of the dog had grown, as had his blood dripping yellow stained teeth.
So on this average quiet day he decided that he would look over the wall; so he climbed and climbed and climbed, and climbed as it was a very high tree. Anyway, he got to the top only to slip and fall. He awoke stunned with a pain in his foot which remained even when the splinter was removed; much to the confusion of the local physician.
It was from that day that Barefoot was his name because he could no longer wear any shoes; so bad was the pain. His father was the village shoe maker and try as hard as he could to design different shoes of all shapes and sizes; he could not make a pair of shoes that his son could wear without aggravating the pain.
His father went up to Barefoot and said he had run out of ideas, but he knew of a Master shoe maker in the Big City, who might be able to help him. He knew his son was scared and did not want to travel outside of the village and certainly not beyond the estate wall. But he did not know of any other way.
Finally Barefoot gathered up his courage and left for the Big City. The journey was far over rock, clay, grass, stone and sand. He saw amazing lands and incredible animals of earth, sky and water. So much colour and movement that filled his body and crowded his dreams. At times his feet became sore, but still he want on until eventually his feet became hardened to the hot and cold. At times he forgot the reason why he had travelled so far. At times he forgot the pain in his foot. He crossed rough seas of fire and ice, finally winding down the river to the mouth of the Big City.
Barefoot wandered the streets for 2 days amazed and shocked at all the strange sights and smells. However, on the second day 2 minutes past 4 o'clock he arrived at the Master shoe maker's shop. He stood looking up at the winding, twisting, moving, shaking, quivering stairs of the huge snake; wondering how he could catch the tail. He decided to make a huge leap and flung himself on. The stairs gave one almighty shake and then became still. Barefoot gingerly crept up and , as he touched each new step a different note sounded out until he reached the top to a cacophony of noise. He had been announced and the door swung open! Barefoot was greeted by the Master shoe maker.
The Master shoe maker was an old man with long white hair that merged from his head into his long white beard that trailed to the ground. The Master shoe maker greeted Barefoot as an old friend and listened carefully to Barefoot's story. In response he said he would consider making shoes for Barefoot on condition that he work for him for a year and a day, and learn that shoe makers trade.
Days, weeks and months passed until that final day arrived and the Master shoe maker announced the shoes were finished.
"And they will stop the pain in my foot?" asked Barefoot.
"Oh no, they can't do that!" replied the Master shoe maker.
"What old man, I know you are a magician. You promised you would make me shoes. So what's the use of these then?" shouted Barefoot as he flung the shoes back in the Master shoe maker's face.
"Well, they will stop you getting more splinters" said the Master shoe maker.
"What's the use of that? Splinters don't bother me. I can just pull them out. It's the pain in my foot that won't go away!" exclaimed Barefoot.
"But don't you know, you are cured of the pain" replied the Master shoe maker.
"What, are you mad? No I am not cured!" Barefoot at this point was barely containing himself from punching the old man in the face.
"Well, if the pain was that bad how did you manage to walk all those miles?"
Barefoot puffed himself up to tower of the Master shoe maker and replied;
"Because I am strong and brave!"
"Um, so I see" said the Master shoe maker not looking convinced.
"Yes"
"You sure?"
"YES!" yelled Barefoot.
"I don't believe you" replied the Master shoe maker calmly.
"You calling me a liar?!"
Barefoot at this point was shaking with rage then realized in utter amazement that the Master shoe maker was shaking too; because he was desperately trying to hide that he was laughing.
The Master shoe maker then straightened himself up, grew a few inches taller, pulled off his beard and exclaimed;
"Well done my son! You have journeyed far and long. Over come many fears, many challenges and learned many lessons. So you too can now become the Master shoe maker like you father!"
Barefoot was silent for a while and then replied;
"Thank you father. I am no Master shoe maker. I shall not take your name. Barefoot I am and Barefoot I shall remain!".
By Elizabeth Silver fox
Sunday, 19 December 2010
To A Queer Kumquat
Oh MASCARPHONE
My Kumquat
Gingerly in your presence
Twas a sticky date with those pecan petals
It turned me
A greengage fool for you my love!
Your Creme Anglaise
Doth make even a coconut pound cake rise!
You poach apricots
Then daily with a fistful of pistachios
Come clean
Don't just Creme Anglaise me
Creme Fraiche me!
Almond tart me
And my passion fruit
Will surely plum jam
Trifle and prune is me
You will crystallise
Then caramelise
And sear me with
Your quince apace
Henceforth love bring rosewater
To my fig quarter
Oh me Kumquat
Me
Oh me
Mascarpone
Me
Oh me
Creme Fraiche
Me
Oh Oh me
Queen Baklava
Drizzle my roasted plums
And my mango is yours
by Julie Mullen
Erotic Poetry for Vegans & Vegetarians
My Kumquat
Gingerly in your presence
Twas a sticky date with those pecan petals
It turned me
A greengage fool for you my love!
Your Creme Anglaise
Doth make even a coconut pound cake rise!
You poach apricots
Then daily with a fistful of pistachios
Come clean
Don't just Creme Anglaise me
Creme Fraiche me!
Almond tart me
And my passion fruit
Will surely plum jam
Trifle and prune is me
You will crystallise
Then caramelise
And sear me with
Your quince apace
Henceforth love bring rosewater
To my fig quarter
Oh me Kumquat
Me
Oh me
Mascarpone
Me
Oh me
Creme Fraiche
Me
Oh Oh me
Queen Baklava
Drizzle my roasted plums
And my mango is yours
by Julie Mullen
Erotic Poetry for Vegans & Vegetarians
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